#never taking a risk to do the right thing because it’s harder under shitty circumstances to try to hold onto security leads to more problem

[gch1995]

Luke should have killed Vader in ROTJ. He should have cut off Vader's hand then said "you betrayed your friends, the Jedi who raised you. You broke Obi-Wan's heart and caused him to live in exile. You killed my sister's family and killed my mother and my aunt and uncle. And now you're going to pay the price, Anakin." And then Luke kills him.

Luke absolutely would have had every right to despise Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker for all the atrocities he committed, enabled, and/or participated in against him, his adoptive guardians, his sister, Obi-Wan, the rest of the Jedi, and many others. I haven’t come across anyone in the Star Wars fandom who genuinely believes that Luke and Leia were in the wrong to have serious issues with their biological father’s atrocious attitudes, behaviors, and crimes. Not even those of us who are Anakin/Vader stans believe that his two children were somehow entitled to just blindly accept and forgiven him for every terrible thing he did to them and many others throughout the galaxy. Of course, they weren’t. Just because Anakin had a tragic backstory, constantly suffered under shitty circumstances of compromised agency under abusive, corrupt, and oppressive authority figures, felt guilt, and eventually felt inspired to at least partially atone for his sins by killing Palpatine to save his son’s life, it doesn’t mean that we think that invalidates all the loss, pain, and suffering he directly caused to both his children and many others throughout the galaxy by victimizing them as Darth VaderIt’s also true that he occasionally committed acts that he knew were wrong of his own volition. He also has occasionally committed crimes against some of his victims out of a personal desire for cathartic release, freedom, protection, and/or vengeance that he wasn’t pressured into doing by corrupt and oppressive authority figures. He occasionally made bad choices that he knew were wrong for himself.

Anakin became a horrendous villain, and, while the compromised agency and shitty circumstances that got him to that point in the first place aren’t his fault, it’s also true that he always retained enough rationality and conscience to know the core difference between right and wrong and feel guilt. Everyone in the fandom agrees that none of Anakin’s many victims were entitled to ever forgive him for his crimes against them throughout the galaxy. We just want it to be understood that it isn’t just his fault alone that he wound up becoming and remaining such a horrible villain.

That being said, committing murder or hurting someone for hatred and revenge vs hurting and killing in self-defense are two different things. While it is true that you are completely in your right to take a stand against abuse, crime, and oppression for freedom and protection, there’s also a line between doing what’s necessary to survive because there’s legitimately no other choice in the moment versus being willing to stoop to that adversary’s same level out of anger, hatred, fear, and revenge. In the prequels, we saw that Anakin went dark and struggled to come back because he fell into the same mindset as those who hurt him and those he loved of “Two wrongs make a right” and “I’ll coldly and indiscriminately commit and enable systematic abuse, crime, and tyranny as necessary ‘for the greater good’ if the authority figures, community, mentors, and politicians in these broken systems I serve tell me to because they don’t offer me much opportunity to feel adequately safe and supported standing up for what’s right within it in battle, anyway, since that would mean taking a risk to trust the other side.”

The feelings of anger, fear, and hatred from constant abuse, oppression, and trauma that never got fully resolved are justifiable on Anakin’s part. Palpatine, Watto, the Tusken Raiders, Obi-Wan, Yoda, Qui-Gonn Jinn, his other elders and mentors in the Jedi Order, and the Republic government he got recruited to serve before he could even have the opportunity to properly understand what he was being signed up for as a child definitely did both enable and/or perpetuate completely acts of systematic abuse, crime, elitism, oppression, and violence against him, his mother, his people, the clones, and their own recruits for their own benefit. Whether their intentions were pure or evil doesn’t matter. They caused a lot of harm and trauma.

It’s the horrendous actions that Anakin becomes willing to take in response to avoid having to deal with confronting those issues bravely, honestly, and honorably that are the problem. It’s not easy for him to do the right things, he has good reason to be angry, and you can make a valid point that many of the crimes he ends up enabling and perpetuating as an adult are things he learned from personal experience as a victim and witness of them from a young age.

Anakin is always at least partially oppressed by a corrupt authority figure. Palpatine pressure him to turn to the dark side by encouraging him to act vengefully to try to avoid and quash those feelings of anger, fear, and hatred that adversaries or potential threats trigger in him, rather than dealing with them. The Jedi he served under weren’t as harsh in their methods and intentions as the Sith. That “greater good” defense mechanism is something Anakin picked up from their teachings to justify doing terrible things out of fear of the unknown and pressure of corrupt authority. Their desire to have control to avoid the dark side and recklessness went into abusive territory multiple times throughout the OT and PT sagas because they became too afraid to actually take the risk to be the heroes for the galaxy they presented themselves as. They usually played the role of heroes in the old Jedi Order when they believed doing so benefitted their dictatorial military superpower organization’s ability to have total control in regards to all force-sensitive individuals and matters in the galaxy, their public reputation, their role as the Republic’s army, and their security. Otherwise, they ignored many of those in need, enabled, perpetuated whatever abuse of power and crime benefitted their “greater good.”

Nonetheless, as an adult Anakin became guilty of wrongdoings when he repeatedly decided to respond to all his anger, fear, and insecurities hypocritically by stooping to the same awful levels as his adversaries did with him and worse throughout his life. Thus, he actually res cycle of systematic abuse, crime, oppression, and vengeance continues with him because he decided to take the easier path of following it.

When Luke was in altercations with Darth Vader where there seemed to be no other way out, he would have been completely in his right to immediately end the duel by swiftly killing his father in self-defense when he had his light saber poised with the threat to kill him. Sure, by the end of ROTJ, we know Anakin’s heart wasn’t really in it to kill Luke for Sidious, if he refused to turn, but he was still threatening to. However, once Luke disarms Darth Vader/Anakin of his mechanical arm and lightsaber, he has the advantage over his father. The self-defense law can only be used when there is absolutely no other way to escape or survive under an adversary or threat in an active altercation. After disarming Vader, the immediacy principle of the self-defense argument is lost for Luke because he’s mitigated the threat of him. It could no longer be the justified as theonly thing he could do to survive because there was no other way to stop him in their altercation when .

What’s more, Luke doesn’t even attempt to kill him out of a sense of duty or protection at all at that point in ROTJ. Luke starts taking a needlessly cruel route by briefly choosing to start beating his disarmed father up with his fists out of feelings of anger and a desire for revenge when he gets the upper hand, which is why Sidious points out “Yes, yes, you’re becoming like him.”

While we’re never obligated to forgive, trust, or take back those who hurt us terribly in relationships, it is also true that most adults who grow up to be enablers and/or perpetrators of abuse, crime, and tyranny against other people had to have the influence(s) to be that way built up from within them over time in relationships with others, which often began throughout their childhoods or very young adulthoods. Hurting people will become increasingly willing to hurt others needlessly, as they have been hurt by others, if they repeatedly decide to deal with their anger, insecurities, and trauma under shitty circumstances and adversity by stooping to the same level as those who hurt them to try to maintain and take control back because it’s easier than taking a risk to do the right thing by being vulnerable.

Luke caught himself before it was too late when Palpatine pointed out he was “becoming like him,” but giving in to an desire for control, revenge, and/or security by stooping to the same level as those who hurt you when faced with the opportunity to do so because it’s easier than actually taking the risk to address those issues and face them bravely, honorably, and openly, is what creates very angry, broken, controlling, dangerous, hateful, and insecure abusers and criminals down the road. They see that it’s such an easy feat to commit acts of “necessary” abuse, crime, and revenge to immediately avoid and shut down anyone or anything that acts as an adversary or potential threat to themselves or those they care about, but they only gain a short-term sense of catharsis in the heat of the moment. In the long-term, though, their anger, depression, hatred, insecurities, and trauma hasn’t actually been resolved at all by their decisions to stoop to their adversaries levels to completely avoid, control, and/or destroy everyone and everything that causes those issues in the moment. Instead, they end up making things worse for others around them, and end up hating themselves more in the long run. Yet, they keep allowing for and doing terrible things that can/could allow them to avoid conflict in the short-term as the years go on because it becomes an addiction that keeps getting enabled by others in Star Wars until Luke comes along. It’s what happened to Anakin in the prequels. It’s what happened to the overall Jedi Order and Republic of the prequels with their increasingly obsessive and unhealthily “greater good” and “us versus them” mentality.

No one in the SW fandom on here has ever blamed Luke and Leia for having serious issues with their biological father’s many atrocities, regardless of his constantly tragic and shitty life circumstances. Aside from the fact that they see he’s Sidious’s attack/guard dog, for the most part, they never even witnessed all the abuse, loneliness, oppression, and trauma he experienced before he fell to the dark side. Even with that, though, the point is not that Luke and Leia are supposed to excuse Anakin for all of his crimes and wrongdoings because he is their biological father who they eventually learn suffered constant tragedy under lifelong shitty circumstances from which safely escaping was always compromised. The point of Luke ultimately choosing to stop angrily and vengefully beating Anakin/Vader to a bloody pulp before he can kill him after he gains the upper hand in their duel in ROTJ is about breaking the generational cycle in his predecessors of enabling and perpetuating rampant “necessary” systematic abuse, oppression, violence, and vengeance without much hesitation at all costs to gain short-term catharsis, peace, and security against any and all conflict or potential conflict, which actually led to greater conflict in the long-term instead because they all became too afraid to actually risk doing the right thing most of the time under pressure with shitty influences and limited to nonexistent healthy support options outside of these broken systems they grew up in and got recruited to serve under pressure until then.

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (4)

AO3 Link: here

Part 1 2 3 5

Labyrinth Learning

Bakugou knew a few things for certain. He knew that he hated nothing more than Deku’s incessant mumbling. He knew that he was both academically smart and physically gifted and that his weakest point was teamwork. He knew that he did nothing wrong during the sports festival because while Uraraka might have been squeamish about using her quirk to its full potential, she wasn’t fragile. (Even calling her squeamish was a bit of an exaggeration.)

And he knew, with a certainty of one-hundred percent that right in this moment, he’d rather be anywhere else. How Monoma of all people managed to corner him, he still wasn’t sure.

But there he was, the last one in the 1-A changing room and somehow unfortunate enough to be right in Monoma’s vision, when he passed by. That idiot should be hurrying along to the training ground, as should Bakugou himself. He risked running late, while normally he was the first one on the scene. The only reason why he still was in the changing room in the first place was to avoid Kirishima. Of course. 

Maybe Monoma could be a great distraction. Or maybe, Bakugou would get expelled from U.A., because he blew the idiot up for good. There was really no telling how this would go. 

“It’s a shame this is no joint training, we would beat you for good this time, class A”, Monoma taunted in his annoying mocking voice that was probably supposed to make him intimidating. The only thing it accomplished was making Bakugou aggressive. Monoma was working hard towards getting blown up. Bakugou refused to take the obvious bait. 

“We wiped the floor with you last time, and we can do it again”, he answered, not looking away from his locker, where he neatly put away the rest of his school uniform. No one could call him a slob. 

“You got lucky. We took out both of your recommended students, remember?”

And just as Bakugou was about to argue, that both of 1-B’s recommended students also went down, and more importantly, getting in on recommandation didn’t mean jack shit in the hero course, they were both interrupted by a third voice. A voice Bakugou had hoped to avoid for just a little bit longer. 

“Bakugou”, Kirishima called down the hall, blissfully oblivious to Bakugou’s inner struggle, “Aizawa is really not liking having to wait for you.” Which was probably a nice way of saying Bakugou would be on trash duty again, if he didn’t move his ass soon. But going silently now, would be admitting defeat to Monoma, and Bakugou would rather listen to Deku ramble about a bunch of lesser known heroes than do that. Which was saying something, because Bakugou really hated listening to Deku mumbling about anything. 

Monoma beat him to the punch yet again.

“Better go quick, he already sent your boyfriend after you.”

“What did you say?”, Bakugou roared, undoubtedly to be heard even on the training ground where he currently kept everyone waiting. He couldn’t care less. Trash duty be damned, Monoma had no right to assume anything and even less right to mock him. Bakugou would make him regret the day he was born. 

“Bakugou?”, Kirishima questioned and Bakugou could see his flaming red hair in his peripheral vision. He ignored him.

“Oh, sore point?”, Monoma continued mocking, also not paying attention to Kirishima, even though he had placed himself strategically between Bakugou and Monoma to avoid the worst, quirk activated on his arms, because he knew Bakugou well. He was trying to lock eyes with Bakugou, which he avoided for several reasons. Mostly, because he wanted to continue giving Monoma his best death stare. Minorly because he couldn’t look at Kirishima right now.

“Didn’t mean to insinuate anything”, Monoma said with a fake innocence that even Todoroki could have pointed out, “It’s just the impression you give off.” He had the audacity to laugh at his own joke and Bakugou swore he would kill that bastard with his own two hands. He barely registered Kirishima grabbing his arms to prevent him from storming to attack Monoma. 

Unfortunately Kendo appeared faster than he could free himself. Or fortunately, for Monoma.

“I’m sorry about him”, she apologized with practised ease, bowing before them, after she had struck him down. Monoma was pathetically whimpering on the ground, mumbling something Bakugou didn’t understand, but Kendo hit him again, so he was sure it was something unpleasant. Like everything that left Monoma’s mouth. Kendo dragged him off, then, without paying any mind to his continued babbling and only after they were gone from sight did Kirishima let go of him.

“Dude, what did he say that made you so aggressive?”, Kirishima questioned after giving Bakugou a few seconds to compose himself, which did effectively nothing to calm him down. The question, on the other hand, did sober him up pretty effectively. No way could he tell Kirishima what Monoma was talking about. There was also no way he could come up with a plausible lie that fast.

“Nothing important”, he muttered, instead of giving a real answer. He wanted to hit himself for that instantly. Kirishima wasn’t going to let that slide. 

“No way”, Kirishima exclaimed instantly, because of course he wasn’t going to let Bakugou get out easily. He should have thought faster.

“Come on, we’re missing training”, he said instead, in hopes of a distraction working better than his shitty excuses. It did.

“Oh shit, training”, Kirishima yelled, dashing off and Bakugou mentally prepared himself for the scolding he was sure to receive from both Aizawa and Iida. At least he could bite back at one of them. He hadn’t clashed with Iida in a while. Maybe he could use it to get rid of some of the frustration, too. 

__________________

Training had proved to be everything Bakugou needed. He had tuned out Aizawa’s lecture about being on time and not letting himself get provoked this easily with practiced ease and had been on the field with the rest of his class in basically no time. There he had sought out challenges, both posed by staff and his classmates with no time to cool down between them, going at his limit and beyond that. 

Now that he was back in his dorm room, he could feel every bone, every muscle in his body, all aching and demanding a break. A reminder that he worked harder than he ever had before. All of them felt heavy, everytime he moved to get something or change position and for the first time that day his head was free of any worries. No weird unexplainable feelings, no sunshine-Kirishima, not even thoughts of murdering Monoma. 

Just him and his aching body, after a perfectly satisfactional training. He could get used to that. 

Of course he wasn’t afforded that luxury.

A knock on his door ended his solitude way too early and Bakugou had to repress a groan while he moved off of his bed. He didn’t know which extra had the guts to disturb him, but they didn’t have to know how his body was aching. It was satisfactory to him, but the wrong person could see it as a cause for concern. Or even worse, as a weakness. He couldn’t possibly let anyone think he was weak.

Behind the door stood Kirishima, because of course it was Kirishima who wanted something from him right now. It seemed like it always was Kirishima these days. Or maybe it has always been Kirishima, the voice in his head said and Bakugou noticed that he hadn’t heard that voice in a while. He couldn’t exactly say he missed it. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall and instead looked at Kirishima. Which he regretted almost immediately.

Kirishima looked like he came fresh out of the shower, hair still wet at the tips and down like he usually never wore it, while the sun was still up. There was a towel slung over his shoulder, which seemed to be at least damp and Bakugou could see bruises beginning to form on the knuckles of the hand which clasped the towel. (Kirishima had thrown some pretty good punches during training. Not that Bakugou had been paying attention to that.) He looked really good. Bakugou chose to ignore that to the best of his ability. 

“We need to talk”, Kirishima stated, more seriously than Bakugou could ever remember Kirishima being while standing in his door after a shower. The seriousness in his voice helped ignoring whatever was currently forming inside his stomach - a weird bubbly feeling that Bakugou couldn’t attribute to anything - but still Bakugou didn’t trust his voice so he just motioned for Kirishima to come in. 

He let himself fall on his bed with a groan, because even though Kirishima was his main cause for trouble these days, he would at least never think bad about that. He knew how to appreciate a good work-out, especially a good post-workout bliss at least as much as Bakugou did. They always have been on the same wave-length in that regard. 

Kirishima took a seat in Bakugou’s desk chair, aimlessly spinning from side to side for a few seconds. Bakugou knew it meant he was collecting his thoughts, so he didn’t comment about it, even though it was a bit irritating. Cute, the voice in his head chimed in and he tried to think about what he did to get rid of that one last time. He couldn’t remember. 

“What was this with Monoma?”, Kirishima finally asked, looking at Bakugou like he could read the answer from his facial expression alone. He probably couldn’t, at least Bakugou prayed he couldn’t or he would have to bury himself six feet deep. Right after he buried Monoma at least twenty feet deep. 

“You know the bastard, he was looking for a fight”, Bakugou answered, hoping against hope that Kirishima would be satisfied with that answer. He knew it was futile - he surely wouldn’t be content with an answer like that and neither would Kirishima be - but he had to try at least. Under no circumstances would Bakugou tell him the truth. 

“Yeah, he always is”, Kirishima agreed, in a tone of voice that let Bakugou know a ‘but’ was inevitable, “but you seemed more aggressive than usual. And you’re usually pretty aggressive with Monoma.” And Kirishima was still looking at him, with those damn understanding eyes of his that made lying to him so hard. Not impossible though, nothing was impossible for the future number one hero. 

“It was just a stupid taunt, don’t make a big deal out of it!”, he argued back, stubbornly meeting Kirishima’s eyes because he’d be damned if he was the first to look away. He was the future number one, not some kind of weakling who couldn’t even face his own best friend, because of something mildly uncomfortable someone else said. 

“If it was stupid, you should be able to tell me”, Kirishima debated, looking triumphant, even tho his leg was moving the chair again. A sure sign he was nervous, Bakugou knew, while simultaneously ignoring the voice in his head asking how he knew that. He also ignored that it started to sound like Monoma. That was a problem for another time. 

Right now, there was the problem of preventing Kirishima from finding out that Monoma called him Bakugou’s boyfriend. Because while there was a rational part in Bakugou’s brain that said Kirishima would probably only laugh it off, there was a way bigger part of Bakugou’s brain alarming him that this could be the first step to Kirishima finding out about all his struggles of the past days. That couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. 

“He said something, it was stupid. I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“What did he say that you can’t tell me about?”, Kirishima said, stressing the word me in a way that would make Bakugou feel guilty, if he were any less mortified. Kirishima couldn’t know. He couldn’t.

“Just drop it! You don’t need to know everything”, Bakugou yelled and Kirishima actually physically recoiled. He tried to mask it with mockingly raised hands and a playful smile, but Bakugou saw how he flinched. He hated himself for that. 

“Okay”, Kirishima agreed, with a too quiet voice, “I won’t ask about it anymore. Sorry for bothering you.”

And before Bakugou could say something - not that he knew what he could’ve said - Kirishima was out of his desk chair and his room, leaving behind a heavy silence. A few water drops on the backrest of his chair were the only proof that he was actually there.

__________________

Kirishima knew he should let it be. If Bakugou didn’t want him to know, he probably had good reason to and prying would be a sign of bad friendship. But there was a curiosity that he couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. Because while Bakugou usually reacted pretty violently to Monoma, today he had been almost feral. Kirishima would know, because he was usually the one that restrained Bakugou in these situations.

So he did what no good friend would do and went behind Bakugou’s back. Which sounded a lot more dramatic than it actually was, because he only texted Tetsutetsu to ask for a favor. Ten minutes and a promise of yes, he would bring the snacks for their next gaming marathon later, he got the answer he was looking for. 

He wasn’t actually so sure he was looking for the answer, anymore. 

Tetsutetsu had done what any good friend would have done and went to ask Monoma personally. Kirishima knew he couldn’t get mad, Tetsutetsu didn’t know he was opening Pandora’s box and Kirishima had asked, after all. He wished he didn’t.

He called you Bakugou’s boyfriend. Bakugou really didn’t seem to like that.

The second sentence was unwarranted, yes. But Tetsutetsu had no idea about the feelings Kirishima had been harboring for the better part of the year by now. He was most likely just relaying the information Monoma had given him. Information that Kirishima had specifically asked for. Even though now he wished he didn’t. 

Bakugou must really hate the thought of anything other than friendship with Kirishima, if that was his reaction to a simple taunt. Kirishima felt his chest constrict painfully, as if someone had his heart in their hands and they were squeezing relentlessly. He felt that empty feeling in his stomach, felt it dropping several miles and the traitorous pressure behind his eyes. 

He tried to take a deep breath, to ground himself again. It came out shaky and he felt himself tremble before he saw it. His eyes watered slowly, making whatever third text Tetsutetsu had sent unreadable and Kirishima threw his phone away. He dropped himself unceremoniously on his bed, sought refuge under his covers and abandoned the thought of doing anything else. He had good reason to cry.

Kirishima always feared he stood no chance. Now he had proof. 

__________________

Two days after their weird post-training talk, that wasn't even really an argument - at least not to Bakugou - Kirishima was back to normal. Why he was acting strangely the day before eluded Bakugou, but he wasn't about to complain. It was actually good for him. Not good in a sense that Kirishima was acting weird around him by avoiding him to the best of his ability. Good in a sense that it gave Bakugou more time to sort through his mess, without worrying about their mess. Not that he made any mentionable progress.  

He did mull over the idea of calling Kirishima his boyfriend. After an internal wrestle match with his pride, but nonetheless. It was something. 

More importantly, it was something that he realized, he didn’t hate. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. Or mostly, he wasn’t sure if that meant some deeper feelings or just some passing infatuation. If it even was an infatuation. This whole maybe-feelings mess was a whole lot more complicated than it had any right to be. 

Even worse, Bakugou was all out of potential resources he could consult on the matter. Admittedly the list wasn’t very long (or promising) to begin with, but still. He’d like to have something or someone to consult right now.

(He briefly played with the thought of asking Mina, because with her interest in all matters romantic she was bound to have at least an opinion, but telling Mina would mean all the other girls knowing too and Bakugou would rather blast his own leg away, before he let that happen.) 

So really his options at this point were non-existent and the only alternative he had was mulling it over in his own head. He could already see this failing miserably.

__________________

Kirishima had allowed himself one day to mourn his chances with Bakugou. He knew from the start that they were zero anyway and the only reason he was hurt was because he’d let himself believe otherwise. So really, it was no one’s fault but his own. 

Avoiding Bakugou wasn’t even as hard as he had initially thought it would be. Mostly because Bakugou tended to avoid him too, and Kirishima couldn’t help but think that maybe, after what happened the other day, a cooldown was mutually beneficial. Granted, Kirishima got his hopes crushed so painfully that it physically hurt, while Bakugou was just disgusted about a passing thought, but still. 

He firmly believed a day without the other was good for both of them. 

Which was something he would have argued with, even a week ago. But things had changed very rapidly and Kirishima wasn’t even sure what was going on currently. He was sure that he didn’t necessarily want to know. Maybe it was for the best to remain in the dark about some things. Especially if they overwhelmed even someone like Bakugou. 

That was another thing that Kirishima had to tackle eventually. Trying to get Bakugou to admit what had him on the edge like that and then helping him work through it. He was Bakugou’s best friend, after all, even if it hurt thinking about their relationship like that, currently. Friendship wasn’t something to easily abandon just because someone caught some unintentional feelings. 

So after his one day cooldown, he gathered all of his nerves, mustered his best smile (that me might have practiced in the mirror the night before) and approached Bakugou with the same energy he always did. Because there was no reason to change anything. Not from Kirishima’s side of the story. 

“Hey Bro”, he greeted, with exactly the same cheer he usually did, because he’d be damned if he let Bakugou catch even a sniff of something being wrong. He saw Kaminari looking at them weirdly out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. Kaminari had too much respect for Bakugou to bring up anything anyways. And by the time he could catch Kirishima alone to ask about it, he’d have a good excuse ready. Or, even better, a distraction. It would all work out. 

Bakugou grunted at him in acknowledgement which wasn’t out of the ordinary either, so Kirishima internally marked step one as successful. Faking being normal to achieve normalcy wasn’t the reinvention of the wheel, but it wasn’t easy either. He was pretty proud of himself. 

Now it was time for step number two: Being a good friend. And good friends helped their friends with working through their problems, even if said friends didn’t realize they wanted help. Bakugou was never good at accepting help and that never stopped Kirishima. He wasn’t about to give up now. 

“You know, you’re acting weird lately”, he approached cautiously, because he knew it was a sore point. He also knew that Bakugou wouldn’t admit that what Monoma - or even Todoroki - said bothered him. Bakugou’s pride was at least the size of his ego and that was saying something, if even Kirishima who usually argued in Bakugou’s favor could admit that. Then again, maybe always seeing the best in Bakugou was a side effect of that troublesome crush he had.

“Yeah, don’t think about it too much”, Bakugou answered, in that half-annoyed-half-venomous tone that he always used, when he wanted to be left alone. Kirishima knew it too well, both from hearing him use it with other people and from being on the receiving end of it. It never stopped him before and he wouldn’t let it stop him now. Even if there was a sharp pain in his chest, he smiled through it. 

Fake it ‘till you make it. Or however that saying went. 

“Something on your mind?”, he asked playfully, instead of responding to Bakugou’s statement, because he knew a bit of provocation usually helped loosen Bakugou’s tongue. And his willingness to use his quirk, but Kirishima could counter that with his own. They were compatible like that. 

The thought that they were only compatible like that, was shoved somewhere in the back of his mind, where, hopefully, it would rot and wither away. And with a tiny amount of luck and a bit of time, the rest of his crush would follow suit. It felt unrealistic, but a guy could hope.

“Yeah actually”, Bakugou admitted, shocking Kirishima into silence and making him lose control over his facial features for a bit. He couldn’t help it, he just wasn’t expecting Bakugou suddenly being so openly honest. He was prepared to work harder for that. “Don’t mind. It’s just a fucking mess.”

“Maybe a friend can help”, he heard himself say, absently realising that this talk was going nowhere close to the way he had imagined it. Which was dangerous, because now they were in a situation he wasn’t prepared for. If he slipped up, that might be the end for both him personally and their friendship.

“Yeah sure”, Bakugou snorted with sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Kirishima and he saw his chance to move their talk into safer territory again. He could deal with sarcastic, disbelieving Bakugou. He had done it before. 

Just as he was about to shoot something back about him being way better at interpersonal relationships than Bakugou - something that in hindsight could have gotten them into dangerous waters again - Aizawa shot down his chance by entering the classroom and beginning his lesson. 

So, no talk with Bakugou then. Kirishima didn’t mind too much, he was sure he would get another chance after school.

__________________ 

“Bakugou”, Aizawa said, while everyone was packing their things to get out of the school for good, “stay. We have to talk.”

Bakugou didn’t like a thing about this. Not the strangely stern voice in which he said it and not the look he got, when he looked up to meet Aizawa’s eyes. He felt like he was in trouble. It was ridiculous, the worst thing he had done all week was argue with Monoma and then coming too late to the training grounds and he’d already gotten his lecture for that. (He almost got a second one from Iida, but he ignored him and just went to his room.) So Aizawa should have nothing bad up his sleeve for him. 

How wrong he was. 

“You have been distracted all week and a part of last week, too”, Aizawa started, like he was trying to breach a topic, he wasn’t quite sure how to breach. Bakugou tried to defend himself, arguing that he was achieving the same grades and results in training as he usually did, but Aizawa raised his hand to stop him, when he opened his mouth. “Just let me say my piece and then I’ll listen to your side of the story.” 

Aizawa sighed deeply and then a look settled on his face. Like he'd rather be anywhere else. Bakugou had half the mind to remind that this whole talk was his idea, but he thought better of it. Better not to irritate Aizawa when he was already looking like he was ready to murder someone.  

"Look, I know you're at that age when hormones go crazy and you only really think about one thing." 

Now Bakugou felt like he'd rather be anywhere else. Why did Aizawa think he needed to have that talk with any of his students, much less Bakugou? Worse yet, was he really distracted enough that Aizawa, notoriously uninvolved in his students' private antics, felt the need to talk to Bakugou about potential romantic feelings. (And probably sex too, but Bakugou wisely chose to ignore that part.)

“I’m not thinking about -”, he gestured wildly with his hands, both to get his point across and so he didn’t have to say it in front of his teacher, “that. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern.”

“It is, if it potentially puts you in danger”, Aizawa argued, strangely calm, while Bakugou himself felt like tearing something up or blasting something into tiny pieces. He knew he couldn’t, he already made contact with Aizawa’s capture scarf once and he wasn’t keen on a repetition, but the urge was still there. 

“What do you even know about that?”, Bakugou yelled, both out of frustration and pent up anger and Aizawa didn’t even reprimand him for that. He just smirked self-satisfied, which was almost worse because now Bakugou was either going to get some vague excuse or a story he really didn’t want to hear. He didn’t know what was worse.

“I was your age too, once. And I also had feelings I didn’t want to be true and they almost cost me an arm on one of my work studies, because I was distracted. So it’s fair to say I have my fair share of experience with that.”

That was more information than Bakugou ever thought he would get. It was also way more information than he had asked for. He’d already opened his mouth to complain, when something else dawned on him. 

Aizawa wasn’t exactly emotionally available either. He once overheard one of the girls saying that dating a guy like Aizawa must be a project, because getting him to show emotion must be an accomplishment all on its own. He thought it was stupid then, so he paid it no mind and just continued cooking. It might be useful now. Because Aizawa was one resource he hadn’t yet checked on his quest called ‘Figuring out your feelings’. And much like Bakugou himself (and Todoroki) Aizawa was anything but social and open with his feelings. This might just be what he needed.

If he could bring himself to jump over his shadow. And if he could bring Aizawa to talk to him about it. He wasn’t sure which of these was harder. 

“Who?”, he asked, mostly to stall for time, because he had no idea where to start. How did he manage to stumble from one mess into another without ever seeing them coming?

“Hizashi”, Aizawa answered easily, shrugging like he was talking about the weather and not revealing some of the biggest news in recent memory. Bakugou was sure the girls would have a field trip with that information. 

“Present Mic?”, he exclaimed, still kind of unbelieving, because he couldn’t picture it. Sure they were friends (high school friends, if he were to believe Deku, which was generally not a bad idea, when it concerned hero information), but that was still really unexpected. They definitely didn’t seem like a couple.

“I only call him that at work, but yeah”, Aizawa agreed again, looking amused at Bakugou’s disbelief. 

“You’re dating Present Mic?”, Bakugou clarified again, because he had a hard time wrapping his head around that information. Those two didn’t seem to fit at all. Aizawa prefered the quiet and Present Mic was a loud guy by nature (both in personality and with his quirk). And that was only one of many things that didn’t seem to add up with these two. Not that he was actually putting thought into that. 

“We’re married, actually”, Aizawa corrected and now Bakugou was sure he did it to get a rise out of him. So instead of voicing what he thought, he took a moment to collect himself. He wasn’t going to fall for one of Aizawa’s tricks again.

“So you’re married. Congrats, I guess. Still, I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Did you know that Hizashi gave me my hero name?”, Aizawa asked, instead of answering Bakugou and he could feel himself getting irritated again. What kind of games was his teacher playing here? Why would that be of any relevance?

“So?”, Bakugou pressed, hoping to end this conversation soon. He didn’t care anymore, if Aizawa could be helpful or not, he just wanted to get as far away as possible, before he actually blew something up. That would give him a punishment way worse than trash duty. 

“That was in first year. I’ve already been in love with him then, or else I wouldn’t have taken it. It still took me almost two more years to recognize and own up to my feelings.” 

Bakugou had a feeling there was more behind that story than Aizawa let on, but he wouldn’t press. He knew his teacher was trying to make a point and he was willing to listen some more. He truly was desperate. 

“Look, I don’t presume to decide what’s going on with you, but you should deal with it soon”, Aizawa said finally, and Bakugou tried not to think about how much he sounded like his father, when he was trying to make Bakugou understand why his mother behaved a certain way. That was a truly dangerous train of thought. One that had the power to actually make him sentimental. 

“So what? I’m supposed to make an ass of myself while trying to confess something I can’t even properly name?”, he snapped, revealing way more than he ever intended to. He wished he could take it back, it sounded so pathetic even to his own ears. That certainly wasn’t the way of a hero, much less the number one, the undefeated pro without any weaknesses. That was just a pitiful little high schooler, who didn’t know a thing about the world. He hated that part of himself with a burning passion.

It was the part that brought All Might’s end. And now, it will be the part that makes Bakugou’s life unbearable. 

“No you’re not”, Aizawa replied, with an understanding in his voice that Bakugou loathed almost as much as his own weakness. Aizawa didn’t coddle people. Bakugou didn’t need to be coddled. “You’re supposed to consider what’s in it for you if it works out. And then weigh that against your current situation.”

“And if it works out”, uncertain high school student Bakugou yelled again, “what if I confess and we date and then he decides I’m too much of a mess. That I’m more of a project than a boyfriend. What then?”

“He won’t, if it’s the right one”, Aizawa said, still uncharacteristically open and honest, “I was a project and Hizashi loved me anyways. Nowadays threatening breakup is an inside joke for us.”

“It is?”, Bakugou wondered, not even really as a question to Aizawa. Could there really be someone that looked at all of his emotional unavailability and decided they want that? Could Kirishima do that?

“The last time Hizashi threatened a breakup was over a game of Monopoly”, Aizawa shrugged, looking strangely pleased with himself and Bakugou felt himself set back to a not-so-distant game night. 

“Monopoly?”

“Our game nights get pretty intense, sometimes. We’re both not exactly great losers.”

And now Bakugou really didn’t know what to make out of any of that. Everything was jumbled together in his brain, all of it surrounding an image of Kirishima and Bakugou could feel a headache starting to form, the sides of his forehead throbbing in dull pain. He absently realised that Aizawa had dismissed him and he left the classroom hastily. He didn’t even feel like exercise, he just needed some quiet and peace to think. 

It was ironic how much he needed to think about now, after he spent the majority of the last days thinking about the very same topic. One talk with Aizawa really had opened up a whole new perspective on the whole situation. If he had known his homeroom teacher could be that helpful, he would’ve asked sooner. (No, he wouldn’t have, but still. The food for his thoughts was appreciated.)

He barely registered Kirishima, who had obviously been waiting on Bakugou in the hall. Bakugou duly noted that Kirishima wanted to continue their talk from before class, but he really wasn’t in the state of mind for that. He didn’t even know what he wanted to prevent Kirishima from finding out. Or if he wanted to prevent Kirishima from finding out anything in the first place. 

Once they reached the dorms, with Kirishima still chatting happily and Bakugou unable to focus on even a single word that came out of his mouth, he quickly made up an excuse and vanished into his room for good. He really, really needed some time on his own.

__________________ 

Hours later after replaying and re-replaying everything Aizawa said and comparing it with what happened in the last few days, Bakugou came to two realisations. One, he did, indeed, have romantic feelings for Kirishima, way beyond a simple crush. And two, he had no idea how to deal with that. 

Because how could something, that was this difficult, possibly be right?

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 24 :: Four Years Ago }}

Four years ago, Christmas eve was devastating.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69012459

Full chapter under the cut.

The pit at the bottom of Joey’s stomach had been aching for the last three days.  It was like he swallowed hot coals and they refused to stay down, bile creeping up his throat every time he passed by that closed office door.

The house should have felt warmer—there must have been fifteen human bodies radiating energy and buzzing around the house.  He’d been preparing in a way—a strange sort of supervisory role he hadn’t particularly desired—for the Architectural Digest spread on their house.  Joey had been told that the article was going to place special attention on the picture perfect family that Seto Kaiba had accrued.

What a fascinating figure, the journalist had said, he must be a very interesting person to be married to.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt interested in the life he and the CEO had built.  Instead the décor and ambiance of their home was so cold and so superficial, like Joey lived in a hotel.

With such esteemed guests visiting on Christmas Eve, with such a paper trail of coverage, the administration of the Kaiba Estate had gone completely crazy.  Joey couldn’t leave a glass of water on the counter and expect it to be there in an hour.

Even the kids were with a stylist this morning.  It had seemed unfathomably frivolous and somehow also a bit duplicitous.  Were they really trying to convince the readers of Architectural Digest that their children had an intuitive sense of fashion?  Alexis was still not out of her terrible two’s, and the more layers of anything they draped over her, the greater the risk that they would trigger some sort of tantrum.

He’d deserve that, Joey thought, meanly.  He had half a mind to interrupt Kaiba in his office and ask him that simple question: What are you trying to prove?  Who could possibly care how Kaiba’s five-year-old son dressed?  What their kitchen looked like?

How well his husband was handling the spotlight?

If anyone really asked, he didn’t know what he would say.  No one from this world ever really asked him how he was doing, not in that caring sincere way that real friends do, and so he lived half a life sometimes—the exterior half.  The part that was supposed to be making cookies, and volunteering at the daycare even though the kids�� nannies were really more involved, and posting fun little videos on Instagram.  He had his own publicist, and he wasn’t supposed to even do that without approval—he understood the reasons but it was like every drop of authenticity was drained… all that remained was the flawless artifice of a live lived perfectly.  

And the worst part was he was supposed to have an ally in all this.  One person he was on the journey with.

But instead, Kaiba felt almost like a client.  A person who had engaged him for husband and fathering services, who had certain specifications, certain resource allotments.  

There was a forcefield around the office door.

Not a literal one, though Kaiba probably could have managed that if he had tried.  It was decidedly low tech.  Heavy mahogany, thick enough to withstand an explosion, and mysteriously devoid of the mistletoe and holly that had been draped over every inch of the house in an attempt to seem more festive and spirited than goddamn Martha Stewart.

The anger radiating out of the room must have been enough to keep the decorators far away.

Over the last year, Joey had been subjected to some updates about Kaiba Corp. affairs.  They had just released a new phone model that incorporated holographic images for video chatting or something.  The launch had been a success, Joey assumed, because everything that Kaiba touched in the marketplace turned to gold.  Kaiba’s failures were few and far between, and his successes shined brightly enough that nothing bad seemed to stick.

The technology was supposed to be able to harness the capabilities that rendered Duel Monsters so realistically in Duel Disks, and use them connect people to distant loved ones with compelling holograms.  It was a technical masterpiece that had him and Kaiba travelling cross country to attend industry awards and galas.  It was exhausting, and half the time he felt like some sort of accessory.  Like Kaiba’s personal assistant had flown in the right suit, the right watch, and Joey to complete the ensemble.

It wasn’t like that the whole time.  There was a period, really quite a long time at first, where it felt like a game.  Joey’d try to smuggle food into venues that didn’t allow it or smuggle it out of galas for later, they’d conspiratorially make fun of other guests—especially mocking the ever-present Pegasus.  Sometimes Joey would pull one of his old tricks—they’d graffiti a bathroom stall after defiling it or do some harmless property destruction at a fancy house.

Weird nonsense too: who could steal the strangest object from the von Schroeder mansion, most absurd selfie with a world leader, that sort of thing.  Little adventures that had wracked up a collection of items that they could never properly explain: Seto’s signed copy of Warren Buffet’s biography, crystal low ball glasses from Pegasus’ house that didn’t match the set that Seto already had, and a very strange cellphone photo of Joey holding the coat of the Prime Minister of Canada while the head of state was puking in a bush behind him.

It had been fun.  It had been so fun.  Once they had let their guard down around each other, they had found excellent playmates.  Joey could be almost as devious as Kaiba under the right circumstances, and he was playful.  And Kaiba was always gunning for a competition.  A rivalry, any rivalry, any time.

It was not like marrying his best friend, but it was like marrying his favorite co-conspirator.

But over time, something about the events had turned so routine that it was merely another part of Joey’s very draining job of trophy husband.  And the snarky comments he was getting about the suit sizing from the stylist was the last thing he needed.  It just reminded him that he wasn’t a person to these people—he was an accessory, a decoration that could be trimmed and measured and posed just so like all the tinsel in the house.

Even if Joey hadn’t been living and breathing the new technology by virtue of listening to his husband’s egotistical acceptance speeches every other weekend for a month, Joey had seen the advertisements that had polluted his social media streams and had threaded themselves in between videos.  He’d even been featured in one—and he had to admit that hadn’t minded filming that—talking with a virtual Yugi, still bearing his King of Games title and the wild tri-colored hair, with his Duel Disk strapped to his arm and belt still wrapped around his neck.

That had been fine, but several of the other ads were geared at families.  And although Kaiba had for the most part kept the family out of the limelight, Joey’s publicist had been pushing harder for more of that humanizing presence.

“Everyone knows what your husband was like during ‘Battle City,’ and subsequent tournaments and product launches.  He had a legend’s status and we could work with the ‘Rogue Genius’ sort of thing,” the publicist had kindly explained, his tone perhaps a touch demeaning.  “But Kaiba Corporation isn’t just selling toys anymore.  And people do not want to buy the most essential equipment of their lives from a rebellious teen.  They want to see a man with integrity.  With a family, even an unorthodox one.”

Joey rolled his eyes at the last comment.

They hadn’t built this family in order to sell more products, it had been so… organic.  A natural expression of love.  Being in their thirties, having so much love for each other that it made so much sense to share it with children.  They could do it right this time.  All they had to do was the opposite of what their parents had done.

And they had!  Kaiba never raised his voice and Joey never picked a fight.  It was everything they hadn’t had growing up.  It was stable.  Neat.

And it had become absolutely miserable.  A set of formal relationships, scrupulously maintained and completely aesthetically flawless.  And now, it was even a saleable commercial product.

Joey was so close to breaching the forcefield and getting the door open, but he could just hear the faint traces of a conference call behind the door.

The phantoms were trying to tell Kaiba something about some supply chain problem.  Billions of dollars in contracts and products were flying back and forth in complex negotiations that rose to the level of international affairs.

Suddenly Joey’s problem—do the kids actually need a stylist, Kaiba?—seemed unfathomably small.  Heroically unimportant, embarrassingly trivial.

Did he even want to walk into whatever shitstorm was going on in the study?  Kaiba had his job, and Joey had his.

The only difference was that people seemed to value Kaiba’s job, and Joey’s was increasingly shitty.

Finally one of the maids—Joey thought she might even be in charge of that team, but was not technically the household manager, which was a different staff person—shook him from his frustrated position just outside of Kaiba’s study door.

“They’re ready to start taking the pictures,” she said.  It was so neutral, and Joey realized, a bit slowly, that she didn’t like him.

People usually liked him.  If they didn’t, he probably had picked a fight with them or something.  Anyone who spent real time with him couldn’t resist his signature Joey charm.  Maybe she’s new? Joey wondered.  Or was he just… not the same anymore?

Within the same minute, the children’s stylist beamed out of the playroom, with much the same announcement.  She was all smiles—and who wouldn’t be with such a fun niche.  They both looked at Joey.

The publicist was scaling the stairs, hand skimming the highly decorated banister and leaping over the twirls of pine leaves and luxurious red velvet ribbons, announcing that the Architectural Digest reporters were ready to begin.

Ah, it was time for him to do his job.  The only thing that he was supposed to really do.  Face his husband.

Joey could see why everyone else dreaded it so much.  Why he was so well-compensated for the task.

Joey extended his wrist, with a slow trepidation he had learned as a duelist, and tapped.

Within seconds Kaiba was at the door, eyes all blue fire, like a lion interrupted during a feast of antelope gizzards.

“Eh, we’ve got the thing?  The Architectural whatever thing?”  Joey figured the posse of people gathered behind him made half of his point.

“Yes.” Kaiba said, clipped, and looking still slightly pissed.

“So uh, you good?  You look good,” Joey gave him a once over, and was rewarded, as always with the handsome view of a perfectly put together Seto Kaiba.

Kaiba rewarded the compliment with a smirk.  “Yes.”

And the whole team descended together, with two of the more intense nannies handling the children and joining at the back of the group.

When finally down the stairs, Alexis was passed into Joey’s arms, and Atticus was handed off to Kaiba.

“How are your piano lessons going?” Kaiba asked Atticus, as if he was a colleague and not a five-year-old.

“Awesome!” Atticus answered with a smile.

“Do you know any duets yet?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!” Atticus announced, pleased with himself.

Kaiba stood for a moment, as if wracking his brain for any memory of the song.  Then he nodded.  “We can start with that.”

The Architectural Digest reporter looked at Kaiba, having expected to have his full attention immediately.  Indeed, the reporter looked like the kind of person who expected to have anyone’s attention at any time.  Joey had spared the man a Google search at some point before the meeting, and he had been impressed by the guy’s list.  He had done articles on the interior design aesthetic—and the corresponding family culture—of two sitting presidents, the prime ministers of both Austria and Australia, and Oprah.  Oprah.

He dressed like it too.  His silk scarf was recognizably Hermes, and Joey could tell that his whole thing was how fancy people were expected to dress.  Flashy and complicated and matching, but only sort of?

The stylist had intentionally been playing up the new, everyman qualities of the updated Kaiba family.  It was a stark contrast to the Visual Kei inspired aesthetic that his partner used to wear, but honestly?  Other than changing the t-shirt to cashmere and making the jeans cost about $400 more, Joey felt like he looked pretty much the same as he used to.  His shoes were a lot less comfortable now.

The reporter almost raised a hand to interrupt, and Joey instinctually went on damage control.

“Hey, great to finally meet you!  Welcome to our house.  Looks like you’re in for a concert to start off!” Joey smiled warmly, and was pleased to see it mirrored in the reporter’s face.

“Your husband is an interesting fellow, huh?”  The reporter had something of a pan-Atlantic accent to his voice, making him sound a little bit like he fell out of the Turner Classic Movies channel.

“You don’t know the half of it!  But I’m sure he’ll warm up,” Joey lied.  Joey reached forward to loop an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they continued to make their way toward the grand piano in the living room.  “What are you doing?” he whispered in his ear.

Kaiba spared him a dark, sideways glance.  “I am trying… to demonstrate human connection.  That’s the instruction I received.”

Joey laughed, though it wasn’t easy.  “Well, could you smile or something?  Introduce yourself?  It looks disjointed like this, I think.”

Kaiba’s attention diverted, announcing that the conversation was over.  Joey withdrew, his speaking time already terminated.

But the comment made enough of an impact.  When they arrived in the living room, which had been festooned with just about every wintry icon available in the tri-state area—including a row of pinecones and decorative wreathing along the piano and the biggest tree that could fit in the tall space jammed with more lights and baubles than should be possible—Kaiba deigned to greet the guest.

Kaiba gestured to the piano, and Atticus happily plopped down.  Kaiba joined him, much more calmly.  “Now, for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Kaiba announced, rolling back the fallboard.

Atticus nodded mutely.  Someone had clearly drilled into him the importance of not saying anything weird, and he had interpreted it as not saying anything at all.

Kaiba began the initial keystrokes of the song, only for Atticuls to slam both of his hands down on the keys and completely startle him.

Kaiba instantly stopped playing, but Atticus kept going cubby child fingers on random keys.

“Do you… actually know how to play the song,” Kaiba asked, as Atticus started winding down.

Atticus beamed, “Yeah Oto-san, but this is a special Christmas remix!”

Kaiba smiled softly, shockingly genuine, and Joey was sure the cameras captured it.  “Very well.”  Kaiba diverted his attention away from the piano.  “Now that we have performed a Christmas remix, I suppose we may as well continue with the interview.”

The reporter seemed to be in good humor, eyes energic as they tracked Kaiba and Atticus back to the couch to join Joey and Alexis.

Like a flip had been switched, Kaiba acted like he had a human interest in the whole situation, but let Joey do most of the talking.

Joey thought maybe he was nervous.  He was so comfortable when the topic turned to the impact of Kaiba Corp., on international growth this or technology development that.  But sitting there, on a couch laden with thick green and red ribbon, being asked about how he balanced raising children with being in the office, he looked almost nauseated.

“I have a great partner,” Kaiba said, robotic and dead-eyed.  “And great help.  I could not do it alone.”

Joey tried to beam, but it felt like a brutally minimizing note.

A great partner?  It was a performance review, not a term of affection.

After the interview finally ended and the additional staff began to disperse, Joey found himself trailing Kaiba back to his study.  The kids were whisked away—Atticus already had another piano lesson and Alexis was due in the ballet studio.  She had made the cut as one of the youngest among the 130 children to participate in the New York City Ballet Company production of Nutcracker, scoring a prestigious position as one of the angels.  It was very impressive and very cute, but it felt a bit odd to watch the two-and-change-year-old have so many appointments.  She just spun around a little… Joey had to assume it was another instance of her name opening doors.  But it was adorable, and she was a pretty serious toddler, and who was he to get in the way of high performance.

She said she liked it, as much as a two-year-old can articulate that they like anything, and he didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble.

So, after everyone had scattered, it was just Kaiba in his study, and Joey feeling empty.

Joey knocked on the door.  When he didn’t get a response, he opened it anyway.

“What?” Kaiba snapped, not looking away from his laptop.

“I…” Joey thought about what he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind immediately, except for the simple truth.  “I can’t handle this.”

Kaiba didn’t look up.  “You can’t handle what?  Talking to a guy for an hour?  You did nothing.”

When Joey didn’t immediately leave, Kaiba paused in his typing, maybe realizing that he couldn’t really account for what had happened prior to his entrance.  “Do you need more help?”

Joey sank into the companion chair in the study.  “I mean no, I think there’s probably too much staff.  Do the kids really need a stylist?”

Kaiba looked up.  “I am so busy, Jounouchi.  Do you really want to debate the merits of having someone pick the children’s clothes for a photoshoot?  That cannot possibly be the best use of your time, and I know it’s not the best use of mine.”

Joey met his eyes for a second, but lost his determination.  “I just… I miss how it was. Things didn’t used to be like this, right?”

Kaiba sighed.  “Things have always been like this.  What do you mean?”

“You know what, never mind.  It’s fine.  It’s just, I guess it’s Christmas eve.”  Kaiba didn’t acknowledge the statement and Joey left the study, heart twisted, feeling more alone than he had in years.  “We’re supposed to do family stuff.”

Kaiba went back to his computer.  “We did.  And I’m sure more is scheduled for tomorrow—I know that I’m scheduled to attend one of Alexis’ performances tomorrow.  You should check your calendar, I am sure we have a dinner scheduled somewhere tonight… I think at the Governor’s estate.  You should check with someone about the required attire.  But not me, Jounouchi, I really am busy.”  The chillin blue eyes didn’t even follow Joey as he stalked out of the room.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year.  But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.

[blackgirlblues]

Being A Black Girl: And Chasing Your Dreams.. Yikes.

Hi, 

It’s me, your resident black girl back with some new shit to rant about. I’ve been posting a few screenshots of short poems and paragraphs I’ve been writing on my phone as a way to heal and get over Capricorn boy from my last post on here and I see you guys like and reblog. Thank you for showing love, although it makes me sad that so many of you seem to be going through the same range of emotions I am. I’m sorry. 

I know it’s a lonely place to be in. 

But, on the bright side, I’ve got a lot of new followers joining the diary/manual/rant page that is blackgirlology and it’s nice cause I think it’s becoming a little bit of a community. So, in a way, were never really going through any of these emotions alone. If you’ve found this page-you’re part of a community. Bask in it. 

Anyways, that aside, a lot has happened since I last spoke to you. I don’t know if any of you may remember, and for some new people this will be a surprise. But I’m actually a singer songwriter from Ireland. Moved to London a year and a half ago to pursue my music dream and that’s how I met Capricorn boy whos been the source of all my poems. 

Throughout this time in between, I’ve been trying to chase my dreams, and chase them relentlessly. and this summer i did just that, let me tell you, what im about to tell you guys, is to put it simply, wild. I’ll just cut to the chase. 

It all started in July. I’d been in London for quite a long time now, over a year and now have a manager who’s my best friend first and foremost. We’ll call her Maya. I met her in my first week of moving to London in the student halls I was staying at and we became best friends pretty quick. She studies music business, so it made sense and she just naturally ended up taking up the role as my music manager. Shes seen everything. The songs I wrote about Capricorn boy, the tears, everything. And she saw everything this summer. 

I saw an ad for a record label opportunity in London. It was advertised on my university facebook page; a new indie label, looking for demo submissions for a competition they were setting up to find their new signee. I sent a screenshot to Maya who agreed I should send my stuff in. I did, they liked it, I got a meeting, we were sent terms and conditions for the competition. We signed it, the rest was supposed to be history. 

Big yikes. 

There’s so many layers to this story that I will be shortening it, just because it can get very draining for me to talk about or even write about. I’ve healed from it i think, but I still want to put it here and write it about to finally close that chapter and be done with my feelings about what happened to me and my music. 

Basically, the whole competition, the record label, the dickhead CEO, it was all a scam. I had accidentally signed away the master rights to my new song to a record label started by a fake CEO who was committing fraud and known for tricking young artists into handing over their master rights so he could profit off of them, for power. 

It was a mess. Another contestant told me and Maya when we were outside of their office. Just minutes before we were under the impression that I was doing an interview for Billboard Magazine. Honestly, I never truly believed it. Shit was too good to be true. 

But she told us everything. How he was actually a run away from Spain, where he was caught and exposed for doing the exact same thing to artists there, how he didn’t have any money to fund the competition he had somehow roped all of us into, how he was illegally avoiding paying his team, how none of the creatives we had collaborated with for photoshoots etc were paid, how everything was a lie, how he didnt have any connections, and how he was trying to convince me specifically to sign a 360 deal with his label. 

Which, guys, I’m not stupid. After the first week of being with the label for the competition and letting my song live through their disastrous marketing campaign, Maya and I long decided that regardless of what they said, I would not under any circumstances be signing anything with any entity of their company. 

After being told the truth, I had to sit down. You see, when I came across this opportunity, I thought this was finally the life I’d been manifesting coming true. I had begun to grow in my spirituality and start journaling, writing down my manifestations, and getting to work with a record label who would later offer me a fair contract before I turn 20 was one of the manifestations I had written down every night before I went to bed. However, what I’d gotten was the exact opposite. 

I remember, me, Maya, and 2 of the girls from the competition all stood around in a circle outside of their new office that the CEO also hadnt paid for wondering what our next move would be with this new information. There was still 2 other contestants inside who had no idea what was really going on was an elaborate scam. One of them wanted to go in and expose them on the spot. I said no, we had to go in and pretend like everything was normal until we figured out what to do afterwards. 

So in I went, plastering the fakest smile on my face and pretended like I still thought I was about to be speaking with Billboard Magazine. Once I got out, I broke down in Maya’s arms. 

I went home to my flatmates, Ellie and Bea and cried for hours before I had to go work a 7 hour shift at a pizza place. 

I stayed in bed, and cried, and cried. and cried again. I didn’t get out of bed unless I needed too. The only people I talked too were my flatmates E and B and Maya. 

Everything was sorted out eventually, a lot more happened, but as I’ve been writing this article for you guys, I realised that all of that stuff is no longer relevant to my journey and isnt something I want to bring back into my energetic circle because I’ve made peace with the fact that a lot of people who betrayed me when I was at my lowest, peace with the fact that these contestants who wanted to “work together” to get out of this mess, actually wanted to save their own asses and leave me in the cold. 

But I still got out of it and I’m still here. 

I nearly got sued by a man with less than 20 pound to his company account online, but hey, I’m here.

I guess why I’m telling you guys this really short account of my summer is to both record it for myself but also to say its okay to flop, its okay to fail. I did both this summer. and thank god i did. it was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

following your dreams is scary, doing it as a black girl is terrifying because society has already kind of set you up to fail. there’s already misconceptions about what you do, who you are, where you come from and how good you’re going to be at what you do. its almost like we cant fail and we need to work 10 times harder to obtain half of what the average white person will get. and sometimes it can feel like we dont have any space to fail or make mistakes because of this but let me tell you thats not true. 

if anything, the universe will put you in places that will force you to grow through the mistakes you make. and thats exactly what happened to me this summer. 

i chased my dream so relentlessly i ended up in an environment i thought i manifested, i thought was good for me, only for the universe to show me that that specific environment i’d been wishing to be in is the furthest from what i need right now in my life. 

this so called failure showed me that not everybody who smiles can be trusted, and that people can be way more deceiving than i ever thought, especially when push comes to shove and they need to save themselves. you start to see the real them when it starts to get tense. the people who seem to be around you when you’re doing good will most likely dissapear when things start to go south, including some of your oldest friends. you will get radio silence on their end. be upset. cry. but after that be glad that this situation revealed their true colours. 

and then never put any more energy into them again. 

this failure showed me how fucking strong i am. how resilient and kind i am even in the face of disrespect and actual evil. it showed me how much i can care for someone who i believe is at a risk of losing it all, and showed me that this will not always be reciprocated. and for a while i thought that meant that i had to harden myself up and grow a shell. but i dont think so. i will not allow the things ive been through to make me into a hard person when i was born soft. i mean now, im a little rough around the edges, jagged enough to cut anyone who comes too close with some of that bad energy, but soft enough to hold myself tight and glue myself back together when i need to. soft enough to hold the people who held me this summer. soft enough to help people who i know deserve it. 

im a good person in a shitty world, i don’t need to match the world and become a shitty person to survive. 

after all of this happened, i stopped writing music. 

i haven’t written anything properly or produced anything in months and sometimes i get worried that ive completely lost my talent. but thats another thing that this failure taught me, i can never truly lose whats meant to be mine. i know that i was put on this earth to create change, to inspire, to be an activist and a voice for people who dont have one. i know i was put here to do it through a creative medium and right now i still think that is music. 

i think i just need to stop being so scared to start again, to learn my craft again.

i used to be so scared of failure but now i am so thankful for it and the lessons its taught me. i had so much hurt and pain and hatred in my heart for the universe for, in my head, doing this to me. but then i realised that the universe never does anything to you, it does it for you. all of this happened in my best interest and while i definitely didnt understand at the time, i get it now.

thank you universe for the worst summer of my life. 

and my black ass will be continuing to chase my dreams relentlessly, failing, tripping and falling on my ass until i get to the very top. 

besides, if everything had just gone right, that wouldnt have been very interesting, would it?

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [10/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim swerves into the Cave, skidding into the parking area with a little less finesse than usual. He’s got a shivering Batgirl bracketed between his arms on the bike, not having wanted to risk her falling off the back of it while they drove. He’s got a nasty case of frostbite on his shoulder himself, courtesy of a cold grenade in the wrong place and the wrong time.

He was helping Batgirl and Signal with the clean-up after Freeze’s latest temper tantrum and accidentally triggered the blast. Steph shoved him out of the way, taking the full brunt, and it was only due a quick reaction time and a few well-placed portable heating disks that she hadn’t been flash frozen.

She might not have any major lingering damage—she was well enough to request going to the Cave because of Alfred’s tendency to make homemade soup whenever any of them have a less than stellar encounter with Freeze—but Tim’s anxious to get her warmed up as soon as possible.

Also, he needs to treat his own injury.

“If-f I get a cold I’m k-killing Freeze,” Steph mumbles as Tim helps her off the bike and walks her toward the medical bay. “There’s nothing w-worse than a summer cold.”

“Says the woman who survived being used as a human pincushion.”

“It’s a d-different kind of misery.”

There are several heating blankets already plugged in and ready, and Steph is already peeling herself out of her uniform with shaking hands. Tim does the same, tossing aside tunic and body armor to rummage in a drawer for the special heating plasters; they warm an affected area gradually, making them perfect for frostbite.

“Geez, Tim, you been sk-skipping meals again?” Steph reproaches, frowning at him in his shirtless state. “Seeing a lot more rib than usual.”

“You’d do well to take a page out of his book, Brown,” Damian’s voice snarks from the doorway, loitering in all his scowling twelve-year-old glory. “I’m surprised your suit doesn’t split down the back when you move.”

“Shut up, Damian.”

“No, Tim, I got th-this,” Steph pipes up and then shoots the youngest Robin a steely smile. “I’ve g-got Martha Kent’s email. Wonder what she’ll have to s-s-say when she hears about Dami fat-shaming people.”

“You! You are not in contact with her!”

Damian isn’t exactly prone to flushing considering his complexion, but whenever he gets upset or embarrassed, red creeps across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. That, and the minute raising us his eyebrows suggests he’s more rattled by the threat than he pretends.

“I might be,” Steph allows. “You really wanna t-take that chance?”

Damian scowls at that, fists clenched, and then seems to decide not to risk it. It’s like watching the air be let out of a balloon.

Tim whistles.

“How is it a Kansas housewife has managed something not even two versions of Batman and the League of Assassins could?” he asks, somewhat awed.

“Pie and mom-guilt, I think,” Steph suggests.

“Clearly.”

“Hilarious,” Damian deadpans, facing Tim and doing his best to ignore Steph. “If you’re finished casting aspersions on my upbringing, perhaps you can make yourself useful.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him.

“Father was distracted tonight,” the kid continues. “He won’t explain and Richard’s not here to do…whatever it is he does that makes him somewhat normal again.”

Tim blinks, having not expected that. “What exactly do you think I can do about that?”

“It’s no secret you and Father are experiencing “issues”,” Damian says and uses honest-to-goodness air quotes. “Perhaps seeing you will irritate him into letting something slip.”

“I highly d-doubt Bruce is that upset that he’ll unclench long enough to tell T-Tim anything,” Steph sniggers.

“Perhaps not, but once Drake strikes out I can ask Father after a requisite amount of time has passed and under less fraught circumstances than directly after a fight. He’ll be more likely to confide in me.”

“Right,” Tim drawls. “Because that has a snowball’s chance in hell of working. Pass. How do you even come up with these ideas, anyway?”

“It’s a simple enough ruse, Drake. Jon says it is called “tag-teaming”.”

Again, with the air quotes; clearly Damian’s latest visit to the Kent farm came with another dose of ‘how-to-be-a-real-boy’ lessons.

“And if you think Bruce is gonna fall for that and magically open up about something he doesn’t want to talk about, you haven’t been paying attention the past few years.”

“That’s not what this is,” Steph says, squinting at Damian like she’s trying to read his mind or something. “You’re worried.”

“I am no such thing!”

“You’ve gotta be since you’re asking Tim for a team-up.”

“I am not!”

“Good, because I’m not interested,” Tim says. “Whatever Bruce is brooding about will come out. It always does. Try prying it out of him beforehand and he’ll get cagey and mean about it.”

I know what that feels like, and I wouldn’t even wish it on you, demon-brat.

“Fine, don’t do anything,” Damian growls. “I should have known you would be too pig-headed and cowardly to approach Father while you’re in this pointless...detente.” He turns on his heel. “You’re as useless as I’ve always thought. Good to know it’s been confirmed.”

He stalks away.

Tim sighs and stares at the ceiling. “I guess on a scale of one to stabbed-in-the-chest, that went okay?”

“You two seriously need to deal with your drama,” Steph sighs, shifting beneath her blanket. “And you should go figure out what prompted all that. He really is worried. And hurt, now that you shot him down.”

“His entire existence has been dedicated to shooting me down,” Tim points out. “Literally sometimes.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Not his entire existence.”

“You know what I mean.”

“He’s a kid, Tim. One with a shitty childhood, a massive inferiority complex and who’s about to enter the super-fun world of puberty. And he came to you. Not me, or Dick—”

“Dick’s in New York.”

“Dick’s a phone call away and if Damian really wanted to go get him, he’d have stolen a car and gone to him. But he came to you. Probably because he knows as well as any of us that you’re the most Bruce-like and can talk to Mr. McBroody when he’s at his most pod-person level of weird.”

“Funny, I didn’t hear any of that beyond the constant insults.”

“He’s just jealous.”

“And that gives him a free pass?”

But his question sounds whiny even to him, and he sighs as Steph crosses her arms at him.

“When did you start becoming so wise and all-knowing?” Tim grumbles.

“Search me. I guess I just woke up one day and bam! All the secrets of the universe were just waiting for me to share them with the unwashed masses. Like you. You reek, by the way.”

“Right, because you smell like a rose.”

“Thanks!” Steph chirps unrepentantly.

“I think you are getting a cold,” Tim grumbles and starts out of the med bay. “The snot’s clearly going to your head and cutting off brain flow along with your sense of smell. I should go see if Alfred’s got anything to fix that.”

“Hot chocolate please!” she calls after him. “And don’t skimp on the mini marshmallows!”

“You know the way to the kitchen.”

But he’s already climbing the stairs and heading for the main computer dock. Tim was responsible for a different sector of the city, but it took longer than normal to get the all-clear. Maybe Bruce is distracted—if so, it would have to be something pretty serious.

Maybe Selina’s back in town…

“My god…!” he hears Alfred say as Tim reaches the top of the stone staircase. 

Bruce is seated, Alfred behind him and holding on to the back of the chair so tight the knuckles on his hands have turned white.

“Are you…are you quite sure, Master Bruce?” he asks, the question faint.

“I’m sure,” Bruce replies. “I was sure at the cemetery.” Tim’s ears perk up at that. “And these results…they just confirm it. He’s alive. Somehow…somehow, Jason’s alive.”

Tim freezes in mid-step.

Well…so much for me having to tell them…

He’s relieved.

He thinks.

The situation with Jason has been on his mind the whole week, and he’s never had a harder time keeping a secret than he did trying to stick to his promise to Jason. It’s been a constant struggle between his loyalty to Bruce—remembering how shattered he was in the weeks and months following Jason’s death—and his respect for Jason, a potential ally, friend and maybe one day family.

(He’s been doing his best to shut down the ‘inappropriate childhood crush’ angle during his mental justifications.)

Usually, Tim is good at separating his emotions from making hard decisions, but this time it’s…well. He blames it on still being in a state of shock that Jason is alive and that he has been alive all this time.

And he didn’t come back for some reason, and even now doesn’t want to have anything to do with the Family.

So why come back to Gotham at all, then?

“…looked him in the eyes,” Bruce is saying, in the same tone he uses to profile criminals. That’s troubling. “He’s as determined as ever. I’m not sure if there’s a broader reason for his return—for his…his avoidance. But I have a good idea. It will need confirmation; someone will have to keep an eye on him—”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupts, tone breathless and almost indignant. “This is not some criminal mastermind or domestic terrorist. This is your—”

“I’m aware,” Bruce interrupts. “But there’s too much unaccounted for. He had a lot to say and still didn’t give anything away.” He rubs at his chin in thought. “He knew things, Alfred. Information on events he wasn’t present for—that were not shared in the media.”

Tim goes still, suddenly beset with a sense of foreboding.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Bruce goes on in manic calculation. “Someone knew he was alive. He said…'replacement’.”

Well, frack.

Tim begins to take a step back and nearly knocks into Damian, who’s crept up behind him with his usual maddening silence.

“Watch it, Drake!”

Damian’s voice echoes and Tim winces, head whipping around to glare at the boy.

Double frack.

There are moments—few and far between the actual assassination attempts and sabotage—where Damian displays all the bad timing that only younger siblings seem to possess. This is definitely one of those moments.

When he looks back, Bruce is already on his feet and stalking over, cape whipping behind him and expression like a thundercloud.

Damian, for his part, doesn’t seem to realize what he just did as he watches his father in surprise. This is echoed by Steph, who has followed him over, no longer wrapped in the blanket but wearing one of the generic sweatshirts that they keep stored in the recovery area.

Conveniently, they’re both blocking Tim’s nearest means of escape.

And now Bruce is towering over the three of them, eyes flicking briefly across each face, before zeroing in on Tim, who tenses.

“You,” he determines. “You knew.”

Annoyance pricks at Tim. There are two other people beside him, why does Bruce automatically think it’s him.

“Knew what?” Damian demands.

“Not now, Damian.”

“If Drake has committed some monumental blunder, I should—”

“Oh my god,” Steph gasps, her eyes roving past everyone to stare at the computer screen. The DNA comparison is still bright and clear, and in the background the picture of a young Jason Todd is unmistakable. “Is that…?”

“Jason Todd,” Damian reads stiffly, clearly recognizing the name. He scans the relevant information, including the date of the most recent DNA sample. “Todd is alive?”

“So it would seem,” Alfred confirms faintly.

“You’ve been feeding him information,” Bruce accuses Tim, and it’s almost a hiss. “You’re the replacement he mentioned.”

“Technically he had three,” Tim points out if only to try to stall.

“Aside from the fact you’re the only one here who doesn’t look surprised, he referred to a male.” Something passes over his expression, almost a grimace as if he’d rather not think of something, before he continues. “And if it were Damian, he would have informed me immediately.” He takes a step forward, the stony and emotionless countenance of Batman firmly in place. Tim half expects those thick gauntleted arms to grab him and hoist him in the air like so many an unlucky criminal. “You knew Jason was alive. And you didn’t say anything.”

“No,” Tim says, at last, deciding he might as well own it. “I didn’t.”

“Why?”

The sound is primal and broken, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Tim is aware of the gazes upon him—Bruce’s anger, Alfred’s hurt, Steph’s confusion and Damian looking torn between satisfaction at Tim’s discomfort and agitation at his father’s obvious agitation.

“There were a few factors,” Tim admits. “First of all—”

“Factors?” Bruce barks. “This isn’t an experiment, Tim! This is my—this is Jason—!”

“And he asked me not to say anything!” Tim shoots back. “I figured after everything he’s been through, the least he deserved is someone listening to him.”

Trapped in an asylum and forgotten about? He deserves more than that…

“You never met him! There’s no way you could have been sure it was him, and even so—”

“I didn’t know him?!” Tim challenges. “There are a couple hundred pictures I took that say different! Or have you forgotten how I even got involved in all this?” He sweeps his hand around the cave. “I saw him enough at events when my parents were alive to recognize him, and even if I hadn’t, how many times did you make me go over his file when I started? Foster care records and psychological profile and autopsy reports! Since you needed me to be extra aware of what could happen to me if I screwed up as a Robin? And you might never talk about him around me, but Dick always did. Alfred too, sometimes.”

“That still doesn’t excuse your lack of discretion! You were foolish to interact with him—to make that decision without consulting with me, not least of all compromising the mission by sharing information that could expose everyone—”

“What exactly would I be compromising?” Tim shoots back. “Anyone who could impersonate Jason that well, who could talk about the things we did would already know where all the skeletons are buried. I doubt there’s much I could say that he didn’t already know, and you…you didn’t see him, okay?”

Tim’s defensiveness falters a little here, remembering how tense Jason had been throughout their whole encounter. He was thrown-off, uncomfortable, angry…and he was also trying his best not to let on how curious he was about how the family was doing.

But Bruce only bristles. “You still should have told me the minute you suspected—”

“Told you what?! ‘Hey, so, guess what, I ran into Jason last night. Yeah, that Jason, your son that got killed by the J—”

The name gets stuck in his throat, like his esophagus is closing, causing a crack he knows no one misses. Bruce winces and Steph’s confusion becomes worried. He needs to take an extra breath before he can force himself to keep talking.

“Killed by an explosion’,” he finishes. “We both know you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you he was alive and in Gotham.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Bruce. We both know exactly how it would have played out. I’d tell you what happened, you would tell me how impossible it is. You’d say stuff like you’d know if anyone had disturbed his gravesite, or that I’m stressed out or paranoid or under the influence of Ivy or Crane. Or you’d accuse me of making an inappropriate joke, and then we wouldn’t be talking again for a while.”

For a moment, Bruce looks hurt and a little guilty—probably because he knows it’s true.

“You would never lie about something like that,” he says at last. “If you believed Jason had returned, I would have trusted you enough to look into it.”

“And how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you and I have exactly been all about great communication and understand since Captain Boomerang and Mr. Freeze.”

“I’ve been…giving you time.”

“Funny how giving me time looks a lot like avoiding me.”

“Master Timothy, that is quite enough,” Alfred interrupts at last.

All of his defensiveness toward Bruce vanishes in the guilt he feels for contributing to that look on Alfred’s face.

“I didn’t stay quiet to hurt anyone,” he tries to assure the old man. “And I was going to tell you all. But Jason asked for a week. For breathing room, I guess. I was going to tell you today—yesterday, really, if Freeze hadn’t shown up.”

“So you say,” Damian needles.

Tim ignores him. “I’d say it’s a coincidence that you found out tonight some other way, but considering what Jason’s into these days, maybe not.”

Bruce blinks in realization. “You know he’s a medium.”

“Yes, I know he’s a—wait.” Tim stops abruptly. “He’s what?” He knew Jason was working with the occult, sure, but this? “That part I missed.”

“He sees dead people?” Steph asks. “That kind of medium? Because I loved that show.”

Suddenly the reasons for Jason being sent to Arkham make so much more sense. Waking from his coma and suddenly be surrounded by ghosts? If he spoke to or acknowledged them, no wonder the staff thought he was hearing voices.

“Wait, how did you find out?” Tim asks, frowning. “You were talking about a cemetery before—that’s not exactly your jurisdiction.”

“Gordon put me on a case involving grave desecrations,” Bruce grunts. “That’s where I ran into Jason.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Bruce is silent.

Tim groans. “Please tell me you didn’t attack him.”

More silence and Tim massages the bridge of his nose tiredly.

As if he wasn’t gun-shy about reconnecting with the Family before, now he’s probably going to leave for another five years…

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Steph says to Damian in a conversational tone.

“In case you’re forgetting, Brown, I’ve been dead and resurrected, so it’s not exactly a novelty.”

“Master Damian,” Alfred reprimands quietly.

No one likes to talk about that year.

“I just meant you’re not great at sharing, and now you’ve got another brother showing up—”

“Tt. We are not brothers. Any relation on paper ceased when he died.”

“Damian.” Bruce’s voice is sharp as a whip, and his eyes flash in warning. “I don’t ever want to hear that again.”

It’s not the most chastising he’s ever been, but Damian’s jaw snaps shut, and he swallows heavily.

Tim shouldn’t be bothered by the interchange, but he’s still hit by a pang of hurt and irritation. A dark, twisting little voice whispers at him, letting a longtime anxiety flicker back to the surface.

Of course, Bruce steps in and calls out Damian’s behavior when it’s Jason. Is it because Jason was his son longer? Or because Bruce chose Jason? Like he chose Dick and Cassandra. He’s even started choosing Duke now.

He never chose Tim. Not really. Tim just showed up and inserted himself into things.

Damian just showed up too, but he’s got that whole blood connection that he’s so proud of. Tim’s not��

Tim is like Steph. An outsider.

Maybe it’s why they connected to well back then—because they were the two that Bruce tried to stop from joining the life. Grudging allies, never quite family.

“I’m going to go,” Tim murmurs, turning and heading for his bike. “Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of a family meeting.”

“Tim—”

“You should probably call Dick,” he goes on. “He should find out about Jason from you this time.”

“Tim, stop—”

“I have therapy in three hours,” Tim cuts him off, “so I need at least some sleep.”

There’s no response then, not that Tim expected anything. His therapy sessions are sacrosanct; even Batman won’t interrupt Tim’s continued attendance. Tim’s always hated that, feeling as if he’s being overprotected, but right now, all he feels is a sense of relief.

To Be Continued 

________________________________________________________________

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

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Reblogging is also majorly appreciated!

[feathersxdreams]

Drastic events call for drastic measures [m.yg] au

Genre: Angst & Fluff Pairing: Yoongi x Reader 

Inspired by a rap line as a SWAT team fanart I saw on Pintrest two weeks ago, but sadly I can’t read the signature. You can google ‘BTS rap line SWAT team’ and you’ll find it, however when you click the link it says ‘No posts found’ -.- 

“You did what?” To say Min Yoongi was angry was an understatement. Completely furious seemed a bit more fitting. Someone messed up and if it wasn’t for Jungkook holding him back by his upper arms he would have attacked the agent in front of him as soon as he told him what made him this angry. Damn the younger for being strong (and brave) enough to hold him back right now. “He said that he would only talk to her.” The agent tried defending himself. This statement only made him more furious. How stupid could an individual be? Or multiple since it was probably decided by a group of people. 

“Did you even bother to check his background?” He glared at the man in front of him. And he kind of hoped a little that the idiot in front of him would start crying because of his angry stare. He looked a little like he was about to.  “How were we supposed to know that he is her father?” The agent asked. An angry growl left Yoongis mouth, while he was still trying to fight Jungkook so he could beat the man in front of them up. The idiot should really thank the younger one later for saving his life. “It’s one of the first things stated in his damn file!” Right when Yoongi said, more like snarled, this Namjoon and Seokjin entered the office. Their team leader looked slightly confused by the current situation but he probably knew what was going on.  “They got a signal from the GPS Tracker they gave her.” He started. “He brought her to abandoned apartment building two miles out of the city.” So, they knew where she cold be right now. If she didn’t lose the tracker in that building. Which meant Yoongi would probably not try and beat the crap out of the idiot who had send her into this. But only if she would get out safe.  “Why is he so angry about all of this?” The agent now looked Yoongi straight into the eye.  “She’s his girlfriend.” Seokjin answered. “And pregnant with his baby. So, trust me, if even the slightest thing happens to her or that baby, none of us will held him back.” The agent looked pretty shocked right now. Under different circumstances he would have laughed at this expression but he was to worried and to angry to do so right now.  “You, get out of this office!” Namjoon looked at the agent. “You’re no longer part of this team. Everyone else get ready to leave. Complete gear. We’re going to storm that building to get her out of there.” It was a good thing that Namjoon said that. Otherwise Yoongi would have gone alone. Even though the idea was crazy, he still would have done it.  “Yoongi?” He was about to leave the office to change and get the rest of his stuff when the leader called him back. “Has she ever told you something about her father?”  “Not much.” He answered truthfully. “She told me he was in prison but never wanted to talk about it really.” He had suspected that it wasn’t something small, like possessing drugs. From what she told him that man had been in jail most of her life. Also, she refused to visit him. He figured that he had done something to her or her mother and just accepted the fact that she wasn’t ready to tell. She would do so, once she felt ready.  “According to the file her mother filled for divorce when [y.n] was four. Her father went kind of crazy when he heard that his daughter would be taken away from him. He bought a gun and robbed a bank together with one of his friends. Both of them killed six people in the process. After that he drove back to his old neighborhood and ‘stole’ [y.n] from a playground. What followed was a 96-hour hunt by the police. When they found them, he threatened to kill both his child and himself if they wouldn’t let him leave the country with her.” Yoongi got even more angry than before, when he heard that. What kind of father was that man to do something like this to a four-year-old child. His own child. And what was that man doing to her and his child right now? Would he be a good father once the baby was born? Suddenly he got a little scared thinking about all the things he could do wrong. Also, his job wasn’t exactly the safest. He could get killed any day and then the little one would have to grow up without a father.   “Hey.” Namjoons voice brought him back to reality. “We’re going to get her back. Nothing will happen to her or your baby.” Yoongi nodded. Even though he didn’t fully believe it yet. He wanted to. And hearing something like this from someone else made him feel a little better. He would send that man back to jail. Where he belonged. How did they let him escape from the safest part of that damn building? That part really confused him.  “Thanks, Namjoon.” He tried to smile before leaving the room.  He changed into his gear like a robot. Since ha started working here he had done it so often it became a routine. He could probably do it while being asleep. While tying his boots up he tried to listen to Hoseok and Taehyung joking around but he couldn’t really concentrate on them. His thoughts kept coming back to you and the little live she carried.  He picked up his helmet and his gun and followed Jimin out of the room and into the garage. He felt Seokjin patting his back while he got into the back of their car. Around them there were other teams getting into their cars. The last ones to take a seat in theirs where Namjoon and Jungkook.  “Do you need help slicing that agents car tire later?” The younger looked at him. “I’ll help you take him done if anything happens to her.” Yoongi couldn’t help but smile a little at that. It was nice to no that his friends had his back. And that someone would help him getting his revenge.  “Why are you so angry?” Yoongi asked.  “That was originally my case.” Jungkook let his head hang low. “The agent who let her go in there replaced me for today because we found something that could led to that gang leader they we were trying to find for the past months. If I wouldn’t have been called in there she wouldn’t be where she is right now. Was she even allowed to work on a case like this? She wanted to step down as soon as we found out that the man we who escaped prison was her father but I asked her not to, because those other profilers are scary and always analyze the people they work with too. It’s my fault too. I’m sorry Yoongi.” He felt bad for the young man next to him. He must have felt horrible since he heard about her disappearing. He didn’t blame Jungkook for this. He had just followed orders. And he couldn’t now that her father decided to call today. And if he would have been there today he would have never given in to his requests.  “It’s not your fault.” He patted Jungkooks knee. “You couldn’t know.” No one really could.  “I still feel like I’m a shitty best friend. And a shitty uncle too. And the little worm isn’t even born yet. If anything happens to her.”  “We all are worried.” Jimin, who sat across from them, interfered. “But we all know, that [y.n] is a fighter. I’m sure she’s scared right now, but she will also do her best and she knows that we’re going to find her and safe her.” His voice was calm. Even in the dark and cold transporter he still managed to bring something similar to light and warmth with him. Sometimes Yoongi wondered how Jimin got into this career. His whole personality was calm and gentle and everything about their job was the exact opposite. But still, he did an amazing job and that was the only important thing.  “Do we know if she’s really in there yet? And if yes, which floor she’s at?” Yoongi wanted to change topic. And also find out where she was and whether or not she still carried that tracker with her. Whether or not they could still find her without having to search the whole city. If not the whole country.  “They are still in there.” Namjoon responded. “Currently on the second floor. We have people all around that building. No contact yet, but she is alive. We have to be quick though. No one knows what he could be able to do.” It meant that they could be going in there as soon as they arrived. And Yoongi was okay with that. The sooner she was back by his side and her father back in jail the better.  “There are two staircases going up, plus a lift. Suggestion is that we take the stairs in two groups, while sending the lift up, filled with smoke bombs as a distraction. So far, her father hasn’t tried anything to prevent someone from entering the building and only shoot when he actually saw someone. It should be easy to take him done. Still we need to be aware. He threatened to shoot his daughter the last time he kidnaped her he might do that again. And he could try to pull through this time. Our main priority is getting [y.n] out their unharmed. So, it’s important to take this man down as fast as possible.” Namjoon explained. Every team member nodded. This wasn’t the first time they were doing something like this. Actually, all of them had faced harder challenges before. But this was the first time they had an actual relationship to the victim.  “Yoongi, I know you will do anything to get your girlfriend out of this but I beg of you to not do anything stupid and risky to get to her.” It was weird to hear his leader say something like this. Him asking him to not do something dumb. He had a reason though. A good one. He could have put it as an order though. It probably was.  “I promise.” He really did. He knew that any stupid move would put a lot more people in danger than just himself. Any move out of order would risk harming a team member or her life too.  “Good.” Namjoons expression was grim. His tone hard. It made Yoongi get a bit nervous. They did not know what weapons the man had. It could go terribly wrong. He knew he was supposed to not think about this but how could he not? How do you push thoughts like this aside while knowing that your family was in danger?  “We’re going to be there in a few minutes.” Hoseok announced. Now he got even more nervous. What if he would mess up?  “And you stop thinking about worse case scenarios.” Apparently Hoseok could read minds. Or his expression said it all. His friends tone had been harsh but he knew he didn’t mean it like that. Maybe he just needed that comment to get himself together again. At least enough to go in there without thought like these.  “Helmets on everyone.” Namjoon was now in complete leader mode. Immediately everyone followed the order. “Where taking the left staircase. Once we reached the second floor we’re going to give the signal so they send the lift up. Anyone who gets a clear view at him aims at the arm he’s holding the gun in and shots. If you got the option shoot his leg too.” It was absolutely reasonable. Still Yoongi was pretty angry that someone tried to take his girl away from him. But he knew that he only had permission to shot that man if there was no other way. Which meant the he would have to pin a photo of him to a punching bag or something like this. It would help take his anger out.  “We’re there.” The double doors at the end of the transporter opened. Seokjin and Namjoon where the first ones who left. Followed by Yoongi and Hoseok. The whole area around the building was cordoned. Which honestly didn’t matter because it was abandoned anyway. They were lead straight into the building waiting for the others at the end of the staircase before going up. Yoongi pulled the black face mask up to his nose and the glasses over his eyes before following Taehyung who had managed to get between him and Hoseok. Again, he went into a slight robotic mode only that he was more cautious then earlier when he put on his gear. They had done it a lot of times. And still he had never been this nervous before. He was slightly shivering now, something else that had never happened before. Not even the first time he did this. They weren’t even completely on the second floor when the lift arrived up there. Yoongi saw smoke slowly filling the giant room and a confused man in his sixties pointing his gun towards the lift. But that wasn’t was he was looking for. Finally, he found her. She was leaning against a pillar in the middle of the room, sitting on the grey dusty floor. Her arms where around her stomach. A gesture that was meant to protect both the baby and herself. He couldn’t really see it but he had the feeling that she was crying. It hurt and angered him. Namjoon still hadn’t given the signal to enter the room, that’s why he let one of his hands wander into the pockets of his pants, trying to find out if the object he had put there earlier was still in there. It was. He wanted to propose to her later this week. It was something that he had planned before he knew that she was pregnant. However, when putting his gear on he had decided to do it as soon as he had her back safe. It was a promise he made and it would be absolutely annoying if he would have lost the small ring somewhere on the way here. Luckily, he didn’t.  “Go!” As soon as Namjoon said those words they all started moving. And as fast as they entered the room it was over. Taehyung was fast enough to shoot before her father had even realized what was happening, hitting both his right hand and his leg. The man fells with a loud scream. He saw some guys from the other staircase towering around and pointing their guns at the man while he rushed over to his girlfriend.  “[y.n].” He whispered while kneeling down in front of her and taking both the glasses and his face mask off. Her eyes widened before she threw herself forwards and into his arms. A small laugh escaped him now that the tension fell of him. She was safe and alive and most importantly he had seen no injuries on her. He would take her to the hospital later to have someone check both her and the baby but for now holding her was all he needed. He didn’t even care that her just dropped his gun. It didn’t matter now.  “You came.” Her voice was rasp and quiet. She must had screamed or cried a lot earlier. “I knew you would.” It was amazing hearing those words. Because it meant she believed in him and didn’t lose hope.  “Of course, I did. I would never leave you.” He pulled her a little closer while at the same time pulling the ring out of his pocket. He slowly pulled away a bit so her left shoulder was leaning against his front before raising the ring so she could see it. “Will you marry me?” He asked directly. No talking around it or something like this. He heard a gasp coming from one of the guys.  “Of course, I will.” Another gasp was heard, followed by loud cheering by the six guys he called his best friends while he gently put the ring on her finger before kissing her with a giant grin on his lips. She said yes. He could finally call her his fiancée and soon his wife. And his baby’s mother. And he would make sure that no one would ever take her away from him again. Another promise he made, while pressing soft kisses to her beautiful face.   

Masterlist                    

[coachjukeboxx]

I’m a pregnant roller derby athlete
 Part Two: the “Secret” struggle

Part two of my pregnancy blog is going to cover another tricky topic with pregnancy- disclosure.  This is a difficult time for any pregnant person, but I think it’s especially difficult in a contact sport setting. Keeping secrets like this is tough, but being in a context where you are so easily “outed” by lack of contact while still being present makes this an especially difficult time for a pregnant skater.

I’ll give you a little background in case you don’t know much about the first trimester. Basically the risk of miscarriage for the first 12 weeks while the placenta forms is pretty high. Every week it get’s less likely, but it could still very well happen even at 10 weeks onwards. That’s why the general advice is to not tell the world about your pregnancy until 3 months into it, in case you end up miscarrying. More often than not, miscarriage is due to the fetus not forming correctly, and there’s not anything you could have done to change it. This situation of uncontrollable miscarriage lends itself to me feeling the most powerless I’ve ever felt.  Besides that, I’m terrible at keeping secrets and lying, so this was a stressful time for me. The way I went about it was basically letting people know on these parameters.

I was ok with them knowing about me potentially grieving about a miscarriage

That I would be in a position to have to regularly lie to (i.e. my teammates and leadership).

I told the 2016 team immediately. I needed support and it was important for them to know why I’d be bowing out of Anarchy. At this point the new 2017 team had not yet been selected. I was still playing and so I decided since I didn’t know the newer skaters yet, to hold off on telling them my news.  During this time, for the most part, life went on as usual for a few weeks. At around the time when I was 8+ weeks along, we had an upcoming goals meeting on the calendar. I was getting to the point I had decided to stop skating. I thought that since Balls was unavailable for Champs (my due date is Oct 31) this meeting might  be a good time to let the rest of the team know, with the caveat of *THIS IS NOT TO LEAVE THIS ROOM.  I hemmed and hawed about it for a while. We hadn’t even told our own parents yet. I did not feel confident about #1 of my parameters with such new people, but I felt like it would inform the goals discussion for the team. I made my choice with the team in mind even though I felt nerves about it.

This choice to share despite nerves about it, resulted in a number of situations that peeked suspicions/ leaked information outside of my “circle of trust”.  

I want to say, I know that the people that ended up being nosy or sharing info didn’t have harmful intentions. They are my friends, and I have talked to them frankly about this, and amends have been made.  But this is a topic we HAVE to talk about. This is not a cavalier thing, and it’s very often treated as such. The baby that was forming inside my body and fears I was having in my heart made me feel more vulnerable than I have ever felt in my life. I was not ready for just any person to know about it if it didn’t go as planned. It is an EXTREMELY SENSITIVE time, not to mention the hormones… oh the hormones.

I want to share this experience so that we can learn how to support your potentially pregnant leaguemates, instead of making them feel like I did. In about the course of 1-2 weeks of telling the new team, a series of events happened that made me more hurt and than I can remember in a long time.

At the meeting I definitely said the info was not to leave that room very explicitly, but I was really nervous and emotional telling the new members of the team. I fumbled through all the things I was planning on saying and got it out there.  Within a week of that meeting, two separate of my teammate’s significant others congratulated Balls when they saw him in person. I did NOT TELL THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS. And honestly, I knew some leaking was bound to happen, that was not the worst part about it. Under NO circumstance should they have disclosed to Balls that they knew. I was 9 weeks pregnant. One of my good friends had recently miscarried at 10 weeks.  The fact that I knew that they knew, tore me apart. I had the knowledge that these SOs, that I was not at all close with, would potentially know if I had a miscarriage. I felt so betrayed. I did what I thought was best for the team, and it backfired. I cried.

A concurrent situation was also in the works.  Leadership was now able to send out some call outs to try and find additional bench staff. Some call outs were sent to past players and potential candidates the team knew well. At this point, they were hoping to get someone to gain some experience and help out at Anarchy, in addition to needing someone to fill in for Balls at champs. They made up some “Family commitment” he couldn’t get out of as the reason. This raised suspicion for some candidates- what could possibly Ball’s be missing Champs for?

And the rumor mill started. I had teammates let me know that one of the candidates had been asking around and grilling the current team about if I was pregnant.  Not just once, not just twice, but multiple different people, on different occasions with series of questions. Now this person is a friend of mine, but again, I was still just not ready to disclose unless it was necessary. It is so unfair to force people to lie or tell you what is going on in their uterus. This cavalier line of questioning in order to satisfy nosiness needs to end. I  am not uncomfortable with vulnerability, but this felt so different. The lightheartedness with which my biggest fears were being treated made me so upset. My worries were reduced to juicy gossip. I cried some more. 

Balls ended up disclosing to that person for a number of reasons: explaining the bench situation, they were our friend, but also make the rumor mill stop. Now that they knew, they were obviously sworn to secrecy themselves and would never tell someone else. I did trust that they wouldn’t tell, but it sucked so badly they felt an urge to be in that circle that they forced our hand. I felt relief that hopefully I could fly under the radar for a week and a half longer until I had my scan.

At this point I was still really worried about miscarriage because the closer you get to that scan, the more real it all seems. Before that point some days you feel so emotional and pregnant, other days you wonder if this is really happening. Literally when you first find you’re pregnant, they don’t do extra tests at the doctor. It’s just like, “oh the stick is right! Here you go take your vitamins. See you in 2 months”  My scan was set for the Thursday before Anarchy and it was only 1 week away.

Another LRG league mate had noticed I was attending training, but not skating. They were in the know about the call outs for bench, and so they decided that I must be pregnant. They asked around to a couple of my teammates / friends but no one confirmed my news for them. A few days before my scan, they sent me a message online with only the words “how many weeks”.

At this point, I’d had it. I was no longer sad about it. I was irate, the gall to tell someone that they were pregnant and confront them about it. My choices were to lie, to disclose or ignore it. I decided to lie  and say I had an injury, but to also angrily tell her how inappropriate it is to put anyone in that position. It is NOT an innocent request, even if the intentions aren’t nefarious. A few days later I had my scan and I told her I was in fact pregnant and didn’t have a shoulder injury. Gah, SO awkward.

Once I had my scan, everything checked out, and I felt so much relief and joy! This thing in me was real. It was there and I had a photo of it. It was so weird and great to hear the sonographer say “there’s one baby in there”. And then all the tests to come back in the clear. The scan was a huge turning point for me, both in connection to my pregnancy and being out of that terrible anxiety-ridden time of forced disclosure.  

I didn’t write about this experience to call out my friends. Seriously all is forgiven and moved on from. It’s one of the harder things I’ve been through, and I think it was so hard because I was hurt by choices of people that ARE my friends. I don’t think they meant to hurt me, but I was in fact, very very hurt. I write about this experience because now that I have been through it, I will certainly treat it differently when I’m on the non pregnant side. So without further ado, I leave you with some advice on how to navigate and support your friends and teammates.

My advice to you:

If you hear the news with everyone else

Don’t tell them, “I totally knew it!” - this also feels shitty... it feels gossipy and that I did a bad job of hiding it. Either way, it didn’t feel good like “congrats!”

If you know someone is pregnant but has not yet told the world

Don’t share news that is not yours to share. Telling people is one of the most fun parts and it sucks not to get to do it first hand.

If you do share the news inappropriately, make sure they don’t find out about it. It matters!

If you think someone might be pregnant

Keep it to yourself.

Don’t ask others and start a rumor / widen the circle of suspicion.

Don’t ever force someone to disclose or lie by asking them directly. Basically don’t put baby in a corner. 

Thanks for hearing me out. These two blogs were the first big sort of hard issues I went through and it took me some time to get my thoughts written down. I’m hoping to write more regularly and in shorter segments about some other topics, (hopefully more as they happen instead of in such hindsight!). Next up is Part three: a new team role.

[captainwhogotthecanary]

For I Think I Still Love You (Do You Mind) (4/?)

I scrapped pieces of this chapter because I couldn’t get the right tone, and I rewrote bits of it way more often than usual. I think I struck the right note, finally, a little lighter than it has been but not light and fluffy.

This chapter is Leonard’s POV. I hope you enjoy!

Read or catch up on Tumblr or AO3.

It's not like his world revolved around her before he died. She was a big part of it, yes, but not the biggest. It wasn't that she didn't have the potential to be; they just weren't there yet. They didn't have time to get there.

Since he's been back, he's not sure that statement still rings true. It's possible it's the monotony of his days, trapped inside, alone, with a shitty TV as his only entertainment, but Sara is the brightest point in his life right now, no competition. Even though she’s only been a couple times, he swears the dingy little house is literally brighter when she's there, and he himself is more awake, more present.

And it's terrifying.

She's his tether, and that's not something he ever quite thought possible. He never thought he'd let himself become so attached to one person, that he'd give just one person such ability to hurt him. Losing Mick, his partner, had been bad enough.

Sara has the potential to destroy him.

His fingers flex against her waist. Her breathing remains slow and deep. There's space between their bodies, but her head rests on his arm, and he's pretty sure this still counts as cuddling.

Another thing he'd never have guessed he'd initiate.

When it came down to it, though, he had an overwhelming desire to help her any way he could, to protect her even though she didn't need it, and getting into bed with her, holding her as much as he could let himself…

It didn't make him feel any more vulnerable than he already was.

Now that she's asleep, though, and he's lying here, one arm going numb and the other fighting warring urges to push her away or pull her close, he's pretty sure it was a bad idea. Maybe she was right, after all, about the “stupid hero” thing.

His not-so-final last minutes flash through his mind, from her look of desperation to the press of her lips against his to his rebellious declaration in front of the Time Masters. He meant it, those last words, and he's amused and frustrated by the irony as it applies to his current existence.

He's tied up by so many strings that they're proving nearly impossible to untangle, from what he can and can't do to how much he can affect the timeline to how much his future feels tied to Sara’s. The latter, at least, is something he wanted before he died.

Leonard sighs, and his breath stirs her hair. He's taken with the sudden, almost overpowering urge to run his fingers through it, but he resists. She's shown him so much trust today, letting him fix her up when clearly she'd refused help from anyone else, agreeing to share a bed, letting him hold her as he is now, but she's shown no desire to participate in a more physical relationship. Not since that goodbye kiss.

He wants to bring that up, wants to see whether she's interested in that sort of relationship, but he doesn't need it, and he's never seen Sara quite like she's been the past couple days. She’s clearly been struggling, and he's determined not to do anything to make that harder on her.

Besides, she's already given him more than he feels he can ask for, more than he deserves.

***

Leonard isn’t really surprised when he wakes alone, the bed still warm. He sighs and rolls to his back before gathering the motivation to get out of bed.

It’s not like he has any pressing engagements he needs to attend to. He doesn’t exist, can’t exist.

Does exist.

He doesn't even have to make the bed since they never got under the covers. Some of Sara’s words from the day before ring through his mind: I hit and hacked and damaged and I enjoyed it. She’s not in a good place, and he can’t be with her, can’t even call to check on her, because of this ridiculous gray area he’s living in.

He has to trust that she’s got it, that Mick will keep an eye on her, just in case. Leonard knows she doesn’t need him, not any more than he needs her. That doesn’t mean they can’t make things easier for each other.

He finally gets up and takes a shower, letting the water run over him until it turns cold. Until now, he’s barely noticed the towels that came with the empty house, adjusting quickly enough to their roughness. They’re functional, and he was able to clean them, and that’s all that should matter. Today, though, the abrasive, patchy texture doesn’t sit well with him.

Just how much is he chancing if he picks up a couple of towels from a store across town? He’d have to get there, but he could use the excuse for some more recon anyway after his and Sara’s discussion the night before. He doesn’t have any money, so he’d need to find a way around that, but since when has that stopped him?

If he’s caught stealing, though, he isn’t just risking jail time. Too many people on or connected to the CCPD know him or know of him. It doesn’t seem worth the risk just to lift a couple pieces of cloth.

He’ll need to wait, to either deal with it or force himself to ask Mick for some better towels. Dressed, he snags an apple and bites into it with a grimace. He’ll need to ask Mick for more food, too, since he’s almost out.

He’s been casing a little grocery store about a mile and a half away. He’s nearly certain the security system only displays images in real time, doesn’t record or stream the video. As long as he gets some cash, he’ll at least be able to do his own shopping if that pans out.

Leonard can pick a couple pockets for cash the next time he’s looking for differences in Central City. As long as he avoids the traffic cameras and the better security systems, he should be safe, should remain undetected by the Flash and his crew. He can’t go today, though, not without upsetting his own system; he doesn’t go out more than one day in a row, and he can’t just do every other day.

It’s too predictable.

Without a pressing reason to break his own rules, he can’t go out again until tomorrow. He’s already showered and doesn’t have anything in the house to clean. He’s finished everything for his day, and he’s not even been awake for an hour.

Shit.

Nothing on his few channels worth of television is worth watching, not at this time of day. The few books he’s managed to gather, stashed safely under his bed, he’s read multiple times already.

Leonard paces.

He looks out an uncovered window corner.

He paces some more.

He reads back over his and Sara’s lists, adding another street name to his.

He sprawls out as best he can in the chair in front of the TV.

He gets up and paces.

He takes a nap.

He eats.

He sketches out blueprints of the grocery store, marking the last places he needs to find a way to check.

He paces some more.

When it gets dark outside, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He tries the TV again, wiping the floor with the contestants in Jeopardy, guessing about half the puzzles before the contestants in Wheel of Fortune.

He turns the TV off again and falls face first onto his bed. He lets his mind wander in the dark. All these limitations, the forced monotony, are to save the timeline. The timeline that would still be screwed if he hadn’t saved it.

Serves him right for trying to be a hero.

***

He wakes to the sound of the front door lock being picked. It’s quiet, but in the tiny house and with his experience, the sound is unmistakable for anything else. Leonard reaches under the mattress for a handgun, creeping out of bed and padding toward the front door. He reaches the living room as the door opens, and he readies the gun audibly.

“Honey, I’m home,” comes Mick’s gruff voice, and Leonard sighs as he lowers the gun. Sara comes in the door first, seemingly the one who picked the lock, and Mick’s right behind him.

“Sorry, dinner isn’t on the table,” Leonard returns, leaving the room to put the gun back in its place. “What are you doing here?” he asks his visitors a minute later. “You shouldn’t be here again so soon. It isn’t safe.”

Mick has already turned on the living room light, and the kitchen light follows. “Sara said you had a list. Wanted to see if I could add to it.”

Leonard looks at Sara, who lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, we waited until after eleven like we’re supposed to.”

“Yeah, Boss, we followed the rules. Mostly,” Mick adds. Leonard doesn’t look, keeping his attention on Sara instead.

She looks better. Her skin isn’t overly flushed, isn’t too pale, both of which he’d seen the night before. There’s no obvious blood, and most of the bandages have been removed, but she still has a thin strip of cloth around her left hand.

Catching his look, Sara sends Leonard a wry smile. “I let Gideon help. Just speed things up, not heal everything completely.” She flexes the hand absently. “She said whoever cleaned me up last night didn’t do half bad.”

“Did she, now?” Leonard knows he did fine given his resources and circumstances, but it couldn’t have been even a decent job by the ship’s standards.

“Well, she said you didn’t make it worse.” Sara’s grin is brighter for a moment, more genuine, and he feels an answering tug at his own lips. The monotony, the dreariness of the day, of the past two months, melts away. He and Sara could be standing outside the Waverider’s kitchen instead of outside this one. She’s leaning against the doorframe on one side, and he realizes he’s mirroring her posture on the other. The humor softens into something warm and enticing before he stiffens.

“Who’d you say patched you up?”

Sara shakes her head. “I didn’t. Someone noticed I was out all night, so of course the whole team knew, and everybody assumed I’d hooked up at a bar, and that my hookup had helped.” She crosses her arms. “It works as well as any other explanation, and letting them think that means I don’t have to lie, anyway.”

Her obvious reluctance to hide his presence from the team sends a lance of his own guilt through Leonard. Just knowing he’s here has made things harder on Sara. She might say she’s glad he’s here, but now she has to lie to people she needs to trust, who need to trust her.

He wishes he could regret her presence, but especially after the day he had, the frustratingly common day in which nothing at all had happened, he’s just too selfish. She’s here, and she makes things better, her and Mick both, and if he can only have company some nights, he’s damned well going to enjoy it.

Sara’s still watching him, and it’s like she can follow his thoughts. Maybe she even feels the same, that the nights are worth the rest, however brief they are. Her brow furrows before the tiniest smile crosses her lips. Leonard is immediately, inconveniently reminded of how soft those lips are, of how easily she’d gotten into bed with him the night before. Her smile dies, and something else crosses through her eyes, something more than just warmth.

“I read the lists,” says Mick, breaking into the charged silence. Leonard and Sara both jump as they turn to face him. “Added stuff where I could.”

“Thanks, Mick,” Leonard drawls, raising an eyebrow in question as Mick shifts into a smirk.

“Didn’t know the two of you kissed. Nice of you to do that while I was unconscious.”

[atomickrakatoa]

Episode 7 - “And I have no idea what a Willa is.” -Chips

Bryce

I guess Liana voted me? how odd. Colin voted Nicholas I presume but uh me and Quillynn lived which is all that matters tbh! Im happy that we get to live another round I was scared(pumpkin)

Colin, from the grave

fuck these hoes

QuilLynn

So.. I survived tribal! I'm super happy that we were able to get out Colin, as much as I love him as a person and would have wanted to work with him under different circumstances it was the only thing that made sense. Basically Bryce and I put ourselves in a position where we were the swing votes between Colin leaving and Nicholas leaving. Although there were benefits with both options, we knew that Colin would be harder to convince to also vote out Liana if we lose again, and we feel safer (for now) with Nicholas. At this point I feel great, I don't want to sound cocky, but I now just don't see either Bryce or I leaving before merge! 

Dana

Hello Dads and lovers! I don't have too much to say about the game, except the tea is that i'm ready af to merge. The fastest way to kill me is to make me go to tribal on this tribe. Chips hates me, Jay O knows about my friend group premade, and Kelsey is inact af. Zach and I want to convince Kelsey to vote with us, but umm basically i'm going to pressure him into playing some advantage. I'm going to make him king of paranoia and tbh it won't be hard. Also i'm an actual slut for letter # like i crave it. So thanks hosts!

Trixie

hi my tribe is gonna lose this challenge xx

**Malam loses immunity**

Bryce

We got 2nd in immunity thats iconic. but im afraid ppl will see me as a threat but like.... I had to score since quillynn and liana did nothing and nicholas wasnt on much.Im just happy we won and are one step closer to merging where i can try to meet back up with bryan!

Bryan

So me and trixie fought our hardest but we still weren’t able to win. EMPHASIS ON ME AND TRIXIE AND NOT OUR ACTUAL FUCKING TRIBE! THESE BITCHES DIDNT DO JACK SHIT! I was talking to trixie about it, how we are fighting the hardest when we aren’t even the ones at risk and they don’t even care. But the votes are probably going to be heading towards Willa.

Zach

WE WON IMMUNITY! WIG! I expect Trixie to use her idol that I provided her... my impact. I shouldn;t have, and I kind of regret it but I don't. It's weird. I want merge to come pleASEeee

QuilLynn

One step closer to merge! My team of icons won immunity again! Although, to be honest I didn't really try or participate, because I would rather us go to tribal again. We have the numbers on our tribe to vote out Liana and I want to do that before we get to merge and she just acts as Chips' double vote advantage. 

Trixie

My tribe loves going to tribal apparently! We’ve lost/come close to losing every single challenge that I’m praying to the furby gods for a mercy merge. 

Being a villain, naturally I have satan on my side. Although I had described zachary rae as being an angel, he’s more akin to a devil because he’s left me a gift that I don’t know what to do with yet. I feel like I have Bryan and Christian down to vote Willa. Willa, on the other hand, thinks we’re going to vote Christian and is “willing” to go to rocks, which is a big fat lie imo. I feel like he’s going to try and flip the heroes on me, and I’m hoping they won’t listen. After all, I do a lot more for my tribe than he does. 

I’m always worried something will happen, and I don’t wanna be that fool who plays the idol when unneeded, but I also don’t wanna be the bigger fool who goes out while holding one. help

Willa

I'm being voted off is this necessary 

Chips

Alright, so the challenge was the one where you get letters and then you make words from them. In general, I'm pretty decent at it... but also I never have any time online for that sort of challenge so I saw if I could sit out... and I did. http://imgur.com/dYxDGuG.gif And then I wasn't added to the chat or whatever so I was kinda in the dark about our team's score (which is odd, because I believe that in the show when they sit out they are still at the challenge) but I was hoping that we could be successful and not have tribal. Then the results were posted and our team was number one! So no tribal! And the marshmallow tribe is going to tribal... https://68.media.tumblr.com/744c19eadd3d19f73b4dfece4e0ae798/tumblr_olvj861Lu01u2ragso1_500.gif On that tribe are Bryan, Christian, Trixie, and Willa! Bryan I'd like to stay because I think he's most likely to work with me in a situation where we are reunited. Christian is here and there, but would likely stick with me as well. Trixie is basically QuilLynn so if she were to go it wouldn't be bad for me. And I have no idea what a Willa is.

Bryce

I hope Bryan plays his idol

Christian

I don't know why Willa doesn't like me, when I've never spoken to him or even played a game with him. Unless he friends with someone in the community that hates me lolol. I lowkey feel like he has an idol, and I'm gonna get idoled out. But I guess we will see. If I do go tonight, I'm not mad about it. It is what it is. But once confessionals are released, Willa feel free to tell me why you have it out for me. Ctfu 

Liana

I'm so glad we won because if we proved anything the last tribal, it's that this tribe is a mess.

Jay

I just got out of work ahhhhhhh!!!! Anyways im super happy my tribe pulled out a win because i did NOTHING in the last challenge. I've worked for the last 4 days so i was either at work or tired af during the challenge. Hopefully (!!!!) That changes and i can start pulling my weight.

**Willa is voted out, round 8 begins**

Bryan

Lol at Willa thinking we were going to rocks when in actuality he was going

Kelsey

The sitch is that once again; the foxy lady gets to stay~! I feel very grateful that I was able to stay out of tribal the last week. This streak of safety is sooooooo nice to rely on and now...we're heading into the top TWELVE of the competition! I can't say I ever saw myself making it to this stage of the game and gosh...merge can't be far away! At this point, I just want to break away from this sort of "tribe" game and I just want to get started on playing in the final traction of the competition! You know what? I DESERVE to make it to the end and, at the very least, I deserve to FIGHT for it. On this tribe, I do believe I've tightened my relationship with Dana as well as with Chips. And if I do have to vote someone off, I'm quite comfortable switching over with the villains to eliminate Jay as I trust him less than Zach. I just...I feel CONFIDENT! I feel so ready to keep going! I'm filled with excitement and I just wanna- I want to be in the heat of it again soon enough! I said this earlier, but they're going to have to rip and TEAR me away from the crown and I'm pumped to fight for it! Send home the next hooker already, I'm raring to go! And THAT'S all there is to it~! But who are you pointing at? -Kelsey V Mikaelson #TeamIBelieveInYall #TeamBEES #RIPColin #RIPWilla

Bryan

VL DR: YA BOY SLAYED THIS DAMN MAZE! "Hard AF maze" YEA RIGHT

**Malam loses immunity again**

Bryan

JKNFCDBEJLWBFCHJLBWEHJCLBHWJBC I GOT FIRST PLACE AND THEY BOTH GOT LAST!! THIS IS SOO DAMN FRUSTRATING!!! but i dont want to vote out Christian or trixie. Christian has been loyal to me. and trixie is so nice. i have my idol and i want to use it but i also dont. im afraid trixie might flip christian on me. and thats scary. 

Zach

kisses we safe xx kay now i'm expecting trixie to idol, considering i think bryan/christian are friends. whom will she vote? idk?

later...

I kind of feel really good on my tribe. I do want merge though cause I think it may get more interesting. It's kind of bitter sweet because A) It's SUPER boring tribal wise rn, but that's because of B) my ass ain't going to tribal - and i wanna keep it like that!

QuilLynn

We won immunity (well second place but w/e we’re safe!) that means we’ve probably made it to merge which I’m super excited about! We still have Liana, but her joining up with chips might make her and more importantly chips easy targets. I like them both but see 0% chance of us working together in this game at this point so they’ll definetly be the first people that i’ll be wanting to take a shot at. 

Bryan

Ok so. Christian thinks I’m voting trixie. And trixie thinks I’m voting Christian. Or there is this epic blindside coming. But I’m leaning more towards keeping trixie. I can def count on Christian to be a loyal goat but I know trixie has the skill to be able to make big moves with me.

Bryce

Um liana ditching last second was scary but we won so im happy. Malam keeps losing so its awk LOL. But im happy me and quil are safe with nicholas

Liana

Haha, Malam sucks. Enjoy tribal!

Christian

I'm pretty sure I'm gone tonight lol. There's not much to say, considering there's only three of us left on our tribe. Everything is just open I guess. 

Bryan

VL DR: Trixie is such a troll. I was wondering why she never goes on video chat. But i know now. She is one of the trolls from that shitty animated movie so called trolls. 

**Christian is voted out and round 9 begins!**