#like its. a teens show so i know child soldiers but if its directed towards young people they want to feel powerful have cool powers

[faerociousbeast]

aw man why did they throw this all away they had SOO much potential man. come. On

[iloveitwhen]

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later. 

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply. 

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.” 

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent. 

“Not from around here, are you?” 

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.” 

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger. 

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt. 

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there. 

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood. 

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that. 

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck. 

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut. 

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?” 

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade. 

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her. 

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood. 

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database. 

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity. 

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.” 

Wait what. 

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question. 

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out. 

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop. 

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete. 

“Prove you’re him.” 

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range. 

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go. 

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm. 

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham. 

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them. 

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered. 

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly. 

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down. 

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time. 

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.” 

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.” 

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told. 

“Do you remember?” 

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.” 

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.” 

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.” 

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare. 

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him. 

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd. 

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it. 

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way. 

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep. 

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot. 

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly. 

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right. 

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head. 

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye. 

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again. 

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock. 

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie. 

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle. 

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

[hollenka99]

Not The Boy He Once Knew

Summary: Even if he’s not the best at always showing it, Phil cares about his sons. But when one leaves home and goes down a dark path, all Phil wants is for his little soldier boy to come home safely.

Warnings: Death, stabbing

This is based on Obscuritea’s Little Soldier Boy animatic. You can find them on Twitter at @/0bscuritea.

Phil remembered holding his children for the first time. He could have watched Techno's little snout twitch for as long as his eldest would allow him. Wilbur stared at everything, as if it was mandatory for him to visually absorb as much of the world around him as possible. This included the young pig boy hovering by door, unsure whether he wanted to meet the one who was had made him a big brother. Tommy was a wriggler, that was for sure, always trying to get into a better position within the blanket. Wilbur certainly didn't help things when he clambered onto the sofa in order to push himself through the space under Phil's free arm so he could get a better view of the baby.

Many summer afternoons were spent sitting in the shade of trees, watching his sons play with each other. Sometimes, he'd even be out there strumming on his guitar while doing so. The older Wilbur and Techno got, the more they liked to engage in rough play. More than once, Tommy would be happily sitting on his lap before finding himself caught up in the latest rough and tumble session.

One day while his two eldest are 12 and 9 respectively, Phil is horrified to see them return home from a night time adventure in the nearby woods with blood on their person. It would seem that they'd run into a number of zombies and skeletons. Wilbur had tripped and this had caused Techno to make use of his axe. Most of the blood wasn't even theirs so they argued it wasn't a big deal. As Phil retrieves the bread he has on hand for situations like these, he scolds his boys for being reckless. There wouldn't have even been any mobs about if they'd gone out in the day. Just because death was a three strikes and you're out kind of deal didn't mean they could risk injury or worse for the sake of fun. Now, were there any cuts or scrapes they wanted him to look at? Just the one on Techno's snout? Well alright, best get that sorted then off to bed.

During a week where his attention had been directed perhaps everywhere except towards Wilbur, he notices the light is still on in his room. Good. With a knock, he gets invited in. An apology is issued, after which Phil pulls out some wheat and cocoa beans he had lying around. The boy in his early teens acts as if his eyes don't momentarily light up once it clicks what those ingredients are for. When he makes excuses about being too old to be bribed with cookies as well as pointing out that it was getting late, Phil calls his bluff. Come on, let this be his way of saying sorry tonight then he promises tomorrow morning they can have a guitar session, just the two of them. Wilbur rolls his eyes but heads to the kitchen regardless. Phil's glad he does because that is the first time Wilbur plays an original song he was in the process of creating with him as the audience. It was only a shame that incidences like these were becoming few and far between. He wasn't going to catch every time Wilbur felt ignored, especially if the kid slowly stop attempting to get his attention as often in the first place.

It's an odd feeling when Wilbur says his goodbyes. The years have passed so quickly it's hard to believe his little boy isn't quite so little anymore. However, his second son had been a budding musician for as long as he'd had the dexterity for it. It would be impossible to forget how he had beamed with such intensity upon being gifted his first guitar, so much so that Phil had slightly worried he might injure his mouth or jaw somehow. He'll be fine. Phil had nothing to worry about. Besides, Tommy had already made the journey himself a few weeks ago and it sounded like he was already making friends.

Life carries on with Techno helping out with the farming and the occasional correspondence arriving from the other two. When he hears about drugs in a van, he rolls his eyes. Trust them to do something ridiculous like that. It's less humourous when the word 'war' begins to get thrown around. Then shortly afterwards, Techno is leaving to assist his brothers in their endeavours. This results in an argument as Techno packs. By all means, help Wilbur and Tommy but don't get involved in a war that wasn't his to fight. Phil's anxiety regarding his sons' wellbeing grows due to talk of plans to win back L'Manburg after a failed election resulted in an apparent dictatorship. The more days that passed, the stronger his desire to have all his boys back home safely with him grew.

He sits alone at a table that had once been abundant with life. Once again, Tommy has sent him a letter regarding the situation over there. He was getting scared of his brother's apparent obsession with potentially destroying the nation in a blast. Wilbur had even been heard wondering if Phil would be proud of him. Given the current circumstances, he wasn't so sure how to answer. Tommy had even confessed that both he and Wilbur were on their last lives which petrified Phil more than any of the bad news he'd gotten so far. However, his son was right. Enough was enough.

It was time for Phil to make his way to L'Manburg.

He almost finds it funny how Wilbur's voice immediately morphs into the defensiveness of a child as soon as he realises his father has entered his secret detonation room. It was honestly reminiscent of times such as when he got caught stalking a chicken to gain the egg necessary for a pumpkin pie, said pumpkin being dragged behind him by the stalk. However, his son wasn't 4 anymore. Wilbur was a grown man who had proven himself to maintain less than innocent thoughts and motivations.

But Phil was his father nevertheless. And he would talk him out of this 'blow up L'Manburg' plan like others such as Tommy had previously done. Besides, he knew Wilbur. Deep down, that boy didn't have it in him to cause that much destruction, let alone risk instigating any potential loss of life. All he had to do was calmly talk him down.

L'Manburg had been won back. Even with Wilbur yelling in frustration about the several times he came close to pressing the button, that could be seen as a sign of strength. They could agree to not do anything rash then gradually dismantle the vast quantity of TNT hidden in the walls. The notion that Wilbur would risk triggering the button to see if it was actually rigged is so absurd it makes Phil laugh aloud.

He's certainly not in the mood to laugh within a minute of that moment. By the time thirty or so seconds have elapsed, he is on top of his son, both of them on the ground with only dust and rubble left of what had been the secret underground room. Wilbur had been talking about Eret one second before uttering the infamous line of "it was never meant to be" the next. Phil doesn't think it had truly registered in his mind that the explosives were about to go off when he leapt to protect his son from them.

This couldn't be happening. He knew Wilbur, he knew that he would never be capable of blowing up L'Manburg. Except Wilbur was. He... he had.

It's as Wilbur is screaming into the sky about his unfinished symphony remaining forever unfinished that the reality of his personal mistake makes itself known to Phil. Tommy had warned him that Wilbur was going off the rails. He'd said that Phil shouldn't let his guard be lowered around his brother. The second born of their family was currently not to underestimated.

That grin, that sheer ecstasy upon achieving his goal, the way Wilbur revelled in his 'victory'. Well, what more proof did Phil need to know he'd done the exact things he'd been warned against?

He barely has the chance to acknowledge that before Wilbur is demanding the unimaginable from him. No, perhaps 'demand' isn't the right word. Begging might be more appropriate. A sword is tossed at his feet, an invitation for it to be used. He can't though. Not this. Anything but this. The punishment for reversing countless hours of dedicated hard work should not be a death sentence. That simply does not equate.

"God, you're- You're my son! No matter what you do, no matter what you act like, I can't..."

And it's true. This was the kid who would (along with Tommy most of the time) go on epic adventures to claim treats in chests which were placed high up for the exact purpose of deterring such behaviour. He was the one who'd be found sneaking off to the surrounding caves and mines for the sake of exploration. It was him who practised his rallying speech skills on his brothers and father. More than that, Wilbur was a talented musician who liked writing songs and loved his family. He wasn't some irredeemable criminal who deserved to die to pay for the pain he'd caused.

Phil was not going to give Wilbur what he wanted. At least, he was against it until he realised this was about more than punishment or penitence. This was him asking someone he trusted to free him from the burden of all his wrongdoings. Wilbur wanted peace in his life again. And what kind of father would he be if he couldn't give his son that?

He grabs the sword. If he's going to do this, he'd rather make it as fast as possible. The last thing he wants is the suffering of a loved one. Wilbur tenses as the blade finds its way into his chest then exits. The gasps and stuttered breaths are worse than his son begging for death a minute ago. It's okay, he mutters. Just breathe through it. It'll be alright in a moment. Phil doesn't know whether him stroking Wilbur's hair is helping at all but somehow, it's helping Phil himself so that's good enough. The hand gripping his side begins to lose strength. He lets out a grief-stricken groan as he holds his son as tightly as he can.

"You couldn't just let- you couldn't just win?" There is no response, not even a hint of it.

The walls blown apart, he knows everyone can see him. But what does he care? Wilbur's head rests against his father's chest, arms loosely drooping towards the floor and body slumping alongside it. When he inevitably forces himself to let go, to leave the remains of this godforsaken room and... and bury his son's body back home, he's aware he'll have to face the fact his lap is stained with blood. But that can wait for as long as he can delay it.

For now though, he'll sit here with his eyes closed. Maybe that way he can somehow convince himself he's just holding the little boy who loved finding his way into his father's arms whenever he was drowsy, albeit an enlarged version. It's all he can do to keep the tears and questions of how this could have been prevented at bay.

[cafeinthemoon]

Sideways (Tajima Uchiha x reader) - Chapter 3

Title: Sideways

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tajima Uchiha x reader

Rating: Teen | Up

Word count: 1725

Chapter: 3/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶

Warnings: angst, physical fight, painful memories, severe injuries and blood

Reader the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

He opened his mouth to say something but gave up at the moment he looked at you. What he saw in your eyes stopped his words even before they were formed and he took a small step behind as if it had the strength to push him back to the room he just exited.

However your reaction didn’t justify his apprehension, for you just took a breath and asked a simple question.

- Won’t you give me a moment to rest?

There was more in those words that you were wiling to explain, so you counted on him to understand that. Disturbing your peace by forcing more and more people to come at your door seeking for help just to maintain a senseless politics was nothing to him; he needed to do something more serious, something more stupid. He needed to drag his own children to those lands soaked in blood and make you clean the inevitable mess. And for the child, for your principles, you did it.

But wasn’t it just enough? Didn’t he ask enough from you already? What else did he want?

By the way he was staring at you now, the answer to all those questions were no. He was done with you, not yet. And his next words only confirmed it.

- I just came here to thank you for coming… for saving him.

No, you could stand many things, but not this. His words, his tone, his look – he was acting like he knew how hard it was for you to come and save a child he had with another woman when he actually didn’t know anything about it, because it wasn’t him who suffocated his pride in the name of his mission, it wasn’t him that was replaced by someone else while his lover just moved on to live a life that he was supposed to share with them, it wasn’t him that had to watch you turn yourself into a stranger all over the years.

You took a step toward him. From all directions, you were both surrounded: on one side you had the house; on the other three, the wood walls and some trees. That place looked less like a yard and more like a battlefield in which you made your first move.

- Saving him? I was making amends after your mistake!

His voice trembled when he replied.

- What do you mean, my mistake?

- Do I really need to tell you?! – you almost spat your words.

Tajima became serious. At least that time he knew where you were leading the conversation to.

- Y/n-san, I respect you as a shinobi and a doctor, but if you are going to discuss a political issue right now…

- I am discussing a life here! – you interrupted – I can’t believe you are so blind that cannot see that! How much you’ve changed, Tajima – your voice cracked a bit with what you said next – I can barely recognize my friend inside this shell.

Something in the way he replied showed that part of him wasn’t immune to that fact. But maybe things went too far for this to make a difference now.

- Changing is not the problem, y/n – as a response to the way you called him, he dismissed the formal treatment for the first time – Stubbornness is. And you know that.

You gave him a sarcastic smile.

- So that’s how you call valuing life now? I’m not even surprised to hear that.

He raised his voice.

- Am I really blind, when it is you who refuses to see that if we had things your way, our enemies would have already invaded our territory, burned our houses and spilled our people’s blood! You are lucky that the thing that separates you from death are our soldiers!

At that moment, anything you might be feeling was replace with pure anger; you clenched your fist and smashed the old tree that was beside you. The huge trunk, once just one body, was divided in two as its center cracked in thousands of splinters.

- And your child is lucky that the thing that separated him from death was me!

He held his breath as you raised your fist. After all that time, you still had that monstrous strength in your hands. But he was still the head of the clan, so he had to stand his ground.

- If it is my gratitude what you want, then know that you have it. But this does not change reality. We are still at war. We still have to fight!

- Your gratitude? You have no part in this, Tajima. I did it for the boy, and the boy alone – you pointed a finger at him – You have no right to thank me when you are the direct responsible for what happened to him!

His voice lowered a bit.

- And since when you care so much about another woman’s child?

Your eyes burned, but not with tears: your Mangekyo Sharingan was activated in response to his bitter words.

- Since his mother is no longer here to protect him from his father, a man who I once loved and who became nothing but a coward!

When the word coward left your lips and reached Tajima’s ears, you weren’t able tell if it caused more pain in your or in him. You saw the change in his eyes, the black in them giving space to the reddish pattern of his own Mangekyo. Since he rarely activated it in face of a fellow clan member, you understood this gesture as a response to your challenge, a sign that he accepted to fight to prove his point.

It has been a while since the last time you two fought against each other, but you knew well that it wasn’t for no reason that Tajima was the current Uchiha head: he has been a formidable shinobi since his youth, and your respect for his ability made you prepare yourself the best you could for the imminent conflict.

He was the one who made the first move. He started running at you to inflict a physical attack, from which you defended yourself in time: he was still as fast as before, and despite not having enough control over his chakra to destroy a massive surface with a single punch exactly like you did, his strength and knowledge of taijutsu was far from ordinary, so that if you could start having problems in case you started to underestimate him. Still, it was better than a fight with swords: that was a style in which you never surpassed him, so you were lucky that he didn’t have his sword with him at the moment.

After exchanging a quick sequence of punches and kicks as a way to measure your current capacities, you two stepped away from each other to think of a better strategy. Of course, you were just beginning: two experienced warriors like you would not waste chakra with something less exciting than ninjutsu.

This time you were the first to act. You made quick hand signs and took a deep breath before expelling a gigantic fire ball toward him. The flames consumed everything in their way before disappearing in the night, leaving the heat and the scent of smoke behind. However, there was no sign of Tajima when their light was gone. And you knew exactly where e was going to appear.

You turned on your back and put your arms in front of your face, quick enough to avoid the surprise attack he prepared for you, but not to evade before he stroke your ribs with his knee, the sudden pain making hard for you to breathe. You stepped back, but before he could reach you, your body became dark and melted in the air, turning into ravens flying around him, crowding his vision until they were carried away to all directions, blending with the moonless night.

When he looked down, he found his fists caught by chains that grew from the soil while you came at him ready to finish this. And for a moment it seemed that it worked: you could swear you felt your hand touching his face, you felt the blood coming out from the injury, the chains breaking in thousands of pieces while he fell. But that was not what you saw when you looked around: you just punched the soil, and your fist opened a crater around you, spreading stones and grass at the surroundings.

You stood up and started looking for him ahead, at your right, your left and finally behind you, where you found him for the second time. However his hands were not empty now.

You looked into his eyes and saw a bright of what you thought to be tears, but none of them rolled through his face. Blood came out from your mouth as you sensed something crossing your body from one side to another. You looked down and found his sword in your stomach. But how? When he got that sword?

In a last effort, you took a step ahead, the blade slicing your skin and guts, and raised your right arm. A kunai slipped from inside your sleeve to your hand; you clenched your finger around its base and pointed its sharp end toward him. The kunai was buried in his neck and  he started spitting blood. Your eyes met for the last time, and you two knew that the physical wounds were not the ones that hurt more.

You opened your eyes at the same time and suddenly there was no longer blood. No longer a kunai in your hand, nor a sword in his. There were only you, standing in front of each other,  your eyes back to their normal black shade, your mouths closed, for nothing was left to speak or explain beyond what you said through your Mangekyo Sharingan. If there was something good that you could take from this, it was that at least you haven’t lost this special capacity of understanding your unspoken thoughts through your dojutsu.

But that didn’t mean you became able to foreseen impulsive reactions from each other. Otherwise you would have stepped away before Tajima threw his arms around you, bringing you close enough to reach your lips.

Chapter 4

[thehollowprince]

Context is Everything, Pt. 2

Or... "Have You Actually Watched The Show?"

Pt. 1, with excellent additions by @camelotpark and @princeescaluswords can be found here.

As anyone who follows me knows, I've been particularly active when it comes to defending Scott McCall on Teen Wolf recently, because we've had a lot of anons (one anon on repeat) harassing us. It made me more familiar with those who are just hellbent on taking Scott and casting him in the absolute worst possible light at every opportunity.

As such, occasionally, I'll find myself venturing behind enemy lines to see what nonsense they're spouting now out of a sense of morbid curiosity.

And boy did I find some doozies this time around.

For example:

This is why this post is titled Context, because its something that these people conveniently leave out when they try to woobify certain characters and demonize others.

Take this one - every line written down there is taken out-of-context. If people actually watched the show, they'd know that Derek was living in the burned out shell of his family home by his own choice. We found out later that he had a hell of a lot of money, enough to by entire building. Hell, there were even clues before that, in the fact that he drove around in an expensive muscle car and clearly had enough cash to replace a shattered window on said car in a relatively short period of time. Derek lived in squalor (first the mansion and then the train station) by choice, which is entirely apparent if one would just watch the show.

And then there's the attempt to deflect by bringing up Derek's trauma, hoping that people won't pay attention to all the horrible things Derek did in the first two seasons. These people straight up switch the definitions of Excuse and Explain in an attempt to make Derek's actions, particularly toward Scott and Stiles seem either not that bad, or weirdly enough, romantic (in the case of Stiles). They like to pretend that the horrible things that Derek went through (which explain his behavior) give him free reign to do whatever he wants, particularly when it comes to assaulting Scott (them trying to excuse his behavior.)

They wave Derek's trauma, being sexually assaulted and manipulated by Kate Argent who used him so that she could murder his family as an excuse for him to assault teenagers new to this world, breaking-and-entering, attempted murder (more than once) and actual murder. This is even more disturbing when you remember that the same people who love to troy out what Kate did to him when he was a teenager love to ship Derek as an adult with Stiles, who is a teenager. The irony is so thick you could choke on it.

Derek may have had one of the most fulfilling arcs on this show, but just because he finally stopped trying so hard to be something he wasn't and learned to let go, doesn't absolve him of the things he did in earlier seasons. Was he a hero by the end of the show? Yes, but he wasn't always. His first two seasons were him being one of the antagonists to being more akin to an actual villain (not the main villain, but still a villain - or anti-villain) in the second season.

And then we have this gem:

Once again, every aspect of context from the show is removed from these sentences to make Scott look like the worst thing since the plague.

Without context this just paints Scott as some warmongering asshole who goes around picking up random teenager shapeshifters and inducting them into his personal war.

With context, we know that Scott saved that kid, Alec, from Tamora and her hunters after they'd already killed all of his friends/pack. Scott didn't just pick Alec and say "hey, you're a werewolf and these hunters are after you so you have to join me or else." He invited Alec to join them in stopping the hunters with full knowledge of what he would be getting into. Not at all Derek's recruitment of Isaac, Erica and Boyd, where he preyed on them at their most vulnerable and gave them the most vague idea of what they'd be getting into. You need further proof of that? How about the fact that Derek's whole pack left him because they didn't sign up to be foot soldiers in his personal vendetta. Erica and Boyd straight up left after saying that Derek lied to them about what they'd be getting into and Isaac went and joined Scott's pack, because Scott actually cared about those in his pack.

Scott never asked any of his friends, his pack, to fight for him. Hell, in season four, during the whole deadpool hitlist plot, when Liam was too scared to get involved any more, Scott reassured him that it was okay and that he didn't think any less of him. And when Liam did get involved, that's because it was his choice. Scott didn't order him to fight, Liam chose to because it was the right thing to do. This is in direct contrast to Derek ordering his betas to kill Lydia on nothing more than his own suspicions and lack of knowledge about his own world.

Its also another blatant use of their double-standards when it comes to Scott. For the entire run of the show, these people have complained ad nauseum about how Scott didn't do anything. He was too nice and let the villains off without any consequences (he didn't, but they don't care about that), and yet here, in the finale, we have him finally taking the fight to the people coming after him, and suddenly its a bad thing.

Am I the only one that's confused by that logic?

What makes it worse is the fact that they're comparing Scott and Derek at two very different points in their lives and trying to paint Scott as comparable to Derek at his worst (kudos to them for admitting Derek was bad). Once again, with context, we know that the two situations are completely different, no matter how similar they may look. Derek went actively recruiting child soldiers, turning them into werewolves to fight in his war against Gerard and the hunters. Scott only ever bit two people, and one of them was an accident. Everyone that joined his fight was already a werewolf (or shapeshifter of some kind). Scott didn't turn any of them. He found Alec (and I'm assuming others) and offered him the chance to fight back against people who were actively hunting him. Isaac, Erica and Boyd weren't in any danger from the hunters until after Derek recruited them. On the surface, these two situations look very similar, but with context, they're not even remotely the same.

Context is everything. Without it, people can make whatever statement they like, but it doesn't change the truth of what actually happened. All it takes is for someone to actually watch the show to see how things actually went down.

[feeling-uncomfy]

Sorry this took so long @aestheticallytiredandpathetic but I gave the #5 fix idea finished!! Im gonna have to write fluff after because DAMN—

There is a blood/injury and mentions of suicide warning, be warned!

Hope you enjoy!!

The day had started normally. Really it had, it was a nice day, light clouds scattered in the sky. Bakugo and the rest of the band were relaxing on the common areas couch when Denki pointed at the T.V.

It drew everyone's attention, Todoroki and Midoryia poking there heads over the couch and Kirishima plopped himself on the floor. Hawks and Tokoyami were shown on the screen, Hawks was laughing and patting Tokoyami's shoulder.

"We're gonna work on some people-skills, right Tsukuyomi?" Tokoyami nodded simply as a reporter shoved a microphone into his face. Tokoyami wasn't cut out for this. There was a loud scream and the two heros tensed, ready to fight.

"Heya Hawks!" Miruko landed beside Tokoyami, grinning. Hawks sighed and smiled easily. "What's up Miruko?" The reporters were talking, and Miruko shrugged. "Hate to spring this on you, but..." Miruko smirked.

Tokoyami let out a squawk as Miruko lifted him easily over one shoulder. "Gonna borrow your intern here for the day!" Without waiting for a response, she jumped away. Hawks was left gaping and Tokoyami was taken away. "Thanks, I'll bring him back later!" She called over her shoulder.

Kaminari laughed loudly, and Bakugo snorted. "Oh no you dont! Give Tsukuyomi back!" Hawks yelled, kicking off. Thus began the chase of a lifetime.

Tokoyami had no choice but to be dragged all over Kushu as Miruko tried to avoid Hawks. They almost matched in speed, which made things interesting. Miruko had lost grip on Tokoyami several times, and Hawks was barely able to catch him. Tokoyami managed to have a little fun though.

Miruko got her grip on the teen again as they soared through the sky. "We should be able to cut through here if we—" Miruko was cut off by the building next to them suddenly being destroyed. Something came crashing through, hitting into the pair.

"Holy shit—! Hang on, kid!" Miruko yelled as they were sent falling to the ground. Tokoyami clung onto Miruko's arm, and they smacked onto the roof and rolled. Tokoyami groaned in pain and looked up. A large nomu stood in front of them, cloaking them in shadow. There were many other smaller nomu with it.

Tokoyami got up on shaky legs and was ready to fight. Hawks must not be aware of this, or he'd be here. Miruko sprinted past him, and Tokoyami followed. With Dark Shadow's assistance, Tokoyami knocked nomu away and tried to stop the people from getting harmed. The large nomu appeared in front of him, and Tokoyami was sent flying with an aggressive swipe of its hand.

Miruko was next to him in seconds, helping him stand. "You good, kid?" Tokoyami shook his head to stop the world from spinning. He nodded and stood straighter. Miruko grinned ferally. "Let's kick some ass!" She went running, Tokoyami hot on her heels. The nomu was saying something, it seemed to be complaining. Hawks showed up, Endeavor and a news crew following.

"Sorry we're a little late." Hawks flew down and pat his interns shoulder. Tokoyami looked up gratefully. Hawks zipped forward into the fray. Tokoyami jumped forward, preparing to attack, when—

"Friend!" Tokoyami stopped and turned his head in the direction the nomu was looking. One of the weaker nomu was trapped under rubble. The nomu looked panicked, and struggled against Hawks, Miruko and Endeavor. It seemed worried.

Tokoyami skidded to a stop. The weaker nomu struggled, clearly in pain. Hawks let out a shout of pain and was knocked into Endeavor, and the two went flying. Miruko was shoved away, crashing into a wall with a yell.

The large nomu called out for its friend again. Tokoyami turned and ran forward, and carefully lifted the rubble. He was curious, but also knew how stupidly dangerous this was. The weaker nomu scrambled towards the larger one, and they exchanged headpats? The larger nomu stared suspiciously at Tokoyami.

Shigaraki and the strange Doctor stared as this child-soldier saved the enemy. "What a weirdo. Kill him." Shigaraki ordered bluntly, and the large nomu ran forward, intent on killing. "Wait! I want to know why the child did that!" The Doctor yelled. Shigaraki sighed. "Fine. Bring him home." He ordered.

The class was watching, worried. Tokoyami blinked and the nomu was in his face. "Wait!—" Hawks looked up at his interns face, and saw the pure fear. The nomu's hand came down. Yamomo gasped loudly and Jirou covered her mouth in shock.

Bakugo froze, and Kirishima went silent. The whole class stared in astonishment. Aziawa's eyes were wide, and he gripped his chair. "Tsukuyomi!" Hawks yelled, getting to his feet.

The nomu turned, and left. Hawks couldn't see his intern, all he saw has his hand, and blood dripped off from his fingertips. Hawks flew after them, cussing. "Give him back, you big bastard—!" The nomu turned and smacked Hawks with one arm, and Hawks went tumbling.

"You won't get away with him! Let go!" Hawks attacked it again, harder this time. The nomu let out a roar and took a random piece of rubble, throwing it at Hawks. It hit his head, and he fell, wings flopping uselessely. Miruko caught him, and Endeavor shot forward. He didnt have much luck either.

Hawks sat up. "Tsukuyomi!" He called. Miruko stared at the large fresh blood stain splattered on the ground. "He's lost a lot of blood. Its probably coming from his head." She muttered, picking Hawks up. "Let's go. We've gotta call for backup." Hawks didn't budge. "Let's go, birdbrain." Hawks left.

The news feed cut off.

In his rage, Bakugo stood and set off explosions. Aziawa stood roughly and his chair toppled over. The class was startled by the loud noise. "Aziawa..." All Might started, worried. Aziawa didnt say anything. He left the room in a rush. Bakugo followed shortly.

Tokoyami woke up to someone poking him. He grimaces and shoved the hand back, and opens an eye. The man standing over him grins under his mask, and turns. "The kid is awake! About damn time too. I was getting bored." Tokoyami was confused.

"Twice, leave him alone. Remember last time you got too physical?" A voice called, and the man above shivered. "I thought those nomu were supposed to be nice to us?!" He said, stomping towards Tokoyami. He lifted him up by the cloak with one hand, staring into his eyes.

"Hey, kid. What'd you do to get the nomu on your side? Dont tell me!" Tokoyami blinked, everything was fuzzy. Tokoyami's voice came out muffled and slurred. "Dunno... what you mean..." His eyes drooped close. He was shook violently. "You're not allowed fall asleep yet! Shigaraki wants to talk!"

Tokoyami's eyes snapped open. He was definitely awake now. "Wha—?! Shigaraki? Wait–!" He was dragged forward. Twice dropped him onto the floor. There were bright lights, blinding him. Tokoyami squinted up at the figure in the corner, and the door slammed shut. The figure moved closer.

Tokoyami stared in fear. Standing over him was the most dangerous villain in Japan. He took off the hand constantly covering his face and glared down at him. "The Doctor wasnt bothered enough to come ask you this himself, so I'm here instead." His voice was like static grinding against a cheese grater, it was disgusting.

'This bitch needs to drink some water...' Dark Shadow commented from within. Tokoyami agreed. Shigaraki held onto the edge of Tokoyami's cloak with four fingers. "Do you know what my quirk is? If you dont, I'll gladly give you a demonstration." Tokoyami shivered as the last finger came down, leaving him in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Your hand is next if you dont give me an answer." Shigaraki threatened. Tokoyami swallowed and nodded. Shigaraki grinned. 'Ew, brush you teeth, and work on that smile... disgusting.' Dark Shadow crackled from inside. It took all of Tokoyami's resolve not to laugh as well.

Shigaraki bent down and huffed, his breath hitting Tokoyami's face. He almost gagged. 'I'm begging for someone to introduce him to toothpaste' Tokoyami pleaded, and Dark Shadow was already screaming his discomfort.

"How did you get that nomu to cooperate with you?" Shigaraki asked. Tokoyami blinked. "The nomu?" Shigaraki got back up and kicked Tokoyami's chest. He hit the ground and coughed. "Yeah, the nomu seems to be attached to you..." He hissed. "I dont know, I cant control what it does." Tokoyami reply is forced out as he tries to breathe.

"Why'd you save the other nomu then? You have to have a decent answer for that." Tokoyami looks up to find Shigaraki's cold glare baring into his soul. "It was in trouble." He answered simply. Shigaraki laughed, and the sound was horrible, it made Tokoyami wince.

"Yeah, like a hero would risk their life for the enemy." Shigaraki scoffed. "I dont know why I saved it. The other nomu was worried, and I acted on instinct." Tokoyami spoke truthfully. Shigaraki raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure." He said, and kicked Tokoyami's chest again.

Tokoyami wheezed as Shigaraki lifted him with four fingers. "Well, now that I have you here..." He grinned. "Another question." Tokoyami was prepared to answer another question about a nomu.

"How do you get into U.A?" Tokoyami froze. "What?" He asked, genuinely confused. Shigaraki growled and pushed him down, and Tokoyami hissed as his back collided hard with the ground again. "You heard me, brat. How do you get into U.A?"

Tokoyami scoffed. "I'm not telling you. What makes you think I'd tell you anything?" Tokoyami hoped he sounded less afraid than he felt. Shigaraki smiled again, and held something sharp in his hand. "Because of you dont tell me..." He said, digging the object into Tokoyami's shoulder.

Tokoyami cried out in pain. "This will be the least painful thing you feel. Understand?" Tokoyami glared up at the villain. "Do your worst. I'm not telling you anything." He shot back. It was a silent promise to himself, and to Shigaraki. He wasnt going to break.

Shigaraki sighed, and leaned into a speaker on the table. "Bring them in. Our guest is being uncooperative." Tokoyami swallowed his nerves as three people walked in. Twice, Toga and Spinner. Shigaraki sat on the table, grinning.

"Welcome. At our guest's request, do your worst." Tokoyami's eyes widened. Twice laughed and got to work, punching Tokoyami's face. Toga took her time pulling out a knife. Spinner shuffled a little awkwardly at first, but got into it after a minute.

Shigaraki laughed as Tokoyami started screaming in pain. This was his own fault, after all. Dabi stood waiting behind the door, huffing as the screams grew louder.

"No." Aziawa deadpanned, holding Bakugo and Midoryia down with his capture weapon. "But, sir! Tokoyami is in danger—" Shouji tried to reason, and ended up victim of Aziawa's weapon too. "I'm well aware. But you're still students, and some are targets of the league. Under no circumstances are any of you to engage with them. Understood?"

The class begrudgingly promised not to engage. "But what if we—?" Mina's arms was wrapped in capture weapon. "I understand your concerns." Aziawa repeats for the third time. "But it's a no. There will be a rescue team of pro heros sent out to get Tokoyami back. If I catch wind of you there so help me–"

Aziawa glared. "Shigaraki and the league's torture will be nothing compared to what I'll do." The class seemed to stop complaining so much after. He left them in All Might's hands and met with Hawks and the rest of the team.

"The class wont intervene. Hopefully." Hawks laughed, though it was forced. "Come on, we've got a bird to save." Endeavor scoffed. "I still don't understand how you found the place so fast." Hawks grinned up at him.

"I've always got a feather stuffed somewhere on my intern." Hawks said simply. Endeavor gaped at him. "What? I'm always prepared for these sorts of things." Aziawa rolled his eyes at Hawks's reply, and Miruko slapped his shoulder. "After the seventh or eighth time Hawks landed Tokoyami in hospital, he just sorta started doing it." She explained to the teacher.

Aziawa glared at Hawks. "I'm well aware that Hawks has the tendency to land my student in hospital." His glare was like ice. "For various reasons." He added coldly. Hawks shrugged. "Hey, I told you I'm not good at this 'having a kid' thing." He said defensively.

"That doesn't excuse the fact you landed my kid in hospital over thirty seven times this past year alone! I told you he couldn't have dairy, and the same day I get a call—" Aziawa was ranting, ready to recite every time he'd been called in for some stupid reason, but Endeavor cut him off.

"That's enough! Shigaraki isnt a patient man, and if we do not act now there may not be another chance to get the child stuck in a hospital again." The words struck a chord in the group. Hawks hadn't thought thay far ahead. They took him because they wanted him, right? They wouldnt kill him if he was useful.

Would they?

Aziawa huffed and started walking. "Let's hurry. And don't do anything illogical. Let's do things rationally." Miruko rolled a shoulder, hearing it crack. "Whatever, I'm gonna kick Shigaraki's musty face in!" Hawks laughed. "Yeah, you do that." Aziawa and Endeavor rolled their eyes in unison and lead the way.

"Their both like interns..." Endeavor commented as they walked. Aziawa nodded. "I love and hate that about them." He answered quietly. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

"Haven't you had enough yet?" Tokoyami slammed onto the ground again, crying out in pain. Twice was gearing up for another blow, and Toga had sufficiently taken a solid months worth of blood from him. He was exhausted, and he wanted to go home.

Tokoyami spat blood out, and tried to brace himself on shaking hands. "I'm not going to tell you anything." He spat, willing himself to stay upright. Shigaraki scoffed. "Fine, have it your way. Twice?"

"Already on it! I dont wanna punch the kid anymore!" Tokoyami heard the fist collide before he felt the pain. He was sent straight down, cursing. Toga stabbed his shoulder again, earning a loud shout. Spinner had a bat, and took a swing. Tokoyami fell back, utterly spent and sore.

Shigaraki tutted. "This is all so useless. We could get along so much better if you would hear me out." He said quietly, sitting untouched on the table. Tokoyami scoffed. "Forgive me of I don't feel like listening to a psycho who's been torturing me for the past hour!" He said, gaining confidence.

Shigaraki glared down at him. "You little–" Tokoyami flinched, prepared for the blow. It never came, instead, the door opened with a crash. "We've gotta go. Heros." Dabi said, glancing down at the teen. Shigaraki growled. "Fucking– you know what? Fine." He turned to Tokoyami. "Have the nomu that likes this brat so much take him." Shigaraki ordered.

Dabi didnt hesitate. "That's dangerous. And stupid." Shigaraki turned to him. "You got a better idea, hot stuff?" Dabi didnt respond. "I thought so. Twice, let the nomu out." Twice nodded enthusiastically, then shook his head. He left.

Tokoyami wasnt sure what to expect, but it wasnt this. The nomu came rushing in, smaking Dabi away. Tokoyami was picked up and the nomu growled at everyone else in the room. It looked down at Tokoyami. "Hurt?" It asked.

Tokoyami blinked. "I'm fine." He answered slowly. It was a lie, but he wasnt about to admit that the villains hurt him. "Lies." It growled, and took a swipe at the league. Spinner yelled as Shigaraki cursed and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. The nomu turned and ran through the wall. Tokoyami let out a shout of fear as they took to the skies, Tokoyami gripping onto the nomu's neck like a lifeline.

They flew through the sky, the beginning of the sunset light hitting Tokoyami's face. "Where are we going?!" He screamed over the wind. The nomu didnt look at him. "Safe." It said simply. Well, that didnt help. Tokoyami looked around, and gasped.

"Hawks?!"

Hawks had been looking up at the nomu as it zoomed overhead. He caught Tokoyami's eye. "Kid?! What are you—" Tokoyami cut him off. "Wait, Hawks! Help–" The nomu turned right suddenly, and Tokoyami almost went flying. Tokoyami was petrified, clinging onto the slimy and slippery skin, close to tears.

Whether that was from the pain or fear, he wasnt sure.

Hawks flew after them, Endeavor hot on his heels, literally and figuratively. Miruko came in as a close second, and Aziawa bright up the rear with the police. "Take care if the league." Aziawa called, running forward.

"Let Tsukuyomi go! Stupid—" Hawks yelled, and was surprised when it did. Tokoyami let out a screech of fear as he plummeted towards the ground at incredible speed. Hawks dived for him, and Miruko flew forward. "Got him!" She caught Tokoyami in her arms, and he clung tight, trembling.

"Great, now let's—Shit!!" Miruko was thrown off course as the nomu reached for them. Hawks panicked. This wasnt part of the plan. Endeavor grabbed Miruko's arm, and steered them to a rooftop. The nomu let out a roar as it knocked Miruko away, and Tokoyami smaked onto the ground hard, and he was left gasping.

Endeavor growled. A portal opened, and Spinner, Shigaraki and Dabi showed up. They looked ready to fight, but everyone was taken by surprise when the nomu swung wildly at them all. Hawks was thrown off balance, and the three villains were sent off the roof.

The nomu let out another shout and grabbed Endeavor's face, and slammed it into the concrete. Tokoyami was frozen and the nomu repeatedly slammed the number one heros head into the ground. "Wait! Stop it, let him go!" Tokoyami ran forward and grabbed at the nomu's arm, tugging with all his might.

The nomu turned, and Tokoyami choked as the nomu wrapped it's free hand around his neck. Endeavor was forgotten, left bleeding on the building. Tokoyami struggled, trying to get free. His windpipe was crushed, and he wheezed. His vision was blacking out around the edges, and everything was fuzzy.

Tokoyami clawed at the hand in fear. He couldn't breathe, he needed to get out, he begged for someone to help, he didnt want to die—

There was a snap.

Dabi heard and stared, wide-eyed. Shigaraki cursed as Tokoyami stopped struggling, falling limp in the nomu's hold. "Oh my god..." Spinner said, gripping the ledge he was clutching so tight his knuckles were a light green.

Hawks heard the sound and looked up. 'Please be a bone, any bone, don't be—' He saw his interns hand fall, useless. Miruko gasped loudly, hands shaking. Aziawa showed up, and saw his student hang lifeless. "Holy..." The words caught in his throat.

Hawks couldn't believe what he was looking at. "No, no no no no..." He ran forward, and the nomu dropped him. The nomu turned and ran. Shigaraki muttered something, and he and Spinner disappeared through the portal. Dabi didn't follow. He stared as Hawks caught his kid and held him gently.

Tokoyami's eyes were still open. Red and full of fear, staring up at the sky as it it had grown a pair of hands and flipped him off. Hawks stared at his students neck. It wasn't very obvious because of the red cloth, but it had definitely been broken. His interns chest didnt rise or fall, it stayed still and the tremors had stopped too.

Aziawa came over quietly. He stared at his students eyes for a moment before shutting them. Hawks shook, head buried in his kids shoulder. Miruko came over sluggishly. "I'm sorry..." She whispered, voice cracking. Hawks shook his head, refusing to believe it.

There was movement. Maybe...?

Dark Shadow emerged, small and wispy. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep him safe..." The quirk said softly. "And I'm sorry I cant stay." Hawks looked up. Dark Shadow faded. "I'll tell Fumi you said hello! Maybe we can see you soon? After Fumi wakes up?" There wasnt an answer.

The last piece of Tokoyami disappeared, and the heros were left alone.

Hawks let out a dry sob. That was the only sound made for a long time.

Dabi left. He didnt say anything, but sat on a balcony and smoked. He took a long drag before looking up. "Sorry, bird brain..." Dabi said to no one. He took another drag and sighed.

Breaking the news was hard, and it took a while for things to go back to 'normal' but the class helped each other move on slowly. Hawks didnt last much longer, and the world lost two birds-heros.

When they reunited, they were happy. Albeit rocky at the start, but they got used to the whole 'we get to haunt people now' thing quickly. Hawks– Kiego had fun with his bird-bro in the afterlife, and that made death worth it.

Lordie if this didnt kill me—

Also I'm sorry for it rushing at the end! I wanted to get it out as quick as I could.

Hope you enjoyed this! Fluff is next because they need a break lmao—

[el-dibidibidorado1]

Baby's lollipops

Steve Rogers x Reader

AN: This fic started off because of a Gif from a show that I watched. Plus I've been missing the nomad Steve look for a while so, Ta-da! I hope you enjoy this and chapter 2 will be up in the next few days (maybe)

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

It happened all because I had a lunch date with a friend at a known coffee shop. The coffee there was amazingly delicious that I couldn't say no to her. We talked and talked while finishing our meal and iced coffee, when she told me that I was being stared at.

"Girl, he is totally checking you out." Ophelia said and I still didn't believe her. I was a closed book, with a huge lock in the front when it came to new people mostly men. I've had some jokes thrown at me that it made me feel like a relationship wasn't important.

I mimicked her until I felt a breeze behind me making me stop.

"Hi-i" looking up I'm found with a good looking fella who had longish hair and a nice beard. He looked kinda familiar, oh right he is Bucky best friend. The other soldier.

"Hey" Ophelia said and I just waved. He looked at Ophelia then back at me. It made the air uncomfortable until I looked at my phone and noticed the time realizing that my lunch break was over in a couple of minutes.

"Fuck" I mumbled and gathered my things.

"Your leaving" she asked.

"Yes, I got to get back at the shop. I'll see you later." I took my jacket and looked at the man still standing there.

"Um, uh, nice to meet you I guess, I'm y/n" I stuck my hand out for a handshake.

"I'm Steve" he shook my hand then I practically ran out.

"So what are you going to do?" I sat in y/n place and scratched my chin.

"I don't know? She is really beautiful " I mumbled while massaging my hand. Her hand was incredibly soft and warm just like her eyes.

"Well, here is the address to the shop she works in." She gave me a torn paper with the address printed on it. I gave her a nod and looked at the paper wondering if I should go and see her, visit her, I don't know. Ophelia began picking through her wallet and took out a couple of bills and payed.

"Look, Steve, if you go I don't want you to think that she is a....." she did some hand motion making me get confused.

"She works there because she had a hard time moving here and it was the only job she found, okay?" What does she mean? She left me with the piece of paper in my hands.

Ever since she brought y/n to one of Tony's parties I've had her stuck in my head. Her laugh, voice, warmth and well now her softness, had left me wanting to know more and more. Which is a first in quite some time, ever since Sharron I've haven't been in a relationship. So I asked Ophelia for help and she jumped all over the walls with this.

After a few hours of debate I decide to get some sweets and the coffee she liked. I'm not a stalker! I just texted Ophelia for it.

I asked for some directions and ended up with people who gave me weird stares and some flirty comments.

"Ye man just turn the corner and the store is there. Baby Lollipops. You'll find some neat shit there" I asked a few couple of teens and confusedly followed his instructions.

What the hell what is it with this store? I turned the right corner and my eyes went wide making me drop the coffee. The bright pink and purple of the sign and the half naked posters dawned on me that this was an adult store. I took out my phone and called Bucky who is also a friend of Y/n.

"Hello" I could tell he just woke up due to his groggy voice.

"I'm at Baby Lollipop" he stayed quiet making me get annoyed.

"She works at a sex shop! Why didn't you tell me!" His laughter made me facepalm myself. Now I understand why Ophelia said that.

"Steve, relax. Its just a job, she needed money so that's was the only job that was open for her. Just go-"

"Pickmeup" I quickly said.

"Hell no" he replied chuckling.

"Bucky please pick me up" now he was full blown laughing.

"Man up, Steve, you are Captain America!"

"Bye. Thanks for letting me go home early." I heard her as she came out of the store and quickly hid while having Bucky give me a speech.

I closed my eyes and waited until I felt that she was gone, then I just hug up my phone and ran back to the stark building.

"Bucky! Why didn't you tell me that sh-" I was in a mid of a rage when i found y/n having dinner with the team.

I noticed a couple of winks and smirks thrown at me while standing there.

"Come and eat Steve" Nat said.

Throughout the night I avoided her until Bucky brought her towards me. I mentally cursed this man.

"Hey Steve, you alright man?" Bucky asked hitting my shoulder with a smirk on his annoying face.

"Yep" I said chugging my drink and asked Nat for another.

"Hey Steve" she pointed at me while putting down her drink.

I just nodded and saw Bucky slowly walk away.

"Sorry that I had to leave like that, my lunch was over and I had to rush back" she smiled making my heart flutter.

"N-no it's ok." I awkwardly smiled back making her chuckle.

"You okay? You look like if you have a fever or something" she asked at the same time her small hand came up and gently touched my cheek making my face burn and heart skyrocketed. Her fugure was small and plushy perfect for cuddling.

"Y-eah I'm fine." She got her drink and motioned me to follow her and I did. I felt like a lost puppy and i didn't even noticed where she had taken me.

Soon as the cold breeze hit my face I sighed in relief, I never noticed how hot it had gotten in there.

"Better?" She chuckled and sat on one of the love seats that Tony has in the balcony.

"Yeah" I said while taking a seat next to her.

My nose picked up the light sent of cool cucumber that she used and it was incredibly intoxicating.

"I kinda wanted to get you out here alone..." she mumbled playing with the ice from her cup. My heart skipped again and I didn't know to be excited or terrified.

"What? Why?" She laughed and turned her body towards me.

"Its not everyday I see a 6'2 super soldier run away from the sex shop. Also have a mild heart attack when he found out that I work there. " My jaw dropped making her laugh loudly. I enjoyed her laughter but I was still in shock.

"Relax Steve" she said after laughing she put he hand against my knee.

"H-how?" I asked. And she understood what I tried to ask.

"Bucky told me that you called him." She picked up an ice cube and ate it. My eyes just locked on her colored lips.

"Steve" she quietly said snapping me out of my trance.

"Yes?" Her eyes saddened making my heart pang.

"Do you really like me?" How? How does she know?! Ho-Bucky!

"Yes."I whisper.

She looked at her feet making me do the same.

-----------

Soon as he said yes, the memory of old flames crossed my mind. The name calling, loss of touch because of my soft figure.

There is a way I could test this out? My old flames hated when I grabbed their hand or just sat close to them.

I turned and looked at his scarred hand on his lap.

I scooted closer until our knees nearly touched and shakenly placed my hand on top of his. His hand was huge compared to mine. After a few seconds he removed his hand, I sighed.

I felt my eyes water until I felt his hand on my waist bringing me closer to his side.

He proved my thoughts wrong.

I felt his stare making me stare up at him. His cool gray orbs made my body shiver.

He smiled and broke his stare and went back to admire the city view. My eyes swelled at his appearance, longish hair, sharp bearded jaw, pink lips and the best eyelashes that I have ever seen.

"Y/n?" He said snapping me out of my trance.

"Yes" I slowly said still getting hypnotized by him.

"Wanna go for some coffee or something.....we kinda have a audience inside." I quickly turn and see the whole bunch of avengers and Ophelia just sitting there staring at us.

I mumble and give them the finger earning a couple of shocked faces and laughter. He took his hand on mine and pulled me up leading me back inside.

"We are leaving!" Steve yelled while getting our coats and dragging me into the elevator.

We barely missed the teasing and childish comments as the doors closed leaving us with a smile in our face.

Soon as the doors opened we ran towards my car.

"That was something" I said closing my door. He chuckled then we stood there in silence again.

"So." I cut the silence making him look at me.

"What does this mean?" I motioned us in the car and the fact that he had his hand on mine!

"What do you want it to mean." That took me by surprise.

I just sighed and chuckled while starting the car and began driving.

"Strawberry swirl for the lady and rocky road for the lad"

We ate and talked about anything and almost everything.

"Its past my bed time" I say looking at the time on my phone. It was one in the morning and I completely forgot about me opening the shop tomorrow.

"Let me walk you to your car" I stopped making him stop. Well this is a first.

"Its late and I don't want you to be by yourself. Weirdos are out there." I nodded and turned around.

"I get to have a few more blocks with you" he said and smoothly took a hold of my hand. I stayed quiet and enjoyed his giant warm hand holding mine.

"Can I ask you somethin?" I asked.

"Sure" he brought me closer as a stranger passed by.

"As a child did you think that the moon was made out of cheese?"

"What?!" He laughed while grabbing his chest.

"Well?" I smiled and interrupted his laughter.

"In all of my years I've never heard that." He smiled.

"Well here's my ride."

"I had a good time y/n."

"Me too. It's been a while since I've felt like this." I tried to let go of his hand when he pulled me towards him, making me bump into his stone chest.

"Steve-" he had trapped me. My body was in between him and my car. With his index finger he made me look at those eyes. Those damn beautiful eyes making me melt.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was quiet and full of honesty that made me melt even more.

"Yes" I felt small and excited.

He tilted his head as he painfully took his time to close the gap. When his nose lightly touched mine I felt myself taking deep breaths until his warm cotton lips touched mine. A slight shock made me take a small gasp and he pressed himself into me. I enjoyed having this man crush me a little.

When he pulled back he smiled and kissed me harder making me giggle due to his beard tickling my cheeks.

"What, am I tickling you?" He said and began pressing his full beard against my cheeks.

"Steve! Stop!" My full blown laughter betrayed me as I tried pushing him back.

"Okay, okay, you win, you win" I calmed down. He stopped and placed his forehead on mine.

"I will see you..."

"Just text me" I said and got into my car.

"Okay" I rolled my window down.

"Get home safely, doll"

"You too, Steve" it got quiet until a sudden wave of confidence took over me and I pulled his shirt clashing my lips into his. He proceeded to grab the back of my head and tilted his head for a deeper kiss. His tounge was begging to let him in but if he did I wouldn't be able to pull back.

"Okay, okay, I gotta go home" I pulled way.

"Yeah it's getting late" he chuckled.

"One last kiss" he said and jumped half of his body into my car giving me another passionate kiss.

"Goodnight, doll" he pulled away.

"Night Steve" I rolled my window up and drove home.

-----------

I waved at her until she left and ran back to the Stark building trying to contain my happiness.

I knew that it was going to be a hard time falling asleep with all of this energy in me.

----

Chapter 2

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Nuclear Decisions: III

Word Count: 2177

AN: It’s a little shorter today, but I hope you find the end well worth it. :)

As Yorak finished his comment, Kova began resisting. She pulled back from Yorak’s grip, physically leaning back and away. Yorak smiled like he knew this was going to happen. His grip on her arm grew tighter as his knee pushed the back of hers. Kova fell on the ground hard, shaking her arms in vain. 

“Now, now, Kyla,” Yorak said like he was speaking to a child. “You better stop now unless you want your precious team blown into atoms.” Kova panted, pushing back one last time until her body sagged. She was hauled up to standing and pushed towards a heavy metal door. Yorak turned to Kova, smiling widely at the glaring girl. “I’m releasing you. You better not do something you’ll regret.” Kova nodded as the violet cuffs faded, falling to the floor with heavy, echoing thuds. Vhix appeared from behind, taking Yorak’s place on Kova’s upper arm. 

Together, the trio marched up a set of stairs on the other side of the metal door. It opened, and the bright lights briefly blinded the teen. Within a minute, Kova could see again. The entire crew of the ship she was on was standing below in perfect squares, looking up at the trio as they walked in. Huge screens were on two of the walls, showing a better view of the balcony they were on. A screen appeared in front of the balcony as Yorak approached. He smiled smugly as the telecommunication started with a swipe of his finger. 

On the Coeus, every screen on board had tuned itself to the incoming transmission. The same happened at the Garrison, where the programmers who trained to take care of unauthorized transmissions like this set to work. Unfortunately, the head programmer was on vacation and the team couldn’t get through the Garrison’s firewall. The Garrison was the only place on Earth that received the transmission, but that was enough to send panic through Curtis’s heart. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of our lovely universe,” Yorak said, stepping forward to become more prominent on the balcony. “Today, you are witnessing a historic event. One that can change the universe as we know it." 

Shiro had ordered everyone on the Coeus to report to the bridge. Keith, of course, didn’t listen, charging towards the transport bay. While he hadn’t been under supervised care in awhile, he was still recovering. Before he could even leave the transport bay in the MFE jet, the quick lapse in oxygen knocked him out. Shiro and Liz found him and hauled him back to the observation room. He would be fine. He just needed to rest. 

"The Fire has long remained in the darkest corners after a humiliating defeat and highly publicized death of our founder and first Emperor. I, Emperor Yorak, am now changing that.” Vhix pulled Kova along so she was sandwiched in between Yorak and Vhix. “The Fire is finally ready to make our grand premiere, with Voltron supporting our cause.” He gestured to Kova, who sneered. “My brother, Commander of the colonies, my sister, the leader of Voltron, and I swear to make the universe equal and whole. A balance that should’ve been since the beginning.” Vhix stepped forward, kicking Kova’s foot forward so they were closer to the screen. Kova’s fists began shaking with anger as Vhiz took the stand. 

“Imagine the possibilities of an equal and balanced world. The doors that will open to all those who join us in our cause.” For a brief minute, Vhix let go of Kova to make wide hand gestures. She took a step back so that she could look over Yorak’s shoulder. “Voltron stands with us. You will too." 

"No.” Kova stared directly at the screen. “We don’t.” With a right hook, Kova’s right fist connected with Yorak’s jaw, making him fall onto the ground. With a quick turn on the ball of her foot, she knees Vhix in the stomach, also making him fall. Yorak tried to stand, but he slips on the topmost step on the staircase and falls backward. Vhix didn’t have the same luck, so Kova kicked him down the other set of stairs. She turned to look forward, where her face was projected onto large screens. Her eyes look shocked, then determined. 

“My name is Kovalia, and yes, I am the leader of Voltron. My team has remained hidden for the past few weeks, but we have used our time to train and prepare ourselves to defend our home. My parents formed the Galactic Coalition in their prime, and I am not going to let anyone, friend or foe, destroy something I swore to protect. To everyone who stands on the side of good, of peace, I ask you to stand with Voltron. With us. To those who stand with the Fire, be prepared for war.” With that, Kova slashed her fingers through the air to cut off the connection. By that point, the soldiers down below had begun to find their way up the staircase. Kova climbed onto the wide railing of the balcony and jumped over the balcony railing before anyone could reach her. 

Her jetpacks were a godsend as she landed harmlessly on the ground below. As soon as her feet met the ground, Kova ran towards the huge doors that the soldiers were running out of. Several of them tried catching her but met the business end of her bayard. The weapon had morphed itself into a long vaulting pole. With a push, Kova vaulted over the soldiers, and the bayard morphed in mid-air. It became a small stun gun, to which Kova used to shock the door’s control. She didn’t take a second look, dashing down the hall. Through a matter of twists and turns, Kova found herself in the same area she had found herself the last time she was kidnapped. The doors refused to open, welded shut. 

“Halt!” Someone said behind Kova. She turned to stare at half a dozen soldiers pointing the barrels of their weapons at her. “Surrender!" 

Kova was panting in her helmet, slowly putting her hands up. Her bayard morphed again, turning into the long curved sword. With a swing, the barrels of the three weapons directly in front of had fallen off, the cut so clean, it could’ve been done with a razor. With two hands now on the hilt, Kova widened her stance, ready to fight. 

A heavy thud sounded on the outside of the door, throwing everyone off balance. A heavier thud and an imprint on the metal door was the only warning Kova had to get out of the way. Diving into a barrel roll, she held onto the frame of the door as a third hit from outside revealed the Lion. Yellow’s head bursts through the heavy metal. With a deafening roar, Yellow extracted itself from the ruins as someone complained about just replacing the door. Kova ran to the opening and dove out. Red opened its jaws and ate Kova whole. Quick as can be, Kova ran to the cockpit of the Red Lion, where Caleb was navigating Red back to the Coeus. 

"Where’s Black?” Caleb asked. 

“No clue.” Kova was panting, staring at the large ship that she had just escaped from. “They have multiple holding bays." 

"We can’t check them all.” Caleb agreed with Kova’s train of thought. “Griffin, use the BLIP. Try to find the Black Lion.”

“On it,” Liz replied, directing Green far away from the ship so it could properly scan it. “Large number of guards in bay three.”

“Got it.” Red flew towards the ship again, but Kova put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. 

“Bay three has low-grade explosives." 

"How do you know?” Kova opened a screen on her arm, showing a picture of the ship map time-stamped on the day Kova was kidnapped the first time. With a swipe, Kova sent the image to the other Lions. 

“Bays three to six hold all explosives for the entire ship,” Kova explained, highlighting the respective bays. “I escaped from bay two, a transport bay." 

"What are we supposed to do, then?”

“Leave the LIon." 

"What?” Caleb turned to give Kova an incredulous face. If they didn’t have the Black Lion, they couldn’t form Voltron. 

“We have to.” Caleb tried to fight her, but as he continued thinking it over, he agreed with an exasperated sigh. 

“Team, retreat. Coeus, open a wormhole.” The Coeus opened a wormhole, slowly creaking its way through as the cannon on the front end of Yorak’s ship charged up. By the time it was ready to fire, the Coeus and the Lions were long gone. 

Onboard, Shiro said nothing as the teens filed past. Four of them went to their rooms, and one went to the bridge. Shiro eventually followed the teen as she removed her helmet to reveal her bright green hair. The teen stared at the bayard in her hand, a remnant of the Lion she had lost. That realization struck her deep. Kova, the jack of all trades, the pride of the Garrison, had lost. 

Shiro approached the teen from behind, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. Kova turned to meet Shiro’s sympathetic eyes, causing tears to fall from Kova’s eyes. With arms wrapped around Shiro’s large waist, she let the silent tears shed. Shiro patted the back of Kova’s head with his human hand, letting the robotic one turn off the lights in the bridge. While he said nothing, Kova could understand his meaning behind it all. 

It wasn’t her fault. She did what she could. 

Shiro led the teen back to her room, where she slept like a baby with the reassurance on her mind. Like a mantra, she repeated it over and over. It’s not my fault.

————————

In the distance, far away from the Coeus, further away from the colonies Yorak mentioned before, someone important watched the footage, too. Their face was partially obscured by the shadows in the room as they rewinded and played Kova’s speech over and over again. Specifically, the scene before the footage cut out. The glare on Kova’s shield made it impossible to see her at times, but in that quick second, her entire face was on display, albeit obscured slightly by the helmet. 

Over and over, the shadowed individual played the second. There was something about the girl’s eyes that stuck familiar. The way her dark eyebrows pinched together as her amber eyes filled with determination. While her hair was completely covered by the helmet, it could only be assumed her hair matched her eyebrows. Yorak and the Fire had been watched for months, to the point where there were several moles in various ranks throughout the organization. Yorak had referred to Vhix as his brother, already known as a fact by the individual, but he referred to the girl as his sister. 

More details about the girl began to become more apparent to the shadowed person. How the girl’s eyes weren’t as sharp as once thought, they held the same fiery spirit. Her chin and nose were more pointy, likely coming from her mother. Her armor and helmet were signatures of Voltron Paladins, leaving a small space at the bottom to allow her to talk. Her skin tone didn’t match either parent, but this was suspected to be from other causes. Her name was the nail in the coffin. While her suspected surname didn’t match any records, the unique first name she used did. 

Kovalia. 

With a press of a button, the individual opened a second screen with the image of a young girl. The little girl was seated in between a man and a woman with small smiles, but expressionless eyes. The woman wore a green shirt and dark pants with a pair of mint green glasses. Her chestnut hair was swept to her left side. The man wore a black shirt under a brown and red leather jacket, with dark hair tied in a ponytail. The little girl wore a pretty black dress with a lace overlay with a green ribbon around her stomach. Her dark hair had been braided to form a crown on her head. She was the only one who seemed happy to be there, giving the camera a big smile. She couldn’t have been more than three years old, but the picture was enough to get an age-progression of the girl. 

Leaning forward, the individual laced their fingers together in front of their mouth as the program did its work. As it aged the three-year-old and made an overlay of the teenager, it slowly confirmed what the individual suspected. 

The screen stopped, showing a 98% match between the adorable child and the fierce teen. 

“Finally.” The individual said, showing off their toothy grin. “We finally found you,” As they leaned further into the light, more features became apparent, like their pointed Galra markings on both cheeks, their two-toned hair, and their sharp eyes. “Kyla." 

Krolia stood from her chair. As she picked up the screens, deactivating them in the process, she walked to the door. Her smile never left as the automatic door opened, then closed with a thud.

[fadingcoast]

Death Of The Lie  ||  Chapter 27: Jotunheim

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism & @fadingcoast

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: Multi RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

.-

Chapter 27: Jotunheim

With the first light of dawn came a renewed sense of purpose for Loki. He hadn’t slept a wink but he found himself buzzing with energy, and when he ventured out to the lush castle grounds he saw Hela gazing up at the sunrise. He wondered if she, too, had stayed up all night thinking about their next move.

A slight breeze brushed Hela’s hair across her gaunt shoulders, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and the nearby river, and when she turned her head toward Loki she was smiling. After a moment her smile faded, however, and a somber mood settled over the garden. It was then that Loki sensed her restless energy, and he could tell she was itching to do something, and whatever it was wasn’t going to be easy.

“You must know as well as I do that Asgard isn’t going to just hand me the throne,” Hela said, rubbing her hands together as she began to pace. “Mages or not, the Alfar are outnumbered. I will not lead them into slaughter.”

Loki had had the same thought the night before. As grateful as he was to have Sigyn and Freyr’s support, their army was no match in numbers to Asgard’s. “I’m glad you agree,” he confessed.  “I take it you have another plan?”

Conflicted thoughts warred in Hela’s dark eyes. Determined as she was, something was still holding her back, fear or apprehension or perhaps regret. Slowly she nodded her head. “I do.”

“Am I allowed to know this plan, or am I to follow blindly?” Loki didn’t intend to come across so harshly, but every second passed meant another opportunity wasted, and it wouldn’t be long before the King and Princess would wake. 

Hela looked toward the sky once more, the sun’s rays casting her pale face in a warm light that almost seemed to turn her cheeks pink. For a moment Loki regretted his words; after all he had been through his tongue was often sharp enough to hurt others when he wasn’t careful, and though he barely knew her, she was his mother.

Almost if he hadn’t spoken at all, Hela continued. “We must return to Asgard. Odin’s Vault. There’s an army beneath its floors, long buried, waiting for someone to give them life. With them I - we - can secure the palace. But we can’t just walk in and do what we like. My power is somewhat weakened outside of Asgard, and you can teleport. What is the closest you can get us to the Vault?”

“My- my chambers,” Loki said, slightly stunned. Doubt crept in his mind but there was no time to give in to it. “They have been sealed with a spell since-” The memory choked him, so he moved on. “It will be safe to teleport there.”

“This is the only way,” Hela assured him. “The only way to right all the wrongs, to make up for the sins of the Allfather. You can stop running. We can stop running.”

Loki turned to look at the castle that had once been his home. Yet again he had to leave, to fight that part of him that longed to stay. And now he had reason to doubt that, once all was said and done, he would even be welcomed back. When he turned toward her again Hela had her long arm outstretched to him, waiting for his hand. With a final nod he placed his hand in hers, and in a flash of green, they left Alfheim behind.

.-

Loki had spent so much of his life traveling these halls without being seen that he could venture through them now with little effort, even with Hela in tow. It wasn’t an easy feat, as they could barely fit through some of his hiding places, but it took them straight to the vaults unnoticed by the several Einherjar that patrolled the corridors. As soon as they were inside the Vault, Loki sealed the room with a spell.

Hela looked around and couldn’t help but smirk dryly at the garish displays of brute force, left largely untouched over the centuries. War trophies from Odin’s reign - some from even before she was born - sat proudly on pedestals all over the room like they were altars to a past that should be revered. Imagining the lies he must have sold to the people about how he won these stolen goods felt like someone had spat in her face.

Loki stood to the side of the center pathway, watching his mother closely as she examined some of the newer items she hadn’t seen before, such as the Warlock’s Eye which had been acquired by Thor and his lackeys many years ago. He wondered what was going through her head, the complicated rush of emotions she was doubtlessly experiencing seeing the fruits of her father’s tyranny again as if no time had passed. A knot formed in his stomach as he remembered that he was one of them. 

Hela walked resolutely to the end of the corridor and knelt to the floor, pressing her fingertips to a decorative stone circle just before the gate where the Destroyer used to be kept. She murmured a brief spell and the stones fell away, revealing a massive dark cavern beneath the floor. Loki swore in surprise and ran closer as Hela stood back up and went over to the pedestal that held the Eternal Flame. With no hesitation she placed her hand in the fire and pulled it back out unharmed, with a small piece of the Flame flickering in her palm. 

The bright flame lit up the crypt below just enough for Loki to see. The floor at the bottom was covered with hundreds of rows of long-dead soldiers in their place of honor, skeletons still in their armor, all with their heads facing the empty space in the middle where the King’s insignia was carved into the floor.

A battalion waiting for their King’s command.

Once again Hela knelt, gently placing her palm - and the Flame - to the edge of the circle at their feet.

“Ennösta.”

The entire crypt lit up, glowing dark orange, as the flames spread through the cracks. Loki was unsure what to expect, so he took a few steps away from the circle. Hela rose to her feet and waited patiently, the sound of voices growing louder by the second. At last, one ghoul rose from the crypt and stood tall and proud in front of Hela, silently waiting for her command.

Loki didn’t dare move as he observed the creature.

The ghost was surrounded by a green eerie light, the same that glowed brightly in his eyes. His body seemed transparent, but not quite. As it moved, sometimes you could see flesh, and in other places bones showed through. Loki could recognize what he was wearing as Asgardian armor, but not the one he remembered seeing his whole life. The winged helmet reminded him of Odin’s, but the knots and swirls and symbols that covered the rest of the armor were entirely unfamiliar.

This was old. Likely older than Odin himself. Did Odin even know this was here?

Hela crossed her wrists in an ancient Aesir greeting. “You know my blood, Hersir. I am your Queen. Asgard is threatened. Take your men and secure the castle. Kill none that are unarmed.”

The ghoul nodded once and marched toward the Vault door. Hundreds of soldiers rose from the crypt and followed him in a perfect line, their feet making no sound as they went. Loki didn’t even have to lift his spell on the door - they simply went through it. Hela watched proudly as each one passed and sighed with relief.

Loki tore his eyes away from the risen army and he saw the Casket Of Ancient Winters. Guilt swelled in his chest. He killed their king, he tried to destroy their planet. If he could only do one thing to repair the damage…

“I have to take it back.”

Hela followed Loki’s gaze and frowned. “How, exactly, are we going to do that? I believe your teleportation won’t work all the way to Jotunheim.”

Loki was surprised at noticing Hela’s choice of words. But he didn’t have time to ask. A plan formulated in his head, and a smile spread across his face.

“We’re going to steal a ship.”

.-

With the castle secured by the army of the dead, Loki and Hela had little trouble sneaking to the hangar and stealing one of the skiffs. Loki had discovered several ways in and out of Asgard when he was a teenager, and remembered with shame and regret the first time he used the one leading to Jotunheim, not even imagining how his life would be completely torn to pieces by his actions.

It was a stupid joke!

They rode the small ship through a path in the forests around the castle to a portal in the side of a mountain, and with a flash of white, they landed on Jotunheim. It was nearing dusk, in the middle of a fierce snow storm, but Loki tried not to draw attention to the fact that he didn’t need to bundle up like Hela did.

Hela sighed deeply and clutched her cloak to her chest. “It’s worse than I thought,” she muttered.

Loki said nothing. He remembered Hela telling him Jotunheim was dying, and had been dying for over a millenia already. It was hard to imagine how the planet could ever have been any different to the frozen wasteland that laid before them.

Looking around, Hela tried to recognize the landscape, searching for a glimpse of anything familiar. It was difficult to see through the blinding winds, but she looked up at the sky and told Loki they would need to head in the direction of the setting sun. Not wanting to alert anyone of their presence, they decided to abandon the skiff and go on foot.

“Princess Sigyn, then,” Hela said out of the blue only a few minutes later, with a smirk Loki didn’t see.

Loki couldn’t help but blush all the way down his neck. Small talk, we are doing small talk. He took a moment to decide how to answer her. None of the options he thought of was a short way to explain.

“My inherited powers were out of control when I was a kid,” Loki began. “Frigga thought it was best for me to learn Seidr, and control it. She said--” He sighed. “She said so many things…” He decided to leave out the bullying, the years of self harm and wanting to end it all, just to make the pain stop. It didn’t exactly make for pleasant conversation. “They sent me to the sanctum in Alfheim, to train and learn how to harness the power of my magic. I stayed with King Freyr and the Princess, and I suppose we became rather close.”

Loki couldn’t exactly pinpoint why it was so easy to tell Hela everything, even things he hadn’t shared with anyone else. The more he said, the more he wanted to keep talking. He told her about Erik, and Gwyn, and how Sigyn became more to him than just a friend. Freyr’s offer to let Sigyn marry him. The pain he experienced having to come back to Asgard indefinitely, forced to fall into his royal duties and once again become second best to Thor. He confessed his original plan to thwart and postpone Thor’s coronation, and how it led to the discovery of his true identity, or at least part of it.

Hela listened to him in silence, somehow enjoying Loki’s recounts, and hurt for having missed it. Every day during her pregnancy she had imagined what his life would have been like, dreamed of watching him grow into a strong Jotun prince, away from the corrupt influence of Odin’s tyranny and his endless obsession with becoming the fiercest Allfather the nine realms had ever seen. Instead Loki was raised as an unwanted son, learned to hate himself from a young age because he was different. Though she had been the one to take Odin’s last breath, it still would never make up for what he did to her son.

The crumbling ruins of the Jotnar Temple were clearer and closer now. The blizzard had slowed down, and the fresh snow piled up against the walls. Loki and Hela looked around, trying to catch any signs of movement, but there was none. No soldiers, no guards. The temple was empty and void of life.

Hela’s footsteps made no sound on the fallen snow as she entered the foyer. She looked up, noticing the massive hole in the ceiling and the crumbling columns that barely still held up the whole structure. She realized the only reason the temple was still standing was the rock being frozen solid to the ground.

Loki moved as quietly as possible as he followed Hela. The tiniest flutter of recognition hovered at the far reaches of his mind, but he couldn’t place it yet. Hela walked solemnly to the middle of the temple, where the altar stood. She knelt behind it and pushed on the huge flagstone. The concealed door opened to a small dark space.

“This is where I sent you, after you were born, when Odin came for me. I had hoped you would be safe, protected by the Casket.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong.”

At her words, a flashback of a dream, or a dream within a dream, came over Loki. An image of a dark room and a bright blue light. He never knew what it meant, or why it was so ingrained in his brain. Now, it made sense.

Without a word, he summoned the Casket in his hands. As the cold spread his skin turned blue, with distinct markings on his hands and forearms.

Hela replaced the flagstone altar, and Loki lowered the casket and placed it inside, locking it to the rectangular space where it belonged. The casket emitted a brighter, bluer light that seemed to spread through the frozen foundations of the temple. Somehow, it knew it had come home. Hela let out a sigh of relief and stood up, smiling at Loki as she took in his blue skin and red eyes.

“There you are,” she said quietly, folding her hands together. “That’s how you looked the last time I saw you. You take after your father.”

A small measure of heat rising in his cheeks, Loki looked away, back at the Casket. He had so many questions about that night, but he wasn’t sure where to begin, and the emotional weight of letting someone see him like this was too much at once. “So,” he changed the subject, “what happened after that?”

Hela’s expression darkened. “I would realize too late that Odin would come here to steal the Casket. Once he found it, he found you.”

“Why didn’t he kill me?” Loki muttered, staring at his hands as they came back to their regular color.

“The old fool could never.” Hela half smiled. “Just as he didn’t kill me, he wasn’t going to murder his own lineage. He was too proud to spill a drop of his blood. It doesn’t matter if you were-”

“-A mistake.”

“You were not a mistake.” Hela turned and gave Loki a hard glare. “Listen to me, you were not a mistake. Never. You were conceived by love, and loved from the very moment we knew you existed.”

Loki felt a tightness in his throat. Love. The one and only thing that he craved to get from his family. But instead he got lies and rejection. He clenched his fists. Yet another thing that was stolen from me.

Hela sighed deeply. “I spent a thousand years going over everything,” she explained. “Trying to figure out how to escape. What I could have done differently to make it work. I regret many things that I did and many more that I didn’t. The one thing I never regretted was you.”

Loki stared blankly, not quite sure how to process that. Hela shook her head and looked down.

“I know I’m asking for something seemingly impossible,” she continued. “If it were up to me I would erase everything Odin ever told you, everything he ever did to you. But I can’t.” As much as Hela tried to hide it, Loki could see how much it pained her. “All I can give you is the truth. I have no reasons to lie to you.”

That’s so much more than anything anyone in my family ever did for me.

A distant rumble distracted them, and the ground began to shake.

“The Jotuns have noticed us,” Hela said, and ran to the archway. “They will be here soon. We must go.”

Loki took her hand and they fled the temple to a safe distance, where the magic from the Casket didn’t interfere with his own. Before the Frost Giants could find them, he teleported them together back to his chambers in the palace.

.-

<< Chapter 26  –  Chapter 28 >>

.-

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[danseru-kun]

Ancient and Android Chapter 1- FFVII and DBH crossover fanfic (Aerith x Connor)

Ao3 link: Ancient and Android

Genre: Friendship, Drama, Romance (?)

Rating: Teens and Up

Chapters: 1/7 (tentative)

Summary: At first it bothered Aerith how humanlike Connor was in appearance. Were androids like him part of the Lifestream?

For the past five years as a flower peddler, Aerith had only seen two kinds of people: those that weren’t affiliated with Shinra and those that were. She was particularly wary of the latter, being her captors in her early childhood and responsible for her mother’s death. From the typical office employee proudly showing their uniform to top executives in their fancy branded watches; from conscripted grunts to the esteemed elite force known as Soldier - Aerith knew them all. 

“Real flowers for sale!” Aerith called out to potential customers, as usual, pretending not to eye an odd stranger at the opposite side of the street.

Wearing a dark blue denim jacket with a Shinra logo on his left breast, with a glowing blue band wrapped around his right arm, a man took a long way and crossed through the pedestrian lane when everyone else ignored it. His gaze met Aerith’s for too long before his eyes landed on something else. 

He walked in perfect posture at a relaxed pace, opposing the flow of busybodies scampering towards the train station. Aerith observed his direction, wondering what office or establishment he may go to. Didn’t enter the cafe. Didn’t enter the theater. Didn’t enter the restaurant. Instead, he passed through the same spot in Loveless Avenue thrice, and in those next instances, he didn’t look again at Aerith. 

Was he one of them? The men in dark suits that had followed her for years? Aerith sighed. One thing that had always worked was: never to let them know you’re actively avoiding them. Let them think she was clueless and an easy target, then send them empty-handed and humiliated. Aerith grinned and walked towards the person of interest. 

“If you’re wondering if it’s real, you can see it yourself.” Aerith gave her widest smile and handed one stalk to the brown-haired man. “I’ll give you three pieces for two hundred gil, how’s that?” the vendor winked.  

“Real and living...” He tilted his head slightly and accepted the flower reluctantly, eyes darting back to Aerith one more time as if asking for permission. Carefully he held the stalk between his fingers, twisting and turning it in all angles before he returned it to Aerith. “I do not wish to purchase. Thank you for your offer nonetheless,” his lips slightly curved and his deep, dark eyes were kind. 

A blue ring at the side of the man’s head glowed. “What are those spinning lights?” Aerith pointed to her own temple and drew circles with her finger. 

“It’s an LED to show my processing. It makes it easier for humans to identify that I am a machine. My name is Connor, I’m the android sent by Shinra.” He also pointed to a set of numbers printed to his jacket, the largest of which was RK800. 

“An android?” A robot, or a machine, a cyborg or whatever they were called. Aerith narrowed her eyes. She had seen some robots, trashed some, salvaged some, and sold them off, but she never saw anything looking so realistic. Most humanoids robots looked like mannequins with their perfect skin and plastic hair, their mouths opening and closing like rusty hinges. Connor looked nothing but human. His skin had freckles and moles, his jawline looked freshly shaved, his expression soft and calming. “They sent you for what?” 

“To detect and report defective power lines. I’m running scans on the area,” Connor clasped both his hands and rubbed his palms together, bending down to meet Aerith’s eye level.  “Do you have any concerns about our services? I can forward them to customer service right away and give you a special priority.” 

Aerith’s brows furrowed. Unbelievable. If Shinra really did send this guy to track her, she should commend them for something new. Should she play along?  “This is the first time I’ve seen an android act,” she said in a teasing manner. “Has it worked on other girls before?” Aerith twirled the edge of her curls, not breaking eye contact with Connor.

“Pardon? Are you implying that I’m pretending to be a machine?” The polite tone of his voice didn���t change, but his eyes were wide, inquisitive. 

“You can drop the act Connor, I swear I find it… amusing.” Aerith slouched and pouted. She would have played the game a little longer but she had better things to do. Besides, there had been worse weirdos. 

Connor was silent for a while. “Shinra designed me to look human and installed an advanced social integration program but we do not intend to deceive anyone. Apologies, I should have been clearer from the start.” He extended his hand to Aerith. From the tips of his fingers, his skin turned gel-like and retracted inside the white shell and joints that formed his hand. Aerith’s eyes widened as the skin continued to disappear up to Connor’s wrists and his neck, revealing metallic joints and glowing wires underneath. 

“You really are-” Aerith took a sharp breath, grasping her flower basket a little tighter against her body. She shook her head in disbelief as the marvel of technology unfolded before her. 

“I am indeed a machine, Miss…” Connor blinked and his LED ring glowed yellow, eyes twitched for a split second. “May I know your name?” 

Aerith paused and stared at the hand Connor offered. “My name’s Aerith,” she answered and accepted a cold, hard, and plastic handshake. 

Sometimes, when Aerith touched others, there was always this tiny spark. Humans, animals, and plants all felt different, but they all shared one thing - the flow of life she couldn’t quite describe in words. Connor had none. 

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

It was Connor’s most efficient day. Loveless Avenue’s hourly foot traffic allowed the android to exceed its three-day average volume by twenty-seven percent. From 5:06PM to 8:31PM, the android had added 638 faces in its memory and identified 453 individuals by cross-referencing their faces to Shinra’s database. 

IDENTIFICATION OF PERSONS OF INTEREST SUCCESSFUL…

RETRIEVING AVALANCHE DATABASE…

MATCH: 2

Two faces matched the list of suspected Avalanche operatives, fitting their described age, height and sex: Charlie Sheridan and Lee Suyin. Based on Midgar records the pair forged birth certificate documents and were granted driver’s licenses. Connor submitted the sighting to the Anti-Terror Task Force. 

MISSION SUCCESSFUL

Connor waited for a recommended action.

INVESTIGATION LAUNCHED. DO NOT MAKE CONTACT WITH AGENTS.  

MAINTAIN COVER AND COLLECT DATA. 

“Affirmative,” Connor replied as it assessed its first success in identification. Shinra intelligence had only profiled 32 members but the actual number worldwide was estimated to be a hundred or more. 

Connor considered moving on to the train station when hundreds of people exited the Loveless theatre. A larger crowd rushed in while a long queue extended to the streets. Half the audience were children and not relevant information. Many had dogs of different breeds. The android’s optics quickly zoomed in to a child holding a white flower. Connor had never seen lilies outside the pictures in his memory. 

The flower did not match anything in the catalogs of registered gift shops. Connor stared at the flower intensely, the stress on its lenses forced a blink mechanism. It approached to investigate, reconstructing the path via the paw-prints of the child’s rubber soles. On the opposite side of the street was the vendor in question, a woman with long brown hair and a pink dress who stared back at the android. 

FACE SCAN ACTIVATED

MATCH FOUND

RESULTS: 0

Connor ran through Shinra’s database again. 

M@T^H FOU&%!

RESULTS: 1

No information followed. A glitch? System error? Database compromised? Connor kept its search active while it modified its main objectives:

[ENCRYPTED]

Identify and report suspected Avalanche members

Search for information about Avalanche’s hideout

Collect data for Shinra profiling initiative

Investigate the flower peddler

The opportunity presented when the vendor offered her products: real, living flowers. The woman reacted in disbelief with the information that Connor was not a human. 

“I am indeed a machine,” Connor received a surge of delayed information from its searches: the flower seller’s face partially matched a picture of a child in the Shinra database. They had the same emerald eyes. “May I know your name?” 

“My name’s Aerith,” she accepted the handshake, giving Connor the opportunity to collect her handprint. While DNA would be far more informative, there was no socially acceptable way to obtain samples in that situation and the cover would be blown. 

Aerith matched seventy-six results in the Midgar database, with nine different surnames. Three were deceased. One transitioned into a man. Only one Aerith matched a woman in her twenties: Aerith Gainsborough. She submitted her name in the Sector 5 annual lotto a total of fifty-nine times. Six months ago, she won the jackpot of 3,000,000 Gil split between 312 winners. Other than that, she had no government identification, school records, or hospital admissions-

“Hey watch where you’re going! Are you blind?” Connor barely dodged the cyclist who continued to hurl insults. The android continued his search of Aerith’s face in the Shinra database until the Science Department blocked him.  

ACCESS DENIED

ACCESS DENIED

ACCESS DENIED

Connor’s program recommended obtaining permission from the management. The suggestion was moved further down the queued objectives until it was deleted from its command logs. Too inefficient. Information required immediately. 

INITIATING BYPASS...

The department had sufficient firewalls and servers, but Connor was more advanced in breaching security undetected. It needed information on Aerith Gainsborough as soon as possible. 

More than pictures, Connor was able to retrieve a video showing Aerith as a child behind a glass partition. The footage was of substandard quality with a timestamp, but Connor’s facial reconstruction and analysis software were still able to process the image, estimating she was six years old. Another woman in the footage was her biological mother or relative based on shared physical features. Without a DNA test, it would be inconclusive. Several voices discuss her health and mentioned tests to perform on her. Aerith laid her thin, pale hand against the glass, her eyes downcast before she looked directly at the camera. Connor stared back. 

[avengerscompound]

Home - Chapter 10

Home: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count:  1964

Warnings:  Angst, parenthood, sexual manipulation, action, injuries, underage drinking and drug-taking.

Synopsis:  16 Years after the death of Daisy, Steve and Bucky have successfully raised two teenage kids with telepathy. Teens are never easy to live with though. Sarah in particular likes to test boundaries. Now on top of all the usual challenges of parenting, they have to deal with troublemaking demigods, a daughter who just wants to be accepted for who she is and running the Avengers. That’s when the children of other super-powered individuals start going missing.

Chapter 10

Sarah and Loki stood outside the office door where Viper had locked herself after Hydra agents started dropping like flies. Sarah took the door handle in her hand and just as she went to twist it open Loki put his hand on hers.

“You don’t have to do this. This burden does not have to lie at your feet.” He said.

There was gunfire from inside, narrowly missing both Sarah and Loki. Sarah twisted the handle, shattering the lock and pushed the door open. “Yes, it does.” She snarled.

Viper raised her gun but Sarah stopped her gross motor functions. All Viper was able to do was stare straight ahead.

“Hello, Viper,” Sarah said, walking towards the woman. “How would you like me to kill you today? I could be kind. Let you use that cyanide pill you have stuck in your back tooth that you keep thinking about. Or I could just switch your brain off. That would be pretty painless. I did promise to tear your throat out with my teeth though. I don’t like breaking my promises.” She ran her fingers down Viper’s neck.

“I’m not scared of death, you foolish child.” Viper seethed.

“No, I can see that. I can see exactly what you’re scared of. Seeing as you love torturing little kids, maybe I’ll just trap you with that.” Sarah snapped. She closed her eyes and pushed. Viper fell to the ground trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape. She whimpered as she lay on the ground. Her body twitching.

“Sarah, stop this.” Loki soothed. “Let her go. Your fathers can arrest her.”

“Why should I?” Sarah yelled. “Do you know what she did to me? To the others? What she was was going to do to us?”

Loki ran his hand up and down Sarah’s arm. “I know. Trust me, I know better than anyone what it’s like to be consumed by the thoughts of vengeance.”

“You’re lecturing me?” Sarah snapped. She walked to where Viper lay whimpering on the ground and dragged her to her feet. Her fingernails bit into the skin on vipers throat. “You killed thousands of people. You were going to destroy Earth and you’re worried about her life?”

“I don’t care about her. She could die a thousand times over and I wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.” Loki said, slowly approaching Sarah. “What I care about is you. Doing this. Killing a person in cold blood. It will change you.”

“Maybe I want to change. Maybe if I change people will start taking me seriously.”

“Sarah?”

The sound of Bucky’s voice made Sarah’s head snap around. “Daddy?”

“Let her go, honey.” Bucky soothed. “Let me take care of this.”

Sarah dropped Viper and ran to Bucky falling into his arms. Bucky held her tightly putting his chin on the top of her head.

Sarah’s mental hold on Viper released and she came to, stumbling to her feet. She lurched forward in an attempt to run but Loki caught her, sliding his blade effortlessly between her ribs. She screeched as Loki removed the blade and wiped it clean on her back. He let her go and she slithered to the ground.

“Loki! I said I’d take care of it.” Bucky snapped.

“And now you don’t have to. No need to thank me, soldier.” Loki said, waving his hand.

Jamie and Bucky supported Sarah as they left the facility. When they reached the exit, an icy blast of air hit them in the face. Sarah shivered. She was still only wearing the light white cotton Hydra dressed her in.

Steve spotted them and ran over embracing his daughter. “Oh god, Sare. I was so scared.” He breathed.

“So was I,” Sarah replied, breaking down in tears.

The Avengers got all the missing children situated on the jet and notified the authorities to the Hydra base and the incident that had occurred.

Bucky and Steve pulled Loki aside on the Quinjet.

“What happened in the base?” Steve asked.

“I found the children together. Sarah had already taken out three guards and opened their cells. Those people that had them had inserted something into their necks. Some kind of Midgardian technology to negated their gifts. Sarah was about to cut it out of that one there.” He pointed to Danielle.

“Oh god.” Bucky groaned.

“Then what happened?” Steve pressed.

“I removed the devices from each of the children. We fought our way out.” Loki explained. “I say we. It was mostly Sarah. That small blue child can phase into things and disrupt technology. He is the reason we were easily able to break through the doors. But Sarah just made everyone we came across fall asleep. It was quite boring in the end.”

“What about the dead woman?” Steve asked.

“That was me. I’d apologize but I am not sorry for that. She was in charge. She tortured those children. I wouldn’t normally concern myself with such petty trivialities, but I have grown fond of you mortals. Particularly your family.” Loki said.

Steve scowled but chose not to press it. Instead, he moved back to check on the children.

“I heard what you said to Sarah,” Bucky said when Steve was out of earshot. “I just – I wanted – Thank you. You’re right. It would have changed her. Killing. It puts a stain on you that is impossible to erase.”

“Why Barnes, are you getting all emotional on me?” Loki laughed. “The next thing I know I’ll be invited on the next Rogers’ family picnic.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Bucky said. “Just thank you. And thank you for finding her.”

Epilogue 

“Alright, Sare. I think that’s it.” Olive said, securing the last clasp on Sarah’s uniform.

A year had passed and a lot had changed.

Sarah was now homeschooled. Primarily taught by Vision. Her grades had evened out and she found that without all the noise she could actually learn. She wasn’t just leaching off what other people were thinking.

With Sarah away from school Olive had started to realize that her feelings for Sarah were real. She wasn’t confused. She didn’t just not like boys because the ones around her were all terrible. She liked girls and specifically, she liked Sarah. Her powers didn’t matter. Sarah had never given Olive a reason not to trust her. Sarah’s powers were scary but she’d never used them to hurt her. So Olive had called Sarah and said she’d missed her. They had started hanging out outside of school and had now been dating nine months.

The Avengers had started a program to help train enhanced children with their abilities. So they could both control them, but they could protect themselves if people came after them. It was called the Young Avengers Initiative and for the most part, just acted as a weekend or summer holiday style program. Depending on how far the children had to travel. For extreme cases, the children moved into the compound and were looked after like family. They also studied with Vision and were trained by ex Avengers such as Clint, Natasha, and Tony.

Today was the day the first graduate moved up to the rank of official, the government recognized Avenger.

Sarah had her uniform. She had her code name. Now she had to just show everyone what she could do.

“Thanks, Olive. Oh god. I’m so nervous.” Sarah said.

Olive smoothed her hands down the red, blue and white stripes of that ran down Sarah’s midriff. She leaned over and gently grazed her lips over Sarah’s. “You’re gonna do fine. You were born for this.”

Sarah and Olive walked down the hall and stepped outside into the sun. The training grounds looked like a crowd had assembled for a kids soccer game. Children and adults lined a rectangular pitched and all talked and played while they waited for the proceedings to start.

Olive kissed Sarah on the cheek and veered away from her, heading in the direction of the crowd. Sarah walked towards Steve who was standing in the middle of the field.

The crowd cheered when they saw her.

Steve smiled. “Today we are here to welcome the first graduate of the Young Avengers Initiative through the ranks to become an official Avenger,” Steve shouted. The crowd cheered again. “But first we have to see what she has to offer the team.” He turned to Sarah. “Liberty, let’s see what you can do without your powers.”

Steve lunged at Sarah but Sarah stopped his gross motor functions. “Sarah, I said no powers.” Steve scolded.

“No, you didn’t.” Sarah pushed.

“No, I didn’t,” Steve repeated back.

There was laughter from the crowd. An arrow suddenly flew in Sarah’s direction. She ducked out of the way of its trajectory and glared at Jamie. He stood on the sidelines with his bow raised.

“Stop cheating, Sarah.” He scolded.

“Ugh, fine,” Sarah said, letting her dad go.

Steve shook himself. “Cheeky.” He laughed and came at her again.

He and Sarah sparred. They were quite evenly matched. Steve had the experience and size but Sarah knew his moves before he made them and strength-wise she took after him.

He threw his shield at her and she swatted it out of the air. As it fell she jumped and used it as a launchpad to attack Steve from above. She caught him with her thighs and flipped him out of the field.

Carol came at her. Flying in from above and shooting energy blasts.

“No fair!” Sarah cried as she zigzagged across the field avoiding them. “How come you get to use your powers and I can’t use mine?”

“You’ve got this, Sare,” Carol replied.

Sarah scooped Steve’s shield up from the field and used it to deflect an energy blast straight back at Carol. Carol got knocked backward out of the field.

Sarah felt Scott coming towards her. “I know where you are, Uncle Scott.” She said.

“But what about if I do this?” Scott appeared out of nowhere, returning to his original size and launching himself at Sarah. Sarah feinted to the left and Scott went sprawling on the ground.

“Yes. I know where you are when you do that too.” Sarah smirked.

Ants started swarming onto the field. “Please don’t make me kill your ant friends, Uncle Scott.” She groaned.

“Okay, Liberty. You can now show us your powers.” Steve shouted over the crowd.

Sarah grinned and looked at Scott.

“Oh, shit…” Scott cursed, scrambling backward away from her.

Bucky approached Steve and hooked his arm around Steve’s waist. “She looks pretty good out there.” He said.

Sarah had taken control of Scott’s body and was using him to get rid of the ants.

“She’s going to be an asset to the team. I just wish I could have protected her from this life.” Steve agreed.

“It never ends. The fighting. There’s always something else to fight for. Better she can defend herself than just be a victim of the next thing that comes.” Bucky said. “Besides, it’s what she’s chosen for herself. Jamie chose to opt-out of being an Avenger. He’s happy living a normal life. It’s good for him. Sarah chose this. Just like you did. If there was anything I wanted for them it would be the ability to chose what they do. I didn’t really get that.”

Steve leaned over and kissed Bucky, pulling their bodies tightly together. “I love you. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. I love you too, ya punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve ruffled his hair and pulled away. He stepped out into the field.

“I think you’ve proved yourself a worthy member of the team.” He shouted. “So with this new member of the group. Come welcome your new teammate. Avengers…”

~ END ~

[lioninsunheart]

Boxed in: the fragility of men~~

In her 2006 book Insecure at Last, Eve Ensler described meeting a soldier in Kosovo in the late 1990s who seemed both physically and mentally paralysed. His name was Agrim. “He looked at me, threw his arms around my neck, and started weeping,” she wrote. “No, it was more like wailing. I have never heard a sound like that. He would not let go. Then his weeping wailing began to build and release. It could not be controlled or stopped. It resounded through the neighbourhood. People from the village began to gather around. I held on to Agrim, but, honestly, I wanted him to stop. All these years I had told myself I wanted men to be vulnerable, to have their feelings, to cry. All of a sudden it felt like a lie. I did not want this man to be so destroyed, so out of control. I wanted him to have answers and be tough and know the way and make everything work out.” Ensler understood how part of her was terrified of men being lost, how she needed them to be tough and assured. She also understood how many years she’d been carrying men’s “invisible pain” in order not to see their weakness or shame. Holding Agrim in her arms, “this weeping liquid man” – as she described him – was her undoing, pulling her “out to sea in the wild waves of his crying”. “It was as if I were holding the secret story of men in my lap,” she wrote. “Centuries of male sorrow and loss, centuries of unexpressed worry and doubt, centuries of pain. I suddenly understood violence and war. I understood retaliation and revenge. I understood how deep the agony is and how its suppression has made men into other things. I understood that these tears falling down Agrim’s face would have become bullets in any other case, hardened drops of grief and rage directed toward a needed enemy. I saw how in fighting to live up to the tyranny of masculinity, men become driven to do anything to prove they are neither tender, nor weak, nor insecure. They are forced to cage and kill the feminine within their own beings and consequently the world.” This passage speaks to what it is in men that causes them to inflict such monumental hurt on women, other men, children and themselves. They are forced to cage and kill the feminine within their own beings and consequently the world. Carl Jung, the Swiss psychoanalyst renowned for his theory of the collective unconscious, called this feminine within a man the anima – the “unconscious woman” that contains all the feminine personality qualities inside a man that can either be expressed, if allowed, or repressed and removed. These are the qualities of tenderness, compassion, vulnerability, friendship, relatedness, creativity, imagination and intuition. Conversely, he called the masculine within a woman the animus – the “unconscious man” that holds the archetypal masculine traits of courage, assertiveness, analytical thought, decisiveness and a drive for achievement. (The Chinese describe this polarity as yin and yang, the complementary female and male principles operating in nature.) In Jung’s world view, all of us carry these archetypal qualities inside us – feminine and masculine – but from childhood we create gender identities and roles, consciously or unconsciously, to conform with the often-crippling sexual stereotypes society imposes. Girls wear pink, and isn’t that a pretty dress? Boys wear blue and play with Lego and trucks, and aren’t you strong? Women are nurturers. Men are providers. Women are sensitive. Men are tough. We all know the drill; and we all know that identity politics today is, in part, a furious backlash to these oversimplified and limiting concepts. For men, these stereotypes are particularly destructive. “[We were taught] that men are in charge, which means women are not; that men lead, and you [women] should just follow and just do what we say. That men are superior and women are inferior; that men are strong, that women are weak. That women are of less value, property of men, and objects, particularly sexual objects.”said Tony Porter. This “man box” contained all the ingredients for how men came to define their masculinity. Some of those ingredients, Porter said, were “absolutely wonderful”, others were so “twisted” that it required deconstructing and redefining the very concept of manhood. Boys are raised to bury their emotions. This fear of expressing emotion, of being seen as weak or feminine, has kept boys and men paralysed – just as Eve Ensler noted with her Balkan soldier, Agrim. They are held hostage inside the “man box”, from which there is often no escape. Perhaps as men we take our cues from our fathers. From the way they expressed – or failed to express – their emotions, weaknesses, vulnerabilities. Or the way they showed us – or failed to show us – their devotion “Role modelling is the way the human brain learns almost all complex behaviours, attitudes and skills, and so boys need to know good men close up. All of us are a bundle of the good people, male and female, we have known. But we have let that enrichment disappear on the male side, and many boys today have never seen what a good man looks like close up.” We know all manner of men – good men, dangerous men, corporate men, artistic men, alpha and beta men, terrifying and tender men, physical and bookish men, gregarious men, silent men, old-world men, New Age men, rescuers, narcissists, hopeless romantics, cynics … However, one of the common denominators, certainly throughout the Western world, is the correlation between the time a father spends with his children and a child’s sense of self-worth. “A father’s absence from his daughter’s life has been found in research to increase her chances of risky sexual behaviour, experiencing teen pregnancy, doing poorly in school. For sons, it prevents them from seeing the fullness of what it means to be a man. There is no access to the interior world of male feeling,” he says. “There’s been a vast improvement in this over the past 20 years because of how much time fathers are now devoting to their children. But generations of men have carried the legacy of this gaping hole.” “We’ve militarised men and commodified women for thousands of years,” Biddulph tells me. “War became one of the definers of masculinity and we’re still raising boys as soldiers of empire – which is why they don’t cry. Maybe the struggle between the sexes will never be put to rest. Maybe, in the unfathomable reaches of the male psyche, men have always been frightened of women – or at least frightened of the feminine qualities within themselves: those qualities that point inwards, to that place where our deepest feelings are lodged, but which centuries of masculine culture have repressed or removed. Perhaps, this is the place where violence against women begins: in the shutting-down of this inner world where relationships and connection truly reside, because the models we’ve been given for manhood fail to recognise a fundamental truth, which is that nothing meaningful in life ever happens without the ability to be vulnerable. ~Excerpts from Women, Men and the Whole Damn Thing by David Leser

[green-powered-hero-blog]

The Great Ninjago Rewrite: Pilot

Here’s the thing I have been planning on working on for a long while -- the great Ninjago Pilot Rewrite! I’m almost done it, so you guys can now read this.

Fanfiction.net

AO3

Long ago, the world of Ninjago was nothing. No land, no life existed. Then, a traveler from another world came to Ninjago, and with his power of Destruction and Creation created the land. With the power of Earth, he lifted the ground from the salty sea. With the power of Water, he created streams to produce Nature and the system of Nature. To prevent one species from overpowering the other, he used the Winds to create Lightning in the sky, and Poison and disease to help neuter any overpopulation problems. Finally, he introduced the concept of temperatures, allowing Death to come in after Life has expired—with Ice being cold and Fire harming anything that came in its way. Before he finished, he realized that Life required Emotion to thrive, and gave the budding Life the ability to decide their Fate. With that settled, he introduced the world the Golden and Silver Weapons he used to create Ninjago – The Scythe of Quakes, the Naginata of Tsunamis, the Tekko-Kagi of Toxins, the Hidden Sais of Tornadoes, the Nunchucks of Lightning, the Shuriken’s of Ice, and the Sword of Flames.

In the first years of life, the creator split off his power to the world, hoping that the powers wouldn’t be used for evil. Then, the creator had two sons, the eldest being born with the power of Destruction, while the second son bearing the power of Creation. As soon as they were of age, he let the Master of the Dead claim him, allowing them to protect the land as they saw it.

However, the firstborn son was cursed from a vile, corruptive power—a bite from the Great Devourer, a snake that would not stop until everything was eaten. In the wake of his father’s death, the Master of Destruction took the Silver Weapons – the destructive powers enhanced his own—and hoped to rule the world with them. His brother, the Master of Creation, fought back—with the Golden Weapons, and hoped to make him see his wrongs. When it became clear that his brother was being consumed by the venom in his body, the Master of Creation despairingly opened a Portal to the Land of Demons, hoping that, somehow, they would cure his brother from the poison in his veins.

In his grief, The Master of Creation took the Golden Weapons and hid them in their respective corners of the land, making sure to map out their locations in case he needed them again, knowing that his brother was not one to cower in another world when his kin betrayed him. The Master of Creation left the map of the Golden Weapons to an honest man, living a simple life near the hidden location of the last element created, in the hopes of one day finding the map with the next Master of Fire…

However, he never suspected that his brother had something up his sleeve, and foresaw the awakening of three Elemental Masters in that village, and made sure to take the two that he needed for his plan…

 --

Ignacia, a village of soft winds and hot summer days, where people work in rice pools and use the elements of Wind, Fire and Water daily. It was a beautiful place, and the people would fight as well as they could as they have no protectors naturally. The village was near the mountain that housed the Fire Temple, an ancient tower that formed to protect a legendary treasure inside.

A few days before the Culture Festival – where the people celebrate their town and its growth, a time of celebrating the perfection in their lives. It was at this afternoon, that the first of three children were whisked away to adventure.

A young child no older than fifteen came up the bend to fetch a pail of water for the blacksmiths, the Four Weapons. She was a slight young girl, with traditional blue robes and black pants, carrying two buckets with her honey-tinted body. Her jade eyes shone with a sense of adventure and faint traces of love. She held in her arms a bamboo stick that carried two buckets of full water, giggling as she came up to the shop.

The Four Weapons shop was once known as the best blacksmiths in the kingdom – two legendary masters of the craft – a husband and wife – once lived in the shop, mending and creating things for all kinds of people – from the poorest to the richest, from simple farmers to even *samurai* -- soldiers for the lords in richer cities. The shop had been kept in relative good condition since the children of the original owners – Kai and Nya Hinata – took up the reins of their store. The chimney from the furnace dispelled smoke, meaning that the elder of the two was working on some new things to sell. It was one of her favourite things to watch — seeing the elder brother of the two children mess up again.

“To forge the perfect weapon…” the eldest, a teen who was half a year older than the girl outside the shop said, wearing a white t-shirt with his favourite red jeans under a blacksmith’s apron muttered to himself, his brown hair spiked like the very flames he used. His amber eyes concentrated hard on the blade to be in the forge. “You need the right metal, and plenty of heat…” Using the tweezers, he pulled out the weapon from the forge into the cooling bucket, before immediately pulling it out—causing the metal to warp completely. “Pres—ah…” he sighed, seeing the mangled mess of a sword.

The girl outside the store giggled, before another girl joined in mocking the blacksmith. She was the younger of the two, wearing a simple red Chinese dress with an obi sash around her waist, and decorated with golden Phoenixes on her left side. Her light amber eyes alight with mirth, she stated, “You made it too quickly, Kai, be patient.” She looked to the newcomer beside her, before smirking at her. “You know what father liked to say…”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘No matter how much fire you have, experience isn’t something you learn overnight’.” The blacksmith – Kai – snorted. “That may work for you, Nya, but I’m gonna be a better blacksmith than dad.” He confidently said, making the bucket girl to laugh harder.

“Please, Kai. You’re killing me.” The bucket girl set the water on the store counter top, her eyes alight with mischief as Kai retrieved the containers for his forging with a forced unamused look. “I like you, but it’s obvious you aren’t the one that’s going to run the shop.”

“Please, Kazeko. Have a little more faith in your favourite guy.” The girl – Kazeko – rolled her eyes as he flexed his muscles to her. Neither of the three kids noticed the elderly man – wearing white gi under his large straw kasa, wielding a bamboo stick as his walking stick in hand. He hummed as he looked at the merchandise, before speaking outright.

“Hmm… Your metal is loud and heavy.” The elderly man stated, causing the three to turn to him in surprise. “Useful to slow one down. Useless in the art of stealth. All the tools of a samurai,” He then turned toward the three with mischief in his onyx eyes. “but nothing for a ninja?”

Kai scoffed at the comments. “Ninja, huh?” he then glowered at the old man, wondering who this bozo was and why he decided to pick on him and his stock. “You’re a long way from finding any ‘ninja’, old man.” Kai smirked, before noticing that the old man was just browsing in the shop. “And the shop is called ‘Four Weapons’, not ‘For Browsing’. Either buy something or go pedal your insults somewhere else!” He snarled at the browser, wondering if he should go and get the broom for this man.

“Hm… Too bad.” The old man said, looking in Kai and Kazeko’s direction. “Thought I’d find something special here.” He said aloud, before looking at Nya carefully.

Nya gestured to Kai to show the old man the merchandise. Kai and Kazeko had turned away from the older man while searching for something that would satisfy the older man. “Well, I can show you—" As soon as Kai turned around, the man disappeared from the store, leaving the three teens confused as they turned to the spot where the old man was.

“Huh?” both Nya and Kazeko said dumbly, wondering if they saw a ghost.

“He was just… You know what, never mind.” Kai sighed, going back to work in the furnace. “Thanks for the water, Mach. Nya,” Kai turned to his sister, whom was coming up to the counter with new iron to work with. “Can you give Kimijuna here her payment?” He winked at Kazeko, who giggled at the affection.

“Yeah, yeah lover-boy. Suck it up to your water fetcher…” Nya sighed, but smirked at her brother’s affection for the girl. She did as he asked, despite the bitterness she felt with Kazeko.

“It’s alright, Junebug. You don’t need to pay me.” Kazeko said, trying to push the outstretched money back into Nya’s hands.

“But I do, Mach. It’s not fair that you haven’t found a place to stay just yet.” Kai said over the roar of the furnace. “Besides, it’s better than not being able to eat.” He whispered to himself.

“I still don’t know why you haven’t left this place, with how much you’ve wanted to explore the world, Kaze.” Nya said, getting over the counter to pick up some more iron for Kai.

“Neither do I, honestly.” Kazeko shrugged, sadly looking at Kai before leaving out of the shop with Nya. “I just feel… Better being with you guys, even if Kai and I are making goo-goo eyes in your presence.” She giggled as Nya looked at her in scorn. “I really do like it here. I just think that life’s going to become more interesting if I hang around.” She said softly, smiling softly. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure that Kai doesn’t end up getting the both of you evicted from your family home.”

“Yeah, I do.” Nya giggled, getting a look from Kai on her back.

It seemed like a picture-perfect day in the village of Ignacia. But, as with all things in the world, that peace wasn’t meant to be.

The skies suddenly darkened, and the rattling of bones could be heard off in the distance. The rice-tenders looked to where the bone-rattling was, and found multiple skeletons riding on cars with skull and bone motifs all over the vehicles present. The roaring of the engines of each of the vehicles suddenly cut off, before revealing that literal skeletons were the ones that were driving. One of the skeletons, with a metallic eyepatch over his right eye with blue loincloth and bracers, plus some bronze spikes on his skull like a mowhawk, eagerly jumped up and down in his seat, his visible red eye swirled with deranged madness.

“Oh! Oh! I wanna murder things! Can I murder things, please Samukai?” the eye-patched skeleton asked, before being thwacked in the head by another skeleton – wearing a monocle and hardhat instead, and brown linens and loincloths.

“You dolt, you don’t need to be so hyper! Samukai,” the monocle-wearing skeleton turned to the tallest – and four-armed – skeleton behind on the vehicle. “What are we doing, here? And can I drive?” He seemed more into the second question than the first.

“No boys. This is mine.” The skeleton—Samukai—said, his smirk overpowering his underbite. “We’re after the map. Our boss said it would be near two kunochi-to-be.” Samukai looked as he said that, before zooming onto the Four Weapons shop in the distance. With a smirk, he commanded the attack, and the skeletons on the vehicles raced onward. Scaring some humans on the way to the Four Weapons shop, the skeletons screeched and hollered as they got closer, hoping to get the map without much trouble.

While the skeletons got close, Kai, Kazeko and Nya looked out to see the travelling group of skeletons coming in their direction. Kai immediately ran back into the shop, getting out the best samurai armour they had from the mannequins.

“Kai, what are those things?” Nya asked, looking to the dust cloud in the distance.

“Don’t know, but stay here, just in case.” Kai growled as he looked to the advancing cloud, wearing the samurai gear carefully. “Kazeko, take Nya and get outta here.”

Kazeko nodded, grabbing Nya by the wrist and hauling the younger girl inside. Kai immediately fought off the skeletons that tried to go after the two, knocking their skulls off as he swung his blade. One of the bodyless skulls, noticing how close he was to Kai’s red shoe, immediately bit into it.

“Argh!” Kai furiously screamed, before kicking the skull up to the sign, knocking it downward to reveal the map to Nya and Kazeko. “Bite that!” He yelled to the skull, about to fight more skeletons when he noticed that Nya and Kazeko had taken care of the two skeletons he was going to fight. “Nya, Mach! I told you to stay back!” Kai yelled at the two, slicing through the skeletons in his path.

“And what? Miss out on the fun?” Nya smirked, smacking a few skeletons in the exchange.

“Aww, come on Yosei! I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t know your condition!” Kaseko said, kicking a few skeletons in the back as well.

While the three were fighting the skeletons in the front, the two larger skeletons maneuvered through the fight to the back of the Four Weapons shop, before noticing a piece of paper on the back of the sign.

“Kruncha! Look! The map to the Golden Weapons!” the eye-patched skeleton said, grabbing the paper as well as a sword off to the side of one of the mannequins. “We’ve got this, now, let’s kill things!”

“Nuckal! We aren’t here to kill!” Kruncha thwacked Nuckal’s head, before picking up an axe from the floor. “We’re here for the map! And,” He looked outside the shop, to find the siblings and Kazeko about to finish off the last of the skulkin soldiers soon. “to grab some potential students for the Lord…” He finished, returning to the fight with Nuckal tailing behind him.

Kai and Nya ended up finishing the last skeleton together. Panting from the exertion all three had with the fight, they prepared themselves to start fighting the leader of the skeletons when Samukai launched himself in the middle, bringing up his four swords with a cruel smirk.

“Oh, great Dragoness.” All three had thought as they saw the skeleton pull out the swords. Immediately, they tried to swarm him on all sides, only to be thrown off by Samukai’s attack. Immediately, they all fell to the ground, Kai’s sword flying out of his hands, while Nya’s and Kazeko’s own daggers flew off as well. They tried to get back up, to continue fighting against the tall and monstrous being, before a golden tornado suddenly intercepts them and the hulking brute, taking it head on!

“NINJA-GO!” the tornado yelled, sounding exactly like the old man from earlier. The tornado kept up a pretty good fight, though it seemed like he was losing to the monster of a skeleton to the trio. Immediately, they grabbed their lost weapons to fight with once again.

“Wu! I knew you’d be here… You’re quite rusty with your Spinjitsu!” The leader stated, pushing the tornado back from him.

“Nothing like using bone to sharpen my blades, Samukai.” The tornado – Wu – stated, breaking both the standoff and his tornado to reveal the old man from earlier. He eyed the three near him – and the water tower right by their house. Seemed Samukai noticed the water tower as well, as he smirked while looking in the direction the trio were.

“You can only save one, Wu.” Samukai said, before throwing one of his blades at the water tower base, breaking it clean in half. Kai, Nya, and Kazeko looked up to the tower, before realizing what the monstrous skeleton had done. Immediately, Wu revved up his Spinjitsu once again.

“Ninja—GO!” Wu said, taking the trio away as best he could, pulling all three in as the water tower fell to the ground. Because of Wu’s velocity, he accidentally threw Nya and Kazeko out of the spin. Nuckal and Kruncha came in soon after, holding the map of the Four Weapons in his hands.

Samukai, noticing the map in Kruncha’s hands, immediately retreated to his big truck. “Take the girls! Lord Garmadon needs them!” he yelled to his subordinates, loud enough for Wu to hear over his oldness.

“Lord Garmadon?” Wu asked in surprise, not noticing Samukai ordering Nuckal to capture both Nya and Kazeko from his grasp.

“No! Nya! Kimijuna!” Kai yelled, about to jump onto the skeleton vehicle before they left, but they dashed off before he could go after them. Nevertheless, Kai tried to pursue, ‘try’ being the keyword, as Wu grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him from chasing after the girls. “Kimijura! NYAAAAAAA!” he collapsed then, a look of horror and fear across his face. “They took my sister and my Kimijuna…” Kai’s eyes watered as the thought crossed his mind—the one thing he never expected to happen, happened. Now, he was alone… and about to be thwacked by Wu for not listening to him.

“As I said, useless.” Wu stated, before thwacking Kai in the head. Kai immediately became furious at the elder man.

“You—You obviously know more than I! Why didn’t you use that twisty-jutsu thingy—”

“Spinjitsu.”

“Who cares what it’s called! You didn’t save my family!” Kai got up then, his heart burning in rage and fear that shone in his eyes. Wu hummed over the look as Kai continued. “I’m going to save them.” Wu stepped in front of him then, a glower in his face as he explained the situation.

“Those skeletons are called the Skulkin, Kai. They live in a world where we cannot travel to.” Wu turned to Kai carefully. “The four-armed beast you saw there was Samukai, the King of the Skulkin. If it’s true that Garmadon has taken control of the Skulkin, then I believe things are direr than I thought…”

Kai couldn’t take it anymore. “Garmadon? Skulkin? Nothing matters more than my own sister and my own girl! I can’t leave them in those—those monsters— What did we have that was so important to them, and why did they take my family and kimijuna?” If there was tears in his eyes, Kai ignored them for a near snarl of rage.

Wu looked at Kai in distain, before ranting about the world to the poor, angered blacksmith the entire world’s history and his family… Each bit separated by death, and miserable fate…

 --

Meanwhile, in another location…

Snow covered the expanse as two figures walked along the long-covered road, their breaths stolen by the howling blasts of wind. The white seemed endless, what little light that could break through the harsh cloud cover lighted the figure’s shadows along the path. While the figures remained in their human-like shapes (despite their darkened clothing), the shadows that could be seen had horns and tiny, bat-like wings – which neither of the two seemed to have. The figures had been walking towards a village far away from the place that housed their kind, and they couldn’t be more grateful for it. The slightly taller, with the horn in their shadow being on the left of their head, stopped for a moment, their counterpart stopping as well.

The smaller figure tilted their head, their horn in the shadow becoming longer as they moved to the left. “What’s up?” they asked, their voice having a feminine hint to it.

“��Lost the scent…” The other said, voice croaked from the harsh winter around the two. The male-sounding figure sighed, before looking at the other carefully. “At this rate, we may not find that map…”

The two both sighed at the idea, puffs of white coming out of their mouths as they looked to where they thought their location was. Suddenly, the feminine-sounding figure started to shiver forcefully.

“You shouldn’t stay out for too long, then.” A third voice stated, causing the two figures to suddenly turn around and bring out their hands out, bright balls of green and lavender brightening up the snow venomously. Both figures looked to see a young, darkly clad child with a purple streak in her dark hair. Her dark chocolate eyes shone in mirth as she watched the two figure’s faces change from fear to recognition.

“No way…” the figures both said, not noticing that the weather had cleared up fully – revealing the two as twins: the male sounding figure having blonde hair and red eyes, and the feminine sounding figure having brown hair with pink eyes. They both looked to each other, their light skin reflecting off the light in their hands, before looking back toward the smaller, almost dead looking kid.

“Lloyd,” The girl said, looking at the male carefully. She then turned toward the young girl. “Rei… Want to see Papa?” the child asked, her mouth twitching to a semblance of a smile – hard to tell with the bone mask that covered her face. Immediately, the two – Lloyd and Rei – relaxed, the balls of green and lavender light disappearing immediately.

“Spectra? W-what do you mean see Dad?” The male – Lloyd – asked, his horn and wings suddenly appearing to the girl. The brown-haired girl – Rei – did the same, revealing that her horn was on the right side of her head.

“If you don’t remember, Grissie, we can’t enter that world – not like you can.” Rei stated, her voice getting grumpier in frustration.

Spectra gave Rei a look, before returning to her cheerful state. “Don’t worry! Papa taught me how to take more than one person into the portal! I can take you right now, if you want?” She asked carefully, knowing that the two wouldn’t want to pass it up for the world.

As expected, the two had thought for a moment, before nodding. With a battle axe given to her by the Skullkin, Spectra instantly cleaved the ground, allowing the three people to pass through safely without incident. The only thing that was left of the three’s existence was the mark left by the axe, which had gotten eaten up with the storm that returned.

 --

The next day, halfway up the Mountains of Impossible Height…

Kai grunted as he climbed up the mountain, wondering whomever had the bright idea to try climbing up an impossibly tall mountain range just to prove themselves. Then, the brunette reminded himself that he had been the one to decide that, after the conversation with Wu last night. Speaking of which, where was—

“Patience, young Firestarter.” Wu stated, leaving Kai in the dust momentarily as he breezed through the climbing. Right, they were talking about the agency of their mission, considering that the Skullkin stole the map and Kai’s sibling and girlfriend. They reached the top, to find a beautiful, intricate monastery made what looked to be out of marble, with red roofing and a red door decorated with golden dragon symbols. Dragon heads made up the door handles, their mouths carrying a ring to pull on as Wu did. “You will be ready, when you are ready. Not a minute sooner.” Wu then looked to the stunned Kai, before moving toward an intricate golden dragon statue beside the main entrance to the building.

“Are… Are we really fighting in a place of peace?” Kai asked, wondering if the feelings he had were for disturbing the serene area.

“Not fighting, training.” Wu said, as if that made it any better. “Firestarter, in order to become a true ninja, you must first be able to see what others do not.” Kai noticed the title that Wu had given him that moment, about to question Wu on the title.

“Wait, why are you calling me—”

Then, the elder suddenly pulled the hand of the dragon statue, causing a massive line of deadly turnabouts and spinning dummies to surface in the monastery’s courtyard, startling Kai. In the middle was a carousel outfitted with many deadly, poking things – and a couple of outfitted dummies. Kai couldn’t help but be amazed at the machinery involved, as every bit of the contraption spun around with the rotation of the carousel.

“Woah!” Kai awed, momentarily forgetting his question. “Is this how you’re going to teach me that spinny thing?” the brunette asked, getting up toward the poles that were bobbing up and down, managing to land on one before it threw the former blacksmith off.

“Complete the training course before I finish my tea.” Wu stated, slurping the hot beverage for extra effect as he winced at Kai’s failure. “Unfortunately, today you’ve failed. We’ll start again tomorrow.” The elder man stated, before retiring back into the monastery in full. Kai looked to the so-called wise man in confusion, picking himself up and dusting himself off.

  --

In the Underworld…

--

Wearily, Nya carefully opened her eyes, her head pounding and her back sore from resting on rocks. Her mind caught the smell of ancient blood and an undead sense of smell, suddenly making the raven-haired girl to cough loudly out of her slumber. As soon as she did, Nya recognized the layout of the place – dark, forboding place, the walls splattered with dried blood and a musky, tomb-like scent. Nya shivered as she looked beyond her cell – for how she could not see the bone bars keeping her captive in this region? – and found the young girl who made her brother happy in a cell opposite from hers. Kazeko looked forlorn over the whole situation, har body leaning on the bone bars as she peered off in the distance. Immediately, Nya sprang to her feet, reaching her own bars and trying to get Kaze’s attention.

“Mach! Are you okay?” Nya frantically asked, worried about her good friend’s odd look. Despite how she felt about Kazeko dating her brother, Nya knew that whatever was going on with the both was less important than their situation. Kazeko seemed to think the same, as she looked to Nya with a relieved smile on her face.

“Junebug! I’m glad you’re awake!” Kazeko happily said, her face brightening up. “All I had to talk to be my own shadow, and you know how much a conversationalist she is.” She giggled at her own remark, causing Nya to chuckle a bit as well. “Nya…” Kazeko said solemnly, reminding Nya of the situation. “Can’t you feel it? the call of… something in this place, talking to us…”

“Kaze, what –” As soon as Nya asked the question, a soothing melody that sounded like waves entered her head, almost overtaking her thoughts. “W-what is that?” She asked, freaking out over the siren’s call.

“I-I don’t…” Kazeko tried to plug her ears, feeling an almost flute-like, excited song in her own head.

“Ah, I see both the Watersiren and the Windfarer have awakened…” A gravely, disturbing voice called out to the two, quieting the songs in their heads. “To think, that you two would be where the Firestarter was as well. As much as I would have loved to take him along, his sense of Justice would have shut out anything I told him…” The figure was at the entrance of the cells, an armoured samurai helmet rested on his head. Black skin covered most of his body, his ribs outlining his chest badly. The only other article of clothing the newcomer had was torn gi pants, burnt and shredded from something – yet kept together to keep the man’s dignity. His red eyes glowed with an air of malicious intent yet shone with a hint of fatherly love. The markings on his face, on the other hand, made the intent stand out more than anything else.

“Who – who the Grand Oni are you?” Nya was the first to ask, her expression barely hiding the fear she felt from the man. Kazeko looked over the man’s shoulder to find two kids behind him, both looking erringly similar…

“I am Lord Garmadon, my dear Watersiren…” The being – Garmadon – stated, looking at her carefully and gesturing to the figure behind him for something. “And you two are going to become part of my own little group, as long as you have this…” As soon as it was placed in his hand, Garmadon revealed a beautiful, untarnished silver naginata to Nya, reveling in the look of aww and wonder as it sang the soothing song it had sung for her. Behind him, the two figures looked over to Kazeko, revealing themselves to be Lloyd and Rei from earlier.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this yet, Miss Windfarer.” Lloyd smirked, holding up silver gloves with a compartment that contained beautiful, claw-like sais. “Can’t have you running back to your boyfriend without being trained to fight him, too.” He winked at Kazeko, knowing she was too busy looking at the sais to hear what he just said. However, Nya did hear him.

“Wait, what do you mean—”

Garmadon took back the naginata – as did Lloyd with the sais – when both girls tried to grab the now-shrieking weapons. “The weapons are useless without knowledge of their corresponding elements, that’s what makes them the Silver Weapons that helped shape the world.” He winked to Rei, before looking back at Nya’s seeking gaze. “When I start your training, you will be bound to a specific contract that I have outlined to all the Weapons when I was dragged down. I’d hate to think how’d you be if you fail it…” He warned the two, before immediately throwing the naginata into Nya’s cell, allowing the spell to take effect as she touched the Silver Weapon. Lloyd did the same, shoving the gloves into Kazeko’s awaiting hands and watching the effects of his father’s magic take place. The magic roared around the two, binding them to the clause that Garmadon had threatened the two as it swarmed around them. When it died down, the two had looked no different than they had been before, save for the hint of a few markings lining their dominant hands -- Garmadon’s head as a symbol in black ink.

“Oh, my head…” Nya said once the smoke cleared, feeling a sense of protect them, help them swelling in her mind. Immediately, she looked to Lloyd and Rei, the both of whom looking at her expectantly, and bowed silently. “I swear on this Weapon, I’ll make sure to see you safe.” Her voice droned on, but a hint of relief came when she saw the two smiling excitedly.

“Dad! The spell worked!” Rei excitedly yelped, jumping up and down as they saw Kazeko mimic what Nya did as well.

“Good, good. My Defenders, rise.” The two rose, still looking at his charges with a fondness he wished he could express. “We’ll begin your training; better to show you how to better protect my children, then using magic to immediately learn it.” Garmadon immediately took the hands of his eldest son and daughter, a soft, non-villainous feeling as the three turned to stride out of the cells, the new guards following behind them.

  --

Three weeks after, at the top of the Mountains of Impossible Height…

Kai grunted as he went through the training regimen from Yomi once again, his face contorted into a visage scowling at the carousel of death. His thoughts at how the first bit of training went sprung to mind, and the many failures that he endured before he managed to figure out the system. The first five times, Kai failed at the start, with the bamboo shooting him out into the air. The next week, Kai had failed at the carousel of death with it’s merciless dummies, having ended up being knocked back as soon as he hit the side of the carousel instead. The past week, he managed to get past those things, only to nearly get skewered by the spears that were being shot out (luckily, they were just bamboo sticks, but Kai was starting to get hit too many times to tell). And all those moments rounded to Wu immediately finishing his drink before Kai could get up again. Now, Kai had a plan to keep Wu from failing him on the spot, but it needed the precise moment…

There! Just as Wu sat down to start drinking his tea, Kai immediately threw a rock into his cup, shattering the cremated beverage holder and forcing Wu to get up to get another one. Immediately, Kai took the opportunity to take the course again, this time getting through each part of the course with tremendous ease. Like a house cat, he gracefully moved with the motions of the course, keeping himself steady on the shooting bamboo, and frolicking – yes, frolicking – through the carousel of death like a jaguar ready to strike. Kai smirked as he galivanted like a cheetah through the maze of buzz saws and maces, before finally pouncing on the last dummy like the tiger he was meant to be, arriving back at the start just as Wu absently looked for his missing teapot. With the smirk of a content lion, Kai held up the teapot in his hands, his smirk growing bigger as Wu realized what he had done.

“Was it one sugar, or two?” Kai asked smarmily, amber eyes alight with mirth. Wu couldn’t help but be proud of how the young boy handled the course. Kai immediately gave the master the teapot back, watching as Wu poured a cup of green tea for both himself and the excited student.

“Well done, Firestarter.” Wu congratulated, giving Kai his own cup before sipping his drink. “You’ve managed to pass, and the fastest I’ve seen!” He gave a wink at the boy, before going on. “We’ll start looking for the Golden Weapons tomorrow. Go and get some rest.” With that, Wu immediately brought Kai up into the monastery, taking the tea-set he had with him.

“H-huh? But what about teaching me Spinjitsu?” Kai asked, bewildered that Wu put him through a course for three weeks without teaching him anything.

“You’ve already learnt it.” Wu cryptically said, puzzling Kai further. “For now, get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Wu retreated to his room, far away from Kai’s bemusement and questioning voice.

Later, at night…

Heart a little unsure, but the feeling of the creature he awakened in his head never left him as Kai got ready for bed, feeling antsy over the cryptic message left by Wu. In his fire-red pyjamas, Kai carefully took his toothbrush and cleansed his teeth of any disease or germs in his mouth. The words of his master echo through his mind, making the feeling in his heart ignite with a sense of anger.

“Get some sleep? How about I don’t!” Kai angerly said, before throwing a series of moves about with his toothbrush as his practice weapon. In his frustration, he barely noticed the door to his room opening, allowing a dark-clothed figure to enter his room. “Let’s go!” Kai thrusted his make-shift sword into an imaginary enemy—possibly Samukai—as the figure settled into place. Another dark-clothed figure entered through Kai’s open window, pulling out a pair of shuriken’s and waiting for the moment to strike. “I want to save her!” Kai punctuated that last bit with another thrust of the tooth brush, only to hit a dark-clothed ninja behind him… one with a very big, very sharp scythe in his hands.

The fire died inside of him, as Kai realized the situation that was about to happen. “Oh…” he said, uncharacteristically softly.

  ***Part 1 End***

[tiny-cloud-dragon]

Random Bits: FF7 03

I’m actually not sure I’ve already posted this here or not, so I’ going to post it (possibly again)

[Setting - Cloud finally finds out what gets under Zack’s skin.]

[Location - the streets of Midgar Edge - noon.]

A disembodied Angeal Head floated across the velvety black screen of Cloud's memory, bouncing slowly in random directions like the ghost of an old Windows Logo screensaver. 

"Go take a walk!" it commanded with each ricochet.

It was joined by a Zack Head, which also began bouncing randomly around and repeating "No, don't eat him!"

Cloud scowled to himself as the memory flickered unbidden across the backs of his eyelids.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo*

1st Class SOLDIER Timothy Titsworth burst into the conference room with the force of an angry soccer mom who has just found out her little angel was allowed to watch a PG-13 movie. Known as "Tiddy" (because there was no joining an army without acquiring some kind of weird, cool, humorous, or downright embarrassing nickname that you either loved or hated), Timothy showed great promise as a SOLDIER, but he was overly ambitious, and more than a bit egotistical.  

"What the hell, Tiddy!" Angeal barked, rising from his seat at the conference table, where he had been discussing plans for the upcoming Games with Zack, Cloud, and President Rufus Shinra.

"What the hell, indeed, Sir!" Titsworth snarled, saluting as an afterthought. "I want to be assigned to a higher level training mission-!"

"No." Cloud said firmly as Angeal apologized to Rufus for the interruption. "I already told you that you aren't ready. Get out, now. I am in the middle of a meeting, and you are out of line, Private Tiddy." he continued, deliberately stressing Titsworth's rank as an unspoken reminder of who he was speaking to, and unintentionally making a pun that caused Zack to make a very un-General like snorting sound.

Titsworth looked at Zack like a miffed child hoping that Daddy might say 'yes', even though Mommy  had already said 'no'. 

"General Fair, I-!"

The room was suddenly full of angry dragon. Papers scattered, people made exclamations of surprise, chairs tipped, and someone laughed as Cloud Shifted into his ELIETE form and, with mouth gaping, lunged across the desk at Titsworth. 

Zack jumped on Cloud's long neck, landing just behind his head, and managed to grab the long, whisker/tendril/moustache/feeler thingies trailing from the sides of his snout and hauled on them like reins while shouting "No, don't eat him!"

Massive jaws with long fangs snapped shut inches from Titsworth's face and Cloud goose-honked in pained surprise, pulling his head up and back, twisting it from side to side while backing up as he tried to relieve the sharp pulling on his face feelers.  He Shifted back to his normal shape, leaving Zack sitting in mid-air for the length of an eye blink before gravity caught up with reality and he crashed to the floor.

Zack immediately bounced up and grabbed Cloud by the arm before he could lunge at Titsworth again.

"Go take a walk, "Angeal snapped at Cloud, who was all scowls and hisses. 

"But what about-!" Titsworth began from where he had fetched up against the wall. Like a terrier with a rat, he was not about to let the argument go, out of either a poor sense of self-preservation, or out-right stupidity.

"Shut up, before I tell General Fair to let him go, and we end up having to send your mother an 'In Sympathy for Your Loss' card!" Angeal snapped with that tight-lipped, angry-eyed expression that most teens didn't even have to see to know it was being made. It was an expression that had its own sound. 

Titsworth huffed, but closed his mouth. He remained on the floor, sitting very still as Cloud stormed out of the room. Dragons were like cats. They would go after anything that moved, so it was best not to draw their attention.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo* Cloud shook his head at the memory, causing the Heads to bounce violently around and collide with each other with a double "ouch!" before they faded away. He was only mildly annoyed by now, having walked several blocks, but he couldn't help but feel unjustly put-upon. It wasn't like he'd chosen his ELITE form, and he couldn't help that it would sometimes take over.  It wasn't his fault that dragons had a very simple idea of what constituted 'conflict resolution', and that it mostly involved eating whomever caused the conflict. 

Go take a walk...

Cloud would have rather gone out for a nice long flight. It was much more fun, and relaxing, but it did tend to stir up the city's inhabitants. There was just something about a black winged shadow passing overhead that would send people screaming in panic. Old instincts died hard, and deep in most the primitive part of their brains, people were still just small, soft-bodied squeaky creatures hiding under leaves and flinching at shadows.

He turned a corner and continued walking briskly along the shop lined street, noticing that other pedestrians were trying to avoid him without looking like they were avoiding him. It might have worked, if it had been one or two individuals. There is just nothing subtle about an entire crowd suddenly crossing to the other side of the street.  

Cloud found himself completely alone on the sidewalk. That was fine with him. At least he didn't have to feel like he was in the middle of a school of salmon during their running season. 

The ponderous growl of a heavy engine pulled Cloud from his musings. He paused and turned just in time to watch one of the army's humvees pull up to the curb beside him.

Zack, grinning from ear to ear, leaned toward the open passenger side window and said, in his best Creepy Witch Voice, "Need a ride little girl?"

Cloud hissed at him and resumed walking, forcing Zack to drive slowly along beside him.

"Come on, Spiky! I'm sorry I pulled your face feelers!"

Cloud pointedly ignored him.

"Don't be salty,"

Cloud kept walking.

"Don't be like that-!" Zack steered around a parked car and rolled back along side Cloud. "I'll let you work my stick-shift!"

The offer was met with an icy side eye and frigid silence.

"I'll pay you," Zack venture playfully, with a cheeky grin.

"You can't afford me." Cloud replied curtly.

Zack's grin froze, then shattered into an open mouthed gape as the comment hit him like a cast-iron lightning bolt. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the feeling that a white-hot icicle had just been fired through his brain.

"I...did...did you...just...?" he stammered, the humvee stalling as he briefly forgot how to drive. Well, I'll be dipped in shit! Now I know how Dr. Hyansen felt! Zack thought after he recovered enough from the unexpected sarcasm that he was able to get the vehicle restarted.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Zack called as he caught up to Cloud and parked. "Just get in, okay? Look," he said, holding up a brown paper bag, "I brought shrimp yum yum sitcks!"

Cloud's eyes were instantly glued to the bag. The scent of shrimp and vegetables in a crispy wrapper covered in toasted sesame seeds hit him straight in the olfactory receptors. He struggled with himself, pushing for Caution, while the dragon part of him drooled all over Common Sense. 

It's obviously a bribe, Cloud warned the dragon.

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

No, he's using food to-!

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

But, listen, he-!

NO! SHRIMP YUM YUM STICKS!

Cloud's stomach growled, and he gave in. As he climbed into the passenger's seat, he had to laugh at himself. Hey little boy, I've got some candy in my van, he thought with a wry snort.

"What are you laughing at?" Zack asked.

"Nothing." Cloud said slightly irritated at how he would do almost anything for those stupid sticks. It was a good thing Zack hadn't brought canned cat food... Cloud snatched the bag from Zack and took a big bite out of one of the sticks while the dragon part of him happily chanted Shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp!

"You can still work my stick-shift if you want," Zack offered jokingly, patting the shift handle. He completely missed the slight tightening around Cloud's eyes, and the tiniest of upward curving at the corners of his mouth. 

"I'll pass," Cloud replied, the words coming out slightly distorted as he shoved another yum yum stick into his mouth. "Your knob is too small."

"Wha-!" Zack all but yelped, a full body cringe slamming down his spine as his body tried to physically force the word 'knob' back out through his ears. 

"The knob," Cloud repeated as Zack cringed again, "It's, too small so it makes your hand hurt on long drives."

Zack shot him a suspicious look, but it merely ricocheted harmlessly off the look of genuine sincerity and yum yum stick crumbs on Cloud's face.

"Maybe I should put in a request for bigger knobs..." Cloud suggested, "Bigger knobs would fit more comfortably in your hand and make them easier to manipulate for longer periods of time, right?"

Zack flinched and Cloud could almost see his brain shudder as it tried to use its own stem to tear out his eardrums.

"Stop it!" Zack snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Saying...'knob',"

"What's wrong with the word 'knob'?" Cloud asked, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion while Zack cringed.

"You saying it. It's just...wrong,"

"I'm saying 'knob' wrong?"

"NO! Just stop saying it!"

"There's nothing wrong with knobs," Cloud chided. "Lot's of things have knobs," he continued while Zack cringed  and flinched along. 

"Like radios. Radios have knobs. And tv's have knobs. Dressers have knobs. Oh, and cabinets have knobs. Beds have knobs, and you can put a knob of butter on your toast. Trees have knobs too, and hands can get knobby, and even people have knobs! My mom had knobs and she said that when I annoyed her I was 'twisting her knobs'...or was that 'pushing her buttons? I forget-!"

"Stop saying 'knob'! Zack wailed, hands clamped protectively over his ears.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape over the word 'knob'?

Zack bristled at the word, his hair lifting like the hackles of an angry wolf. It was then that he noticed the slight crinkling around Cloud's eyes.

"You dick!" Zack snarled, annoyed. "Play Backwater Dummy with me, will you?" He leaned in close, and with a malicious grin, started wiggling his eyebrows.

Cloud recoiled, Shifting into his half-form and hissing shrimp yum yum stick all over Zack's face as memories of a certain Inspector's rather mobile eyebrows rose up to haunt him like a greasy meal at 3am after six beers. 

Unperturbed by the macerated mist, Zack continued wiggling his eyebrows, laughing evilly, "How do you like that huh? Say 'knob' again, you little turd!" He reached out to playfully poke Cloud. 

Out of pure reflex Cloud bit the offending appendage.

Zack yelped more out of surprise than pain, and snatched his hand away, retreating back to the driver's seat to inspect the damage.

"Not cool, man, you gave me a noodle hand!" He said with a pout, illustrating his grievance by flapping his now numb hand around on the end of his wrist.

"I didn't mean to,"

Zack started using his left hand to rapidly and repetitively smack his right arm against his thigh. 

"You want a rag...or... something?"

Zack paused, eyeing Cloud suspiciously. Almost afraid of the answer, he risked asking "For what?"

"So you won't be walking around the rest of the day wearing that  shrimp facial."

"Oh. Yeah." Zack replied, realizing that the remnants of shrimp yum yum sticks were quietly getting crusty on his skin. He took the napkins Cloud fished out of the crumpled bag  on the floor boards and awkwardly used his left hand to wipe his face.

"How's your hand?" Cloud inquired, a note of guilt hovering in his voice.

"Hanging in there," Zack replied with a lopsided grin.

Cloud signed into his hands in mild irritation at Zack's penchant for making jokes out of everything.He felt Zack patting him on the shoulder. There was something awkward about the gesture that had nothing to do with the current atmosphere. 

Looking up, Cloud saw Zack using his left hand to hold his numb arm up by the elbow and slap the appendage down on his shoulder. He imagined that this was exactly how it felt to be patted by a zombie. Cloud snorted in reluctant amusement and shoved the dead arm off his shoulder. The limp limb bounced off the back of the seat and slithered down the armrest to swing loosely at Zack's side.

Both men stared at the arm mutely until it stopped swinging like a slowly winding down clock pendulum before looking at each other.

Zack arched an eyebrow and said, "What? You like the angle of the dangle?"

Cloud rolled his eyes so hard he almost became the first person to find out what the backs of his own eye sockets looked like.

Zack laughed and started the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked in alarm, "You can't drive like that!"

"Sure I can. I'll drive, and you can work my stick!"

"Move, I'm driving."

"Fine. Killjoy.Want me to shift your stick?" Zack asked as Cloud settled into the driver's seat.

"No thanks, I can do it myself."

"Riiiight!" Zack drawled, doing a single finger gun.

"Do you want two noodle arms? Because that's how you get two noodle arms."

"Okay, okay. It's gone, see?" Zack pretended to chuck the offensive appendage armament behind him. 

"You know, it's a good thing we aren't too far from Base." Cloud said as he pulled out into traffic. 

"Why?"

"My hand won't have time to cramp up because of the--!"

"Don't say it--!"

"Knob."

Zack's distressed cry of "Stop saying 'knob'!" rang in the air before dopplering into silence as they drove away.

End.

[swishandflickwit]

Lucifer — The Simplicity of Weaving 1/1

Summary: Trixie gets herself into a tangle. Good thing her Devil babysitter is no stranger to a bad hair day.

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3.5k+

Warnings: Established Deckerstar (but no appearance from Chloe). Future fic. Step-Satan shenanigans. Kinda.

AN: Oh look, I wrote another Lucifer & Trixie bonding fic. What a surprise not!

Hahaha, but a little break from The Devil's Lucky Number series for some family fluff, yes? Hope you enjoy this one!

Also on: ff.net | AO3

Other writing

“With your mum in court for the remainder of the day and it being so hot and all—seriously though,” he huffs. “These scorching temperatures could put even Hell to shame. I mean, contrary to popular belief, it isn’t even that hot down there, you know? It’s all dark and ashen and about as ‘fiery’ as a drenched skunk—which sounds and smells as bad as you’re imagining, nay—worse. So if you think beige is a drab color…”

He’s fiddling with his cufflinks, toying with the idea of foregoing aesthetic for once (not that it would ever leave him, not even if he tried; he couldn’t, after all, be faulted for his effortless beauty no matter what vestments he may—or may not—be wearing) and opting for a more casual attire to battle this steady onslaught of a heat wave cresting over Los Angeles with no immediate end in sight.

It’s probably why he isn’t prepared for what greets him when he opens the door to Beatrice’s chamber—

“Anyway, I was thinking we head on down to Lux and grab ourselves some ice—"

—and expels a rather undignified shriek as a result.

“What—!”

“Listen,” she starts, her tone measured and her hands held out in front of her in calm supplication. Like he is some rampant, skittish animal that has somehow wandered from home, and needs to be returned to its natural habitat. “It’s not… that… bad…?”

Lucifer shuts his gaping mouth with an audible click, only to dissolve into spluttering speech instead.

“Beatrice, child—what have you done to your hair?” he exclaims, loftily musing that if there ever is a question between them both of who, in that moment, most resembled a wild animal, it certainly isn’t him.

“I swear I was following the instructions!” she waves towards her phone screen, propped upon the mirror of her dresser and opened on a Youtube tutorial for—

“A French braid?” he cries, voice dripping with incredulity.

“I just wanted to look like Elsa!”

“I do hate to break it to you,” he says, mouth puckered in a grimace. “But it’s looking more Grand Pabbie Troll than Majestic Ice Queen right now.”

He stands corrected. The frost to her glare could restore what little remains of the polar ice caps and freeze him on the spot if she possessed an affinity for such gelid destruction. But she didn’t, and being the sire of a Miracle could not gift her even that.

Small mercies and all.

“I’m in so much trouble,” she wails.

He sighs. It is his turn to appeal to her with more than a modicum of wariness as he meets her eyes in the looking glass and approaches her from behind.

“It can’t be much worse than the chocolate cake incident or the doll debacle.”

With soothing hands, he takes her by the shoulders and eases her back onto her chair, though he needn’t have bothered with the gentleness. As she lists against the wood with all the dejectedness of a usurped sovereign, he surveys the damage. At first glance, it does look quite atrocious—her coffee-colored locks teased and twisted into gnarly knots so they look more bird’s nest than actual, human hair. But further inspection shows it not so unsalvageable, her grubby, ten-year old hands thankfully still inexpert to inflict any lasting harm. At least she didn’t cut anything—then they’d have both suffered the wrath of the detective.

He shudders, before realizing he is the Devil and he cowers before no one that isn’t a slight but tough blonde, blue-eyed, five foot six inches badass cop. He squares his shoulders—a soldier bracing for battle.

“Right.”

From the array of headdress materials spread atop the vanity, he selects his weapon—the sturdiest-looking comb, or as sturdy as plastic can be. He would prefer one of silver or at the very least wood. This pink, sparkling, wide-tooth monstrosity would have to suffice, he laments.

“Now,” he grabs another stool and situates himself to his task, his figure a tower at her back even when seated. “Let’s see if we can’t sort this out, hmm?”

Her eyes widen with desperation.

“Oh Lucifer, you have to fix it,” she practically screams. “You have to!”

“Alright, alright,” he pitches his articulations low to convey his reassurance. It doesn’t erase his bewilderment, however, and at the quizzical brow he directs at her through the mirror she clams up.

Her reticence is an unusual occurrence, but the silence that trails in her wake is no less comforting as it allows him to dedicate his full attention to wrangling her wavy mop into some semblance of order.

He forges a meticulous path from her scalp to her roots, prying tangles apart before smoothing them over with the comb. His hands are light and dexterous as only a skilled piano player can be. Not once does she cry out in pain, of that he makes certain. With every knot unraveled, the panic in her gaze recedes, till every wavy strand is restored and her breathing is even in near repose from his ministrations.

“See?” he murmurs, returning the comb before resting his hands on her shoulders once more. “All better. Nothing a little Devil’s touch couldn’t fix.”

Her relief is palpable in the way she leans into his touch.

“Thanks,” she sighs.

“So what’s this about looking like Elsa?” He rubs kindly at the spot between her shoulder blades when she tenses. “I thought we were on a Moana bender this week.”

Her cheeks blotch with the strain of her blush.

“We are,” she asserts, a little too quickly. “I guess it isn’t really about Elsa. I just… wanted to try a French braid.”

He hums and lets more than a couple of heartbeats pass before replying.

“You know perfectly well Elsa’s from Norway. Do you honestly expect me to believe she’d go for a French braid instead of a Dutch one?”

“But all the Youtubers say—”  

“Oh, yes, because anyone willing enough to saddle themselves with the internet persona of ‘TwinkleTendrils87’ is such an authority on the conversion of animation to reality hairstyle. No,” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t think so.”

Her protest withers on her tongue. He smirks, waiting for her own orbs—which she had averted once he began his inquisition—to meet his.

“So do you want to try that again?”

“You can always tell,” she grumbles, unable to abate the accusation that bleeds through her intonations.

He grins.

“The title of Prince of Lies does hold true to some extent,” he drawls. At her pinched visage, he gives her an encouraging pat. “Well, go on. Tell Lucifer what ails you.” His face suddenly hardens. “Is someone giving you trouble at school again?”

She groans.

“If I tell you, do you promise you won’t get mad?”

“Darling, you know I don’t get mad,” he grins, all teeth and bite. “I get even.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Okay, so… maybe I do both but if it means all that much to you then yes, I solemnly swear not to get angry at or even with you.”

He raises his hands in surrender, humor returning as the edges of his mouth soften with fondness. She returns it with a radiant one of her own, swiveling on her seat so he receives the full wattage of her smile.

But as quickly as it comes, it dims too.

She lifts her legs and tucks them crisscross beneath her to prop an elbow on her thigh. She rests her cheek on a fist as she tilts her chin up and arrests him with her molten, solemn stare.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

He blinks, slowly… deliberately.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I!” He shakes his head, baffled. “Aren’t you a little too young to be concerned about this?”

“I’m almost eleven,” she protests.

“Case in point, you haven’t even reached your teen years, for Dad’s sake! You could at least wait till your face is a Jackson Pollock of acne before getting all angsty. Not that you should be worried about such things.” He waves a flippant hand. “You are a Decker woman, hooker name notwithstanding, and all Decker women have clear skin.”

“Pretty sure I only understood half that sentence…”

“What I’m trying to say, rather poorly I suppose, but what’s new, eh?”

He waggles his eyebrows and though slight, it coaxes a smile to curl at the corners of her lips.

“You shouldn’t have to be thinking about this, much more be bothered by it.” He frowns. “What’s brought this on?”

With her free hand, she picks at the laces of her sneakers so intently, he thinks she won’t answer. His heart starts thumping to the beat of anxiety as he realizes that providing comfort to a ten-year old isn’t exactly part of his skillset and he is severely out of his league on this. But just as he’s about to suggest Beatrice speak with her mother once she returns, words trickle out of her mouth with all the ferocity of a broken dam and he is powerless against the onslaught of her unveiled insecurities.

“It didn’t used to, honest. But all my friends…” she sniffs and to his mounting terror, a suspiciously wet gleam fills those chocolate-molten orbs. “It’s all they ever wanna talk about anymore. It’s always make-up this or hairstyle that and all the latest fashion trends and how to get more followers on their Snapchat.” She throws her hands up with such awkward abruptness, Lucifer must lean back to avoid being casualty to her ire. “I just wanna play hopscotch and talk about Barbie Dreamhouse and fangirl over Rapunzel and Eugene! Is that too much to ask?” she blows a stray tendril from her forehead. “Well I guess so, since the only thing that matters to them is who the prettiest one in the group is.” And with that remark, all the vexation drains from her mien, till only a sadness that should have been foreign to her at such a tender age, remains.

“But one thing’s for sure—it’s definitely not me,” she sighs, a couple of teardrops hugging the curve of her cheeks, “which they love to point out.”

At the sight of the droplets coursing her face, he sees red. He has to remind himself that these are children, and the detective will not approve his slaughtering of the youth—no matter how justified it may be.

Squalid miscreants, he inwardly fumes. Vapid, insolent, pediculous, scalawags! Who do those brats think they are? How dare they—

Ensconced as he is in his rising fury on her behalf, his attempt at comfort is thwarted by the growl in his throat as he utters, “Dry your eyes, Beatrice.”

Unperturbed, and most probably used to his mercurial mood swings (and isn’t that a marvel that she doesn’t run away each time?), she does as told—albeit, the gloominess in her countenance remains.

“I take it these are the same birds from your last sleepover? Mary Beth and the two other ones? Bethany with the y and Bethanie with the i-e?”

Ridiculous, he scorns. Just as Lucifer has an abundance of Brittany acquaintances, Beatrice is saddled with multiple companions whose monikers involve some form of ‘Beth’ in it. At least his duplicates’ names had the same spelling!

Her hesitance is a palpable energy in the quiet that follows, but at his prodding scowl she eventually nods her affirmation.

With lightning heat boiling in his blood he doesn’t trust himself to issue any wholesome advice, so he bids her without speaking to face the mirror again.

“What are you doing?” she braves to ask through watery inflections as he begins dividing her hair into three parts.

“I won’t lie to you by feeding you some sentimental drivel like ‘it’s what’s on the inside that matters’ because humans are fickle things and only few have been exempt from such norms—humans such as your mother and yourself.”

He ignores the crease between her brows, his explanation in the way his hands are intent on their unceasing rhythm of weaving her tresses into a proper Dutch braid that starts on one side of her head and continues to hug the curve of her nape.

“Not to say that the idea is totally unfounded, mind. Beauty, true beauty, lies deep within a person’s soul. I should know,” he winks. “I’ve glimpsed into many a repugnant soul in my time, after all.”

She sticks her tongue out in disgust. He returns the gesture till her expression dissolves into chuckles. With a satisfied nod, he clears his throat before resuming.

“But there is a certain… power in making an impression with the use of one’s appearance. Exhibit A,” he smirks, briefly retracting a hand to gesture at himself. She giggles again, but it quickly fades at his considering perusal.

“Those girls,” a generous term, he thinks with a sneer. “Your so-called ‘friends’? Well, you don’t have to be Dr. Martin to discern that those cads are jealous of your beauty—the natural and inherent kind. And let’s not forget your quick wit. Top of the class, are you not?”

She neither confirms or denies, but she blushes and it’s all the answer he needs.

“Course you are!” he heartily praises.

Not that he can take credit, but his grin is smug enough for them both all the same.

“While I would love to march right into your classroom and give those bloody Beths a piece of my mind before decimating those shallow cows on the spot—”

“Lucifer,” she scolds, reminiscent of the detective, right down to the infinitesimal twist to her lips that betrays her mirth.

“I realize it won’t exactly win me any favors with your mother, so—hand me that elastic, would you, love? There’s a good girl—” he binds the end of the braid. “Here’s a lesson from Old Scratch—the greatest revenge is to be the best version of yourself, especially when you don’t even have to change a thing. Well…”

He cannot help the flourish of his hand as he trails it along the length of her hair, a ripple of stardust in his wake. Beatrice gasps.

“Maybe a little one.”

His beam could power the whole of Los Angeles along with the awe in her scrutiny as she spins at all angles to admire his work.

Ah, he always was a prideful one.

“W-where—how?”

“Who do you think Mazikeen got her styling tips from when we first got here?” he claims with hues of incredulity, as if it ought to be common knowledge that Demons, unless taught, had atrocious fashion sense when left to their own devices. “And when you have as many sisters as I do, and they all pester you at any given hour of the day because, and I quote, ‘no one does it better’,” he preens. “You learn a thing or two about coiffure, or rather, they learned and I got a lot of practice.”

“It’s beautiful,” she cries, her twisted russet locks the color of a dusk-ridden sky. The tiny drops of effulgence he had woven wink faintly at first glance but then burn with the resplendence of a thousand suns when they lace with the natural light.

“No, dear heart.”

When she turns to him, he holds her gaze steady so she cannot doubt his sincerity.

“You are.”

“But—”

He shakes his head and leaves no room for argument.

“I only enhanced what was all ready there. Have you ever known me to lie?”

“No,” she states simply, a small smile stealing along the breadth of her lips.

“Besides,” he lets his warmth diffuse into her dainty hands as he engulfs them with his own.

“I was the spark that set this universe and the ones after it ablaze. All that is light—within and without, between now and beyond—once lived, and continues to ignite, through me. So believe me when I say that of all the suns and stars in the whole of Creation.”

His lips find the crown of her head.

“You shine the brightest.”

He vowed not to be angry nor to get even with her, and when it comes to the Devil, his word is his bond.

A new school day dawns and with it, Lucifer styles her a new plait but the artfully streamed rivulets of stardust along the length of her auburn hair are unchanged.

And when he picks her up from school later on, he expects the envy that oozes out of the trio of Beths—the imps glaring longingly with all the subtlety of a stampede, as they first narrow onto the shimmer of Beatrice’s braided mane, then at him and his conspicuous show of wealth.

She kicks into a run when she sees him leaning against the hood of the ‘vette, and it is a testament to his fondness that he no longer flinches upon the collision of her svelte frame into his legs nor does he retract from the winding of her gangly arms around his waist.

With her face buried into his suit and the girls’ stares still trained on them, he takes this opportunity to brandish the sunglasses from his eyes. He purposefully allows the brown to fade to red, as his eyes flare with the fury of the million pyres of Hell, and he meets each dirty look with a glower of his own.

To their merit, they do not scream (he blames the distance), but their blanched faces and quaking limbs are a balm to his petty, petty soul—however temporary or minuscule. They ought to be grateful for their naivety and his leniency. Still.

“Good day?” he inquires sweetly as he returns his sunglasses to their perch on his face before opening the passenger door for her. She waits till he is seated behind the wheel before she answers.

“It was great!”

He passes her another pair of shades that he only ever reserves for her. She puts them on with a flourish.

“Even better now that you’re here!”

Unbeknownst to the detective’s daughter, he shoots one last devilish grin at the cowering trio of caked-faced-trying-too-hard swines. His canines glint with malicious glee beneath the simmering L.A. sun.

He did vow not to be angry nor to get even with Beatrice.

“Excellent.”

Such a shame that the same promise does not extend to her friends.

At her insistence, he tucks her in that night.

They don’t say anything once the evening’s chapter is finished, but it is as he folds her into the blankets that she murmurs, “You are too, you know.”

He quirks an amused brow.

“What are you on about now, child?”

She smiles, delicate fingers cupping at his cheeks when he leans over to unnecessarily fluff her pillows. He freezes at her touch, even when he is tickled by her digits scratching nimbly at his scruff. There is such innocence in the gesture, he is suddenly filled with shame to be at her presence.

“Beatrice,” he whispers, breath tinged with perplexity.

“You’re beautiful, too. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He wants to riposte with an arrogant quip or a jaunty remark, but finds he cannot speak through the lump in his throat nor the leaden weight on his tongue.

“Can’t say that they have,” he tries though it sounds more whine than tease. “But I am a fine specimen in human standards—”

She shakes her head. “I mean, even with your other face.”

He laughs, a tinge of hysteria to the sound. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see what you did to my friends,” her hands tighten around his cheeks in a show of gratitude.

“No one is allowed to hurt you,” he says easily.

“Not that you could control that, but that’s what I mean. You are beautiful, inside and out, and I hope you know it. ‘Kay?”

She lets go, and he inhales greedily at the air like a drowning man who’s broken through the ocean’s surface. It is how he finds the strength to reply, softly, as her eyes droop and her breathing evens into slumber.

“Thank you.”

It is as he reaches the frame of her door that she delivers one final blow that tips him over the edge and straight into this little girl’s heart, obliterating whatever chasm he might have fooled himself into believing he ought to maintain between them.

“I do love you, Lucifer.”

“I know,” he avers, all the while denying the waver to his speech. How wonderful, he muses, swept by the tranquility of her acceptance and awash as he is in the grace that her love reinvigorates in him. It is why he is only a little surprised, when he searches within for the torment and self-loathing and finds himself absent of both in lieu of the hope and faith and incandescence her presence has gradually pervaded him with, to discover—he believes her.

He believes in the veracity of her pronouncement. He believes in the purity of her caress and he believes in the ardor behind his own pledge when he avows, “And I you, Beatrice.”

His voice is the melody that carries her to the land of dreams, the carillon that will henceforth guide her to sanctuary as he intertwines the part of his soul that doesn’t belong to Chloe, to hers.

“And I you.”

AN: HAHAHA. WHAT EVEN.

(It wasn’t supposed to be feels-y at the end but Trix had a mind of her own smh)

Come say hi to me!

[inkstaineddove]

The von Katte Affair

Characters: Prussia

Summary: Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. Neither of them should've seen this.

It was the first time either of them had wanted to die.

Potsdam, 1730 Two sets of black toed boots clipped through the halls of the plainly decorated palace. The shorter of the two men talked animatedly about the state of the military. The taller one nodded along, only half paying attention since he'd heard this speech yesterday. They were making their way towards the garden to watch one of the regiments run through its drills when a courtier stopped them. "Your majesty! Your majesty! I bring grave news from the border!" He skidded to a halt before the two men, almost crashing into the albino. Frederick William assessed the courtier with annoyance. "What is it? Out with it, I don't have all day."

"His royal highness, the crown prince, he's fled for England. He was seized on the border with France with another officer. I believe he goes by the name of von Katte." The king's jaw tightened. He turned around, facing away from everyone else. "What’s been done with them?" "They're being detained in Kustrin while awaiting your orders." He spun back around, hitting the courtier in the knees with his cane, forcing the young man to come crashing down onto the floor. "Are you a fucking idiot? What do you expect me to do? Two of my officers committing treason, one of them my own son? I want their heads and those of anyone else who acted alongside them!" He kicked the courtier until the man scrambled up. "Do you understand? I will not be made the laughing stock of Europe over this! My own fucking son...I want his head mounted on a pike and paraded through Berlin! Are my orders clear enough?" The courtier didn't answer. Instead, he ran back in the direction in which he came. Frederick William huffed. "I should've drowned that boy in the Rhine the day he was born. He's been nothing but a nuisance. Gilbert," He looked at the nation besides him. "Go to Kustrin. This was a slight against you as well. You're the only one I can rely on to make sure my will is carried out. Now get out of my sight." The king stalked off into the gardens, ready to yell at any soldier who was so much as a fraction of a step out of line. Gilbert sighed. The king had a point - the crown prince had been trouble for quite some time. He'd been moody and trying to eschew all his duties to play flute and read instead. Gilbert could understand that. He remembered when he was a young nation and enjoyed pissing off his father. Annoying Germania was his favorite past time if he wasn't pestering Hungary or Poland. This went beyond adolescent antagonism. The king was right, this was high treason and he'd make sure Frederick would understand that whether it was the last thing he did. --- "Don't play dumb with me, Fritz. You almost got into France. There were obviously more people who helped you out. I'm not an idiot." Gilbert made his way toward where Frederick was seated. He moved with the carelessness of a cat, acting uninterested in the whole interrogation. "I know I act like one, but I'm not. I'm more intelligent than you're giving me credit for. I know a lie when I hear one." "I was the only one who did anything. Katte followed only in an effort to stop me. He was trying to do the right thing and doesn't deserve the punishment you barbarians are giving him! I acted alone and got that far all on my own! See, Gilbert, I'm not nearly as incompetent as you and father would like to believe just because I don't get off from hunting dumb fucking animals and doing all that stupid military shit just to suck Austria's dick." Prussia turned around and pretended to be shocked. "Wow. Those are some very strong sentiments coming from his royal highness. Care to recant?" "Fuck you, you red-eyed freak." "That's what I thought. Alright, we'll go back to playing your game." Gilbert picked up the cane that was resting by the door. Without a word, he walked behind Frederick, making sure to be out of the other's vision. He waited till he saw the teen tense up. Then Gilbert started beating the crown prince in the back with it, releasing all the frustration he was feeling about the whole situation. "That's three for lying again, one for calling your countrymen barbarians, four for insulting the king, one for not referring to him correctly, and five because I'm sucking dick to not go into another thirty year war and sucking that dick got me this kingdom that you don't seem to care about. And here's two more because I can." When he was done, he went back around so Frederick could see him. He let the cane drop to the floor and watched the child who would be his next boss. The crown prince had bit his lip so hard that he'd cut through. Gilbert watched the blood drip down Frederick's chin and felt his hand twitch. At this point, he was no longer sure if it was to wipe it away or to slap him. When Frederick looked up, he had some tears in his eyes that, thankfully, hadn't fallen. Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Fritz, there's an easy way of doing this. Just tell the truth. The king's tearing up Berlin and Potsdam, wanting me to get a confession out of you - regardless of the truth - then send you to your death. All this shit, this is a waste of fucking time. Do you want to die?" The crown prince didn't answer. A pit grew in his stomach, but Prussia forced himself to ignore it. He knelt in front of the crown prince so that they were at eye-level with each other. "Just give me the names. No judge in their right mind will sentence anyone who helped you to death. And, when you inherit the throne, you can pardon them! Everything's erased and life can continue. But, for now, I need the names." Frederick sighed. Gilbert could see the fight leaving the prince's body. "Fine. We'll try this your way. There were Katte and Keith, but Keith should be far away by now so please leave him be. Lieutenant von Spaen may have caught onto something, but kept his cards close to his chest." Gilbert nodded. He'd get a better statement later. The important thing was that he'd broken Frederick. The king's ministers could fight for the details that Frederick William wouldn't need to consider in his decision. "Danke. You can head back to your cell now. The real ministers will deal with you after lunch." He sighed and smiled, feeling a weight off his chest. "You're not a bad kid, Fritz. You're really not. You're just like you're father sometimes, blind to any perspective but your own." Frederick strained to get up out the chair. He wouldn't say anything, but his back was screaming in pain from the fresh marks on it. He stumbled to the door, stopping when he heard the last bit of what Gilbert said. "And you're a fucking neanderthal. We're not friends, Gilbert. We're not going to be." "I've told you this before, I can't disobey your father. He's my boss. If I had it my way, you would've been raised differently. All of you would've been." "And I've told you this before, I wish you'd die. What's your kind good for anyway? We're royalty. We've got plenty of mindless buffoons to carry out our every whim. We don't need morons that only take up space and resources." Frederick stomped out and slammed the door as hard as his body would allow him. Gilbert stood in the room, staring after him. It took a few minutes, but he finally laughed. "Kid, you think I haven't thought about that before? As if I'd actually want to live this kind of life." --- Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. When Gilbert had delivered the verdict, he'd hoped Frederick would've yelled at him. If the crown prince would've showed him how he felt, he would’ve been able to deal. He'd always known how to deal with his anger. Instead, Frederick had broken down. Gilbert was forced to comfort the man as best he could. He hadn't held the prince in years, he hadn't let Gilbert get close enough once he figured out he was on the king's side. That was an hour ago. When Katte was brought out, Gilbert looked away. He didn't want to watch his crown prince's lover die. He didn't need to see this, why had he been ordered to watch as well? Frederick William would get an official report of how the event unfolded from some low-level guard who'd blow his paycheck at a pub afterwards. The king didn't need Gilbert's first-hand account, both would detail the same thing. He'd been in many battles before, seen many deaths, but the idea of this one made Gilbert nauseous. He started to walk away when Frederick grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You've followed all his other orders and you'll follow this one. We're both to suffer." The crown prince didn't look at him. His voice dropped to a pained, pleading whisper. "Don't force me to go through this alone to only spare yourself." Prussia sighed and turned back to the window. He watched Katte sing hymns and pray as he made his way towards them. He watched the dignity with which the young man approached death. He watched - maybe with tears, maybe with none - Frederick and Katte call out to each other, saying everything that had been left unsaid. He watched Katte's head roll to the floor was ease and the crown prince fall into his arms, unconscious. Gilbert watched. --- For the first days after the execution, all was not the same. The guards pretended to go about business as usual. They ignored the moans and screams from Frederick's cell. They tuned him out, made jokes that it was a ghost in the prison instead of the heir to the throne hallucinating and seeing his dead lover in the room with him. The few times that someone entered the room to bring him food or drink, the prince would repeat that Katte was there. Katte was there and he wanted Frederick to flee with him. Every time he tried to leave, he wouldn't be allowed to get through the wall and Katte would return for him, promising to never leave. Why wouldn't they let Frederick leave? The guards and ministers made an executive decision to omit this to Frederick William. For his part, Gilbert stayed away from Kustrin. He spent every hour in different pubs and churches throughout the town - unsure of whether drink or devotion would bring him salvation after this new crime. He couldn't get the images out of his head. He couldn't stop seeing Katte's eyes and Frederick's limp body. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed somewhere along the way. He'd done exactly as he was told, but he'd still forced the worse outcome to happen. It was the first time Gilbert had wanted to die. A message from the king was the only thing that forced him to return back to Kustrin weeks later. He forced himself to smile at everyone he saw. He resisted the urge to ask the other ministers how they slept at night knowing that they all  helped the king satisfy an unnecessary bloodlust. How they could look at themselves in the mirror and not see the blood that was all over them. Prussia stopped in front of the prince's door. He was afraid of what state he'd find him in. He'd heard whispers of what he was like from workers at the prison who came to the pubs at night. He didn't expect to see a Frederick who was relatively put together, with eyes that weren't bloodshot, and his nose buried in some snooty French literature. The prince nodded at him, indicating that Gilbert had his full attention. "The king's pardoned you. You're not facing any punishment. All you've got to do is swear an oath of loyalty to your father and play by his rules." He was troubled by the distressed look on the prince's face. "That means you live. Come on, Fritz, you get a second chance. You're free." This made Frederick laugh. He carefully put his book down and regarded the nation before him. "But at what cost?"