#i think so far i like it less than crime & punishment or the idiot but. we'll see. there's at least 600 pages left to change my mind

[ma1dita]

to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind.

This was your reality. 

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred. 

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet. 

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship. 

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to?

Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you almost as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm. 

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs. 

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure. 

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely. 

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress.

To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds. 

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, Trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, Trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same. 

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your… Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too. 

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his. 

“Get them.” 

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied. 

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart. 

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it.

You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away? 

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda. 

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin. 

For a moment, it feels like you. 

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce. 

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this. 

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement. 

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

 ½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[quixoticanarchy]

so sorry but ive GOT to know what you think of the brothers karamazov so far. favorite/least hated brother? - @batshape

ooh hm i'm only about 120 pages in and i just got to a very funny conversation of Ivan There Is Definitely No God vs. Alyosha There Is Definitely a God, so i'm rotating them... Dmitri i'm not quite sure about yet but admittedly i thought his confession/monologue with poetry included was extremely dramatic and kind of great, mostly bc i do like a character who's like wow i'm a terrible person but i'm so good at it. "when I do leap into the abyss, I go headlong with my heels up, and am pleased to be falling in that degrading attitude, and consider it something beautiful" - gives me a little fëanorian vibes sdfghj

[clockworkrobotic]

babe wake up new padlock content just dropped | harmonium

i’m home so as promised here’s something that has been sitting on my hard drive since uhhhh

for whatever reason i never posted this anywhere so it’s only been read by i think two people (shirts and another friend). I’ve had a read through but mostly left it untouched for the authentic experience, so here’s what i was up to in 2016 have at it

CW graphic violence, couples that kill each other, death (temporary), pianos

-

 It’s mathematical, Tony so often told himself, not creative. It is a precise and calculated process that few are capable of doing with any degree of skill. Certainly not that idiot notepad.

 That last part was probably a lie, but until proven otherwise he was going to choose to believe it. As far as he was aware, Paige had not so much as touched the grand piano since she had had it bought to the house: probably due to her lack of scheduling, but Tony was more than happy to think that it was because she had quickly discovered she was completely incapable of playing it.

 Nonetheless, it was still technically her piano, and he’d be dead on his feet if she found out he’d been making use of it. So he tried- and had so far succeeded (as far as he was aware) - only to practise whenever she wasn’t around. Today was one of those days.

-

Two things. Two things were unusual about this, Paige mused to herself as she settled into a comfortable position in the corner of the linen closet.

 First of all, Tony was being creative- creative- or at the very least indulging in some creative form, and she knew about it, and she had neglected to mock him endlessly for it. Normally, she would be on him like a hawk, and the teasing would be relentless. No; instead she was hiding in a closet and secretly relishing in his art.

  Secondly, and more importantly—that was her goddamned piano. Sure, she hadn’t actually gotten around to playing it yet, but the principle remained: he was in violation of their mutually agreed and deliberately unspoken touch-my-stuff-and-die-slowly rule, and she had every right to execute a formidable and probably-ironic punishment for such a heinous crime.

  But he played it so beautifully, and who was she to deny herself such luxury? It was a small price to pay, sneaking around the house like she wasn’t there and hiding in claustrophobic spaces, if it meant she could listen to every epitome of every great era of music, not a note missed nor a bar out of time. She couldn’t punish this. It would be no less than an act of blasphemy.

  She could hear him calling her name upstairs, checking that she had really gone. She had wondered why it had never occurred to him that she might be hiding, but then again hiding wasn’t really her style. Paige preferred to make her presence known, and right now that was very much playing in her favour.

 After a minute or so, the calling stopped, and he began to make his way downstairs. In a moment of brief panic, Paige realised that the door to the closet was still ajar, and pulled it shut as quietly as she could.

  Tony paused at the bottom of the stairs. It was probably just paranoia, but he thought he’d heard… something… a gentle thud, nearly silent, not quite… he dismissed it after a few seconds; there was no way it could be her, she wouldn’t have ignored him calling for her for so long. And besides, quiet was hardly her forte.

  Paige only had to wait a short while longer before the music began, and dear lord it was glorious. Of every version on every instrument of every melody that sang through the house, she was certain that his take was the best she’d heard. Much as it pained her to admit it, the time thing certainly seemed to help- there was no pause between each piece, yet he seemed to have a fantastic ability to merge 2/2 into 3/4 into 5/8 so seamlessly, and it was simply blissful.

“Bastard,” she muttered happily under her breath, heaving a quiet and contented sigh as she sank deeper into the towels, reclining as much as the limited space would allow, her arm brushing against something warm… very warm… uncomfortably warm… oh no that’s the hot water pipe.

 It took approximately half a second to sink in, and she violently jerked her arm away from the searing copper with a hiss, whacking her head against the shelf above and crashing against the door.

  The music abruptly stopped.

Oh no.

 She kicked the door open and crawled out, pulling herself to her feet and dusting herself off before turning to walk briskly down the hallway as if she had been there all along. A door clicked open behind her.

“Paige?” He sounded more surprised than anything. She turned to face him.

“Was that you playing?” The words sounded rehearsed. She tried to force something akin to anger into her tone, “Were you touching my piano? That’s very rude, you know, I ought to do something about that-” shut up, you’re rambling “-though it has to be said, you were doing very well. Very creative-” SHUTUPSTOPTALKING.

“Were you… hiding in the cupboard…?”

“I was outside,” she retorted defensively, folding her arms.

“Is that so?” Tony mirrored her actions, and leant against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Yes.”

He didn’t reply, just nodded to the linen closet; she glanced over to it and realised that, in her haste, she had left the door wide open.

“That’s my piano,” Paige blurted out, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken.

Tony laughed, dark and short. “It is indeed,” he straightened up and adjusted his shirt cuffs, “Perhaps you and it should get a little better acquainted.”

What the hell does he mean by that? She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself so perplexed that words failed her. He was approaching her now, and there was something wicked in that smile…

“Come on, dear, I’ll introduce you.”

“Wh-” She was cut off suddenly by his hand in her hair, close to her scalp and dragging her through to the music room. She clawed viciously at his wrist, and much to her surprise he actually stopped, though didn’t let go, once they were through the door.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” His voice was warm and fond. She stared at him. “Wait until you see the inside.”

  And then he was pulling her along again, right up to the side of the instrument.

“I’ve been relatively modest so far,” Tony mused, seemingly talking to himself, “I keep it closed; grand pianos far too loud and intrusive when they’re open. Plus, it would drown out my clocks-” He set about propping open the lid, “-but there’s a first time for everything.” He pulled her upright, holding her head over the edge of the piano, and for one horrifying second Paige thought he was going to close the lid on her neck. “Would you like a closer look?”

“DON’T YOU DARE-” she shrieked, only to be cut off by his hand around her throat, pulling her up off the floor with such force it was a wonder he didn’t instantly break her neck. She couldn’t breathe; she grabbed frantically at the edge of the wood, careful to avoid knocking the prop, and kicked wildly at him as he shoved her into the case. The side of her face met the frame with an audible thud and she gasped, coming to her senses just in time to hear him pull the prop free; her arm flew up to hold the lid open but he pushed down harder, followed by a series of sickening snaps as she felt her wrist, then her elbow, then her forearm break.

  His hand closed around her leg and pushed her further into the piano, and with a jolt her face was pressed against the piano wire, her broken arm draped uselessly over the thin frame, the half-closed lid preventing her from pushing herself upright. The piano wasn’t particularly deep, and was a gamble as to what would come first- the cutting or the crushing. She was shouting now, furious and panicked, yelling barely-coherent profanities and continuing to kick violently at him as he forced the lid shut.

  It met her back first. One clean, crisp crack in the middle of her spine and she was screaming, hot agony surging through the backs of her legs followed by something that wasn’t quite numbness; her chest pressed against the piano wire, and she hardly dared breathe as her weight alone crushed the wires into her torso. He was still pushing the lid down, and the frame was digging into her stomach: howling, no longer capable of forming words- and it wasn’t long before the smooth, angled surface was pressed to her jaw.

  It was terrifying. She could feel each thin, evenly spaced wire digging and slicing into her skin: first her face, then her chest, then her legs. Each slight movement- be it breathing, shaking, twitching- seemed to drag the wires through her skin with clinical cruelty, tearing through nerves and veins not nearly deep enough to let her bleed out. The frame was digging into her body at irregular points and crushing her organs: if she was still screaming, she could no longer hear it over the roaring blood in her ears and the horrifying snap of bones and the squeaking of wires pulling through her flesh. The last thing she felt was her ankle, awkwardly protruding from the piano, caught between the case and the lid as Tony finally managed to shut the instrument completely.

  Tony heaved a mournful sigh, holding the lid closed for a couple more seconds before releasing it and checking the exterior for any damages. Until he found the time and resources to change the wires- and even that seemed a little over-ambitious, given the extent of the damage surely within the piano- it seemed as though his musical career would have to be put on hold for a bit. Damn her for spying- he could always count on her to ruin things, and this had been no exception. He sighed again and prised the piano open with a little difficulty, somewhat reluctant to witness the harm she had wrought upon the instrument.

He spared a scowl for the mutilated, bloodied corpse crushed inelegantly against the delicate interior.

“You can have your piano back now.”

[starstuffandalotofcoffee]

obligatory: i vote democrat in every election despite being in a very blue city in a very blue state, i'm invested in local politics, i'm not a single issue voter, and student loan debt is far from my top issue. but in my mind it just feels so predatory that people who are practically a decade away from having fully developed brains are pushed to choose what they want to do with the rest of their lives at the cost of tens of thousands of dollars. full offense to seventeen and eighteen year olds: they're really stupid and have no sense of practicality. and I don't know how to fix that, but it feels weird to lock anyone into being punished financially for decades for the crime of being an idiotic teenager. even if they're in a higher income bracket and it's not inherently going to benefit the most people at the highest risk. I get that we shouldn't spend all our political capital on it, but the whole system just seems wildly unfair regardless.

So I agree that there are a lot of unfair aspects to this system - I very specifically called out people who treat it like the biggest issue, rather than one of many issues. I also think that reform of the whole system makes far more sense than specific debt forgiveness; college tuition caps and reducing the cost of public and community college through additional state/federal funding would both do a lot more for the problem going forward.

With that said, a lot of the people who I feel were most preyed on have had their loans forgiven: a huge number of graduates of for-profit schools had their loans wiped in February.

I will also cop to my own cynicism: I went to an expensive private school (full disclosure: my parents paid for my undergraduate education; I paid, with loans, for my graduate degree, which I am still paying off, but which drastically increased my earning potential). I still know many people who went to said expensive private school who do act like student loans are the single greatest challenge facing the world today...and I know how many of them had parents who paid their rent in NYC until they were like, 27.

It feels like a catch phrase rather than a sustainable strategy - unsurprisingly, the M4A/Loan forgiveness crowd has a lot of overlap, and it doesn't escape me that "universal healthcare with public and private options" and "tuition caps and increased investment in public universities", both of which I personally think are better ways to reach the people who need it most, sound way less sexy. Hence my post - I really do feel that many of the loudest voices for this particular issue are extremely privileged people who just want more money, rather than people interested in addressing financial inequality or predatory practices.

Finally, you may have seen others post this: the Brookings Institute agrees that solving the problem for future students is much more important, and only then does it makes sense to do targeted loan forgiveness for people who did not receive the benefits from a college education that they were promised. Again: way less sexy and catchphrase-able, but actually intends to address some root causes.

[ask-the-amph-greater-universe]

Cygnus: Oh I think it's ridiculous. What did I do? I was abandoned and stuck in a box. Broke out of that box and started controlling Sun. Teasing moon with everything I could. I guess I messed with the others with that maternity chip thing, But that was just another way to get back at moon. I killed the government guy. Moon could have probably killed the government guy. Moon has messed with his brother is so many times I think it's more than I have. I got labeled with the stupid kill code virus crap, And now somehow my teasing is far worse than every horrible thing Moon has done. Just unfair.

Antares: Well unfair is are reality. We were unfairly separated, We were unfairly judged, We are unfairly vilified. All because the one person who everyone trusts and hears is the moon.

Rigel: Honestly I think if Sun had more of a backbone, we maybe wouldn't have ended up like this.

Cygnus: It definitely would have been nice to have another perspective. That idiot only tried to calm me down once. And that was after months of him calling me a monster. What type of answer did he expect?

Antares A good tempered one apparently. And yes I might have killed all of reality. But Is it really a crime if no one remembers it? I only left Monty because I found it funny.

Rigel: Either way you spring it, We eclipses are bad, and even the gods seem to think we need a little bit of punishment. At least going off what happened to you Black Star.

Black Star: Yeah that's about it. And no I'm not going to take them for a tour. It's just going to raise questions, I'm going to have to answer those questions.

Cygnus: And why is it such a problem for us to greet all of your families! It could be weird, and they might not understand us, but why separate it?

Rigel: This family sounds so interesting. Yet we aren't allowed to know. I've gotten more ideas of what your other families are from these freaking Anons then you Blackstar.

Black Star: I just don't want it to be... I don't want it to be a borrowed family or something. I want something for myself, not another group for them to attach themselves to. Then I'm just a side thing all over again.

Antares: But these people seem nice. Time is it great healer, And it sounds like there's been millennia.

Cygnus: And even these outer dimensional relations have sound interesting. This bone basically called some sort of KC and better uncle because their moon was nicer.

Rigel: Surely they wouldn't just adopt us. Would be friends at most.

Black Star: But you'll be there friends. They're nicer, Less picky, More understanding.

Antares: Understanding is a lie. The only one that understands is this Envy. And he doesn't know what the fall it sounds like.

Black Star: I just don't want to tell them.

Antares, I have a kitty for you! She isn't completely white, well completely bright white but I believe you will look past that.

*presents a very fluffy bright white cat with a dusting of a off-white coloring on the back of her head and tail. She has piercing icy blue eyes. Unlike Hayley and Rock, who had been collarless she has a dark orange pearl necklace with a little silver star on the front*

This is Snow Angel. Her previous owner died unfortunately in her sleep... possibly suffocated. She was a show cat briefly before she was dismissed for undisclosed reasons. She has lived the high life since kittenhood and she will only sleep if Alfred *shows a black stuffed rabbit made of velvet and silk* is present. She also loves fancy cheese and has bitten someone's finger off for trying to take it from her.

Antares: I think she's lovely. High life cat with standards. She'll get little cheese snacks. Not too much to make her sick though.

Rigel: She's got a comfort plush. It's kind of cute.

Cygnus: What the hell did you whisper?

Antares: Oh who cares. The owner is gone and now she is mine. Gorgeous little snow.

Rigel: Are you going to rename her or keep it?

Cygnus: What was that about her suffocating people?

Antares: Snow angel works fine. Might change it to Star angel though.

Rigel: Cool. Now we have a whole bunch of cats that can be friends.

Cygnus: Is no one concerned about how the owner died!?

Antares: No I don't think any of us are.

Rigel: Wait did she kill the owner?

Antares: Don't care. I should probably set up this little plush in my room.

Rigel: Wha-, Wait!

Cygnus: So now we're concerned. Where is Blackstar with those tools! I can't get this thing on with my hands!

[kozozaki]

The Blame - Ranboo x Reader Chapter 3

Y/n ended up falling asleep at Tommy's house from a combination of stress and just plain tiredness. She yawned quietly and started climbing the ladder, walking towards L'manburg. She got to the top of the staircase before stopping abruptly. 

"What the hell?!" She ran towards the now walled-in country, running her hand against the rocky obsidian. She could hear the angry and confused voices of Tubbo and Big Q on the other side. "Guys?" Y/n yelled to get their attention.

"Y/n?" Tubbo said from behind the wall

“Tubbo, what is this wall? Why is this here?”

“That’s exactly what I want to know!”

Y/n dug a small hole in the wall. “I haven’t seen you in a while so I came to L’manburg, but this isn’t what I was expecting…” she looked through the window of the camarvan to see Quackity yelling at Tommy. Her eyes narrowed, she knew why the walls were there, and she knew who put the walls up too.

“Y/n, let’s get inside the van, Fundy will be here soon,” Tubbo said. She nodded but didn’t go into the van yet.

“Y/n, do you know what happened to my house?” George was there. She froze.

“Something happened to your house?” She played dumb.

“Yeah, it was burnt and robbed. Dream said it was Tommy.” Of course Dream said it was Tommy. He wasn’t wrong per-se, but Dream was always out to get Tommy in one way or another, and it pissed Y/n off.

“Is that why there are walls around L’manburg?” George nodded. She looked at the town center, more specifically Ranboo. He didn't have his sunglasses on. His eyes were heterochromatic, one green, and one red. They looked really pretty. 

Ranboo gave Y/n a worried look, basically asking if she was okay. She nodded and waved. He waved back, still looking concerned. Tommy, Quackity, Tubbo, and Fundy exited the camarvan. “Let’s go speak to Dream,” Tubbo suggested. No one answered, but everyone followed.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I can’t go one day without waking up and being pissed at my brother,” she admitted. They were far enough behind the others now that they wouldn’t hear, “Tommy, they have no idea Ranboo and I were involved, they’ve tunnel-visioned on you. I would take the blame from you, but they wouldn’t care, they would just punish us both. If Ranboo gets blamed, I’m gonna take the heat for him.”

“But Y/n-”

“No, Tommy, I’m gonna take the criticism for him, and that’s final, no objections. His life is probably worth 3 times as much as mine, so it’ll be more beneficial.”

“I won’t argue with you, but I will argue that your life is equal to or higher than everyone’s, at least agree to that,” Tommy hated when she put herself down like that.

“I would be lying if I said I agree with you,” she said in a monotone voice.

“Tch. Look, it’s the green bastard.”

“Dream. Why did you build these walls around L’manburg?” Tubbo asked. Ghostbur was saying the other day how everyone seemed to prefer him dead than alive, but if Y/n were being honest, even in Wilbur’s slightly psychotic state, she would have preferred him as the president.

“Just as an incentive,” Dream looked at Y/n. She longed to rip that patronizing smile off his face. He knew she helped, but he was waiting to see if she would throw herself under the bus to save Ranboo. He knew her more than she knew herself, “If Tommy doesn’t get punished for griefing George’s house soon, the walls will expand.”

Tubbo thought it over for a moment, “Let’s go to the courthouse.”

Once the group arrived, Tommy was put in a holding cell. Quackity was speaking to him. Y/n was sat next to Ranboo, they were both on edge. “Tommy, I’m on your side, but I have to be unbiased as possible. George, if you would like to explain what happened.”

“I’m just walking around the SMP and was told by someone who asked to remain anonymous that my home was burnt down, and I thought they were joking. So I asked them who did it, and the names I was given were Tommy, but there were two more. Y/n and Ranboo.” A series of gasps rang throughout the other members in the courthouse. Y/n immediately looked to the ground. She couldn’t defend Ranboo if they were both being sussed.

“Ranboo, Y/n, I’m gonna have to ask you to step into this cell here,” Tubbo ushered the two into the compact cell.

Y/n looked down at the lava. She whispered, “Anonymous my ass, it’s obviously Dream.”

“It probably is, but they aren’t completely sure we did it. As much as I hate saying it, they already know Tommy did it, nothing is gonna change their minds. We have to stay as innocent-looking as we can,” he definitely wasn’t lying, the two needed to stay as indifferent as they could.

“Tubbo please, listen to me, I have 4 witnesses, Captain Puffy, Nihachu, Ranboo, and Y/n, I was with them last night. Isn’t that right, Niki?” This idiot, it doesn’t help when two of his witnesses are prime suspects.

“I didn’t see Y/n,” Niki says. She was right, Y/n wasn’t there, but for reasons unrelated to the robbing.

“I, I felt really nauseous, so I was at Tommy’s house while Ranboo and him were helping you guys.”

“Right, Ranboo, shed some light on the situation please.” Tubbo’s monotone voice was intimidating Y/n a bit, he had always been the more cheery person in every group.

“Okay, umm, just be aware that I do have extremely bad short term memory loss.” Several people started talking at once but Y/n could only make out what Tubbo was saying.

“Okay, right, Tommy, the fact that he is struggling to remember is making your situation worse.” Fundy looked at Tubbo for approval to flick a lever, Y/n and Ranboo watched in horror as he pulled it down. “Tommy you have two strikes left, I need to hear your side and I need you to not yell.”

“It was the perfect crime.”

“Tommy!” Y/n yelled, surging forward slightly. Ranboo placed a hand on her shoulder, and she instantly relaxed, walking to the corner of the box-shaped room, sliding down the wall and resting her arms on her knees while Ranboo sat down carefully next to her. She was shocked, she didn’t think he would admit to it.

Fundy started recording everything Tommy said after that. “But hear me out Tubbo, he’s being biased against me, and Dream retaliating by building huge obsidian walls is absurd.”

“Tommy I have been advised to banish you,” Fundy flicked yet another lever, “But that is a very extreme measure and I hope it doesn’t have to come to that. So you’ll be put on probation. George, Tommy will be stripped of his power, and everything he does he will have to report directly to Fundy. Tommy as of now you are on probation, for the next two weeks.”

“Tubbo, this is insane!”

“It may be insane but I’m hoping this is conclusion is satisfying enough to get the walls tore down.”

“Well why are the walls even there in the first place? He can’t just build walls because I, me and- by myself I did a little prank,” Y/n looked up, her eyes strained. She turned to Ranboo relieved, Tommy didn’t slip up, he nearly did though. Ranboo must’ve put his sunglasses back on while she wasn’t looking.

“George is the king of the SMP, Tommy, this is considered treason,” Tubbo looked at Fundy and he nodded. Fundy put his hand on the last lever and pulled.

“Tommy!” Y/n yelled again, this time from anxiety. She knew very well what was under that glass, and so did Fundy, “Fundy why would you do that?!”

“Just felt like it.” he said in a snarky tone.

“How is he alive?” George asked. All Y/n saw was Quackity fall into the pit with Tommy and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Y/n don’t fucking laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, Big Q, from where I am right now, it was hilarious,” she looked over to see Ranboo laughing, his laugh sounded really nice. 

Quackity exited the box and Tommy followed, leaving the courthouse yelling, “Fuck you!”

“Mr. President, what are we do with Ranboo and Y/n?” Karl said.

Tommy came back immediately to say “No, no, listen, listen Tubbo, they weren’t there it was just me.”

“Those two weren’t there?”

“It was just me.”

Y/n and Ranboo were let out of the cell. Y/n let out a sign of gratitude, people were mistaken when they said Tommy was egotistical.

While walking back to L’manburg Tommy and Tubbo were arguing, and it broke Y/n’s heart, they were the best of friends before Tubbo became president. Maybe Techno was right, the government does corrupt. A cabient meeting was called in the middle of the walk to L’manburg. Tubbo called her over and she separated from Ranboo and Niki and joined Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, and Fundy.

Y/n spaced out, staring at the ground until Dream showed up. “Tubbo. Probation isn’t enough.”

“Dream I know you suggested exile but-”

“That’s not enough! Tommy is Tommy, he’s never gonna stop, his goal is to piss me off, and if you want that, as somebody in your nation, even if he doesn’t have power, there aren’t that many members of L’manberg. And it’s fine, you guys wanna think about it, it’s fine. We can arrange a meeting to talk about what to do with him. Set a time, set a day, I’ll come.”

“Okay, how about the second, the second of December?”

Everyone agrees but Y/n stays silent. “Y/n?” Quackity asks.

“I’m sorry, being around my Dream is screwing with my head, I need to go.” Dream grabbed her wrist.

“Y/n, please.”

“No! I’m not gonna stay around to just to hear you manipulate Tubbo into doing what you want and me not being able to do anything, as per usual!”

She walked back to where Ranboo was, he immediately put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He glared at Dream, glad he was wearing glasses. “What happened Y/n?”

“My brother is extremely manipulative, just being around him confuses me. I can never tell if he agrees with me or is on my side or not. TLDR; Dream’s a piece of shit.”

Ranboo hummed in agreement. “You should probably go home, it’s getting dark, and you shouldn’t be around all this government stuff, you’ll get too stressed. Would you mind if I visited you tomorrow?”

“I’d like some company. It’s pretty lonely out there, Tubbo doesn’t come around often, he’ll probably show up even less with all this political bullshit.” He was slightly startled by the girls aggressiveness, but it was justified, and wasn’t directed towards him.

He walked her to the nether portal where they said their goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow, loser,” she joked. Ranboo gasped dramatically, “Yeah, you heard right, loser.”

“You’re mean.”

“No no no, I’m sorry Ranboo it was joke!” She engulfed him in a hug. He was surprised, they had become kind of close but he was scared to assume she was comfortable with hugs. But when she did it, he was relieved.

“Bye, shorty,” He patted her on the head. She gave him the middle finger and stepped into the nether.

“Later, giraffe.”

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

Lmao I’m sorry for anyone who is over 5’5 I’m just salty I’m only 5’2

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 9/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

 "Have you lost your goddamn mind?" Levi paced around Erwin's office, his face dark with fury and his hands clenched into fists. "Erwin, since she won't listen, never listens to me!" he sent a sizzling gaze at Hange. "You tell that idiot that she lost her mind!"

"Levi—"

"Don't fucking Levi me, four-eyes!" he cut her off harshly. "What the fuck is wrong with you? That fucker ruined your life, and now, what, you're defending him?"

"I'm not—"

"I don't understand it! Just a few days ago you wanted to catch him. You were ready to sacrifice your own life to get that bastard. What the fuck had happened since then? Why are you trying to save him?"

"Levi." Hange’s voice was quiet, low. So unlike her usual one, it made shivers run down his spine. Levi knew that voice, Hange reserved almost exclusively for the worst, most despicable criminals and greedy snobs from the brass. She used this voice with him only once. And it was one of the most unpleasant moments of his life.

Hange slowly rose from her seat at the sofa and came to stand in front of Levi, looming over him. In the semi-darkness of Erwin's office, her eye was burning with fury.  

"Shut up and listen. Stop focusing on your desire to avenge Zeke. Believe me, I can't wait to get him behind bars, that's the only thing that got me through these past two years, but can't you see it? Someone's obviously trying to set him up."

"So what?"

"So what?" Hange repeated, disbelief and irritation painting her voice. "Do I really need to spell it out for you? If you let Zeke go to prison for someone else's crime, then the real criminal won't be punished for the death of two civilians. Is that what you want? Have you forgotten about your duty?"

Fuck.

Levi took a step back from Hange, lowering his head and hiding his eyes from her. She was right, of course, she was right. He was too blinded by his hatred to see it.

"Besides," Erwin spoke up, reminding them that he was still there. He was sitting at his desk, hands folded beneath his chin. Levi looked up, staring at him cautiously. When Erwin wore that particular expression – brows furrowed and lips pressed in a line – it always meant bad news. "Zeke is not the only one who's being set up."

"What do you—" 

"I've been thinking about this too," Hange agreed. 

Levi let out a low growl. He hated when these two did it. Kept him in the dark about their genius revelations. 

"So? Fuckling enlighten me then."

"Think, Levi," Erwin said, his frown deepening. "What would have happened if you try to tell anyone that Zeke is the real murderer?"

"I—"

"They'd call you insane," Hange answered for him. Despite her sympathetic tone, her face showed the same graveness as Erwin’s. "For everyone else, Zeke had been dead for two years."

"Yes, but—"

"You could prove that he's alive," Erwin agreed with a small nod. "And that may even work. But if you don't," he shook his head. "They'd kick you out. Sannes has been trying to find the excuse for a long time now."

"What?"

That was news to him. Sure, he knew that he had somewhat tense relationship with Sannes. But to go as far as to try to fire him? What a fucker. 

"He had been complaining about your work for a while," Erwin explained. "I do what I can to protect you, but Sannes got almost every captain on his side. I thought that if I make you agree to accept another partner, he'd stop, but—"

"He didn't," Levi guessed. "What did that asshole do this time?"

"During the brass's meeting this morning, he raised the issue of your discharge once more. I managed to convince a couple of captains—"

Dawk and Pixis, Levi realized. And if he could somewhat understand why Pixis would vouch for him, the man looked like a goof, but always had some hidden motive, what Erwin could have promised to straight-laced, bullheaded Dawk? Levi refused to believe that he agreed to help simply out of the kindness of his heart. 

"But others still push for your dismissal,” Erwin continued, his clenched jaw showing all of his disapproval and annoyance. “This case will be decisive. If you find the killer, you'd keep the job, if you fail—"

"They'd kick me out," Levi realized. Fuck. He didn't want that to happen. He liked his job. A lot. He wouldn't know what to do with his life without it. 

"Now you understand why you can't just go around, claiming Zeke is the killer."

"Because that's what Sannes wants me to do," Levi agreed.

Scheming bastard.  

"Fine," Levi announced. "You won, I agree that turning Zeke in isn't the best course of action. But," he leveled Hange with a fierce glare. "I still don't understand why you would want to tell Zeke about everything."

"We might need his help. Besides," Hange shrugged, her motions easy and careless. "He'll find out anyway. I want it to happen on my terms."

"There is nothing I can say to change your mind, right?"

Hange shrugged again, grinning lopsidedly. 

Levi sighed. "Fuck. Alright, tell me about you plan again."

*** "Are you kidding me?" Oluo took a step back, shaking the hand Petra wrapped around his wrist to drag him here.

She brought him to a hallway at the east wing of a precinct. Old and unused, it was one of the most secluded areas. No one ever walked in here. It wasn't even properly lighted, and Oluo's irritated mien disappeared with each flicker of a pale fluorescent lamp.

"Please, tell me you're kidding."

"I—"

"Are you seriously asking me to spy on deputy police chief? What the fuck, Petra? Is your partner's paranoia contagious?"

"What?" Petra blinked a few times, mimicking the flickering light above them. "Levi is not paranoid."

"Sure," Oluo drew, following it with a short huffed laugh. "Everyone knows he's got a few screws loose."

"No," Petra argued with a confused frown. "You're wrong. You've said it yourself, Levi is a great detective."

"He was a great detective. Until his partner died. His success rate dropped and he became even more secluded than usual. Did you know that there are talks about his discharge?”

No, Petra didn’t know about that. Why didn’t she know about that? Did Levi know?

“I didn't tell you, because I know how much respect you hold for the man. But it's not a secret to anyone that he's obsessed with conspiracy theories. And the fact that you want to spy on freaking Sannes only confirms it. He's lost it and now he's dragging you along with him as well."

"You don't understand—"

"Of course I don't," Oluo said, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "I'm such a fool after all..."

Petra drowned out the rest of his blubbering. She heard something, just a second ago. She closed her eyes, straining her hearing. Oluo's voice was severely distracting, but it seemed like...

Without thinking more about it, Petra acted. She needed to create a diversion, she needed to make their little meeting look less suspicious. So she grabbed the back of Oluo's neck and dragged him down, pressing her lips to his. 

The moment stretched on, as she listened, with her eyes still closed. She was sure she heard someone's steps. But now the hallway was silent, save for the quiet sound of Oluo's moan?

Right, Oluo. Oh god, Oluo.

Petra jumped back from him, mortified and embarrassed. Her cheeks were so red, she felt like her skin was going to catch on fire.

She kissed Oluo. She kissed him on the lips in the dark, deserted hallway. 

Her father didn't raise her like this. 

And, sure, she kissed him just yesterday, but it was a very different kind of kiss. That kiss was innocent, chaste. There was nothing chaste about their second kiss. 

"Sorry!" she squealed, covering her face with hands. Embarrassed, she was so embarrassed. 

"Huh, Petra," Oluo's lips curved into that irritating smirk Petra hated so much. "You've come up with all that nonsense just to get me here and steal a kiss? I'm flattered, really."

"Shut up," Petra whimpered, still hiding behind her hands. "I thought someone was coming and I panicked, and, hey!" She glared between her fingers. "I was being serious! I need your help, Oluo. I know that Levi doesn't have a very good reputation but—"

"He thinks his dead partner is alive," Oluo said in a grave voice. 

"Oh," Petra dropped her arms to the side, looking up at him. "But she is alive."

Oluo's face fell. "Petra..."

"No, no!" she shook her head. "I know how it sounds, but detective Zoe is actually alive, I've seen her with my own two eyes."

The hallway was silent for a long, long moment. Oluo kept staring at her, searching for something on her face.

Then he raised his hand to rub his forehead and let out a long, tired sigh.

"...Oh. Um. Okay, yeah, alright, I believe you,” he didn’t look utterly convinced, but he stopped looking at Petra like she had gone insane, and she counted it as a win. “Maybe, detective Ackerman isn't a complete lunatic after all. But... How is it connected with deputy chief Sannes?"

"He's crooked. He's been working with criminals and I know it. I just need a real, substantial proof."

"Sannes is crooked, oh god,” Oluo closed his eyes. “Another big revelation, alright. Let’s not focus on it right now, or I’ll have a panic attack. Do you know who he’s working with?”

Petra pursed her lips. “I’m not sure yet, Levi doesn’t tell me much, but I think he might be working with Zeke Yeager.”

“Yeager?” Oluo repeated. “I’ve heard this name.”

“Yeah, Zeke Yeager, he was a notorious criminal back—”

“No,” Oluo shook his head. “Not Zeke. I’ve heard the name Yeager before. Read it in one of the reports, I just can’t remember what the case was about. Maybe, it’s a just a coincidence, but it was about Grisha Yeager. The name was so strange, that’s why it stuck with me.”

“Hm,” Petra frowned, tapping her chin. “Grisha Yeager… No, I don’t know that name.”

“Doesn’t matter then,” Oluo shrugged. “Better tell me - how you're intending to get your proof?"

"I don't know," Petra hanged her head, fidgeting with a sleeve of her blouse. "I've thought about following Sannes home…"

"What?"

"But later I realized that it won't produce any results, because I doubt he has frequent meetings with his allies. Then I thought that getting inside his computer might be a good idea—"

"What?"

"But then again, there's no guarantee that he keeps important data there. And it would be pretty hard to get past his password. I wasn't able to guess Levi's password after all. But!" Petra looked up, a smile present on her face. Oluo didn't like that smile. It wasn't Petra's usual warm and pretty one. This one had a weird, almost feral edge to it. "I've come up with another plan, and that's why I need your help!"

"What do you need me for?" Oluo asked slowly, eyeing her carefully. He was almost afraid to hear the answer. 

"You have keys from a depository, right?"

"Right..."

"And you're friends with Dita, the janitor, yeah?"

"Yep..."

"So!" she clasped her hands, looking unusually delighted for a person who was in a middle of plotting a very dangerous and definitely illegal scheme. "I need you to go into repository and took a wire from there, and then I need you to go to Dita and—"

"And ask him to give me keys from Sannes' office?" Oluo guessed. "We'll be discovered in no time, Petra. Dita and I aren't that close of friends."

"I know," Petra rolled her eyes. "That's why you'll steal them!"

"Petra!" he exclaimed with a scandalized expression. 

"Shh," she smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine, I promise. You'll get a wire and a key, we'll get inside Sannes' office and plant the wire. I'll be able to listen in to his conversations, and no one will suspect a thing. Oluo, please?"

It was a stupid and extremely daring plan. If it failed, they'd be kicked out of force immediately. In the best case scenario. In the worst - they'd go to jail for breaking and entering the policeman's office. 

But Petra's smile was really nice, her hand on his shoulder was so warm, and she looked right at him, batting her long and pretty eyelashes. 

He was never a man with strong will. Oluo’s resolve crumbled. 

"Fine," he sighed, refusing to even think about possible consequences. "But you owe me, Petra. This whole scheme is worth two dates. Minimum!" he finished, raising a finger. 

"If we manage to succeed, we'll go on as much dates as you want."

"And kisses? Will you give me more kisses?"

"Of course," Petra murmured, leaning in to give Oluo exactly what he wanted.

***

"Call me when you finish with this, erm, meeting of yours," Erwin said, when Hange and Levi were ready to leave the office.

“Will do, captain!” Hange saluted, giggling.

Listening to the sound of her laughter and staring at Erwin’s smiling face, warmth spread through Levi’s chest as he was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Just a day ago, he would have never thought that he’d get to experience this. His two best friends, laughing together, as if nothing had changed. As if these two years, filled with grief and misery, had never happened.

The warm and familiar atmosphere enchanted Levi. The corners of his lips slowly lifted into a smile.

“Come on, four-eyes,” he turned to the door, hiding his joyous expression. His soft voice treacherously betrayed his feelings anyway.

"Wait!" Hange called the moment they left Erwin's office.

The hallway around them was dark, deserted. It was almost ten pm, so it wasn't a surprise that the precinct was so quiet.

Leaning against the wall, Hange took off her backpack and started rummaging through it. "Wait, wait, wait, I've got something for you. Here!" she announced with a proud grin, presenting Levi with his own coat.

Levi hesitantly accepted it, arching an eyebrow. "How did you manage to fold it so neatly?"

"It's one of my secret powers, of course!" Hange fixed her glasses with a cheeky grin.

"Hm," he narrowed his eyes. "Did you take it to the laundry?"

"Um, no," Hange answered, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "Didn't have the time to do that."

Good, Levi almost said. He wanted Hange's scent to linger, he hoped it did.

He carefully unfolded and put the coat on, lifting the collar. It was faint, but Hange's scent was present. He pushed his hands inside the pockets, feeling strangely content.

Still, something gnawed at him.

"Hey," he glanced up. He tilted his head to the side, giving Hange's dark green blazer a critical look. "Is that shitty jacket of yours warm enough?"

A soft, gentle smile bloomed on Hange's lips. Just the sight of it made Levi's breath catch in his throat. His recently discovered feelings made themselves known again. Goddamn it, she was beautiful. How he had never seen it before? He was a fool.

"I'll be alright, shorty, don't you worry. Your concern is touching, though."

Levi forcefully tore his eyes away from her face and tsked, trying to fill the sound with as much annoyance as possible. Hange's smile didn't even falter, and it meant that he wasn’t too successful in hiding his true feelings. That, or Hange just knew him all too well. It was probably both.

"Just don't want you catching pneumonia or some other shit after you just got back from the dead." He grunted, dead set on keeping his aloof demeanor.

"Touching," Hange repeated in a singing voice.

"Shut up," he groaned, fighting a smile that threatened to appear on his face.

He shook his head and headed to the elevators.

"Hey," Hange touched his sleeve. "Can we take the stairs instead?"

"Are you restless?" Levi asked, as he turned around, leading Hange to the stairs just like she requested.

"A little," she chuckled awkwardly. "Not exactly afraid, but, um, nervous. And excited. I can't wait to see Zeke's face when I tell him the truth."

As that image entered his mind, Levi let out a soft chuckle as well.

"Thanks for bringing me with you then. I'd like to see it too."

They couldn't get Zeke in jail right now, and as much as that knowledge pained Levi, there were other ways to make his life a living hell. He couldn’t wait to exploit some of them.

"Wait," Hange suddenly raised her arm, stopping him. Her face became sharp, focused, as her gaze was trained at the dark hallway in front of them.

"Hange?"

"There is someone there," she whispered, taking one cautious step forward. Instinctively, Levi mimicked her soft stride. "I heard some muttering."

"Sannes' office is that way," Levi whispered back. "You think it's him?"

"Only one way to find out," Hange said with a rueful grin.

Before she could take another step, Levi wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"You shouldn't go in here,” he said, his voice urgent. “Let me handle it. We can't let Sannes know you're alive."

"I disagree. The cat is almost out of the bag as it is. Let him know who he's up against."

"You're too reckless," Levi scolded with a shake of his head. He didn't try to stop her though.

They went ahead, each move slow and deliberate. The muttering became louder and when Levi and Hange turned the corner, they saw two figures, standing next to the door to Sannes' office. Levi narrowed his eyes with a frown.

One short figure seemed strangely familiar.

He cursed under his breath.

"Petra!" he shouted.

The woman whirled around, pressing hands to her chest with a shocked gasp.

"Levi!"

Levi strode closer, his scowl deep and dark.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I wanted to know more about Sannes' intentions, so... We broke inside his office and planted a wire there."

Levi cursed again, more creatively this time. Beside him, Hange started laughing.

"It’s not fucking funny, four-eyes," he glowered, not taking his eyes from the young woman in front of him.

Petra stood with her head bowed and her eyes cast down. Her fingers were playing with the ends of her skirt. She looked like an abashed student who was scolded by her teacher. That thought chased away some of his anger.

Levi let out a tired sigh.

"Take it easy on her, shorty," Hange leaned over to murmur in his ear.

"I'm trying," Levi answered in the same quiet voice.

"Are you finished already?" he asked Petra. He decided to follow Hange's advice and make his tone a bit softer.

"Yes," Petra nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "We planted the wire inside his chair."

"Huh," Levi blinked. It was a pretty creative hiding spot. "Not bad."

"Good job!" Hange congratulated, raising her thumbs. "You did great!"

"Oh, detective Hange, you're here too..." Petra mumbled, finally lifting her eyes.

"Detective Hange?" the man behind Petra gulped. “So you’re actually—”

“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Hange snickered.

Levi rolled his eyes at her silliness and then took a step closer to the man, looking at him intently.

"Bozado?" he asked. "And what are you doing here?"

"You know my name, sir?" Oluo's looked up, his eyes bright with hope.

"It's written on your badge," Levi pointed at his breast pocket with a bored expression. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I— I was helping, Petra, sir," Oluo said, scratching the back of his head. "I got the keys to the office and took the wire from the repository."

Levi bored his eyes into the man. Oluo swallowed, squirming under his heavy gaze.

"And why did you decide to help?"

"Levi!" Hange pocked him in the side. "Don't be so insensitive. It's obvious he has feelings for her."

"How is that obvious?" Levi argued, turning to Hange. "And who is being insensitive now, four-eyes? You brought up the subject of his feelings!"

"I was just trying to save the poor man from your fearsome glare," Hange huffed. "And unlike you, I actually know what feelings are."

"Just what are you trying to—"

"Levi?" Petra interrupted softly. "Can we— can we go? It's late already."

Levi looked at Petra, his eyes widening. He almost forgot they were still here.

"Did you take care of everything? Did you make sure that you won't get caught?"

"Yes, sir!" Oluo answered, straightening out and doing a quick salute. Levi scoffed at the gesture. "I'll return the keys to Dita next morning and since I'm in charge of checking the repository, no one will know that something is missing."

"Okay," Levi nodded, his scowl almost disappearing. They really did a good job. He was proud of Petra. And he couldn’t wait to hear what kind of results this scheme would achieve.  "Then you can go. We should go too, Hange.”

"You're right, we should hurry," she agreed. "Goodbye, guys!" she waved at Petra and Oluo and then took Levi by the sleeve of his coat, dragging him away.

*** "What the hell just happened?" Oluo asked, when Levi and Hange left.

"Detectives Ackerman and Zoe happened," Petra replied, feeling just as confused and bewildered as Oluo.

"The legendary duo, huh?" Oluo scoffed, thrusting hands into the pockets of his pants. "They definitely have some issues they need to work on."

"Yes..." Petra agreed, remembering the expression Levi made when Hange said he had no feelings. Her statement confused him, it was obvious, but Petra could swear she could see a flash of pain in his eyes. There was an apparent tension between two partners. She shouldn't pock her nose into it, though. She learned her lesson already.

"I'm so tired," she yawned, feeling her eyelids grow heavy. It was a stressful day, and, now, as the adrenaline rush was over, she was left utterly exhausted. Petra looped her arm with Oluo's, leaning slightly onto him. "Let me buy you a dinner and then let's call it a day."

"Forget the dinner. Maybe, I should just take you home?"

"No," Petra protested, brushing her nose against Oluo's shoulder. "I want to thank you first. You really helped me out today, Oluo. You're the best."

"I think your exhaustion makes you exaggerate," Oluo snorted. With a soft expression, he lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. "But I'll take the compliment. Come on, let's leave this place already."

Petra silently nodded in agreement, letting Oluo lead her outside.

***

"Tell me again," Levi asked, as he parked the car near their meeting place with Zeke. "Why did you choose this place?"

"It's public, for starters, and I hope that would be enough to quell Zeke's murderous intents. And it's pretty inconspicuous."

Levi narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the carelessness in Hange's voice at all. Inconspicuous? What the hell did that mean?

"What the fuck did you tell him, four-eyes?"

Hange shrugged, getting out of the car. "I told him it's a date."

Levi, who was in the middle of closing the car’s door, stopped. He froze, then blinked a few times. He stared at Hange intently trying to see if she was joking.

She wasn't.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, completely shell-shocked.              

"Hey! Don't look so scandalized!"              

As he continued to further contemplate this whole thing, his eye began to twitch. He forcefully shut the door closed.

"Are you actually serious?"

"Um," Hange deflated slightly. "Yes, I am. I just thought it would make him less suspicious. And, well, convince him to come alone."

"So," Levi croaked, finding his throat weirdly inoperative. "Did you and Zeke—"

"Levi." Gone was the easiness of Hange's tone. As she stared Levi down with hands on her hips, her voice was rough. And displeased. She usually used it on him whenever she thought he was being extremely irrational and she was done with him, pestering her about such illogical requests like eating her lunch, sleeping for more than two hours a day and washing her hair at least once in a week. "Are you seriously asking if me and Zeke - the jerk who had ruined my entire life - had hooked up?"

Well, now that Hange had put it like this, he did feel kinda stupid. And more than a little embarrassed.

Fuck. He really was an insensitive jerk.

"Sorry for bringing this up," he grumbled, pushing past Hange and continuing to walk down the street.

"Oi, Levi, wait!" grabbing his sleeve, she quickly caught up with him. She fell into step with him, and for a moment, she was silent.

Their conversation was far from being over and Levi knew it. He didn't have to raise his head to see the pleased smirk on her face. Smugness was practically radiating from her.

"So did I just witness the jealousy of great Levi Ackerman?"

His cheeks burned. Levi kept looking straight ahead. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his discomfiture.

"No."

Hange chuckled. "Just so you know, Zeke isn't my type."

"Cool. I don't care."

"Do you want to know what my type is?"

"No." Yes. "Can we have this conversation some other time?"

"Sure." A pause. "So you are interested what my type is."

Levi groaned.

"Oh, we're here!" Hange said flippantly, like she wasn't mercifully making fun of him just moments ago. "Are you ready, shorty?"

"Yes," he answered, putting their previous conversation to the back of his mind. He fixed his hair and clenched his jaw. "Let's do this, four-eyes."

"Alright," Hange stopped to take a deep breath. She looked more than a little uneasy and, acting on a sheer impulse, Levi took her hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

"I'm with you," he reassured. "I've got your back, Hange."

She smiled, relaxing ever so slightly.  "Thank you. There's no one else I could have done it with. Well," Hange tapped her chin with a finger. "I could do it with Erwin too, but—" her smile turned into a playful grin. "His face isn't quite as scary as yours."

Levi rolled his eyes, glad that Hange was back to her insufferable self.

He pushed the door open, still holding Hange's hand in his.

The café, when they entered it, was mostly empty. There were only two people inside - a girl and a boy probably in their early twenties. They were lounging side by side in the corner of the café, but when Levi and Hange appeared, one of them – a blonde boy with big blue eyes - jumped to his feet and hurried to approach them. The girl with the hair as dark as her expression followed, hovering over boy's shoulder.

"Welcome to Dorothy's corner!" the boy squealed with a nervous smile. "What would you like to order?"

"You didn't give them the menu, Armin," the girl reminded softly, nudging him in the back.

"Oh, right! I'll bring it immediately, just—"

"Relax," Hange advised softly. Her words, coupled with that sweet smile worked like a charm. The boy chuckled sheepishly, scratching his neck with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry, I'm kinda new here."

"New?" Levi repeated. "And for how long have you been working here?"

"Almost a month, sir. Why are you asking?"

"Simple curiosity," he murmured. So it was just a coincidence. The boy wasn't a replacement for the dead waitress.

"And you?" he nodded at the gloomy girl. "Are you working here too?"

"No," the boy smiled, affection lightening his features. "Mikasa just worries too much about me. There was a murder recently and, well, she’s here to look over me."

"Oh, she's a good friend,” Hange praised. “We're actually here to meet our friends too. There they are, by the way!" she pointed her finger at the booth near the window.

Levi followed it, and, now he could see Zeke's blonde head sticking out too. And from looks of it, he wasn’t alone. The rage started boiling inside of him just at the sight of that bastard. Hange squeezed his hand again, offering his silent support.

"Can you bring a cup of green tea for me?" Levi asked, turning to the boy.

"S-sure!"

"And a black coffee with three sugars for that weirdo," he added.

"Still remember my order?" Hange wondered, as they walked towards the booth where Zeke was sitting.

"Focus, four-eyes," he scolded sternly, before coming to a stop in front of the needed table.

With a toothy grin, Hange slide in the booth, taking a seat opposite from Zeke. Levi sat down at her side.

When he saw them, Zeke's eyes widened and his mouth hanged open in silent surprise. That expression was gone way too quickly, however, not giving Levi enough time to savor it.

Zeke clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowed and his face sharpened as he glared at Hange.

"You have the gull, Zoe," he sneered. "You fuck—"

"Oi." Levi interrupted. His voice was quiet, but filled with so much fury and hatred. Zeke visibly shuddered. "If I hear another shitty word about Hange from your dirty mouth, you'll be missing some teeth, you asshole."

"Um." Someone above Levi cleared his throat. He looked up, meeting the scared gaze of the waiter. "Y-your order," he said, his eyes darting nervously between Levi and Zeke.

"Thank you," Hange smiled.

"We'll call if we need refreshments." Levi grunted with a nod.

"Charming as always, detective Ackerman," Zeke scoffed, when the boy left. He pushed the glasses up his nose, and Levi noted with no small amount of amusement that his fingers were slightly trembling.

Zeke turned to Hange. "I thought you wanted to meet me alone."

"I told you to come alone," Hange corrected. "You didn't though."

"I thought you'd like to have a double date," Zeke smirked. The arrogant expression disappeared the second he met Levi’s dark eyes.

"Oh, right!" Hange slapped her forehead. "Where are my manners! Levi, this is Porco and Pieck," she gestured to a man and woman, who sat at the either side of Zeke. The man - Porco - gave Levi a small nod. Pieck waved at him with a grin, tilting her head and staring at him curiously.

"And this is Levi," Hange said. "My partner."

"Partner?" Pieck raised an eyebrow. The grin on her face grew broader.

"I meant, colleague," Hange clarified, clearing her throat.

"I'm curious," Zeke said, not taking his eyes off Hange. "What are you trying to achieve with this stunt? It’s true I can’t do anything to you right now, but what do you think is going to happen afterwards, Hange? Do you think I'd let you go? Do you think your boyfriend,” he looked pointedly at Levi. Levi stared right back, his face blank. “Can protect you? You were too valuable to me, you know too much,” Zeke shook his head, his voice disappointed. “I thought you were smarter than this."

"What makes you think I need protection?" Hange leaned over with a smile that looked just a little bit feral. "Maybe, I've already told everything to the police."

Zeke returned her smile, lifting his hands. "Then where are my handcuffs, detective?"

"If you wanted to imprison me, I'd already be behind bars," he continued, remarkably relaxed. "No, you want something from me, Hange. But for the life of me, I can't understand what exactly."

"Like you said, Zeke," Hange's eye glinted wickedly. "I know too much."

"Wh—"

"Levi has brought you something. I'm sure it'd be quite a thrilling read."

Following the cue, Levi took the file out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

Reluctantly, his eyes shifting from Hange to Levi, Zeke opened it. A confused crease appeared between his eyebrows, as he looked at the first page. Nevertheless, he fixed his glasses and started reading. His two companions joined him, leaning over his shoulder.

It was quiet for a long moment, and Levi used this time to drink his tea. It was good, he was quite impressed.

"Is tea here still up to your standards?" Hange asked in a whisper.

"Mm," he nodded. "Definitely not as shitty as the tea you used to make, four-eyes."

"As shitty as it was, you still drank it."

Yeah, he did. Actually, Levi kinda missed that awful, bitter taste. Maybe, once it was all over, he could ask Hange to brew him tea again. Just like in the old times.

"It's the case you told me about," Pieck concluded, when she finished reading the file.

"Yes," Hange nodded.

Levi tilted his head, looking at that Pieck curiously. Hange trusted her. Why?

"I hope you don't think that I did it," Zeke scoffed. "I was out of country. I couldn't kill these women."

"I know," Hange agreed.

"Believe me, if I had even the slightest doubt that you did it, we wouldn't be sitting there, chatting," Levi added menacingly.

"What do you want then?" Porco spoke up, glancing between Hange and Levi.

"Cooperation." Hange answered. "Whoever committed these murders is close to you, Zeke."

"Or tries to get rid of you." Levi said.

"And why do you care?" Zeke asked. "Why would you decide to help? After everything I've done to you, don't you want to take your revenge?"

"You can't even imagine how much I want this," Hange told him fiercely. She moved her face closer to Zeke, putting her elbows on the table. A wide, crazy grin spread on her lips, and Zeke recoiled as though in fear.

Levi relaxed in his seat, watching their interaction closely. Seeing the panic reflect in Zeke's eyes put a satisfied smirk on his face.

“And I promise you, Zeke," Hange continued. "I will get my revenge and I will make you pay for everything you put me through. But," she chuckled, easing her expression into her usual friendly mien. "As it is now, a criminal, who killed two women, is on the loose. And I consider it my duty to catch them. My retribution can wait for a while."

"Do you have any suspects?" Pieck asked, making Hange look at her and giving Zeke a much needed moment of respite. Levi continued to watch him, though, enjoying the slight fear that painted his features. The sight was all the more pleasurable for Levi, because Hange was the one who made the bastard feel this way.

"Zeke is not the only one who's being targeted. Someone tries to harm Levi too." Hange replied. "I'm pretty sure that Sannes is on it."

"Sannes?" Porco frowned. "Isn't he one of yours?"

"We all know that he's one of yours," Levi's face twisted in grimace.

"Why would Sannes go against me?” Zeke wondered. “We've been working together for years."

"Maybe, someone tries to take your place," Pieck speculated. "If that's the case, Sannes could agree to betray you. He's not loyal to you, but to your influence after all."

"Sannes can't be the only one, though," Hange went on. "His main goal is to get rid of Levi, and he could have come up with something less complicated to achieve it. So," Hange kicked Zeke's leg under the table. "Spill it out, Zeke. Who hates you so much?"

Zeke scowled, irritated by her cheerfulness. He opened his mouth, and Levi was sure that nothing nice or useful was going to come out of it. He kicked him under the table too. His kick was much stronger than Hange’s. Zeke yelped, bending down to rub his leg. Levi almost smiled.

"I think Floch is the betrayer."

"What?" Zeke snorted. "Floch is the one who had come up with that plan? Don't make me laugh, Hange."

"I didn't say that he was the one who had come up with it," Hange argued. "I said that it’s possible that he had betrayed you."

"So you think Sannes and Floch are the one to blame?" Porco clarified.

"No," Hange shook her head. She tapped her fingers on the table, biting her lip. "I think... There is a third party involved. Floch would never act on his own volition. But he's easily influenced and if he encountered someone charismatic enough, he wouldn’t think twice about betraying you. But why would they need such an elaborate plan?" Hange wondered. "If they wanted to take control of your gang—"

"Criminal organ—"

"Shut up!" she barked, glaring at Zeke. "You're making it hard to think. Where was I?"

"If someone wanted to take Zeke's power, why not simply kill him?" Pieck said.

"Exactly!" Hange snapped her fingers with a grateful smile. "Whoever is against you, Zeke, doesn't want to simply kill you. They're trying to put in prison. We don't know who that is and I'm pretty sure you don't know it either. I don't think it's someone from your gang, Floch doesn't respect anyone but you. So that leaves with one possible explanation - it's someone from outside. Maybe, a partner you've fucked over."

"Does anyone come to your mind, boss?" Porco asked.

"There is someone," Zeke mumbled, his eyes cast down. "But he already took his revenge on me." 

"Hm," Hange scratched her chin. "That complicates it."

"If someone wants to get rid of Zeke," Pieck spoke up. "Then how is your partner involved in this?"

"Through Sannes." Levi replied. "Sannes wanted to get rid of me. He couldn't find a reason to fire me, so he decided to exploit my only weakness."

"Your weakness?" Hange repeated, confused.

Levi sighed. "You, Hange. Everyone at the precinct knows that I..." he cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the side. "That your death hit me hard. And Sannes decided to use that. He wanted me to stop thinking rationally, wanted to me to lose my cool. He almost succeeded." He added softly. 

Under the table, Hange took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Levi looked up, meeting her gaze. It was full of sympathy, regret and something else. Something unreadable, something fierce. Something that made it hard to look away. 

"Could you please stop this?" Zeke groaned. "I believe we were in a middle of a serious discussion."

Hange was the first to look away. She continued to hold his hand, however. Feeling bold, Levi intertwined their fingers. 

"You were saying?" Zeke prompted with a roll of his eyes.

"Um, yes, right," Hange nodded. "There a lot we don't know about our enemies, but I theorize that something like that happened: someone - a past ally, or, maybe one of your victims - approached Floch. They convinced him to betray you and probably shared with Floch their desire to take you out of the picture without murdering you. We don't know their motivations and why they couldn't just kill you, since whoever they are," Hange's face twisted in disgust. "They are more than okay with murdering innocents. Floch then goes to Sannes, and Sannes decides to join on the plan. They devise some sort of a gamble – either Zeke goes to prison or Levi gets fired."

"Sounds far-fetched," Zeke scoffed. 

"Maybe," Hange shrugged. "There is a lot we still don't know. Would you help us, though?"

Zeke sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Nope!" Hange clasped her hands with a wide grin. 

"Don't forget that this alliance is temporary," Levi added.

"I would rather die than continue it for a second longer than absolutely necessary." Zeke snarled. 

"Good," Levi retorted. "Then die."

"What Levi wanted to say," Hange corrected with a chuckle. "Is that we're hoping for a fruitful cooperation. But for now, we should go our separate ways. I'll contact you if we discover something."

"We'll do the same," Pieck smiled, ushering Porco and Zeke to get up from their seats. "Enjoy your evening," she added before the three of them left.

The moment the door of the café closed behind them, Hange exhaled in relief. Levi sighed too, slumping in his seat.

"Pieck is nice, isn't she?" Hange asked softly. 

"Are you two... friends?"

"Sort of," she replied. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Levi assured. "It's just, well, a bit weird."

"She helped me," Hange confessed. "When Zeke—" she made a vague gesture with her hands, pointing to her lost eye. "You know."

"We'll make him pay," he promised. 

"I know," Hange leaned against his shoulder, yawning. "Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"Of course," he murmured. "Grim would love to see you. I don't have anything to eat at home, though. Want to order something here?"

Hange looked up at him, blinking sleepily. "You'll make me have dinner no matter what I say, right?"

He lightly flicked her nose. "What's the point of asking if you already know the answer?"

"You don't change," she whispered fondly. "It's good to be back, Levi."

It's good to have you back, he thought, admiring her peaceful expression. ***

One foot in front of the other, Petra slowly made her way up stairs to her apartment. She was exhausted, tired to the bone and the only thing she craved was to get into her cozy and warm apartment and then fall face-first into her soft and comfy bed. 

But as her luck would have it, the elevators were broken and now she had to climb all the fifteen flight of stairs that lead to her apartment.

 Heaving a sigh, she looked up. She was already on thirteenth floor. 

Just two more, she thought grimly. Petra grabbed the railing tightly and pushed herself upwards. 

Finally, when she was almost at the brim of exhaustion, Petra climbed up to the needed floor. She breathed out in relief and her lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. 

She was almost home, the only thing she needed to do was to walk up to her front door, unlock it, took off her coat and shoes and change into pajamas. Then, she could get some rest at last. After that insane day, she more than deserved it. 

As she neared the door to her apartment, Petra caught a weird scent, hanging in the air. She stopped for a second, sniffing. It was a strong, bitter and unpleasant. The scent of a cigarette smoke, Petra realized. She had never smelled it there before. As far as she knew, her neighbors didn't smoke. Then where the scent had come from?

A bit wary and alert, she continued her way. She was tired, maybe, she just imagined the smell. Or, maybe, one of her neighbors started smoking. It wasn't a big deal. Definitely wasn't illegal. 

With a reprimanding shake of her head, Petra willed herself to relax. She took out her keys and approached the door. She touched the door handle.

And the panic nearly overwhelmed her. 

Her front door. It wasn’t locked.

Staring at it in confusion, Petra searched her mind, trying to remember if she had forgotten to close the door when leaving in the morning. She always locked it. Could it be that she had forgotten about it today?

She was a creature of habit, she always made sure to turn off the lights and lock the front door before leaving the apartment. On the other hand, however, a lot happened this week. She wasn't sleeping enough. She wasn't getting enough rest. She was constantly in the state of worry and anxiety. Locking her front door was at the very bottom of her list of priorities. She could very easily forget about it. 

Right?

She was probably just getting too paranoid. It was probably caused by exhaustion and emotional distress. She was worrying over nothing. 

Petra took a deep breath. She was worrying over nothing. She kept repeating this phrase like a mantra in her head. She slowly pushed the door open.

The apartment behind it was silent. And dark. 

Petra exhaled in relief.

She chuckled softly, scolding herself for being a scaredy-cat. She closed the door - making sure she locked it this time - and took off her coat and shoes. She draped the coat on the clothes rack and then entered her bedroom. She touched the switch, turning on the light. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden brightness. She swept her eyes across the room—

And then gasped, the fear gripping every part of her body. 

There was a man sitting in her armchair near the window. The same man that she saw in the precinct today - the one with eerie smile. 

That same unnerving smile was spread on his lips once again. 

"Detective Ral," he murmured softly, rising to his feet. "Did you and your partner receive my note?"

[sporksaber]

Ok, I love the role swap concept with zuko and azula, but I feel like they switch their abilities and personalities a bit too and I think itd be more fun without that. Where Azula is an antisocial and unstable genius who wants to gain power and zuko still struggles with being the less powerful and extremely empathetic sibling. So here's how I'd do it.

(Note, this is just for fun. I'm not saying anyone else's version is bad. But I've though about this so much and need it out of my head before I go off cuz make a whole comic and I do not have the time, i need to work.)

First off, Azula wouldn't call out in concern for the men like how zuko did. In my version she's allowed into the meeting because of the aptitude for strategy shes shown. She speaks up because it's an inefficient plan that uses up too many resources when there are other options. This enrages her father and leads to the agni kai. Azula is terrified and feels betrayed but has no idea how to handle any of it. She fights back during the agni kai, but in her panic she sets off a bolt of lightning. Ozai finishes the match and severely burns on her lower back. Azula is banished for her use of lightning on the fire lord (bc ozai fears she will no longer be easy to manipulate and might plot his death) and is forced to leave the next morning.

Some things to note: azula is eleven at this point. I changed the placement of the scar bc I think zuko's is very symbolic in a way that doesnt suit azula. Zuko's scar being over his eye and close to the light chakra shows the way his view of the fire nation and honour obscures his vision and how he is unaware of the truth of the world under fire nation rule. I set azula's over her spine because that chakra is based on survival and blocked by fear. It also represents trust which will fit into her arc with the gaang. Finally, she doesnt have Iroh to guide her. One of the things that bothered me was Iroh writing her off as evil despite her being a mentally unstable child. She did have to be defeated, but the way he talked about it was too dismissive. (Personally I think he was projecting his views of his brother and his perceived failures with him onto her.) Azula isnt sent to capture the avatar so she isnt given soldiers. She's completely alone without an advisor to look to or keep her calm.

Azula is given a manned ship with a disgraced soldier and an attendant when she leaves. The way I see it the soldiers zuko had were probably more irohs than his. The soldier is relieved to not be executed but hates being demoted to playing babysitter to a child at sea. The attendant views it as a punishment and hates Azula for it. Eventually the attendant will betray her and be killed for it. Azula never trusted the soldier and he eventually leaves to start a family in an earth kingdom colony. Azula doesnt miss him, he was no longer useful. The loneliness does get to her though.

Azula is obsessed with getting the underhand, so she had been successfully building connections and planting spies where needed.

(Zuko has been acting as a respectable crowned prince. He holds a zealous loyalty to his nation and father. He still faulters as Iroh tries to steer him from tyranny, but his sights are set on his father's approval and that alone. Afterall, if his prodigy could be discarded who's to say what would happen to him if he failed?)

This brings us to the start of the series. Like Zuko Azula witnesses the trap on the old fire nation battle ship go off. She investigates and finds that an air bending avatar is living at the south pole village. She decides she wants to speak with him.

Azula didn't believe the avatar existed before this point. Hiding didnt add up to her knowledge of the morality of airbenders, so she assumed the air nation avatar from the start of the war would be dead. She would know if one had appeared in the water tribe, as the south had all its benders killed and the north was compacted so close together it would be impossible to hide. Earth would be harder, but they were most likely to fight back and out act. And if in ba sing se they'd be used as a weapon or gotten rid of to preserve the peace of the city. Once the culcle progressed to the fire nation it would either be used to take over the other nations or enf the cycle for good. After all, there hasn't been an air bender for a hundred years even if the rumors of some acolytes surviving were truthful.

Azula kidnaps aang with far more ease than she should of been able to. Once he stops struggling she calmly offers him tea and promises to release him once their discussion is finished. He takes the tea and drinks it without question and besides a wary glare shows no more hostility. She thought him a fool, the tea could have easily been poisoned and promised are nothing but words. His naivete makes her job easier though.

She finds out that he was suspended frozen in the avatar state the last 100 years. And so, Azula informs him of the war and the fire nations crimes, advising him to master the elements if he wants to prevent all his new friends and the avatar cycle from certain destruction. Aang is conflicted, he never asked for any of this. Azula just gives a bitter smile. "The hands of fate were never designed to take requests, they move without regard to any life dependent on it. Dont waste your breath when there is nothing you can do."

Azula wants to see Ozai fail. If helping the avatar is what it takes then so be it. When his friends appear to save him she let's them leave without a fight. Theyll be useful in the future.

As the gaang's travels kick off she sets out to find out if the rumours about the acolytes are true. In this she finds a traveling circus. The youngest daughter and an old friend of hers was eager to escape and found Azula's life exciting. She didn't hesitate after being invited along, insisting that traveling would be easy for her and that she'd pull her own weight.

She encounters the gaang a few times as time goes by. The relationship is reluctant on the water tribe siblings part, they dont trust her and hold a decent amount of fear towards her. Her cold and calculating demeanor was unsettling, but the unhinged way she fought was terrifying. Her form was perfect and her attacks were precise, but the bigger the fight the more lost she became as she laughed and shrieked and occasionally snapped at someone who didnt seem to be there. The only worse reaction was when she zeroed in on one opponent, picking them apart both mentally and physically as she drove them to the ground. )

Things that'll happen as I move through an episode list:

Azula doesn't have her ship attacked do she diesnt run into zhao while doing repairs, instead going straight to ty lee.

Azula learns that the gaang is on kyoshi island and heads ther after them. She has been keeping track of the avatar as they move. Ty lee gets along well with the kyoshi warriors while azula buts heads with them. They dont want her there and azula hates it when people get in the way. Zhao appears to try to capture aang and Azula dips at the same time as the gaang. She tells ty lee she can stay but she insists on sticking with azula. This puts her on edge.

Ty lee gets captured by earth benders, when she escapes on her own she cements her usefulness to Azula.

They run into zhao trying to capture the avatar and azula tells him she'll capture him first. They both attack aang during the solstice, though azula's attacks are all purposefully set to miss and trip up zhao as much as possible. Aang is the best way to prove her father wrong and she's not going to lose that.

They rob the pirates that try to capture the avatar. Azula needs the resources and it gives her leverage over the gaang.

After almost killing ty lee for scaring her by popping up behind her Azula tells her why she was banished. (In more of a "my own mother thought I was a monster" way than an opening up about trauma way.)

Azula learns that zhao has captured aang and frees him. She then sets to reworking her information network as not all of them are scared enough of her to not fail her. She remedies it quickly.

Azula learns that zhao is plotting her assassination and decides it's the perfect moment to fake her death.

Azula enters the north pole to defeat zhao and gain any information she can. Ty lee rades a library during the confrontation. Zhao is surprised and infuriated to see her alive, Azula smiles as she sends him to his death knowing that she is not only helping the avatar but also that he gave her a perfect way to hide from the fire nation. (When news of his sisters death reaches hum, Zuko doesnt know what to think. She was always cruel to him, but she was still his little sister.)

The crown prince of the fire nation is sent to capture the avatar. Azula follows him as he begins his search. (Zuko begins to think he's going insane as he keeps catching glimpses of his recently deceased sister out of the corner of his eye.)

Ty lee keeps running into a girl she slowly befriends. She's gloomy and sarcastic and ty lee thinks Azula would like her. (Zuko's fiance Mai tells him that she thinks his sister is still alive.)

As Azula notices ty lee become more and more distracted as she absorbed herself into the cultures that surround them she decides it's best for them to split up. Ty lee diesnt agree, but Azula leaves anyway. She has work to do.

While traveling alone Azula cant escape the thoughts of her mother. Of her fathers betrayal. Of the life she lost because the idiot elders had no grip on proper strategy that even a child could create. She meets a boy that reminds her far too much of zuko with a mother far to similar to theirs. When she sends the bandits controlling the town running she knows it's more than just controlling a territory that compelled her. But at the same time she doubts not following through on the whim would have bothered her.

Ty lee meets toph and chat for a bit. Ty lee tells her about azula and how she left. When toph tells her she should forget her she insists that azula didnt really ditch her and that they're still friends. They talk about their friends and childhood.

Ty lee finds Azula and immidiently jumps at her, which she does not enjoy. Ty lee insists that she still wants to travel with her and Axula sighs as she let's her tag along to the next location, ba sing se.

Azula slips through guards and protocols as she tries to gain any information she can to help her once they reach the city. Ty lee befriends a guy named jet and his group, the freedom fighters. When he tries to get more than friendship she turns him down and it becomes much more awkward.

Ty lee becomes a street performer and chames everyone she meets as Azula researches the dai lee and how they keep control. After lashing out in frustration ty lee drags her out to enjoy the city's night life.

Azula learns of the presence of the avatar and location of appa. She frees him and sets to work taking control of the dai lee. She let's herself be briefly captured but her plan shifts when katara is thrown in with her. Katara is pissed just being around her and azula plays up a cool kind of annoyance. Katara briefly catches sight of the burns on Azula's back and offers to heal her, only for Azula to freak out and yell at her to stay away, backing against a far wall in a fighting stance. They are saved by the rest if the gaang and ty lee shortly after.

Azula goes back to try and salvage her plan only to be caught off guard by the appearance of her brother and his offer to return to the fire nation. Not willing to lose all possible advantages, she agrees. They battle the gaang, and when they are almost captured azula sends a bolt of lightning at aang, causing them to retreat. Katara can heal him more easily than she can maneuver them out of an execution.

Azula returns to the fire nation with her brother, mai and ty lee, starting the beginning of a large power play between her and her father. They are sent to lo and li beach house. The relationship between the siblings is tense, zuko has always been the child born with nothing who gained everything when his blessed at birth sister lost it all. Azula has always been cruel, but he cant help but let his heart catch on the moments when she's not. ("My own mother thought I was a monster, My father thought i was too difficult to keep around" "Don't let their words blind you, you need to be more careful, zuzu." "I learned the hard way to never turn your back to anyone, and the scars will always be there as a reminder if I need it." )

Azula runs into iroh, who is very disapproving of her presence. He warns her to stay away from zuko and to watch herself while at the palace. Later, zuko comes to her asking about their great grandfather. Upon being pressed he admits that he was sent a mysterious letter. He thought she was going to burn it when he handed it to her but instead the heat from the fire revealed a hidden ink. "Honestly brother, did you ever pay attention at all during lessons?" They find a autobiographical scroll of their great grandfathers life and the secret that their other great grandfather was roku. Azula scoffed at the idea of bloodlines deciding fate and quickly left. But Zuko remained conflicted.

During the day of the black sun Azula confronts Ozai. As iroh and Zuko fight the avatar. She learns that her mother left for zuko's sake and that she was never going to be fire lord. Azula tells him she'll be somthing even better and leaves the palace.

Azula and ty lee follow the gaang to the western air temple. Katara immidprntly attacks but is quickly rendered unable to bend by ty lee. Azula tells them that the only way for them to of gotten out was for Aang to be incapacitated, and she knew katara could heal him. Aang decides they can stay but have to stay distanced from everyone else.

Azula tries to teach aang fire bending but is slowly growing sick while aang is barely able to produce a puff of smoke. Unable to sleep and constantly on edge, it soon affects her bending, sending her spiraling as she loses control on the only consistent power she's ever had. Her and aang journey to find the true source of fire bending to try to help their conditions.

Still sick, Azula is itching to do anything away from the temple. Finding sokka trying to reach the boiling rock to find his father, she decides to go with him as she knows the prison well. Sokka declines but she goes anyway. They dont find his father, but they do find suki. Azula formulates a plan but they postpone when sokka's father arrives.

Azula comes up with a new plan, now reluctant to include sokka. He tells her to trust him but she insists she has no reason to. Her sickness has been getting worse and he tells her she needs to trust him, making her angry. Only when he catches her while they're escaping dies she finally begin to accept trusting him, if only slightly.

(While they're away ty lee tries to convince

Azula goes with Katara to find the man who killed her mother. Azula has no concept of why katara is so upset, which causes her to get angry. But azula tracks the man anyway.

Ember island players- azulas character has the scar across her chest. She's absolutely insane and "not entirely inaccurate, but I'd never come up with such a dumb plan." Shes also heavily implied to be more than close to ty lee, which azula has no reaction to even as the others freak out.

I havent decided the ending, zuko will probably turn to the gaang's side. I'll add more later and maybe write or illustrate a bit.

[screamting]

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening. 

--

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

--

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close. 

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little. 

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning. 

--

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

--

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.  

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

--

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

--

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew. 

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment. 

--

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

--

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased. 

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions. 

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

--

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

--

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost. 

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

--

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

--

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably. 

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

--

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

--

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did. 

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

--

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

--

Bruce made a distressed face. 

“...have any other hats?”

--

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

--

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning. 

--

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

--

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy. 

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer. 

--

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

--

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said. 

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say. 

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

--

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

--

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair. 

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish. 

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening. 

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready. 

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first. 

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light. 

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it. 

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up. 

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent. 

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it. 

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell. 

And they were outside. 

--

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

--

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice. 

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment. 

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area. 

--

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

--

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled. 

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention. 

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something. 

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

--

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

--

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

--

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

--

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him. 

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring. 

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face. 

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said. 

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again. 

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving. 

--

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

--

Once more they turned, surprised. 

“You've fucked?” Tommy said. 

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin. 

--

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

--

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend. 

Ice cream parlor across the street. 

Yes. 

--

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

--

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine. 

--

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

--

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt. 

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

--

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

--

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change. 

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations. 

And ready to go. 

A night away.

--

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

--

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter. 

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him. 

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said. 

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him. 

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once. 

Smiling. 

--

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

--

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but-- 

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed. 

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference. 

But here, finally, it was just fun. 

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game. 

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last. 

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter. 

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open. 

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth. 

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once. 

--

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

--

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

--

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

--

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

--

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

--

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same. 

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream. 

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae. 

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second. 

--

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

--

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest. 

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw. 

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

--

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

--

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town. 

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop. 

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs. 

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

--

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

--

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae. 

(“Hm?” Bruce said. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

--

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

--

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before. 

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart. 

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around. 

--

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

--

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress. 

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said. 

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose. 

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together. 

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him. 

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back. 

--

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

--

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries. 

--

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

--

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over. 

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

--

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

--

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket. 

He pulled out a five. 

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her. 

--

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

--

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside. 

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door. 

--

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

--

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened. 

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over. 

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey. 

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell. 

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell. 

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too. 

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt. 

He tugged on his night clothes too. 

As if nothing had happened. 

--

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

--

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice. 

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking. 

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual. 

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast. 

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

--

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

--

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort. 

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

--

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

--

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else. 

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy. 

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out. 

“Is something wrong?”

--

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

--

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break,  now that it's officially November.”

November. 

Clark had made it to the third month. 

--

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

--

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

--

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

--

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

--

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

--

...he nodded. 

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But. 

Even he got tired of reading. 

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander. 

--

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

--

He shook his head. 

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

--

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

-- 

Bruce turned to look at him, startled. 

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment. 

--

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

--

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head. 

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and 

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

--

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

--

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious. 

--

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

--

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way. 

He nodded and took the phone. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he said. 

--

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

--

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

--

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

--

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine. 

He gave her the manor phone number. 

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes. 

--

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

--

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it. 

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here. 

“No, nothing like that.”

--

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

--

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back. 

Listened from the short distance between them. 

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most. 

--

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

--

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

--

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

--

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. 

--

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

--

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that. 

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

--

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

--

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited. 

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

--

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

--

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

--

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

--

That one, Bruce kicked him for. 

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry. 

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons. 

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

And he hung up without saying goodbye. 

--

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

--

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but… 

Alfred made it hard sometimes. 

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

--

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

[seijorhi]

hello!! i absolutely love your writing! if possible, i’d love to request number 12 with kageyama :))

Of course, thanks for asking! 😊Hope you guys enjoy some Yakuza boss Kags!

TW mentions of torture/murder, escape attempt, implied dub-con

Lucky

12. “You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. Count yourself lucky.”

You know better than most what happens when somebody breaks the rules. 

It was never a spectacle that you particularly enjoyed, but you came to realise fairly quickly that your feelings on the matter weren’t all that important. Kageyama was there, and where Kageyama went, so too did you. They were never cruel, he’d told you once, simply fair. An eye for an eye - the punishment met the crime. You’re not quite sure whether he honestly believes it or if it’s just another lie he tries to placate you with. Hacking off a man’s hand simply for making the mistake of touching you without his permission hardly seemed like a fitting punishment, but one look at the quiet fury burning in Kageyama’s eyes and any protests you might have had die in your throat. 

And you knew, you knew, that there was no greater slight in his eyes than betrayal. Absolute loyalty was paramount - loyalty to the family, and loyalty to him above all else. He wouldn’t tolerate anything less, especially not from you.

But it hadn’t stopped you, not when the prospect of freedom was dangling so tantalisingly close in front of you that you could almost taste it. 

It was a mistake to think that Tobio would ever be so careless with you. You can’t remember much, only the feel of your lungs burning as you raced through the streets, the arm that swept out to catch you, knocking the air of your lungs and the butt of a gun connecting with your skull and then-

Nothing.

Until you wake up - not in a filthy cell or bound to a chair in the basement surrounded by Kageyama and his closest associates and underlings - but in his bed, the one he forces you to share with him. You’re not alone either. You don’t even need to look up to know that he’s there, watching, silently fuming in the corner - his anger’s palpable, you can practically feel the fury that’s rolling off of him in waves, poisoning the very air around you.

“Welcome back.” His voice is cold and biting, but you don’t flinch. You don’t even move - it’s safer not to. You have no idea why he’s brought you back here instead of exacting your punishment in front of the others, but you’re not an idiot. Provoking him won’t do you any good now, but you’re not going to grovel either. 

Instead you keep your eyes fixed on the marble floor, waiting for him to continue. Somehow you’d almost rather he’d make a spectacle of it - at least then you’d know what to expect. 

Kageyama’s always been difficult to read. He wears his anger and displeasure proudly but everything else is hidden away under that careful mask. Nobody but you ever saw that mask slip, saw the pain and the sadness or the tender affection and quiet contentment reserved for you alone. Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands and walks towards the bed, each step echoing loudly through the room.

“You cannot leave me.”

He says it not like an order, but simply a fact.

“You will not leave me.”

His voice is like ice, but his hands are surprisingly gentle as he cups your face and tilts your chin up to meet his burning gaze. He’s still wearing his suit from the night before, though his jacket’s nowhere to be seen and his shirt is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can’t help but stare at the tattoos that colour his pale skin, the inked koi fish, dragons and peonies that he wears like a badge of honour. You suppose they are - they show the world exactly what kind of monster he is, but they’re still beautiful. You’ve lost hours held captive in his arms as he works, fingers gently tracing the waves and the scales, mapping the intricate patterns for lack of anything better to do. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, lifting your gaze to stare into those stormy blue eyes. You aren’t, not really, and he knows that better than anyone.

But it doesn’t matter, does it? Not when he holds your life so tightly in his hands. 

He huffs, shaking his head, “If anyone else had betrayed me as you have tonight, my love,” the term of endearment is harsh and venomous, yet the lingering kiss he presses against your cheek is anything but, “I’d have you begging for mercy as I broke you apart in front of everybody piece by piece.”

You shudder and he gives you a cruel smile, “That’s the punishment for disobeying your Oyabun, I thought I’d made that clear to you?” 

He had, time and time again. You knew that, and you ran anyway… some part of you accepted that even if you couldn’t evade him, death, however painful or drawn out, would still be an escape.

A last resort.

Kageyama sighs, carding his fingers through your tangled hair. “I hope you understand that the ones who helped you tonight - their blood is on your hands. The guards who you slipped by, the servants who foolishly left the window unlocked, all dead.”

Your blood runs cold.

“If you were anybody else…” he trails off with a contemplative hum. You don’t need to imagine the horrors he’d gladly inflict, you’d seen it first hand far too many times to count.

“T-Tobio, please.”

His feral grin widens, his hand tightening around your hair until you gasp “But you’re not anybody else, you’re mine. You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. Count yourself lucky,” he growls. 

You find yourself nodding along desperately, tears spilling down your rosy cheeks in silent sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whimper pathetically.

The silence in the room is almost deafening as Kageyama reaches with his spare hand for his belt buckle, “So why don’t you show me how sorry you are, hm?”

[tonya-the-chicken]

I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

[opbackgrounds]

Oooh can you do a post on the tenryubito?

So I feel like this is going to be an unpopular opinion, but I pity the Celestial Dragons. 

That isn’t to say that they aren’t all (mostly) abhorrently evil megalomaniacs with  an institutionally enforced god complex who treat the torture of human(oids) with the same blasé disregard as a kid pulling the wings off of a fly, but there’s a part of me that just finds them pathetic. The Celesital Dragons are a group of people who have the world as their silver platter, yet are so small-minded and infantile they literally trap themselves in a tiny bubbles because they’re too scared to breathe the same air as the so-called lesser races.

There was a time when I didn’t think much of the Celestial Dragons because I thought that Oda’s exaggerated storytelling had gone one step too far. They were too cartoonishly evil to be believable—nothing but a bunch of mustache-twirling villains too ridiculous to be taken seriously—and though I found Luffy punching one in the face very cathartic I wasn’t terribly invested in the World Nobility as a worldbuilding element. 

But if there’s something I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older, it’s that there is a depressingly-large number of cartoonishly evil people who through no merit of their own find themselves wielding enormous amounts of power, and the Celestial Dragons are more realistic than I ever thought possible. 

The Dragons are One Piece’s exploration of the idea that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Eight hundred years is a ridiculously long time to be in control of a single territory, let alone an organization as massive as the World Government. To put it in perspective a little, eight hundred years ago was when the Magna Carta was signed. Even real-world dynasties tend to have major fluctuations in power over the course of generations, but It seems that the World Government—and by extension the Celestial Dragons—have for eight centuries kept an iron hold over what they consider theirs. 

Which just happens to be everything. 

The actual origins of the CD tie into series lore and will probably play a big part in Robin learning about the True History, but I fall in the camp that believes that they originated on the moon because 1) they’re the Celestial Dragons 2) there’s gotta be some significance to Enel’s cover story, and 3) Oda clearly modeled their hairstyles and clothing off of the King and Queen of the Moon from the movie The Adventures of Baron Muchausen

Which, if true, makes them a foreign imperialistic force that used military might and a totalitarian regime that specializes in censorship and terror in order to turn the One Piece world into a giant colony while presenting itself as an egalitarian, unifying coalition where no single ruler is fit to sit on the Empty Throne. 

And to think, there are some people who don’t think One Piece is political.

What’s really fascinating is that most of the rank and file Celestial Dragons don’t seem to realize their own history. Their traditional enemy has become a bedtime story used to scare children, and they’re too preoccupied in their petty games and pleasures to even notice that they’re not really the most powerful people in the world. It’s like their freedom to commit atrocities is the world’s worst example of bread and circuses, because as long as their attention is held by the shiny new slave or fixated on bringing in another tribute then they can’t use their immense power to actually do anything, and for the most part they’re too stupid to realize they’re being used. 

Granted, I’m doing a lot of guesswork here, but we don’t really know where Im and his giant pointy crown fits into all this, or how aware the average Celestial Dragon is of his existence. Is he a world noble? Are the Elder Stars? I personally don’t think the latter are, but is it possible that there’s an even more secret and exclusive group within one of the most secretive and exclusive groups on the planet? And what in the world does the straw hat locked in a freezer have to do with any of it? Was that the treasure Doflamingo used to blackmail the Celestial Dragons into submission, and if so, who did he parlay with during his negotiations? Because I can’t see idiots like Saint Charlos or Mysogard before his character development giving two shits about any of it. Was it CP0, and if so, how much do they understand about the man who sits on the Empty Throne?

What I’m trying to say here, is that there’s a whole lot we don’t know. 

What isn’t guesswork is how little the Celestial Dragons understand about the real world, and this is where I go back to feeling sorry for them. Even the best-intentioned noble we’ve seen so far (Homing) has no idea of what it is to be “human”. 

This mansion is just...comfortable. It’s a downgrade. It’s how Homing thinks normal people live, and he thinks he can just plop his family out in the real world and live a quiet, normal life without blowback from a population that has suffered terribly at the Celestial Dragons hands. His ignorance and naivety, while well-intentioned, is staggering.

Because remember, slavery is technically illegal within the World Government.  Only criminals and people from nations not affiliated can be taken to auction. What initially seems like a kindness turns out to be sending pigs to the slaughter, because what nation wouldn’t react the way this one did once they found out the truth?

Because what the WG (and by extension the CD) have done is punish nations who don’t kowtow to their power in order to fulfill the demand for slaves. Even the bit about criminals is terrifying when this is a world where for some it’s a crime to even be born, to say nothing about the Celestial Dragon’s refusal to obey their own laws if it means they can get what they want, when they want it. 

The whole Homing situation puts a different spin on Doflamingo’s speech during the Marineford War. People who have only known peace can’t understand those who have only known war, and that lack of understanding is what ultimately led to his undoing. 

That’s not to say that the Celestial Dragons are incapable of change on an individual level. One Piece is, ultimately, a very optimistic series, so while I was initially surprised that Saint Mysogard returned during the Reverie chapters as a good guy, upon later reflection it made sense with the points Oda was trying to make during the Fishman Island arc—that if different groups can try to understand one another, they can get along. 

But it took an extraordinary event in almost being killed by his own former slaves and an extraordinary diplomat in Queen Otohime to change the mind of one (1) Celestial Dragon, and it doesn’t look like Saint Mysogard has been able to bring anyone else around to his point of view in the 10 years since he realized he was, in fact, human. And when feel like you’re due everything because you’re a god, why would you want to lower yourself to the position of a lessor being?

 The Celestial Dragons are trained from birth to think of other human(oid) beings as less than animals, where sadism and torture aren’t only encouraged, but celebrated. The system has corrupted to the point where there’s no incentive to change and no oversight to prevent the abuse of power, and with the ability to call the admirals on anyone who pisses them off the average person has no hope of fighting back. It’s difficult to guess how noble the progenitors of the current Celestial Dragons were, but judging by what we know of the Void Century we can guess not very. At the same time, it’s hard to imagine them starting out as the mustache-twirling villains as we see in the current day. The only difference between the Nefertitis and the other kings was one man’s choice to stay with his people. In an alternate universe Vivi could have been a Celestial Dragon.

Now there’s an AU idea.

At the end of the day, the Celestial Dragons play an important role within the One Piece universe, but they are not, by themselves, important to Luffy. He hates their guts and enjoys punching them in the face, but he’s a pirate, not a Revolutionary. The future for One Piece is delightfully opaque, and it’s hard for me to see how the Natural Enemy of God ends up tearing the system to the ground. Will the Straw Hats end up going to space? I don’t know, but there are a lot of people who think it’s at least a possibility.

I personally find them at their most interesting when they’re playing the part of the outside influencer. The Celestial Dragons have only been the direct opponents to the Straw Hats a handful of times, but they’ve played a direct role in the lives of so many other characters—both heroic and villainous—that without them the series could not exist as it currently does. 

And that’s the power of good worldbuilding. I don’t need Luffy to face off against Im to be satisfied with the series. In fact, he was brought in so late that I’ll be a little disappointed if he ends up as the final boss fight. I’m okay with the Revolutionary Army storming Mariejois off-screen, because while those are important players and major chess pieces, that’s never been where Luffy’s focus has been. He’s the man who’s going to become the Pirate King, and until the Celestial Dragons somehow get in the way of that dream he’s not going to bother with them. This lack of focus allows the inherent darkness of the Celestial Dragons not to overshadow the more lighthearted, whimsical aspects of the series. They explore certain themes that are important to One Piece, but the story doesn’t dwell in the mire, and I think it’s all the stronger for it. . 

[partywithponies]

hi! i've only ever seen the bbc version of father brown and i've never read the books (i know, i'm so sorry), but i'm super curious about the different versions of father brown and you seem like an expert on each adaptation, so i was wondering if you'd be willing to give me a rundown of sorts on each version/series? i know it's a lot to ask and i may be opening the floodgates here, but there's not a ton of info online elsewhere and i'd love to learn more! thanks either way. ciao!

OH BOY YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE ANON

OKAY SO

As briefly as possible:

The books:

Proof people who complain about the BBC show being “too political” don’t actually know the books at all

Father Brown straight up calls capitalism “evil” and “heresy”

Chesterton says that millionaires dying isn’t a tragedy

Inspector Valentin betrayed us and broke my heart, ACAB I guess

Since every police officer he befriends lets him down in some way, Father Brown’s only real friend is Flambeau, who he goes absolutely everywhere with. They only go on holiday with each other. They’ve been all over the world with each other. I love they

Book Father Brown pretty much never does his goddamn job. We literally never in all the books see him giving mass or taking confession. The closest we get is when he gives an impromptu sermon after seemingly coming back from the dead, where he literally only says "You silly, silly people. God bless you all and give you more sense." then runs away to send a telegram. Useless priest. I love him. 

Book Flambeau is. Incredible. Amazing. Iconic. None of the adaptations have been able to fully capture book Flambeau’s true energy, for he is a walking contradiction who contains multitudes. If all the onscreen Flambeaus fused into one being, THEN you’d have something vaguely resembling book Flambeau.

Book Flambeau is MASSIVE. He’s at least 6′4, he’s broad shouldered, has huge hands, and his super buff. He can just. Pick people up and throw them. He can knock people unconscious with one punch. He fills doorways when he stands in them. He terrifies most people just by drawing himself up to his full height. He also has a very short temper and a very short patience. 

He’s very agile and athletic and can move silently, despite his size. He’s also a master of disguise, somehow. (Explain, Chesterton. Explain. Is everyone in this universe apart from Father Brown, Flambeau, and arguably Valentin massively stupid? Actually don’t answer that I’ve read these books)

Book Flambeau has a habit of flinging people full-bodily down flights of stairs when they anger him or threaten him or Father Brown. Book Flambeau also carries a walking cane with him literally everywhere that has a sword concealed in the handle, plus book Flambeau insists on taking pistols on holiday with him, even when he was just going for a peaceful fishing holiday in the Norfolk Broads. King. 

(Which all makes it so iconic that Father Brown, described as tiny and meek and sensitive, saw this man when he was still a hardened criminal on top of all this and said “THIS ONE I LIKE THIS ONE. I JUST THINK HE’S NEAT” and went off on a jolly through London with him.)

Flambeau’s past is extremely mysterious. We no nothing about his family or his childhood or where he’s from or why he turned to crime. We know he used to be a soldier, and a part of him misses it. We know he used to fight duels semi-regularly, and liked them to be fought the very next morning after they were organised. We know he always used to make sure to visit the dentist on time, even when he was a hardened criminal. (King of good teeth.)  We know he was in a gang at some point. We know he was a student at some point. We don’t know what he studied, but we know he knew Leonard Quinton in “wild student days in Paris”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). This is literally all we know about his past before he met Father Brown. The man is a riddle wrapped in an enigma. (That’s why Flambeau is so big. He’s full of secrets)

(Fun fact: in the book universe Flambeau is famous and popular in America, so you could say that in universe Flambeau is America’s Favourite Fighting Frenchman.)

Flambeau also loves cats and children, believes in fairies, likes pointing out rocks that look like dragons, and likes giggling and mucking about on the beach with Father Brown.  A baby.

One time Father Brown called Flambeau “full of good and pure thoughts”, but I don’t think that’s quite true, Father. I think Father Brown just has endless faith in Flambeau.

Another thing I think is really neat is that it would’ve been so easy to have Father Brown be the genius and Flambeau his dumb muscle sidekick but that’s not the case at all! They’re both geniuses and they’re both each other’s sidekick, and in fact it’s Flambeau who’s the famous professional private detective, Father Brown is just an amateur. Father Brown is often defined by his connection to Flambeau rather than vice versa, both in the text (the text will frequently refer to them as something along the lines of “Flambeau and his friend the priest”, and on two separate occasions a long list of Flambeau’s possessions is ended with “and a priest”), and in universe (Father Brown himself is massively famous in America in universe largely because of “his long connection to Flambeau). I don’t know I just think it’s neat. 

One time a man threatened Father Brown with a gun and Flambeau just beat him unconscious and then Father Brown and Flambeau just drove away and left him unconscious on the path. It was awesome.

(I’m sorry I rambled about Flambeau for so many words I just. Really really like Flambeau you guys. Father Brown and Flambeau are like two separate crime drama character tropes, the hard boiled cynical P.I. and the cosy eccentric amateur detective, but together as a double act, and I just think that’s really cool.)

Father Brown himself is if anything even more mysterious. He’s just “Father J. Brown, formerly of Cobhole in Essex, currently London”, and he’s “Flambeau’s friend”, and that’s all. That’s all he needs to be.

I also really really love Father Brown himself. I love that he’s allowed to be cheerful and optimistic and childish without any of this making him less clever, and in fact he’s shown time and time again to be cleverer than grumpy cynics who are scornful of childish things. Like, the whole giggling childlike thing isn’t even some kind of act, he’s a genius who understands true human nature, and he also really really likes puppet shows and building sandcastles who telling fairy stories, he really does get a “childish pleasure” from seeing Flambeau swing his sword-stick, and he really does have “strong personal interest in tomfoolery”. I love him.

I must share my favourite book quote about Father Brown himself: “But neither of them is very like the real Father Brown, who is not broken at all; but goes stumping with his stout umbrella through life, liking most of the people in it; accepting the world as his companion, but never as his judge.” uwu uwu uwu I’m cry.

Chesterton just subverts all the expectations character wise, the cheerful bumbling priest is a genius, the violent criminal is a true hero, the noble police officer is a corrupt self-serving murderer. It’s great. We stan. 10000000/10

(I’m not very good at being brief, am I?)

Father Brown, Detective (1934):

The first movie! It’s completely ridiculous. I love it a lot.

It was released just at the start of Hays Code, which, among other things, stated that crime and immorality should not be glorified or glamourised, and all crime and immorality must be seen to be punished by the end of the film. In practice in the case of this film, this means two things:

Paul Lukas!Flambeau is the only Flambeau to actually go to prison (and stay there).

He’s by far the Flambeau who deserves it the least. Lukas!Flambeau never hurt a soul. He just wanted to be loved. #FreeMyBoyHercule

Okay but in all seriousness. There’s a reason I call Paul Lukas!Flambeau “Himbo Flambeau”. Where other Flambeaus are violent or dangerous or geniuses, Lukas!Flambeau is just a big dumb idiot who respects women and has a great sense of humour and writes all his letters in the third person like Elmo for some reason. I would die for him.

At one point Flambeau in disguise is talking to the police, and when the police criticise Flambeau, disguised Flambeau says “Oh but I assure! I have read many things about this Flambeau! He is a fearless, handsome fellow!” The absolute idiot. I adore him with my whole heart.

The film is set in London, like the books, but an idealised Hollywood version of London, i.e., almost entirely unlike London.

Walter Connolly!Father Brown is also entirely lacking in braincells. Look at these two idiot men:

I love them.

Oh oh! And the most important thing, the thing that carries over into most other adaptations? NEW ORIGINAL CHARACTERS!!

This movie invents a few characters that weren’t in the books, but the most important ones are Mrs Boggs:

She doesn’t really add much to the plot but she’s funny and I love her so I’ll forgive it. 

She’s Father Brown’s housekeeper, she’s basically just the fussing maternal female character archetype who fusses around in the background, but she does it well and plays it with charm so I’ll allow it.

(Honestly this whole film is just. Not *technically* good or original, but just so charming and with so much heart that I unironically adore it.)

She tries to make Father Brown drink his milk because it’s good for him even though he doesn’t like it, and keeps checking back in on him to make sure he’s drunk it, it’s literally like a mother and her small child.

She objects to policemen in the presbytery because of their “big muddy boots on the carpet” but is fine with just letting Flambeau in whenever despite the prevailing rumour in London being that Flambeau killed a man. We stan a queen of having priorities. 

When Inspector Valentine summons Father Brown to the station, Mrs Boggs pops up in the background, assumes Father Brown’s being arrested, and says “Oh dear, I knew it!” and it makes me giggle like an idiot every time.

The other, more important original character invented for this movie is my girl Evelyn Fischer:

I love her, I would die for her, she’s flawless.

She’s basically your typical bored and rebellious young aristocrat, but she has a chaotic streak that I adore.

She sneaks out of her family’s mansion to go to a seedy underground club/illegal gambling ring in Soho (I mean I assume it’s Soho, a seedy part of London in that general vicinity, at least. I’m not about to get bogged down trying to understand the geography of London according to Hollywood), flirts with a bunch of strangers for fun, then when the police raid the place and everyone else is panicking she stands stock still, cheerfully says “Oh goody, I shall probably get my name in the papers!” and has to be physically dragged out of the building by Flambeau.

Later on Flambeau breaks into her bedroom in the middle of the night and she’s just very calmly like “What are you doing?”, and even when she finds out it’s Flambeau, a man widely believed to be dangerous and violent, instead of being scared, she calls him an idiot right to his face.

She forms the third part of the main trio of the movie with Father Brown and Flambeau (RIP to Valentine, demoted to tertiary character in a loose adaptation of the one (1) story where he was the main character lol) and together the three of them share a single braincell and have to take turns with it, while Mrs Boggs fusses in the background at the trio’s increasingly bonkers decisions. 

The movie ends with Father Brown and Evelyn sharing an emotional farewell with Flambeau through the window of a police car and promising to look after each other until Flambeau’s released, wow poly rights.

The Adventures of Father Brown (1945):

The adaptation there’s the least amount of information about, but I’ve done my best to find everything I can find on it.

An American radio show made towards the end of wartime, it’s a bit of an odd one, and believe me Father Brown adaptations have gone some odd places.

Only two episodes survive, or at least if more do survive then whoever has them is being very selfish and hoarding them to themselves because only two episodes are publicly available anywhere, and the audio quality of those is a bit dodge. (Though that is to be expected, they do appear to be home recordings, from 1945. Honestly we should be grateful to even have two full episodes.)

If the actors I’ve found are the right people, this show featured by far the youngest Father Brown and Flambeau, at the start of the show the actor playing Father Brown was only 36 and the actor playing Flambeau was only 27. They’re BABIES. (Honestly I’d like to see more age variation in Father Brown adaptations, as I have extensively rambled about before, the characters have literally no canon ages in the books, I think people ought to be a little more imaginative instead of always building on the adaptations that came before, even if it is really cool to see traces of all the previous adaptations in each new one that comes along. It’s something I haven’t noticed as much in adaptations of other golden age detective novels, but the Father Brown adaptations do seem to be stuck in some kind of game of “yes, AND” with each other. I would REALLY like to see an adaptation where Flambeau is older than Father Brown though, it's just something we've never had before despite there being literally nothing in the books to suggest this can't be the case, and I just think it'd be neat.)

This show is really really painfully American, in a real old fashioned "golly gee whizz mister" kind of way, to the point it almost feels like a parody, and I honestly find it kind of endearing.

Even Flambeau frequently slips into a very American accent to the point that my affectionate nickname for him is "The All-American Flambeau", and it's great. He's great.

Honestly I could accept the accents and the slang, for some reason the only thing that really threw me was Father Brown referring to money in cents and nickels.

Needless to say, this adaptation is not set in London. It is instead set in Generic Unspecified Smalltown USA. It's fine. This is fine. I already have so many films and shows set in London, I can swallow my London pride and let America have this.

It's hard to get a real grasp on characters from just two episodes, but I like this Father Brown and Flambeau, even if they are a little overly serious, and even if Flambeau doesn't really do much. He may be a bit serious and a bit useless but All-American Flambeau stays up late anxiously waiting for Father Brown to get home safely and it's very sweet. What a good boy.

All-American Flambeau also carries handcuffs around with him for some reason? But no weapons? Why is All-American Flambeau one of the few Flambeaus not to have a gun? Oh well, he's still sweet.

The 1945 radio show also gives us some original characters, but they're very much side characters and not part of the main plot and it's very hard to get a good grasp on a character from just a few minutes of audio from just two episodes but here's what I could gather:

Nora is another fussing housekeeper! She seems younger and less maternal than Mrs Boggs, but I don't know if that's just because the whole cast was on the younger side. (Could the radio station not find anyone over the age of 40? Were they in short supply in 1945 or something? Ah well.) She seems dedicated to helping Father Brown get some peace and quiet that he never goddamn gets because someone always goes and gets themselves murdered. In both surviving episodes a knock at the door disturbs Father Brown’s rest, Nora opens it professionally, sees it's Flambeau, and immediately drops the professionalism and is immediately like "oh it's only you", so I can only assume every episode started this way. I do hope so.

Father Peter is a junior priest who answers to Father Brown and takes over his duties on his days off. He's implied by the dialogue to be considerably younger than Father Brown, Nora, and Flambeau, but if their actors are anything to go by then they're not that old themselves, and though Father Brown seems to talk to Father Peter like he's a literal child, he is still a priest so I very much doubt that's the case. He seems sweet and harmless, but he's only in one of the surviving episodes and only in that towards the end and mentioned briefly at the start, so it's hard to judge completely. It's highly unlikely that the reason he's not even mentioned in the later surviving episode is because he turned out to secretly be an evil murderer, but, this being a Father Brown adaptation, not entirely unfounded. (But no, he's probably just a sweet boy who exists to have exposition delivered to him.)

Father Brown/The Detective (1954):

The Alec Guinness movie! The one haters of any of the other adaptations complain that adaptation isn't more like, but in my humble opinion, actually the worst adaptation.

Like, I don't hate it! The cast is mostly stellar actors and if I just saw it as a movie on its own, it'd probably be fine. But as a Father Brown adaptation watched in context of the books and the other adaptations, it has a few issues imo.

Most glaringly it has Tone Issues. This film cannot decide if it's a comedy or not. The original posters certainly marketed it as one (see above) and half the cast are noted comic actors who were famous at the time for comedy, goddamn SID JAMES is in it, but the entire third act is played painfully straight, half the cast is mugging for the camera and trying way too hard to be funny while the other cast is giving extremely serious and subtle performances, like. I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for laughs, and I have no problem with a Father Brown adaptation being played for drama, both can work beautifully, but just PICK ONE, PLEASE

All of my other gripes with the film are very petty and nitpicky, this film calls Father Brown and Flambeau "Ignatius Brown" and "Gustav Flambeau" even though Father Brown has the canon first initial "J" and Flambeau has the canon first name "Hercule", and I hate it a lot. "Ignatius and Gustav" is the second worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

My other petty nitpick with the movie is that it makes Flambeau literal nobility. The man is a duke. In my opinion Flambeau should always either have a completely mysterious past or be a nobody who came from nothing, someone who grew up with land and title and many servants and a family coat of arms, living in a whole entire castle with his family name and coat of arms engraved into the side of it, growing up and stealing from people, is a whole lot less sympathetic in my opinion. Like to be fair his parents are dead which is sad I guess and his castle has seen better days, but dude. You still own a castle. People who live in castles do not get to lecture other people about materialism.

THAT SAID, Peter Finch is still the best thing about the movie. I love all Flambeaus dearly, even the ones that are little bitches. He’s a bit of an emo “oh woe is me” sadboy, but he’s very charming, and actually good at disguises and being undercover, get dunked on Lukas!Flambeau.

Guinness!Brown likes to feed ducks and Flambeau calls him “the angel with the flaming umbrella”, which makes my inner Good Omens fan who loves finding parallels between Aziraphale & Crowley and Father Brown & Flambeau go 👀

There is one really good scene, in the Paris Catacombs. And by “good” I mean “really really bafflingly gay”:

I truly, truly do not understand how this scene was written, directed, acted, filmed, and edited without ANYONE saying “hey lads does this seem a bit gay to you?”

Father Brown, literally lying on top of Flambeau and pinning him to the ground, whispering: “I would like to set you free.” Flambeau, softly, gently smiling while his face is literal inches away from Father Brown, who is still pinning him to the ground: “Ah, now I begin to understand what you are.”

What the fuck, you guys. What the entire fuck. This scene keeps me up at night.

ANYWAY

This film is also not set in London. It is instead mostly set in a rural English village, and partially in Paris and partially in rural France. Paris is fun but I miss London.

This film also has some original characters. I should probably talk about them. 

This is Lady Warren:

She’s Father Brown’s friend, and she’s a Lady, and that’s all I can really tell you.

She’s very well-mannered and dignified and sophisticated.

She gives me the vibe that she exists solely because the writers decided they needed a female character but then remembered at the last minute they had no idea how to write women, so as a result she is almost entirely irrelevant to the plot. I don’t want to say I don’t like her, because she’s done nothing wrong and it’s not her fault, but like. Why is she here? Poor thing, she deserved to be plot-relevant, really.

She lives in a big mansion and owns some very nice things, and she gets annoyed when she invites Father Brown to lunch but he just stares blankly into space thinking about Flambeau the whole time. (Mood honestly FB. Me too.) 

She flirts a bit with Flambeau in one very pointless scene that came the hell out of nowhere, went nowhere, and was never mentioned again. It was like the writers realised how gay the previous Flambeau scene was and suddenly tried to convince me this man is a hetero. Nice try, writers. You can’t fool me that easily.

The other main original character is Bert:

Alright, own up, whose bright idea was it to put Sid James in a Father Brown movie?

Bert is a smalltime criminal who’s a friend of Father Brown, who Father Brown protects from the police, but tries to convince to get on the straight and narrow by getting him as a job as Lady Warren’s chauffer. 

This is would be fine, were it not for the fact he’s played by Sid James, who only knows how to play Sid James, and is just Sid Jamesing it up in every scene. I don’t have anything against Sid James. I like my fair share of Carry On films. But Sid James does not belong in Father Brown and I want to fight whoever decided he did.

Father Brown (1974):

LADS LADS LADS! It’s time for the first TV show, and it’s time for my favourite boys:

Oh! OH! How I love Kenneth More!Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau. They’re just. So cute. My two special boys.

Not only that, but LADS! We’re finally back in London!

A gritty, dirty, London in the 1930s no less, with cool London buses and political unrest and grimy pubs and the constant threat of world war. Alexa this is so cool play London Calling.

In one episode Flambeau gets verbally abused by an anti-immigration right-wing zealot. :( My poor boy. :( 

(But it’s okay, shortly after Father Brown witnesses this, the racist shows up dead in exactly the place Father Brown earlier said would be a good place to commit a murder. Now I’m not accusing Father Brown of murder, BUT)

This show made the bold but valid decision to skip Flambeau’s redemption arc and start the show when Flambeau is already a seasoned and respected private detective who’s lived in London and been Father Brown’s closest friend for many years. As a result this Father Brown and Flambeau are ridiculously domestic with each other. Look at this peak Old Married Couple energy:

Oh! I just love them.

I would love to know how Burgess!Flambeau’s redemption went down though, because Burgess!Flambeau is BY FAR the least repentant of all the reformed Flambeaus. He proudly boasts about his crimes, he still believes he “deserved to succeed”, he still proudly talks about how “daring and outrageous” he was, which begs the question of why did he stop at all? Literally the only explanation I can think of is that he’s literally only doing this for Father Brown’s sake, which. uwu

Oh GOD I love Burgess!Flambeau. Obviously I love all Flambeaus a lot, and choosing a favourite feels like choosing a favourite child, but let’s just say: if the Flambeaus WERE my children, Burgess!Flambeau would be quite spoilt. My ~ Daring And Outrageous ~ boy.

More!Brown and Burgess!Flambeau are both really really socially awkward, uncomfortable in crowds, and nervously say “oh dear” a lot. They really are ridiculously cute.

They also only giggle and joke and act silly when they’re together, when they’re apart they’re both sort of sad and quiet and withdrawn. (This makes episodes Flambeau isn’t in a bit harder to watch because Father Brown is just kind of lost and lonely without his emotional support Frenchman, with three notable exceptions: that time Father Brown infodumped about the mating habits of whales at the Father Superior for a solid minute, that time Father Brown met a dog and reacted with unrestrained delight, and that time someone mentioned former criminals in passing and Father Brown’s whole face lit up and he started gushing about how Flambeau was living in London now and doing very well as a private detective, completely unprompted.)

This show also brought back book!Brown and Flambeau’s habit of always going on holiday together! Wonderful! We love to see it!

This show is also the first time in the entire Father Brown franchise where gay people are overtly acknowledged to exist! And Father Brown is non-judgemental! A roman catholic priest written in the 1970s and living in the 1930s who canonically isn’t homophobic! I have no choice but to stan forever!

You remember what I said about liking to point out Good Omens parallels? WELL

Kenneth More!Father Brown and Dennis Burgess!Flambeau both live in London

Burgess!Flambeau lives in a brightly lit, pale walled, airy and spacious, modern (for the time) London apartment, while More!Brown prefers gothic architecture and lives in an old, grey, cramped, stone building absolutely full floor to ceiling with books

They go out for intimate candlelit dinners for two at very fancy London restaurants 

Desperate people come to Flambeau because he “knows the game on both sides of the fence”

Father Brown responds with a quiet and miserable “oh dear” when asked to actually do his job instead of just watching plays and drinking wine

Father Brown calls Flambeau “my dear” at times and it personally kills me

I mean. I’m just saying.  👀

Now, isn’t there a third important character in the books? 

Oh yes of course:

HIM! THE BASTARD MAN! INSPECTOR VALENTIN HIMSELF!

(Nobody understands him! IT’S NOT! EVIL!)

This show is the literally only adaptation to include the Valentin betrayal and I’m not gonna lie. It’s a very difficult episode to sit through, it’s far darker and grimmer and more depressing than you would ever expect from Father Brown, but my god it’s done so well. Especially considering the teeny tiny budget they clearly had, only four sets are used the entire episode and the whole thing takes place inside Valentin’s house, but even that adds a certain claustrophobic atmosphere and just. It’s done so well.

I think the entire budget went on gore effects because the decapitated heads in this episode are disturbingly realistic for the time the show was made and genuinely grim to look at. Not to mention the intense downer ending.  Not to mention this was THE FINAL EPISODE OF THE SHOW

THE INTENSE DOWNER ENDING OF THIS EPISODE IS HOW THE WHOLE SHOW ENDED

God it hurts so much but I lowkey love it. 

Father Brown Stories (1984):

The second radio series, and the first BBC adaptation! 

Thrilling times for fans of actors being the right nationality for their characters, because after previously being played by a Hungarian, an American, an Englishman, and a Welshman, Flambeau is finally being played by a Frenchman, Olivier Pierre!

Father Brown himself is played by Andrew Sachs, Manuel himself. 

Not gonna lie. It’s kind of hard to figure out how to explain the radio show.

We’re? Maybe back in London? Honestly it’s really unclear.

Pierre!Flambeau is kind of adorable. He’s described as looking like book!Flambeau physically, huge and buff and terrifying, but he has literally none of the temper or predisposition to violence. 

Pierre!Flambeau doesn’t speak very good English at all, and oftentimes will react with “...What?” when he hears a strange English idiom or turn of phrase.

One time he says “Perhaps we should.. push on? SEE HOW I AM MASTERING YOUR ENGLISH IDIOMS” and it’s the cutest thing that’s ever happened.

To try and get better at understanding both the English language and the English people, Flambeau starts obsessively reading Alice in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, massive giant adorable boy.

One time Father Brown gets complimented of being academically minded and well read, and then asked if Flambeau is also a keen reader, and when Flambeau tries to say no, Father Brown interrupts and proudly and earnestly says “Oh yes! Monsieur Flambeau is one of our top Lewis Carroll scholars!”, it’s honestly adorable.

This adaptation finally uses “John” as Father Brown’s first name, as it should always have been! I love it!

This series said FUCK Father Brown having a mysterious past and no former friends or relatives! Now he has siblings, and friends who knew him before he was a priest who still call him “John”!

Father Brown himself speaks in a very sweet and soft and wavering way that makes my heart melt.

Sadly and unfortunately, I have to acknowledge the final episode of the show, which is the top worst thing any Father Brown adaptation has ever done to me.

It’s. It’s a crossover. With Sherlock Holmes. Actual goddamn Sherlock Holmes is in it. I hate it. I hate it so much. “Elementary, my dear Flambeau” shut the hell up, if this Flambeau won’t fling you down a flight of stairs then I will.

I deliberately avoided all Holmes-related media for THREE YEARS only for the awful man to spring up on me in Father Brown?? How could you do this to me???

I’m going to yeet myself into the sun, bye everyone.

(On the plus side, the Sherlock Holmes episode does have one of Father Brown’s parishioners recognise Flambeau as “a close friend of Father Brown and a frequent visitor to his room”  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), so that’s nice I suppose. I’ll still never forgive the writers of this show for putting me through this.)

Father Brown (2013):

YOU ARE HERE.

I kind of see the current TV series as a culmination of all the adaptations that’ve come before? I can definitely see echoes of all of them in it.

And it’s great! I really really love it. I love it a lot. 

I think about it daily.

My one and only complaint I would have is that Flambeau isn’t in it enough. Not just because he’s my favourite, though I’d obviously not be fooling anyone who’s read all this if I said he isn’t.

And it’s not that I don’t love the show as it is, and find the one Flambeau episode a series always something really special, so I don’t know what I’d have the writers do, exactly. 

But it’s just. In literally every other version of Father Brown, Flambeau is the second most important character and the second main protagonist, and to have him in this show so little that some fans or reviewers call him a “minor character” and others call him a “recurring villain”, though I myself don’t see him either of those ways of course because he’s still Flambeau, it’s just kinda sad and painful, y’know?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being silly.

Hopefully he’s a regular in at least the final season of the show. If I don’t get my favourite partners in crime solving I’m rioting. 

Anyway that’s my “””brief””” rundown on all the main versions of Father Brown!! I hope you liked it!!

[babbushka]

For sinday I’d like to please request ‘you’re an idiot’ ‘but I’m your idiot.’ With Flip please 💛

Anonymous said:  Could you do “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.” With flip please? 🥺

1k ; No warnings, all fluff and soft! 

It’s a lazy day, as Sundays tend to be. There’s a record spinning softly in the bedroom, light rain hitting the windows. It’s rained so much overnight that the driveway is flooded right up to the front door. You can’t help but think absentmindedly, that Flip had the right idea bringing the cars into the garage.

Though you may have been trapped in the house, you and Flip found ways to keep yourselves occupied all day. Cooling down under the covers from one such occupation, your husband suddenly begins groaning and grumbling in annoyance.

“You okay honey?” You peek an eye open at him, your fingers stilling from where they’ve been lightly toying with his hair.

Flip huffs and puffs and grumbles some more, likely in need of a cigarette. He hasn’t smoked at all today, the rain making him a little less pressed for it. He surprises you though, and instead of reaching for his pack of camels on the nightstand, he’s reachin’ for you.

“Mhm, I just missed you.” He mutters into the pit of your throat where he tends to shove his face when he’s trying to calm down post-orgasm. “You’re too far away, ketsl.”

The sentiment makes you chuckle, because he’s literally on top of you, but you just shimmy yourself further down the bed to get a better angle so he can look at you.

“How’s this? Better?” You ask, now that you’re eye-level with him. Your head is far off the pillow, but that doesn’t matter, neither of you mind.

Flip dives in for a kiss almost at once, capturing your lips in a playful smacking smooch. His goatee tickles you so much that you have to almost turn your face away from him to avoid the scratchy tingling sensation, but it’s in vain. He kisses you again and again, grasping you tight and holding you down so your legs don’t go kicking him when your laughter wracks through you.

“Much better, so much better.” His voice is deep, and the baritone of it sinks deep into your chest, makes a home there in the space you’ve built for him.

He likes looking at you, likes getting his fill of your face. Sometimes if he’s feeling extra sentimental, it’ll make him cry, staring into your eyes. How’d he ever get so lucky? You’re tucking hair behind his big ears and even though he hates his ears, he loves you, and loves how you love them.

“I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just another ten, please.” He asks, a smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“Hmm, what if I say no?” You ask playfully, pretending to think it over for a long while. You’ll always say yes, you love kissing him, love the way his lips feel on yours, how his tongue is hot and firm, how his teeth scrape against your smile.

Flip sits up then, and you follow him. The blankets pool around your waists, naked bodies on display for one another in the soft filtered light from the grey rainy world around you. He regards you, scratches under his chin for a moment.

“I’ll die, probably.” He finally answers matter-of-factly.

“I’d like to see that.”  You hum, just to be silly, just because you love him, love to tease him.

“Okay here I go.” He announces, before pushing himself backwards onto the bed, his head nearly hanging off the foot of the mattress.

You laugh and straddle his hips, grasping for his hands. He laces his fingers through yours and pushes back against you, a little pretend wrestling as you both try and brace yourselves against one another’s hands.

“Goodbye cruel world,” Flip tosses his head to one side with a deep sigh, sounding so resigned. “It was real nice knowin’ ya. Tell Ron that he gets my record collection.”

“Flip – ” You laugh brightly, but your words are cut off by him quickly rolling you both over so that he’s fighting to get on top of you.

“Do not punish my wife for this crime, she is innocent in all things, as always, even when he’s the guiltiest fuckin’ girl in the world.” He says theatrically, his hands pinching all over you.

“Philly!” You manage to roll yourselves back, so you’re looking down at Flip, and he’s looking up at you, a laugh threatening to spill as he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

You shake your head, your hair hanging in your face as you lean down to give him a deep kiss. Flip’s arms wind around you tightly, one hand caressing the back of your head, holding you close. Too far away, you can almost hear him say.

The rain hits a little harder on the windows, and with that, Flip pulls you tighter. There’s no thunder or lightning today, just rain, which you’re thankful for. It means you can spend the day together, simply enjoying lying side by side.

He kisses you, his mouth slow and sensual. There’s no rush, you’ve got all the time in the world. Even if the driveway weren’t blocked by water, you’d still never want to be anywhere else than lying in bed with him.

“You’re an idiot.” You pull away with a fond grin, kissing his cheeks, the side of his nose, his forehead.

“But I’m your idiot.” He beams up at you, and your heart clenches.

“Yes you are.” You nod, before shuffling so that you’re both on your sides and pressed up as tight against one another as possible with a little, “C’mere.”  

Your hand cards through his hair once again, just as it had been before your man’s theatrics. Your lips press against his in sweet little smooches, and all is well. Kissing Flip is easy, it’s your favorite thing to do, and you’ll always do it.

Sometimes you like to make him work a little for them though, but really, what’s the harm in that?

[iselsis]

Off the Streets

Summary: Omega Jason Todd needs to get some food and go to ground quickly, before his heat hits. This plan is destroyed by Batman and his habit of impulse adopting children the way some people impulse buy gum at the cash register.

“Get back here, you thief!” the clerk hollered after him.

Jason, not an idiot, did not go back there, or even stop to pick up one of the bags of food he dropped. The clerk wouldn’t go far from the corner store, or he’d have more than just one kid grabbing some packaged food and sprinting, so all Jason needed to outdistance the beta to get away scot free.

His rush of pride was quickly squashed by reality, and the flickers of pain that had started in his stomach and promised a heat, soon. Without a calendar, he’d been forced to guess when most his heats were, and heats for younger kids like him could be inconsistent anyways. The first signs of heat had only just shown themselves, warning him to get food and hide quickly.

Food, down, he thought to himself, rather smugly. The beta hadn’t even been a challenge to outrun. He’d even snagged two water bottles and shoved them in the pocket of his hoodie, which was more foresight than he’d had the last time he’d gone into heat. It had been one of the nice working girls had found him and taken pity on him that had kept him from crawling out of his nest on day three to track down some water.

Jason ducked into an alley that he knew even the bravest of store clerks wasn’t stupid enough to enter a dark alley at night. You might run into strangers.

And speaking of strangers, Jason slammed directly into a wall of concrete. Jason stumbled back, rubbing his sore nose in confusion. There had not been a brick wall there when he’d been casing the joint that afternoon, but apparently one had conjured itself up.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” the brick wall commented in a deep, gravelly voice.

Jason looked up – and kept looking up – until his eyes saw the yellow and black bat symbol, and the pointy black bat ears above them.

Oh, hell no. Jason spun on his heel and made a break for it, but Batman collared him immediately and yanked him back.

“Let me go! Let go!” Jason dropped his hard won food and desperately clawed at the gauntlet holding his hoodie. He’d go hungry if he had to. It would suck hard, but he couldn’t let Batman arrest him and throw him at the GCPD right before he went into heat. He’d be lucky to come out alive.

It was useless, though. Batman was probably three times his size, and wearing armored gloves. It took Jason a minute to accept that, and that he was just wasting energy he’d need to live through the beating he was in for and stop fighting.

Batman waited a few more moments after he’d stopped struggling, like he was waiting to see if Jason was really done.

Once he was satisfied, he gave Jason a small shake and jerk his head at the mess that Jason had dropped. “Pick those up.”

Jason scowled fiercely at him, but knelt slowly, Batman’s hand following his hood, and started feeling around for the food without breaking eye contact. His stomach made a loud growl at the sight of all the pretty food, all packaged up and ready to eat….it had been a couple days since he’d last found more than a few scraps. He hadn’t been able to find a job, or anything easy to steal until the food, and now he had to get away and bunker down for his heat. Without the food, that meant that it would have been at least a week before he got to eat again.

Batman might have mercy if he behaved, though.

“Here,” he grumbled, standing up and holding out the armful of food to Batman. “Now let me go.”

Batman didn’t move to take it, which was damn rude. Instead, he stared down at him for several seconds, his head tilted in a calculating pose. “Why did you take that food?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Jason snapped before he remembered the he needed Batman to like him if he wanted to beat the clock and get back to his cozy little nest of rags and shredded pieces of cardboard. He deflated somewhat and looked to the ground to hide his flushing cheeks. “I’m hungry.”

“And your parents won’t feed you?”

“Does it look like I ha-” Jason started sarcastically, then cut himself off and muttered in a less hostile tone, “No. They’re dead.”

His mom was, at least. She’d wasted away from the drugs until there was so little that even her tricks didn’t want her anymore, until she couldn’t talk or do more than stare vacantly at the ceiling, and until she finally stopped breathing on their couch. It still hurt, thinking about her, even though it had been a whole year. The blanket he’d pulled from her nest and stuffed into his backpack before he ran now smelled of him and of Gotham’s underbelly, instead of the sunshine and honey that she’d smelled like before – before she’d gotten sick. He missed her so much.

His dad was in jail. Probably. Didn’t really matter one way or another, because Jason wasn’t going anywhere near him anyway.

“I see,” Batman said quietly.

Jason dared a quick glance up, then froze. Batman looked…sympathetic. Like he actually understood. It just looked wrong on the Unholy Terror of the Night. He was going to die. He had broken Batman, and the universe, or Batman’s fists, was going to demand vengeance.

“Who takes care of you?” Batman asked him, kneeling down to be closer to Jason’s height, but still keeping a hold on his hoodie.

Jason swallowed hard and tried not to look intimidated. Even down low, the alpha was huge. “I do. Can I go now?”

Batman frowned. “Why aren’t you in foster care?”

Jason fixed him with an incredulous glare. It was a bit more daring that he should have been giving out when he wanted to get on Batman’s good side, but seriously, wasn’t Batman supposed to be some great detective? The foster system was in the hands of the mobs, and even if it wasn’t, and they were in some other city that wasn’t like Gotham, omega pups weren’t safe in foster homes.

“’s not exactly safe for people like me,” Jason muttered. He was normally good about keeping his scent covered, but with his heat approaching, everything was out of whack. There was no way that Batman hadn’t noticed what he was.

Batman nodded and stood up. “Come with me.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he tried to back away, but he couldn’t get far. “Where are you taking me?”

Batman started walking toward the mouth of the alley and gave Jason’s hood a slight tug. “You’re going to return what you stole. I’ll deal with you after that.”

And then he’d give Jason a firm talk on why stealing was bad, and Jason would pretend to be thoroughly repentant and be up and at it again as soon as his heat was done? Batman nodded because he understood that Jason wasn’t safe in foster care, right? So he wouldn’t try to put Jason in there? Or maybe he was just going to beat the hell out of him for stealing, like he did to every other thief he’d met. He’d seen what Batman gave his dad for stealing, and his dad had been an adult alpha with friends. A packless omega pup would be lucky to survive Batman’s wrath. If he did survive, then he was going to be broken, immobile, starving, and in heat a mile from the safety of his nest in the middle of Crime Alley.

Jason’s legs felt like lead as he trailed after Batman. He knew that he needed to hurry, get whatever was coming out of the way so he could get back to his nest, away from any alphas who could smell him, but he didn’t want to fork over the food he had stolen, and he didn’t want to get beaten.

The clerk was scowling when they walked into the store, an expression which quickly changed to shock, and then to smug satisfaction when he realized what was going on. Batman released his hood and gave him a nudge toward the counter. Jason scowled and shuffled up to it.

He tightened his hands around his ill-gotten goods one last time before he opened his hands reluctantly and dumped it all on the counter.

“Here’s your dumb shit,” he grumbled.

The beta growled in smug triumph. “Looks like the little thief met the big bad bat. He beat the shit out of you yet?”

Jason scowled at him and stormed back to Batman, but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest. “There, I gave it back. Can I go now?”

Batman put a hand around Jason’s upper arm and led him out of the store. He said nothing as he pulled Jason in a new direction. Jason focused on deep breaths. Panic might make his heat come quicker, but the clerk’s question rang in his ear: he beat the shit out of you yet? Batman understood why he wouldn’t go to foster care, probably understood that meant the cops too. He still had to be punished, though. Jason shuddered and tried half-heartedly to pull away.

“Please let me go,” Jason begged quietly. “Please, I’ll be good. I won’t steal again, I promise.”

Batman looked down at him, but didn’t loosen his grip. “I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down.”

Jason’s heart sank. The no was bad enough, but expected. Was Batman trying to lull him into a false sense of security? He’d thought that only the Rogues were freaks, but now he realized that the guy dressed as a vigilante bat probably should be in Arkham too. Jason struggled a little harder, but he hadn’t eaten in two days, and even if he had, he was no match for the giant alpha.

“Please, please let em go,” he tried. “I learned my lesson, okay? Please!”

Batman stopped and grabbed Jason’s other arm, forcing Jason to face him. Jason flinched hard, but no blow fell.

“I’m not mad at you. I know that you were just trying to survive,” Batman promised, his voice losing a slight edge on the gravel, but he was still scentless, and his face was covered, and with his body so close to Jason’s, he couldn’t tell if the man was telling the truth. Why would he be telling the truth, though, and where was he taking Jason if he was?

“If you’re not mad, then can’t I go?” Jason whimpered helplessly.

Batman sighed and shook his head. “You aren’t safe on the streets. You need to come with me.”

With that, Batman stood up and tugged Jason suddenly into an alley. Jason had to bite his lip hard to hold back the terrified scream – it would only make Batman angrier, and angry people hurt more. He was going to be beaten, no matter what lies Batman was telling him.

What was this place, Batman’s favorite alley for beating up stupid kids? He’d been pretty purposeful about coming to this place, so there must have been something.

Then he saw it – a glint of light on metal. The shell of a car.

He was an idiot. A damn idiot. Batman wasn’t going to beat him up, Jason was a starving, packless omega pup on the brink of heat who no one would miss.

Batman was going to rape him.

Jason suddenly threw all his energy in trying to break free of Batman’s grip, hoping to take him by surprise, but Batman just picked him up and carried him over to the car despite his protests.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Batman repeated, grunting a little as a well placed elbow jabbed into his ribs. “I’m not angry with you for stealing. You’re about to go into heat, and you need to be off the streets now.”

“No, please, let me go!” Jason begged him, clinging to the cape as Batman opened the door and tried to put Jason inside. “Please, I’m fine on my own, you don’t have to do this, please!”

Batman unclipped his cape when he couldn’t get Jason’s fingers off it, and tossed it in on top of Jason, then closed the door behind him. Jason made a half-hearted attempt at the door handle. It was locked, of course. He wasn’t going to be able to escape his punishment so easily. Tears welled in his eyes, and another, vicious cramp sent them spilling onto his cheeks. He felt the first flicker of heat start in his stomach, and knew that he had maybe an hour before that tiny spark had consumed his whole body. If he was lucky, Batman would be done with him by then, or at the very least, drop him off outside the abandoned building he’d taken shelter in when he was. More likely, Batman would keep him for his entire heat under the guise of protecting him.

The driver’s door opened, he could hear Batman climbing inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. His breath hitched and his entire body flinched at another cramp. He buried his face in his knees and groaned.

“Is your heat starting?” Batman asked, his voice losing even more of its gravel. “I can help you with that.”

Jason flinched. Batman’s voice was becoming less and less disguised, and there was no way he was going anywhere once he’d hear the man’s real voice.

What did he tell Batman? When alphas offered to help omegas with their heats, it only ever meant one thing. But that was going to happen anyway, and maybe he could hurry it all up and get it finished so Batman would let him go. Earn some good will by being a compliant little bitch.

Jason nodded miserably.

He didn’t look up, but he could hear Batman opening and rummaging through the center console for something. That protection he kept talking about, probably. The kind that came in foil wrappers.

There was a small rattling noise, painfully familiar, that had Jason looking up in confusion.

Batman was holding a small white bottle and checking the label on it.

“How old are you?” Well, that came out of nowhere.

“Twelve,” he answered without even meaning to. It must have been the randomness of that question shocking him.

Batman grunted. “You’re supposed to take two pills, then.”

Jason watched in stunned silence as Batman uncapped the jar, shook out two white pills, and held them out toward Jason. It was almost in a daze that he reached up and took the pills from Batman’s hand, and the water bottle that he was passed a moment later. That was…not what he’d expected.

Unless Batman was trying to drug him.

“What are these?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“They’re just Tylenol. Would you like to see the bottle?” Batman told him, more patiently than Jason would have expected.

Jason hesitated, not sure if it was a trap, then nodded. Batman calmly handed over the small plastic bottle in his hand, and Jason snatched it and read the ingredients, directions, and warnings three times before he had concluded that yeah, that was…actually probably just a painkiller.

Jason cautiously took the pills with a swig of water and a sideways glance at Batman to watch his reaction, but there was no crow of victory, no smug smirk at Jason for having drugged himself. Just a painkiller, for real, then.

“Buckle up,” Batman instructed, slipping the key into the ignition and bringing the car to a purr.

Panic tightened Jason’s throat, and the scent of it was immediately thick in the car, mixed with a cloyingly sweet omega heat scent. His breaths were fast and shallow, and he found himself clenching his eyes tight shut again.

“Where are we going?” Jason cut a glance to Batman. Scentless, unreadable Batman.

Batman paused, frowning slightly at Jason’s reaction. “I’m taking you to my home.”

Jason couldn’t breathe, and his eyes welled with fresh tears. No wonder Batman was giving him the medicine; he wasn’t being kind to a random orphan he was gonna fuck once and abandon, he was providing for his future mate.

“Can’t we just do it here and get it over with?” Jason pleaded. He’d never be able to escape from Batman’s headquarters, wherever that was, and he was sure by the offering of the medicine that Batman was in for the long haul. If he went with Batman, he was going to die a slave to a hero, probably fairly young.

Batman tilted his head slightly as he fixed Jason with a stare. “Do what here?”

Jason flinched and his cheeks flushed bright red. Batman was going to make him spell it out? His heart hammered, and he turned begging eyes on Batman. “Please, I won’t fight you, but only once. I’ll do just what you want me to do, I won’t struggle at all, but please do it here, and let me go when we’re done. I-” His mother, coming home late at night or not at all, covered in bruises and bitemarks that she hadn’t been before. His mother, not even recognizing him because the drugs her pimp had her on were so strong and kept he more firmly under the beta’s control than shackles ever could. His mother, scared that she might be pregnant with the child of an alpha she didn’t know, only to lose the baby and get even worse than before. “Please, I don’t want to be a whore.”

Batman’s jaw dropped, and he actually, physically recoiled from Jason at the suggestion. “I’m not- I-“

Batman’s grovel was entirely gone, and he couldn’t seem to find the words for how revolting he found whatever it is he was mad about. Was it that Jason had asked him to let him go after a light demonstration of courting? Jason’s eyes stung fiercely.

“I didn’t bring you here to rape you,” Batman said firmly at last, still not in his Batman voice. Jason was definitely never, ever leaving. It wasn’t going to be rape, it was going to be mating while Jason was in heat, and that didn’t even count in courts that weren’t in Gotham.

Jason tucked his face against the window and let the tears fall. There was no one but Batman to see, and Batman had singled him out probably because he could already tell how weak Jason was.

Batman sighed. “What’s your name, son?”

Jason sniffed and muttered thickly, “What’s it matter?”

“I want to know what you like to be called so I can call you that,” Batman told him.

Jason didn’t want to give him his name, but he also realized that he was probably never going to see a single other person ever. He didn’t want to lose the name his mother gave him, or use some sort of fake name for the rest of his life.

“Jason,” he whispered.

Batman sighed again. “Alright, Jason. I’m not going to hurt you. That includes any kind of sexual touching. Adults touching kids that way is very wrong, even when it’s an omega in heat. Not everyone believes the same way, though, so you have to get off the streets before your heat gets any worse. I’m not trying to keep you forever, just until your heat is finished. Then we can figure out where you want to stay. Does that sound good to you?”

It sounded good. It sounded so good. For a moment, hope sprang up, burning with painful, wonderous brilliance, but then it flickered out and died.

“Everyone’s seen what you put Robin in! I’m not an idiot!” Jason snapped at him.

“Robin designed his outfit by himself. I didn’t particularly like the lack of pants either, but the design was sentimental to him and I allowed it. I did not ever touch him sexually, and you’re welcome to ask him about that yourself when you meet him,” Batman said, then started to pull the car out of the alley like the conversation was done. If he was done talking, then it was. Batman held all the power in their relationship.

“I’m meeting Robin, then,” Jason drawled, trying to hide the wobbliness in his voice as they travelled at breakneck speed down the streets. It had never been proven, but a lot of people thought that Robin was an alpha too. “You usually invite friends over for this kind of thing?”

Batman had the nerve to give a long suffering sigh. Asshole. “If Robin comes by the house, then you’ll meet him, but he isn’t going to touch you either. Jason, you’re safe. I promise.”

Safety and promises. Jason snorted bitterly. He’d stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago.

[andromeda612]

The writer vs the liar

So, remember the prompt from a few days ago? You can chek it here

Well, I made a draft for what would be the whole fic, I'm gonna start it soon and will post it in Ao3, I would make a post when is ready and with every update, if you are interested make me know, so I can tag you.

I apologize for any mistake, english is not my first language, I hope you like it!

After Mari is expelled Nathaniel and Alix are worried and confused, because there is no way Marinette did those things (Alix defended Marinette in Reverser and I like to think that Nathaniel learned his lesson, so they are less likely to believe that Marinette would do anything of what Lila said) but all the mess is confusing. They talk but can't get a good answer. They decide to relax a little in the art club, they can't.

Marc noticing their mood ask what's wrong. So they tell him, and Marc is fast to point out all the wrong things with the whole situation. The "evidence" is circumstancial, superficial and easily planted, Damocles should have called Lila's parents too, no just Marinette's, Lila should had at least some bruises but there is no one, the protocole says that they needed to make an investigation, Mari has the right to prove her innocence, but Damocles just expelled her then and there. So yeah, the school messed up, because that failure in protocole and lack of professionalism can be addressed as neglect.

Thinking a little more they come to the conclusion that Marinette had been framed, but by who and why? If you think about it the only suspect is Lila, after all she was in the middle of the fire, but why would she did that? Marc asks for more background about this girl, because he only knows her because he had seen her sometimes in school and because Rose mentioned her once or twice, Nathaniel nor Alix have ever talked about her, Marinette either (and that interview on the Ladyblog is not that famous, so he missed it)

Alix explains the drama between those two, the seats thing (Marc tells them that it was wrong to move Mari to the back without asking her, maybe Nathaniel never had problem with being alone but he is not Marinette, they admit it was thoughtless from them and make a note to apologize later) and Marinette claming that Lila is a liar.

That catches Marc's atention, he knows Marinette, for him she is like a sister in everything but blood, after all she was the first person who was nice to him in school and despite not knowing in the time being that he has social anxiety she always was patient and kind with him until he was comfortable enough talking to her. Misunderstanding aside, she was the one who introduced him to Nathaniel and the rest of her friends from the art club, and they introduced him with the rest of their friends. Now he has two best friends (Mari and Alix) is dating his other bff (Nathaniel) has other good friends and is working in what he loves with his partner, all thanks to Marinette, so is no wonder that the two of them grew closer.

He knows that Mari hates liars, so if she thinks that this girl is a liar she must has a very good reason. Then Alix says that it just her being jealous because of Adrien. And yes, that may be true, Marinette tends to get jealous of any rival for the boy's affection, and can do crazy and, honestly, pretty bad stuff for him but again, he knows her and knows that at the end Marinette always admits her wrongdoings, apologizes and does better. He also knows that jealousy for itself is not a strong motive for dislike someone that much, because Chloe? is a brat, Kagami? He knows that Marinette actually helped Adrien in a date with her and now both girls are very good friends despite her knowing that Adrien actually is interested in Kagami, so if this Lila is really that good of a person then why Marinette seems to dislike her and think that is a liar? She has to has a reason.

When he says this Alix and Nathaniel have the decency of look ashamed, Marc is right, they (Alix and the girls the most) should have asked for her reasons instead of brush it off as simply jealousy, Marinette is better than that.

With his point clear, Marc asks for more details, maybe they can discover why Marinette thinks Lila is a liar. Again is Alix who talks (Nathaniel never had been one of Lila's admirers and he pays not much attention to the drama) and tells every story Lila told them (I'm not including the napkin incident because either Nathaniel nor Alix were there, Nathaniel was alone in another table and Alix wasn't in the cafeteria at all) and once she is done Marc is fast to point every single hole, contradiction and nonsense in Lila's claims.

Being a writer and a very active reader makes this kind of thing easy for him, it also helps that some of Lila's claims can be debunked with a little knowledge (arthritis doesn't work like that for example) and him has plenty of that, he likes to read about different topics, not just stories and comics, also is the fact that he makes lots of researching for his stories (the comic is not the only thing he writes for) even if they are about fantasy he likes them to be coherent and solid, so if he is going to use some topic he research to support his writing, so yeah he knows a little of many things. He also points out all the times Lila manipulated them so they did things for her, and how.

Now they know the truth, Lila IS a liar and a manipulative one.

HOLY SHIT MARINETTE WAS RIGHT! First they feel bad, they should have listened to her! They are also ashamed because now that they think about it most of the lies are dumb! They are idiots!

Marc is fast to comfort them, after all some of her lies are believable at least from their point of view, their class is not a normal one they have some famous people like Adrien a famous model, Chloe the mayor's daughter, Nathaniel is the ilustrator of one of the most popular comics in Paris, Marinette is Jagged Stone's favorite designer and has been prized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgois, Max is a genius with his own AI, there is Kitty Section and the list goes. So, one more student with conections and awesome claims is not that difficult to believe. Also, they are being manipulated, Lila use pity to make herself look vulnerable and fragil, so they would not question her or her claims, she also takes advantage of their kindness. Being fooled and manipulated is not a crime, they are victims too.

That make them feel better, but now they are pissed, because THEY ARE BEING FOOLED, MANIPULATED AND TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF! AND MARINETTE IS EXPELLED AND ALL IS THAT WITCH FAULT!

Marc is pissed too, being the patient and quiet person he is there are just a few things that makes him trully angry, but messing with his loved ones is the top of that list, and that little bitch is messing with all of his friends and his boyfriend! She is not just liying, manipulating and using them, she also gives them false hope with all the false promises she made, they are gonna be hurt once she fails in fulfil them. And MARINETTE IS EXPELLED so yeah, that brat crossed many lines.

For now they decide to talk to Marinette, Alix and Nathaniel need to apologize, and to make her know that the three of them know the truth and are by her side.

Later they discover that Marinette's expulsion is revoked, aparently all was a huge misunderstanding and Lila herself clarified the mess. Yeah, something is off here and they are not going to let their guard down, but at least Mari's name is clean.

The next day they are in the bakery with Marinette's favorite ice cream and two draws made by Alix and Nath, a -forgive-us-for-not-listened-you-and-for-being-bad-friends- gift. Marinette is relieved and actually cries of joy for having her friends by her side and free from Lila's claws, and of course she forgive them, after all they admitted their errors and apologized, also despite the evidence against her they gave her the benefit of the doubt, and for that she is grateful.

They talk and Marinette tells them how she found out the truth the same she told Alya and Nino (Marc tells her that it was not ok to follow Adrien and Lila but unlike them he still listened to her side of the story) she also point out that she ACTUALLY KNOWS Jagged Stone.

But hey! That doesn't mean that Adrien also knows the truth?

Yeah, she also tells them that Adrien is aware of Lila's true nature and also talks about the 'high road' advice. "HE TOLD YOU WHAT?"

But before any of them could get angry with Adrien she explains that he really thought her lies were harmless, also he believed that expose her would be bad because he called her out in a friendly way and still she was akumatized, but now that she was expelled he recognized that his advice was a bad one and that her lies can hurt people, he already apologized to her, and explained that he made a deal with Lila, he will be her friend and she will be a model and in return she will bring Mari back to school. He also admited that the best is to expose her, becasue netiher of them actually believe that Lila is going to let Marinette alone.

That makes them calm down, and forgive Adrien, he apologized to Marinette too and admited his error, also they think that a deal with the devil is punishment enough, and if they think about it, probably the poor boy didn't knew better, but he does now, so it's ok.

Then they learn about the threat in the bathroom and her almost akumatization. And they are even more pissed HOW DARE SHE? They apologize again for making her believe that she couldn't trust them with that. She says is ok, that she didn't take her too seriously, and she has faith in them, and so far they proved her right. Though, Marc wish that she could have talked to him at least, maybe they would have prevented all of this, but it doesn't matter.

Well, now they have one thing clear: they need to take that bitch down. But how? Lila could lie her way out, or twist the situation in her favor, they are trying to come up with a plan, but Marc is quiet, his mind working and then he has an idea.

With a calm and cool tone he says them "Just help me with some research, I'll take care of the rest" and replacing his usual sweet and shy demeanor there is a smirk and a cold determination and confidence in his face that surprise them (Nath actually finds it kind of hot)

They don't know what is he thinking, but they have seen him angry before (and thank god they have never been the cause of it, because Marc is a cinnamon roll but is very scary when is angry) and they know what his wrath is capable of. Whatever his plan is, they know is gonna work and dammit if it doesn't. They almost feel bad for Lila. Almost.

The next days they spend time together doing the investigation (they have some fun time and an awesome sleepover too), and finally they get solid proof to expose Lila, thanks to Marinette they get a video interview with Jagged Stone where the singer claims that he never had met Lila, and thanks to Marc's general knowledge in health and some help from Nathaniel's parents who both are doctors, they also get proof to debunk Lila's claims of illnes or other disabilities (specially the lying disease bullshit) and since Marc is a good researcher they manage to find some interesting stuff, like Mrs. Rossi contact information, is all in the embassy page.

With the investigation done, all what they need to do is wait for the perfect moment to expose the liar, and the oportunity comes two weeks later in the form of a picnic that Bustier's class organize just to hang out together, naturally Marc is invited and helps to organize said picnic, almost all of the class consider him a friend and one of them despite him being in Mendeleiev's class. Mari, Alix and Nathaniel still don't know what is his plan exactly, but they trust him. Adrien is aware of his plan but he doesn't know what exactly is either.

So here they are, in the park, in a cute blanket, with some delicious food and with great company (that doesn't include certain people, aka Chloe and the liar) and of course Lila is charming their friends with other of her lies, it takes all of their willpower to not roll their eyes. And then, listening carefully Marc takes the perfect moment to interrumpt the tale, social anxiety or not, that witch is hurting his beloved ones and he is not going to tolerate it, so even if he never has talked to her, fuck his shyness, that girl is gonna face the consequences for her actions. (It also helps that he is already friends with the rest of his boyfriend's class)

So, to everyone suprise he interrumpts Lila in middle sentence to point out the holes in what she is saying.

Alix, Nathaniel, Marinette and Adrien froze in panic, what is he thinking?! A direct confrontation was a bad idea, wasn't it? Marc locked eyes with the four of them and give a look thay says 'I get this' so they let him be, but now they are really uneasy.

What they didn't know is that the last days until now Marc has been doing more than just research, he was studying his enemy. Marc is a good listener, and being someone who likes to go unnoticed he became a very good observant too, he can notice little details and patterns, also he is a sensible and sympathetic boy so is easy for him to put himself in other's shoes, that combined makes him very good at reading and analysing people. He also made extra research in psychology and behaivor. So now, he knows how Lila works, he knows what to expect and how to answer. It also helps that he is very good with words, not just the ones he writes for his stories, but the ones he says and also he is very good with other's people words, he knows how to use them. That is his plan, he is going to use all his skills and knowledge to trap Lila, she thinks that she is smart and can control the situation, but Marc is going to prove that she can and will lose in her own game. Her lies are gonna be her downfall.

Lila of course tries to make an excuse or another lie to save face, but Marc refutes her again and again, and the rest of the class? Some are confused and others seems thoughtful shit! She is losing control! She tries but this black haired boy seems to be smart, he gets her cornered until the point that she can't lie her way out, and her classmates are starting to look suspicious. She tries to change tactics, the tears worked against Marinette, they will work now. She hides her face in her hands and starts to sob.

"I just was trying to share some of my wonderful experiencies with my friends, so I could give them some advice to help them in the future. Why are you being so mean? I haven't done anything to you! " That make people like Rose or Mylene to softened and go to comfort her, and between her hands she can see Alya ready to confront the boy, but Marc is ready for this kind of tactic, is his turn to make a move.

"I'm sorry but, How does this make me mean? I just pointed some facts because honestly, I'm a bit confused. At first I thought that you just made a little mistake, but then you just said another nonsense! Why would YOU do that?"

And then she is losing the little control she manage to regain. Because no matter how much they want to comfort her, Marc has a point and what he said so far actually makes sense, at least more sense than what she said. The others start to look torn between comfort or question her.

"Well... how would you know that what I said is wrong? Where is your proof?" Lila crosses her arms and look to other side, just to hide the smirk in her face, that would be enough and that annoying nobody will learn to not get in her way.

But, much to her surprise Marc actually has a good answer to that.

"Uh... comon sense? I mean, If I'm being a little honest if you think about it, some of the things you said have no... logic. Also I like to read a lot and about different things, including what you were saying so I know for a fact that some of the things you said are wrong. And my proof? Well a quick search in google is enough to prove me right"

Lila pales, she was not expecting that answer, and to her utter horror she can see some of her classmates typing in their phones, probably fact checking for once, she need to fix this now! She looks around trying to find some sympathy or something that would help, but she only see her classmates reading something in their phones and some of them are starting to frown, then she looks to Marinette and has an idea, this would break her little deal with Adrien but is ok, she wasn't planning to leave the brat alone anyway and her model career is in his father's hands, and she already has him tied around her finger.

So, before anyone could say something she sobs more louder and points a finger to Marinette.

"This is because of Marinette, isn't it? She put you into this! I-" but she couldn't finish because Marc interrumpts her, he also is ready for Lila trying to blame Marinette and he is not having it!

"And what does she has to do with this? Is not her fault that you have your facts wrong" and now the others are starting to narrow their eyes towards her, Damn it! Well she made the baker a threat, is time to fulfil it.

Lila makes the best she can to look pityful and scared. "Well... I didn't want to say this because I thought that nobody would believe me but... Marinette threatened me in the bathroom the day I came back from Achu!" She cries to everybody's shock.

"WHAT?!" Everybody screamed that. Marinette and her we-know-the-truth squad are frozen and can't believed it, THE NERVE OF THIS GIRL!

The rest to their friends are equally stunned, because they just can't believe what Lila said.

Lila using the shock continues with her sob story.

"She cornered me in the bathroom and told me that she would turn all of you against me! And all because she is jealous! And now she is using this boy to make you think that I'm a liar, just like she said!" Lila hug herself in an attempt to look small and is crying full force now.

Marc has to use all his willpower to not scream and call her a hypocrite, but he has a perfect answer for that too.

"Marinette would NEVER do that!" And to Lila's surprise and Marinette's glee is not Marc who says that, is Alya.

"Marinette is the sweetest girl, and she is not a bully!" That was Rose, who walked away from Lila like she burned her. And the rest of the class make their agreement known.

Lila really did NOT expect THAT reaction! They are supose to be comforting her and screaming to Marinette, not defending her! It's ok she can fix it.

"See? Is this why I didn't want to say anything! You don't believe me!"

Marc takes the word again "We know Marinette, we know she has flaws but she is one of the best people we know" again everybody agrees with that.

Lila is getting desperate, this is not what is supose to happen! And where is an akuma when you need it?! But Lila refuses to lose!

"Look I know you all thougth that you knew her and that she was your friend, but the truth is that Marinette is not what she seems to be, she is a manipulative liar and is just using you!"

Again, is not Marc who talks, this time is Kim

"No, you look Lila, I have known Marinette since diapers, and I know she has flaws but she is NOT a bad person"

"Yeah, and using us? She is the one who goes out of her way just to help us! She is a caring friend! Heck! We actually had to convince her that it's ok to pay to her everytime we comission something from her!" That was Nino

"And still, she gives us discounts everytime she can, but jus for the record, we have no problem in paying the whole price, Marinette, your job is awesome and you deserve to be fairly rewarded" that was Ivan, and Marinette gives him a very grateful smile, the rest of her friends agree with him and she smiles to them too.

"But-but" Lila is in trouble, she tries to think fast, but then Max just dig her hole deeper.

"Also, what Marc just said about your story is also true, all the wrong facts and holes, I asked Markov to fact check and the evidence supports Marc, the only conclusion is that you were lying to us!"

Nonononononono NO!

"And since you told us this lie like you did with any other of your stories I wondered What else was a lie? I also asked Markov to confirm every thing that you had said to us, and nearly the 86.65% was a lie"

Marc smiles, the game is going exactly according to his plan, even some of his moves were made by others, he is happy that Marinette has friends with such a faith in her, ready to stand up for her just like she does for them. But he knows that the game is still on, Lila still has some pieces, but Marc already steal her big ones, she just has some pawns to defend her King and Marc has his army intact.

Well fuck, she is doomed, the rest of the class looks ready to attack her... and then she remember her last card, it's a wild card, her lies will not work the same way anymore but she could save face, she will, eventually, come up with something to regain her control.

Well it seems that there is a limit, so I make a part 2