#not looking for sympathy at all I’m just explaining sometimes I get burnt out on posting art especially when I’m not happy with it

[darlingsart]

what happend to ask modern patrochilles?

Hi! 👋🏼 I’ve been a bit sidetracked with a few other things, making other art, finishing up my long fic and trying to find a balance between that and the ask blog, ask blogs are very time consuming even if they are fun, so it’s been put on the back burner (for now!). I’m hoping to return to it soon, I have a lot of asks sitting in my inbox that I have to get to. I totally apologize for not making another post to explain why I’m taking another break, this one wasn’t planned at all but thanks so much for your patience! ❤️

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[zodiyack]

Opposites Attract (1,000+ Follower Special!!)

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Female!Pierce/Petrova!Reader

Warnings: Possibly swearing?, fluff, indications of smut??, death/mentions of death, slight angst/violence, I think that’s all

Words: 1,667

Summary: The younger sister of Katherine was the true owner of Damon’s heart, Katherine only being his worry in 1864 due to the sister’s bond, the bond that fueled Katherine to force Y/n to join her when she escaped Mystic Falls and left Damon to think they were both in the tomb.

Note: I have no idea what to say honestly... I’ve been gone due to troubles with my computer yet you guys stuck around and that’s what matters to me. Though I may have a bit of a hard time with words, I hope you guys know that you all mean so much to me 💕💕

And if you’d like me to make a part two, which I’m already planning on doing- I just really liked the ending, or make this a series, feel free to let me know!

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI.

1864

Her back hit the wall, lips molded with his as their tongues clashed in a hungry passion. Her fingers played with his hair and pulled his face and body closer to hers. With his hands trapping her against the wall, she felt content.

“Turn me.”

“I can’t, Da-”

“Don’t. I understand, Katherine and all that...but promise me that one day, you’ll escape her grasp and run away with me.” She forced herself to look into Damon’s eyes, her undead heart breaking at the sorrow that drowned in his blue orbs. “Please?”

“I can’t make any promises...” she paused involuntarily, her heightened hearing catching a sudden ruckus from Stefan’s room and stealing her attention. Damon frowned, adjusting his grip on her waist to pull her back to reality. “I...I just can’t right now. However,” the smile returned to his lips, “one day, I will find you. And if you still want to...you may take me up on that promise, Salvatore.”

He was ready to answer when his door burst open and he and Y/n pulled away in a panic. His father stared down Y/n with a great furry in his body. She didn’t say a word, simply kissing Damon softly and nodding to Mr. Salvatore.

“Father- please-”

“No. She’s a monster, Damon! Her sister is a monster! They are monsters! Don’t you see that? She’ll kill you if you give her the chance. The same goes for Stefan and the other Pierce girl. If they’re even girls.” He mumbled the last bit of his sentence, too caught up in the belief that they were pure evil to consider any other possibility.

“She’s not a mons-”

“Yes. She is. Now, enough! I’m already ashamed of your siding with the demons, there is no need to make it worse, boy!” Mr. Salvatore grunted and put a muzzle-like-mask over Y/n’s head and called out to the rest of the hunters, watching as she was dragged away with a grimace upon his face.

Whilst Damon was traumatized, angry at his father and the world for their cruel decisions for his life, he attempted at keeping a neutral, unphased expression. “What will happen to her?”

“The same thing that will happen to the other monsters; she’ll burn.”

Present Day

Damon continued pacing throughout the house, ignoring Stefan’s pleas for him to stop. He thought about what Emily had told him, and what he needed to do. He had everything he needed, what was stopping him from going to the tomb? A gut feeling? Life? Was he just a big chicken?

He took a breather, telling himself to think about the reason he was in this mess. It was for a girl. The love of his life, to be specific. Y/n Pierce. The lovely lady who had come to stay with the Salvatore brothers after her and her sister’s parents had burnt with their home.

They felt pity for the girls, taking them in and, from then on, starting their odd journey through the supernatural world. Y/n was the first to reveal her secret; pulling away from a kiss with Damon due to her loss of control over her vampire features.

Though normally he’d be afraid, Damon had gripped her chin and forced her to look at him, awe and interest shining on his face. It was that night that he confessed his love for her, promising to take her away one day.

He chuckled at the memory, wiping his thumb across his lips. Damon remembered the taste of her lips like it was yesterday. The delicate softness paired with the lustful desire of their kisses was perfection. The kisses they had shared held something no one else could give him.

Despite occasionally hooking up with a girl or two, he was still on the search for his long lost lover. Deep down, he knew the sex was just for a distraction; even if he didn’t want to think of it as such, he knew that he was constantly comparing them to Y/n. Sometimes verbally, sometimes mentally, either way- the comments were always about the woman his heart belonged really to.

“Damon. Why are you really here?”

To find Y/n and stay true to my promise. “Just to be with you, little brother! Is it wrong that I want some bonding time with my little bro?”

“For you? Yes.” Stefan made it a point to avoid and ignore Damon as much as possible, especially with a girlfriend to protect from his ‘evil’ also-vampire brother. “Now, I’m going to ask you again. Why are you really here?”

Damon sighed. “You already know that Stefan.”

Now that Damon was closer than ever to opening the tomb, he was more than ready to reveal his true intentions. Stefan believed Damon was after Katherine, pleading him to leave as soon as they got out of the tomb. But in reality, Damon could care less about that vampire. He just wanted Y/n, but with the sisters being closer than anything he’d ever seen, he had no choice but to rescue Katherine as well.

If he was lucky, Katherine would allow Y/n to stray from her and stay with Damon, but he had a feeling that would never happen. Not with how possessive Katherine was. How she insisted that blood, as well as herself, went first.

1864

“We need to go back to them!” Y/n tried to run to her lover’s body. Her heart was racing. She’d come back to find that her beloved had been shot dead, his brother the same. Before Y/n could reach the man, Katherine gripped her waist and held her back, stronger than her younger sister due to being older in human and vampire years.

Y/n was the one Petrova to have escaped Klaus in his act of revenge. To be fair, it wasn’t his fault that he missed her. She was out picking berries, going about her life normally, before returning to a bloodied home with the bodies of the people she loved strewn about messily.

She remembered falling to her knees and cursing at whatever entity seemed to be there. Whether it was God or some other being, she demanded, through sobs, to know what she had done to deserve it.

Then, as if her prayer-like-yells of agony had been answered, Katerina showed up at the doorway. Her reaction was similar to Y/n’s; first, processing what she was seeing, then, feeling the fear freeze her in place, and finally, screaming and trying to shake her family awake, hoping as much as she could that it was all a dream.

Y/n walked from her hiding spot slowly, still shaking from her discovery but much more calmed with the presence of her older sister. “Who would do such a thing?”

She swore she could never forget the rage, paired with terror, in her sister’s eyes. “Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson did this.”

That very day, she turned her sister. She explained that they would live long enough to either kill Klaus and get revenge, or plea for his forgiveness and live their lives once more.

Snapping out of her memory fueled trance, Y/n broke free of her sister’s arms and dropped to the ground beside Damon. She pulled his head onto her lap and brushed his dark curls from his face. She chuckled to herself when she noticed her tears dropping onto his face.

“Goodbye, my love.” Y/n pressed a kiss to his forehead, then one on the tip of his nose. Finally, one on his lips, staying a little longer than the others as she savored the intimacy in their final goodbye. “If I only I had told you yes...”

She left her sister to say her goodbye to Stefan, wiping her tears away as she felt what was left of her heart crumble into bits.

Once, she had a family. And then she had her sister. Then she had her sister and an owner to her heart, the feeling of humanity returning to her undead body, feeling alive for the first time since her transition.

Now? She was back to having only her sister.

Damon felt the same way.

When he had woken, taking time to recover from the shock of being alive. Emily had told him how Katherine compelled Stefan to drink her blood, and he already knew that he drank Y/n’s blood willingly.

“There’s no point in living.” Damon pleaded with his brother after he tried to get him to feed, “They’re dead.”

Present Day

He ran into the tomb, desperate to find the sister of the vampire doppelganger. Damon sighed, ‘speaking of doppelgangers’, Elena had followed him, ignoring Sheila and Bonnie’s warnings.

“What’s that sound?”

“They can smell you.” He made his way through the tomb, eyes traveling from one decayed vampire to the other, cursing to himself each time they weren’t Y/n. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t give up. At some point, he’d gotten separated from Elena, but he didn’t care- never faltering in his search.

After spending more time looking for the vampire with negative results, Stefan had rushed in. He seemed anxious, desperate, ready to plead. And that he was. “Damon. We have to go.”

“She’s not here...” He felt like he was having a panic attack, which was more than likely. Damon threw the blood bag he had brought for her against the wall, “She’s- she’s not here, Stefan!”

“Who? Katherine? Look, I’m sorry that she’s not here, but we need to go!”

“No! Not Katherine! Y/n! She’s- she’s gone...she’s gone Stef.” Stefan furrowed his brows, feeling sympathy for his brother for a split second, then realizing how much time they were wasting.

“I’m sorry... Okay Damon? Maybe she didn’t die-”

“Don’t get my hopes up, alright?”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Really, I am. But- we need to go, like, right now.” He grabbed his brother and sped him out, gaining a boost with his vampire speed. The entire time he thought his brother was after the bad sister, but he was after the good one.

Opposites really do attract.

[yandere-daydreams]

Hnghh can I get a yandere Akaashi scenario where his quiet (fem) s/o manages to escape and goes to Bokuto for help, but it turned out that Bokuto knows of Akaashi’s yandere tendencies and sent s/o back to his home? (Bokuto does so not because he was threatened, but he did so out of his ‘good will’ “man y/n why’d you run away from akaashi? he loves you so much, y’know that?”)

It’s a given that they’re soulmates, whether it’s romantic or platonic. I can only imagine that Bokuto would be as dedicated to Akaashi’s Darling as Akaashi is, if not more so…

TW: Themes of Domestic Abuse, Victim Blaming, and Dehumanization.

~

You’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable in your own skin.

Bokuto’s hotel room was lavish, but cozy, one of the top-floor suites in a name-brand chain you couldn’t afford to spend the night in, let alone the better half of a month. Still, it was homey, with neutral colors and nooks to tuck yourself away in and a faux-fireplace crackling in the distance, the noise almost drowned out by the rain drumming against the row of thin, floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the far wall. There might’ve been a balcony, but you couldn’t care less about checking, right now, settling against the arm of a plush sofa and pulling a fleece blanket over your legs, hardly noticing when Bokuto stepped out of the kitchenette with two mugs already in-hand.

“Coffee,” He explained, smiling as you took one of the offered cups. You took a sip, the bitterness barely detectable. Instead, it was warm and sweet and perfect, more milk than it was anything else. “Just the way you like it, with too much sugar to fit in one brew.”

You almost laughed. It’d been years since he’d gotten coffee with you, let alone made it with your preferences in mind. Tasting something that wasn’t Akaashi’s energy drinks or murky, black sludge felt like a privilege, albeit a small one. “I really can’t thank you enough,” You mumbled, the words slipping off your tongue before you could stifle them. “When I heard you had a game in town, it felt like a miracle. I couldn’t think of anyone else who’d help, especially with…” With everything, honestly. Akaashi was the one you were running from, the monster who’d taken advantage of your naivety, but you’d started isolating yourself long before he stopped giving you the choice not to. You took another sip, rather than going on, savoring the way it burnt your tongue. “I really mean it, thank you. Do you mind if I use your phone? I should be able to find a place to stay with--”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He spoke casually, settling into the opposite side of the couch. “Akaashi should be on his way, by now.”

The coffee went sour in an instant. It was all you could do not to drop the mug entirely, your hands starting to shake as you placed it gingerly on the hard-wood floor. “He’s… What do you mean, Kota’?”

“I called him!” His smile was broader, suddenly, Bokuto beaming as he looked towards you. He was content, proud, his eyes closed and his features expectant, as if he was preparing to be rewarded. “You must’ve been too shy to ask, at first, but you didn’t have to! I knew what I had to do as soon as you turned up in the lobby.” He paused, laughing softly, nearly under his breath. You could swear you felt your heart shatter in your chest. “I mean, you were crying, (Y/n). I know how much you hate being away from Akaashi, but… damn. Your boyfriend wasn’t much better, if it helps. When I told him you must’ve gotten lost, he sounded like he was ready to choke someone!”

You were too stunned to reply, for a moment, your voice dying in your throat. He was so satisfied, so pleased with himself, but it was all you could do to try to process his admission. It was true, technically. You’d been crying since you left your apartment, sobbing by the time the girl at the front desk finally agreed to call his room, and even now, you were trembling. But, you’d told him why you were in tears, too. It was near-incoherent, but you’d vented about the abuse, the screaming, the violence, everything that you’d gone through. Another glance towards Bokuto made you wonder if he’d been paying attention at all, though. “I don’t want to go back to Akaashi,” You tried, your rebuttal lacking the force you’d been aiming for. “That’s why I came to you. I’m trying to get away from him.”

He nodded with faux-sympathy, something empathetic and patronizing ghosting over his expression. “You two had a fight, yeah? Every couple does, now and then.” He shrugged, and your bit your lip. He’d heard you, apparently, but it was obvious he hadn’t been listening. Or, he’d been willing himself not to, at least. “Akaashi is quiet, sometimes, and I get it. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking, but his heart’s in the right place. He loves you.”

“He doesn’t act like it.” You hated how childish you sounded, how cliché your arguments were. You hated the fact that you had to argue at all, when it came to this. “He won’t let me get a job, Kotaro. He broke my last phone because he thought I might be talking to someone else, and he hit me when I tried to tell him I wasn’t. Being with him is suffocating, I can’t breath when he’s--”

“He loves you,” Bokuto repeated, flatly. As if he was talking about the weather, or the outcome of his latest match. A fact, one as true to him as any other. “He doesn’t say it very often, but he does. He talks about you all the time, he adores you.” The affirmation was tinted with something dark, something jealous. Envy, but just a hint. You couldn’t be sure whether or not you’d imagined it, once Bokuto made more of an effort to hire it. “If I was in your position, I’d be grateful. We both know Akaashi could do so much better than some nervous, emotional brat who runs away whenever he tries to be sweet.”

You opened your mouth, averting your eyes as his resentment became undeniable, but a knock at the door silenced you, as steady as it was fatal. You went rigid, reflexively, balling your fists around the blanket on your lap, but Bokuto didn’t share your hesitation. Grinning, he pushed himself up, grabbing your hand and dragging you onto your feet, leaving you standing awkwardly in the center of his suite as he welcomed in the only thing you wanted to keep out.

You froze as soon as you saw Akaashi. He seemed relaxed, but he didn’t smile as he greeted Bokuto, only running a hand through his drenched hair and spitting out something polite. To anyone else, he might seem distracted, but you’d been with him long enough to know how angry he must’ve been, how much of his energy was dedicated to hiding it. You attempted to exhale, to release some of the tension in your body while you were still able to, but the air hitched in your throat as his focus flickered towards you.

He didn’t waste any time. You didn’t receive the same decencies as Bokuto, his arms around your waist and your head pushed into his chest in the blink of an eye, nimble fingers entangling themselves in your hair like it was second-nature. Like he was afraid you’d get away again, if he didn’t hold you as tightly as he could. Like you’d remember you could live without his nails embedded in your scalp.

“Thank you,” He said, firmly, but it wasn’t directed towards you. Bokuto laughed, telling him gratitude wasn’t necessary, but Akaarshi stood his ground regardless. The interaction was friendly, warm, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but pure, unfaltering cold. “I mean it. I just... I get so worried whenever (Y/n) goes out alone. It gets dangerous, this late.”

You didn’t bother pointing out his hypocrisy, or attempting to free yourself. It was clear neither had an issue with dragging you back to wherever you were wanted.

Still, you couldn’t help but hope Bokuto would notice how quickly you’d started crying, again.

[tonya-the-chicken]

I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

[zenothemanager]

Axion: A Kortia Fic

If I write this, does it still make it a fanfic? Anyway, enjoy this short little thing I wrote about Gerald.

“Identify yourself travelers.” A voice came from a small open spot above the steel-like doors that looked about the width of a highway. 

“I’m Gerald Yori, and this is Dakota. She has no last name.” Gerald spoke towards the doors in a commanding voice I didn’t think he was really capable of. The slit above the doors quickly shut and a beam of purple light hit us, which tingled a lot.

“Gerald what the hell is this light?” I questioned, looking over my arms.

“They’re scanning our identities to make sure we aren’t known criminals.” He said cooly, just as the light turned off. 

“Entry granted. Queen Flore hopes you enjoy your stay at Astron, The Light of Vallauria.” A robotic voice said from the wall, seemingly from nowhere. After that, the doors began to open.

“The queen's name is Flore? Isn’t that a bit close to Florus?” I questioned with a bit of worry. After all, we had left the Princess to deal with the Dyclos problem by herself.

“You don’t need to worry Dakota, there's no relation there. From what I hear, the Queen is nothing like the Florus family.” He assured me, just as the gates finished opening.

And inside was more neon light than I had ever been exposed to in my life.

“Look at… all of the lights…” I muttered in sheer awe as my eyes darted across every little thing I was seeing. Purple, pink, and blue neon lights were shining from every corner of my vision. Cars were stacked in traffic high above the streets, thousands of people walked the sidewalks, and every bit of the city felt alive. 

“You like it?” Gerald questioned, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“This is better than I ever imagined it to be Gerald.” I smiled at him, the realized that for once, he was actually smiling.

“Wait are you smiling again?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you're talking about Dakota.” He said, his face going slack as he immediately began walking away from where I was standing. “You better hurry up and get your looks in now, or you’ll get left behind.”

“Gosh Gerald, you sound like a mother trying to get their kid to follow them.” I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the skyscrapers that seemed to cut through the very clouds themselves.

“What does gosh mean?” He questioned, shooting me a confused look.

“O-oh it's a saying where I’m from.” I suggested.

“Sure.” Gerald muttered in disbelief, but stayed silent afterward. This gave me time to actually take a good look around as we walked.

The vibe of the city was definitely cyberpunk. Futuristic flying cars, neon on every inch of the city, and the various ads for products that absolutely blew my mind. One thing I did notice that was odd were the people themselves. 

They all looked different.

I knew they were all Vallaurian, but not a single one had common features that everyone would normally have. Some people had crazy eye colors, some people had crazy hair colors, and some people even had wacky colors of their skin, or even more limbs than they should have.

“There's so many people here Gerald, how do they feed everyone?” I asked, realizing the lack of farms in the grasslands surrounded the giant walled city.

“You remember the floating farms we saw in Imperious?”

“Yeah.”

“That's what the people of Ventali do too. Sitting high up above the buildings is a huge floating farm that blocks out the sky during the day to feed the plants. Between dusk and dawn though, the plain splits itself up and sits on top of buildings around the city.” He said, looking around the neon city with even more awe in his eyes than even I had. I could tell he was really happy to be back here, and that in turn made butterflies fly around in my stomach.

“Well, where should we go first!” I asked in an excited tone, a bit louder than I expected too, but no one around us seemed to care. 

“We have to go to Axion, to deliver this letter.” Gerald said, pulling the white colored letter from one of his pockets and showing me it. It looked a lot more tattered and torn since the last time I had seen it… all that time ago.

“I thought Axion was destroyed?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow at him as he secured the letter back into his pocket. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets. It seemed like he was worried about something.

“It was, but apparently they tried to rebuild it a year or so back. I think something happened with the funding or someone broke in, because they quickly stopped on the project.” Gerald explained as we turned a corner and entered an even bigger neon street. I wanted nothing more than to fangirl over everything I was seeing, but Gerald was right, we had a job to do.

“Even with that being said, who are we delivering it too? Who would be in an abandoned school?” 

“The Savior, I guess.” Gerald shrugged. He obviously didn’t know who we were supposed to deliver it too.

“You guess? I thought you had better information sources than that Gerald.” I teased. I was a bit nervous, however. Just who had told him that we should go to Axion? Could it be a trap?

“Apparently the person who wrote this sent another message to Lord Summerset and told him to ignore this letter. It also said that the message was going to be delivered to the ruins of Axion on… today.”

“So the time we spent coming here was just to stall then?” 

“You’re learning well Dakota.” 

“I swear, you are impossible sometimes.” I muttered, putting my hands in my pockets and walking closely next to him. It was an odd experience to be in a city again, after all the time I had spent away from Earth.

“Are you cold or something?” Gerald asked, turning to me with a confused look on his face.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You’re walking close to me like you’re cold or something.” Gerald pointed out, looking me up and down. My face immediately turned red, just as he looked away. Did he really have to call me out like that?

“Well I mean, I am a bit chilly…” I muttered, letting my voice trail off.

“It is a chilly night.” Gerald admitted, pulling his brown traveller coat off. This revealed his extremely toned arms and his amazingly tight shirt.

Oh god.

He then stopped walking, and draped the coat over my shoulders, adding yet another layer of warmth to my outfit. Instantly his smell struck my nose and it was intoxicating for all the right reasons.

“T-Thank you Gerald, but won’t you be cold?” I questioned, pulling his coat further around me and relishing in this moment.

“Not even a little. This is nothing compared to the nights in Deazure.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Turn left here, down the side street.”

We quickly crossed the street as the flying cars whizzed above our heads effortlessly. It still baffled me, just how did these things work?

But I knew that wasn’t important right now, so I focused on the task at hand. Getting to the school.

“This...is the place? It doesn’t really look like a school.” I muttered as I took a look at the path before us. It looked like at one point the walk way had huge flowery trees, but all that was left were burnt husks, and long dead flowers on the ground. Further down the path I noticed a tower the distance that looked like it was almost falling over. Below the tower, was what looked to be a broken rectangular building, with all of its windows blown out, and two huge doors lying on the ground in front of it.

"It used to be one of the most populated places in the city, believe it or not." Gerald explained as he put his hands on his pants pockets. He then started walking along the path, his shoes crunching over all the dead leaves that littered the ground.

"I heard a lot of conflicting things about it, but what actually happened?" I questioned, quickly following him.

"You probably won't accept the answer ‘a lot’, will you?" He asked, glancing over to me.

"What do you think Gerald?" I question with a soft smile, which just made him feign being annoyed.

"The Savior destroyed this place with his power. It's said he betrayed the very friends he had worked with during his years at the school, then, in an odd twist, he killed one of them. Following that he blew up this section of the city, causing all of this that you see around you."

"One person… did all this?" I questioned as I glanced at the broken building once again. It was only one story, which already raised a lot of questions. Just how had so many people attended this school.

“The more impressive part is that the fight happened underground apparently. Yet all this damage still happened.” Gerald said, his eyes turning more towards sadness. 

“Weren’t you here when it happened?” I asked softly, just as we got to what looked to be a courtyard in front of the fallen doors. Giant slabs of broken concrete, twisted metal, and leaves were scattered over this area. It was sad to see that what once was a place full of hope, was turned into such ugly rubble.

“I was.” Gerald simply replied, with sadness now evident in his face. Sympathy flowed through my heart, and I knew that this once, I couldn’t be the shy person I had been.

“It’s okay Gerald.” I said, getting closer to him and pulling him close to me. I was surprised when he didn’t push away, or say something sarcastic, or refuse at all. 

Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and held me, as silent tears fell from his eyes.

“I watched… I-” He said, his voice breaking as he tried to tell me something. As he said it though, it looked as if he were in pain just trying to push out the words.

“It’s okay Gerald, you don’t have to explain this time. Just...let it go.” I said, reaching my hand up and running one of my hands through his hair. 

And then he cried.

He cried and cried and cried, and let out every bit of emotion I knew had been building up. Ever since the first moment I had met him, I knew he was holding back unimaginable pain. I had tried time and time to ask him when we agreed to run away together, but he just wouldn’t break down, and he wouldn’t tell me. But now that I was seeing this, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in my heart for even asking him about whatever horrible tragedy had made him feel this way.

“I think we should go Gerald, there's no sense in putting yourself through this pain just for-”

“No.” He said with a shaky voice as his tears stopped. The expression on his face hadn’t changed, and the pain was evident, but I could see a shimmer of determination in his hazel eyes. “We have to go in, I need answers Dakota.”

“Answers for what Gerald? Is it really worth putting yourself through all this emotional pain?” I questioned, almost begging him to reconsider his decision. I didn’t want to see the man I loved put through so much-

Love. Love?

What did I mean love?

“Before, I would have said no. But with you by my side, I think I’ll be strong enough.” He assured me, grabbing my hand in a way he had never done before. A blush hit my face, but the look in his eyes completely drove it away. He needed me to be strong now, or else he couldn’t get whatever he wanted from this broken place, and he would never be complete again.

“Okay Gerald. Let’s go face these demons head on. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” I reassured him, trying my best to give him a strong smile, even if I was dying on the inside from seeing him like this.

“Thank you Dakota, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He muttered genuinely, then pulled me by my hand towards the two grand doors that stood before the extremely dark entrance hall. We passed the fallen doors, the very same doors that the artwork in the Byrathes mansion was based off of, and then we entered what used to be a grand hall.

But it was now only full of skeletons and cobwebs.

“Oh god these are-” I started to say, the very hairs on my arms rising in fear.

“The bodies of everyone, still never removed.” Gerald’s voice cracked as he stopped and looked upon the horror before us. His hand squeezed mine tighter as he shivered slightly. I quickly moved next to him and pushed his face to meet mine.

“Look at me Gerald, they are just skeletons. You can’t do anything to change what happened here. The best thing you can do for these people that died is to live your life. You survived for a reason, so don’t waste it by holding all this guilt inside of you.” I pleaded, as I pulled him closer to me. 

All that I wanted to do was warm his cold heart, and bring a smile to his face.

“You just don’t understand Dakota, I was-”

“Might want to reconsider what you’re about to say there Gerald.” A voice came from above, and immediately my senses went into overdrive. Before either of us could react however, a figure dropped onto the ground next to us and blew up a ton of dust at us. 

“Gerald, we have to move!” I yelled trying to pull him along, but he simply wouldn’t budge. I glanced in the direction the figure had dropped onto, and the first thing I noticed was two glowing yellow orbs about where I expected eyes to be.

And then the dust disappeared, and revealed a figure in pure black armor, with their face covered. But even through this cover, I knew the two orbs I was seeing were their eyes, something I had never seen before.

“Who are you!?” Gerald yelled, letting go of my hand and pulling two blades from his belt, getting into an attack stance. The figure laughed, then turned to Gerald, but still pulled out no weapons.

“I am The Savior.”

[mythicalowl]

My Kind Of Love - Monty de la Cruz // Song Preference

Imagine based off of the song My Kind Of Love by Leon Else :)

She thinks I’ve got a heart of stone

Because I left her all alone, lonely tonight

I know I shouldn’t be mad at him for not coming tonight, and the truth is, I really wasn't. But the growing feeling of dread gnawing at my insides made me want to blame something, anything, for the fact that I was stood here alone, trying to ignore the multiple gazes that burnt holes into my head with their curiosity. 

“What are you doing here all alone? Where’s your date?” My eyes snapped up to meet those of Jessica Davis, who was gazing at me with concern swimming in her expression. 

I glanced around helplessly. As much as I loved Jessica, I didn’t want to admit that I had come to the dance alone. She made me promise I’d make an appearance, despite my hatred for social situations like this, which is why she probably expected Monty to be at my side, as he usually was. 

But tonight he wasn’t. He knew I hated places like this when I was alone, how could he choose some stupid gathering with his friends instead of coming to the dance with his... girlfriend? I’m not even sure we can call it a relationship. Even so, I’m pretty sure that his friends would have shown up anyways if he had just made the decision to come. Did he care? About someone else’s feelings? Probably not. It’s not often he does. 

God, I can’t think like that. We’re not even officially in a relationship, we just started to hang out and fell into some sort of in-between friendship and relationship place. 

I can’t blame him for going with his friends, they wanted to celebrate their latest win and couldn’t guarantee their presence at the dance tonight. Considering he was near enough the main reason for winning their game, they insisted he join them. In all fairness, he had refused at first, trying to convince both them and myself that he would rather come to the dance, but with a little encouragement he had agreed to join them. 

But now, I couldn’t help but question why on earth I’d convinced him to join the boys. 

I snapped out of my thoughts, my silence giving Jessica the answer I didn’t want her to find, so when I opened my mouth to speak she was very quick to cut me off. 

“He let you come alone?” She frowned at me with sympathy and I sighed, my gaze drifting to the floor. 

“Didn’t Justin do the same to you?” I questioned with an unintended harshness to my tone. 

“Justin’s coming soon. He said he wanted to leave early.” She explained softly and I couldn’t help but sigh in defeat. As selfish as it sounded, I really didn’t want her to say that. 

“Right. Of course he is.” I mumbled with a small, forced smile. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you he’s gonna show up, but you know I can’t. It’s Monty-”

“What’s Monty?” I flinched in surprise as two familiar arms gently wrapped around my waist, pulling me back into the warmth of a tall body. 

“Monty!... Hi...” Jessica stammered, an awkward smile on her face. My eyes shot to the head the was resting on my shoulder, his eyes gazing at her with an expression I struggled to read. 

“I’m gonna go... find Justin...” She mumbled, but my eyes were fixed onto the boy beside me. 

“Monty, what are you doing here? I thought you said you weren’t coming?” I questioned him as I turned around in his embrace, his eyes drifting to meet my own as they softened immediately, a small smile reaching his lips as his hands rested on my waist. 

“I felt wrong leaving my Princess alone tonight.” He mumbled and I knew right then that this boy would forever have my heart. 

She thinks I’m gonna break her heart I tell her that I’m not, but maybe she’s right

“Monty?” I mumbled quietly into the silence that had engulfed us, a silence that separated us from the outside world and provided us with a temporary escape. 

“Hm?” He hummed in response, his hand softly rubbing circles on my hip as I curled into his side, head resting on his chest and listening to the sound of his heart beating to a calm rhythm. 

“Do you want this?” I choked out the question reluctantly. I needed to know what he thought of whatever we were, but at the same time I was afraid. I remained in place, I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head and meet his gaze incase I was met with a sight that could break me. 

His hand froze on my waist, a deafening silence filling the air as I awaited his answer. 

He gently pushed me up and shifted so he was also sat up straight. I could feel his gaze burning holes into the side of my head as I gazed down at my hands in my lap. 

His hand carefully reached across to cup my chin, softly pulling my attention to his features. 

“Why would you ask me that?” He whispered, his eyes searching mine carefully for an answer. 

“Because I’m afraid.” I blurted out and I saw a flash of confusion drift through his gaze as a small frown fell upon his lips. 

“Afraid of me not wanting you?” He asked with a look of concern and confusion swimming in his expression. I paused for a moment before shrugging slightly. 

“It could happen. You could stop wanting me... or want someone else. You could break my heart.” I offered a humourless laugh at the end of the statement, my voice failing me slightly as he sighed gently, trying to meet my eyes even though I didn’t want him to. 

“Look at me.” He whispered and I reluctantly brought my gaze up to meet his own. 

“There is no one else I want. You’re it for me and I will do everything I can to make sure that I’m never stupid enough to break your heart.” He spoke gently, his hand softly resting on my chin as I searched his eyes desperately for any sign of a lie that could give me a reason to run away. 

But there wasn’t one. All I saw was sincerity. Truth. 

“You promise?” I asked him for a final reassurance. He gazed at me for a moment before pressing his lips to mine in a short but sweet kiss. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to mine gently with a small smile. 

“I promise.”

And I know I can’t hold you like he does

I don’t have those emotions in me

And it’s true, I can’t love you like he does

But it’s my kind of love.

Honestly, I hated that I had to hide my feelings for Monty from the world. My parents didn’t approve of him, my friends didn’t approve of him. Being with him was sometimes a losing battle, but it didn’t mean I’d stop fighting for him. 

After Monty had taken an interest in me after I defended him once during some stupid argument in class, it seems I also caught the eye of another boy. 

Let’s rewind a little. 

“What are you looking at, Cruz?” I glanced up from my paper to see Cyrus sat a few desks away, glaring at the boy who was sat in front of me. Monty raised an eyebrow at him in amusement as he leant back in his seat, the rest of the boys he was surrounded by taking a sudden interest in the conversation.

“Something wrong, dumbass?” Monty asked in response, and as much as I wanted to continue with the paper in front of me, I couldn't help but watch the scene play out with a certain curiosity. It wasn’t often I showed interest in other people’s business, but today I felt a little... nosy. 

“Yeah, you’re looking at me.” Cyrus growled and I frowned slightly in confusion, not quite understanding the problem.

“Actually, no, I wasn’t.” Monty replied with little interest, turning his attention back to his friends. 

“Yes, you were.” Cyrus snapped and Monty leant back into his seat with his jaw clenched slightly. 

I couldn’t help but release a sigh, shaking my head slightly in what could have been described as bewilderment at the situation. 

“Problem, (Y/L/N)?” I glanced up at him, gazing at him as I tried to figure out what exactly he was getting at before rolling my eyes and turning back to the paper in front of me. 

“You mean apart from your very obvious lack of intelligence and maturity? No, not all.” I mumbled in response, glancing up at the sound of a small chuckle to see Monty gazing at me with an amused smirk. 

“Why are you even getting involved?” He spat and I frowned at him in confusion before glancing at Monty, who only raised an eyebrow at me with the same puzzled look on his face. 

“I was answering your question, Cyrus.” I stated as the boy rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, (Y/L/N). You know what, you two would make the perfect couple. You’re both annoying.” He grumbled and I shook my head with a small laugh. It wasn’t often I got into problems like this, I was usually the shy, quiet one. But Cyrus was prone to causing arguments, which eventually got on my nerves. 

His comment was something which caught not only me but also Monty by surprise, however, what was more surprising was that he took it seriously. 

I was thankful I’d caught Monty’s eye that day... but it turns out, I’d unknowingly caught the attention of somebody else. 

“Marcus asked me out again today.” I blurted out, glancing cautiously at Monty, who tensed up slightly. 

“What did you say?” He asked quietly and I shifted slightly, cuddling closer to him.

“What do you think I said?” I mumbled, burying my head in the crook of his neck as he glanced down to look at me, his arms wrapping tighter around me and pulling me into him. 

“Well I’d hope you told him to shove it up his-”

“Monty!” I laughed lightly, causing him to chuckle as I rolled my eyes with a smile. 

“Well?” He mumbled and I fiddled with the hem of his t shirt, sighing contentedly. 

“I gave him the politer version of that sentence.” I responded quietly as he pulled the blanket further around us. We were currently curled up in the back of Monty’s jeep, the sun had long disappeared behind the mountains and we had found our way out of town to the docks, the only quiet place where we wouldn’t have to worry about disapproving gazes. 

“I think my version sounded better.” He mumbled and I released a breathless laugh, snuggling closer to him as he pressed a kiss to my forehead, falling into a small silence. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and I immediately frowned, looking up at him. 

“For what?” I asked curiously as he brought his gaze to my own. 

“That you have to hide our relationship because everyone knows I'm a dick. That, as much as I want to, so badly, I can’t hold you in public or show everyone how much I love you just because of a stupid reputation I built up.” He mumbled and I felt my heart melt at his words, his eyes searching my face with a sadness to them and I sighed. 

When Monty and I had finally found the courage to admit the feelings we both shared for each other, he had made the call to keep it hidden. I thought it was because he was embarrassed, but then he explained that it was because he was afraid of what people would think of me. Of how my parents would react to it, if it would cause a rift between me and them. If my friends would be disappointed. He told me that he couldn’t risk doing that to me. 

And I loved him for that. But I also hated the fact that I had to pretend that I didn’t care about the girls flirting with him in the halls while I was a few feet away. That I had to refrain from smiling at the sight of him or the sound of his voice when others were around. 

Everyone else was falling in love, everyone else was telling the world about their love stories. Yet here we were, snuggled up in his jeep because we were afraid that the world wouldn’t allow us to be together anywhere else. 

“Monty, I hate the fact that I can’t be with you at school. That I can’t tell every girl not to flirt with you because you’re mine.” I whispered and I saw his frown deepen before I quickly finished, pulling his attention back to me. 

“But I can live with those things because I know that at the end of the day, I’m the one that you’re going to call before you fall asleep. I don’t care if everybody knows about us, whether they approve or not. But if you think it’s best they don’t know, then that's okay. As long as I have you, then everything is okay.” I whispered honestly, a soft smile gracing his lips as he gazed at me for a moment before pulling me towards him. He pressed his lips to mine and I melted against him, his arms holding me close to his body as I felt his worries slowly begin to disappear. 

He gently pulled away, resting his forehead against mine as he did sometimes, an action which I loved. 

“When I walk into school tomorrow, I want you with me.” He whispered and my eyes shot open in surprise, staring at him in shock as his own opened slowly. 

“What?” I questioned him, not quite sure I’d heard him right. 

“I love you and everyone should know that. I want every girl to know that I’m yours and every guy better believe that you’re mine. I don’t want Marcus making moves on you ever again because I’ll beat the shit out of him. You’re mine and I want to be able to hold you in front of everyone. Not just in the back of my car out at the docks.” He whispered and I froze for a second before a grin spread across my lips and I pulled him towards me, pressing my lips to his once again.

I felt him smile against my lips as his hand gently reached up and cupped my chin. 

“God, I love you.” He whispered and I struggled to contain the happiness that engulfed my being in that moment. 

“I love you too, Monty.”

***

So, this is my first imagine. What’s your thoughts?

I know a lot of people like Monty and a lot of people don’t, but if you don’t agree with me writing about him then don’t read it. I’m not interested in the hate you want to send, no offence, so just click off of the imagine if you don’t want to see it. 

Otherwise, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback welcome! :) 

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 6/?, Words: 36.689

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

The door to Steve’s room is thrown open without warning. Steve whirls around, ready for an attack or a barrage of bad news. With more relief than guilt, he abandons the report from Sam he was going through. He has not registered much of what Sam has written anyway. His thoughts these days are occupied with other things, other people.

Clint storms into his room, eyes ablaze, and holding his arm curled around his body as if he is wounded. That, at least, has Steve instantly alert. He has not yet accepted another job for them, but if there is something the Avengers are good at, it is getting into trouble.

“You need to talk to Bruce,” Clint announces, ignoring all proper curtesy.

Getting to his feet, Steve is glad to be pulled out of the monotony of his spiralling thoughts. “What happened?”

He is prepared for anything, for rivalling groups attacking, for the police knocking on their door, for Tony to – well, he is not prepared for Tony. Then again, he thinks he is neither lucky nor unlucky enough to have to be. The last time they talked, Tony still sounded so very angry, not like he wants to deal with Steve in any way.

Upon a closer look, it does not seem like there is an actual emergency. Clint looks angry but not in the way he is when he is gearing up for a fight.  

“He’s being an ass and refuses to give me something for my burnt hand,” Clint says. His voice holds enough petulance to tell Steve that there is more to the story than whatever Clint is going to tell him.

“That doesn’t sound like Bruce,” Steve says slowly, leaning back against his desk. “How did you burn your hand? Did you make him blow up one of his experiments again?”

He tries to keep all judgement out of his tone, but Clint huffs anyway. They are all on edge these days.

“The coffee machine malfunctioned,” Clint explains, glaring at Steve like that is his fault.

He then offers his hand. True enough, half of the back is coloured an angry red, a sole blister sticking out. It looks like it hurts.

“What did Bruce say?” Steve asks, unable to muster much sympathy for Clint, considering he knows someone who is in much more pain because of them at the moment.

“To put it in cool water,” Clint answers. “He’s still angry with me because of Stark.”

Steve winces involuntarily. There is still anger in Clint’s voice, but Steve does not know how to contain it, how to not make things worse. Clint does not like to be told what to think, and all Steve feels capable of at the moment is to yell at him. That is easier than seeking the blame with himself.

“I’m not sure it’ll help if I talk to Bruce,” Steve offers with a shrug.

Bruce might have stopped glaring at all of them whenever he leaves his lab, but nothing is resolved yet. They are all treading very carefully around him, and Steve especially has kept his distance. He is not sure whether that is because he is tired of defending himself or because he is not yet ready to admit the entirety of what has gone wrong with this job.

“Why, Cap,” Clint drawls. His hand is now hanging limply at his side, pain forgotten in favour of going against Steve. “You’re usually so eager to argue your way through everything.”

Steve’s preferred method of problem-solving is actually to punch it until it goes away. That very much did not turn out in his favour this time.

“Perhaps I think he’s right,” Steve mutters, mostly to himself, to test out the words.

Hypocrisy is not a virtue, he is aware of that. At the same time, though, he has never felt this torn about a decision he has made. His arm is constantly pulsing with a need to make this right – only he does not know how.

“Of course you would,” Clint snaps, straightening his spine with an expression of disappointment. “You only stick to your decisions when you get your happily ever after.”

“Clint –” Steve tries, but there is not getting through to Clint when he does not want to listen.

“You’ll see it’s wrong to trust that bastard. I don’t care.”

With that, Clint stomps right back out of the door, burnt hand clenched into a fist. Steve wonders whether Clint’s words sit as wrong with him as they do with Steve. They have worked together for years, have been friends for just as long. This is not the first time Clint’s impulsiveness has caused trouble. It has led to bodged missions, to all-out brawls in bars when they wanted a quiet night out, to full weeks of sulking and Clint making life difficult just because he can.

Clint’s loyalty belongs to Natasha and then the Avengers, in that order. Normally, that is not a problem, because Clint’s loyalty is absolute. Even now, Steve has no doubt that Clint would take a bullet for him without hesitation, even if he would be grumbling about it the entire time. If Steve ordered him to, he would probably take a bullet for Tony too.

Steve just hopes that will not be necessary.

Bruce’s door is closed. That in itself is not unusual. Years of being on the run have instilled a deep-seated need for privacy in him. He also often does experiments that do not do well with outside tampering. Any other door in their base is more of a warning than an actual barrier, but Bruce has a talent for reminding people of their manners.

Right now, the door feels like a solid wall for all that Steve does not want to knock on it. Some of Bruce’s anger about the whole mess with Tony is reverberating inside him, battling against the conviction that he could not have done anything differently, not with the knowledge he had at the time.

They are not violent in nature. They try to do good. Steve does not want to play down what they did, but it was a mistake. Life has left its scars, and one name has been a theme throughout all of their stories. Punching Tony did not solve anything. In fact, it will likely be something that Steve will regret for the rest of his life.

Berating himself for wasting time, Steve takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. “Bruce?”

For a moment, nothing happens. Then Bruce’s voice sounds from inside. “No.”

So much for clear communication, Steve thinks but knows better than to say it. Worse than making Bruce angry is poking him when he already is. Slowly, he opens the door, even though he does not enter.

Bruce is sitting at his desk, a mess of scientific papers in front of him that Steve would barely understand. He is wearing a lab coat and his glasses that barely hide the glare he greets Steve with.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Steve says cautiously, hovering in the doorway. None of the things he currently has to discuss with Bruce is meant for other ears, but he does not want to be so presumptuous to go all the way into Bruce’s room and close the door behind him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bruce answers shortly. “I’m not interested in hearing any of it.”

Steve can only imagine how the conversation with Clint worked out if Bruce is still this irritated.

“Clint said -”

“He’s not going to die because the coffee machine decided to spit at him,” Bruce cuts him off, even going so far as to look like he is going to pat the coffee machine later for a job well done. “And a little bit of pain might do him some good.”

With a sigh, Steve decides that knowing Bruce has a right to be angry and giving him room because of it is all nice and good, but he is still considered the Avengers’ leader and dissent like this will only cause them to fall apart when it matters.  

There is not much Bruce could do against a burn, but this is about the principle of the matter. Despite constantly arguing that he is not that kind of doctor, Bruce never refuses to look them over. He should not do so now just because he thinks Clint has done something wrong.

“I know you’re still angry about what happened,” Steve says, keeping his tone reasonable but firm, “but we’re still a team.”

The Avengers are a motley group, thrown together by fate and a desire to make the world better. Out of all of them, Bruce is perhaps the member whose presence is the hardest to explain, considering that they had been hired by a high-ranked military official to bring him in. Bruce does not look dangerous but he is. Before he fled the military research centre where he was working, he blew up his lab, burning whatever progress they made there as well as a few unlucky colleagues. Sometimes it is hard to imagine Bruce as capable of that, but sometimes the fire in his eyes does not leave any doubt.

These exact eyes weigh heavily on Steve now, leaving him nowhere to hide from their intensity.

“Do you remember what you told me when I decided to join you?” Bruce asks, his voice very calm. “That you wouldn’t hurt innocent people. That you wouldn’t hurt anyone just for the fun of it. That the Avengers, despite the name, aren’t about revenge but about justice.” He smiles, entirely without humour. “Tell me, where was the justice in beating up Tony Stark, who was bound and helpless?”

Steve opens his mouth without knowing what to say. That night was not about justice. It was about bringing closure to a lot of trauma. About looking at the man who caused it and seeing the guilt in his eyes, about teaching him about remorse.

In that warehouse, Steve was not the Captain, he was not bound by any code of honour, not even his own. All he saw was the memory of his best friend bleeding out and the man who, no matter how indirectly, was responsible for it.

Staring at his hands, Steve wonders about the way life can ruin good men and keeps haunting them relentlessly. At this moment, he is not sure he can make this right.

“I’ve hurt people without reason,” Bruce continues when it becomes obvious that Steve cannot find any words, right or wrong. “And I’ve sworn to never do so again.”

“It was a lapse of judgement,” Steve argues, even while he thinks about the people he has hurt. “We’re not –”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Bruce snaps. The entire room is still between them but Bruce’s anger makes it small enough to steal Steve’s breath. “That wasn’t a lapse in anything. That was just cruel, and I thought better of you.” He makes a pause as if to make sure his words hit where they hurt. “And what now? You think you can apologize and everything will be well. Was a senseless bit of revenge worth losing your soulmate over?”

“I – I haven’t lost Tony,” Steve says, not even believing himself.

The worst thing is that none of them feels better now. Making the suspected perpetrator of the weapon dealing bleed has not done anything for them to make their peace with their past. On the contrary. Steve is lost in a way he has never been before, unable to trust his own feelings. Clint is convinced he is being wronged by everyone changing their minds quicker than him. And Bucky is downright miserable, unable to cope with the fact that he has doled out more pain into this world despite knowing how hard it is to live with it.  

Bruce’s smile turns cruel in how it pins Steve down to his mistakes. “Have you always been this blind?”

Probably. Steve’s sense of justice has always been a rather single-minded one, based on his convictions of what is right and wrong. Paired with his belief that he can dole out that justice and his inability to compromise, Bruce might be right in considering him hopeless.  

“Bruce –”

“No,” Bruce cuts him off, completely unapologetic, and gets to his feet, slowly walking over to Steve. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. Don’t come to me unless someone got shot. Or if you need someone with common sense to look over your decision if you plan to ever go anywhere near Stark again.”

Steve does not even know whether that means Bruce thinks there is hope. Maybe he just wants to run damage control and keep Steve as far away from Tony as he can. Maybe that is even the wisest decision – although Steve knows he will not stick to it. Cannot.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly because he does not want to leave Bruce like this, does not want to put more distance between them.

Unfortunately, this only causes Bruce’s features to harden further. He is only a few feet away from Steve anymore, when he asks, “Have you told him that?”

With growing unease, Steve realizes he has not. Between all the different emotions fighting inside him, he has not even thought of apologizing. It sort of had been implied in taking Tony back in and – Steve is an idiot. People have told him so before, but there is no arguing that fact now.

Bruce’s face tells him he knows. Without further comment – and Steve is glad for that – he reaches for the door and throws it shut, not caring whether Steve is going to get hit by it.

Steve backs away in time but feels rattled nonetheless. He does need to apologize, of course he does. As he walks off, he wonders how he can accomplish that. His main priority is still to find out the truth – and to keep Tony safe until he does. It is supposed to be innocent until proven otherwise. He has messed that first thing up already, so he should really take his next steps with care.

Without thinking, his feet carry him towards the gym. He is getting nowhere by turning the problem over and over in his head and he has not slept well since it happened. Exhausting himself physically might help. It is his usual coping mechanism, after all.

The moment Steve stands before the punching bags, though, all energy drains out of him. Violence has pushed him into this mess, so he can hardly use it to get him out of it. His knuckles burn as if he had buried them in the bag anyway.

Dejected, Steve turns to the running mill. There is more than one way to exhaust himself, and while it feels like he is already running, trying to get away from his mistakes, he will take what he can get.

After his workout, Steve is not any closer to answers but feels calmer at least. He picks up his towel before he goes towards the shower, intent on washing off all the sweat and the rest of the tension still lingering in his shoulders.

The water does not get warm for the longest time. Steve uses all the tricks he knows and waits for minutes, but the steady stream remains at a temperature just above freezing. Since they have no official permission to live and work here, they cannot even call maintenance. Steve will have to ask Bucky to look into this later. He might not be as handy with these things like Scott, but since the rest of the team is still in Washington, they will have to make do. At least it will give Bucky something else to concentrate on than his own thoughts.

 ---

When JARVIS informs Tony that Bruce Banner is standing in the foyer of his tower, he wants to close his eyes, bury his head under a pillow, and ignore the world until it leaves him alone. He just cannot seem to get a break. First Steve shows up here, then the search for his lost weapons goes agonizingly slow, and now another Avenger has come to bother him.

Bruce is likely just here to pick up his bike, as promised. The key for it is at the front desk, ready to be handed over. Tony does not have to do anything. He can remain in his penthouse, playing at being invisible.

Yet, he finds himself saying, “Send him up.”

The entire five minutes it takes until the elevator doors open and Bruce steps out, Tony is caught between wanting to pace and finding a way to sit without betraying his nervousness. This is the first time he will come face to face with a member of Steve’s gang since the night of their first meeting, and while Bruce has not been part of the beating, Tony cannot entirely separate him from them. One act of kindness does not make up for the rest.

Still, he hopes he might get some information from Bruce too. Especially what Steve is up to now. They used his USB drive, but they do not have any cameras installed inside their lair, only outside. So Tony knows where they are but not what is going on inside. He also knows that most of their group is still in DC, but that they communicate via a different system. As nice as it had been to go through their files and get a better picture of them, it was not as helpful as Tony had hoped.

When Bruce steps into the penthouse, Tony thinks he looks even less like a member of a gang in broad daylight than he did that night in the warehouse. He is also not quite the man pictured in scientific papers anymore but something in between. The unknown is always dangerous.

“Dr. Banner,” Tony greets. The formality feels wrong, somehow, and he sees Bruce wincing at it. Even though Tony should not care about any of his kidnappers’ comfort, he adds, “Bruce.”

Using Bruce’s full name could be seen as a threat. Out of all of them, Bruce is the one Tony would want to threaten the least.

Bruce opens his mouth, his lips forming around a greeting, but he, too, does not seem to know what to call Tony. In the end, he just nods and says, “How are you doing?”

Tony smiles but does not mean it. “Did Steve send you?”

They are standing across from each other, Bruce still in front of the elevator, not really invited in, and Tony desperate to keep some distance between them while inwardly berating himself for it.  

“I am not reporting back to Steve,” Bruce answers slowly, making it sound like a promise.

Crossing his arms in front of him, Tony does not believe him. Steve has not given any sign that he is going to heed Tony’s wishes.

“So what?” Tony asks, with sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “He’s just going to leave me alone?”

He is not sure what to think about that prospect. It does not feel like their story is over, and part of him does not want it to be. The rational part does, however.

“Definitely not,” Bruce snorts without humour. They share a glance full of understanding. “But he knows I wouldn’t tell him anything. And he doesn’t know I’m here.”

That is perhaps what does it. Tony has no reason to think Bruce is telling the truth, but from the first time they met, Bruce has been steady in his behaviour, always calm and deliberate in what he was doing.

Before he can think better of it, Tony gestures for Bruce to follow him. He leads them into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee machine. Coffee, or so he is convinced, makes everything better. Even the nervousness that makes his fingers tingle and his stomach curl into a tight knot.

“Want a cup?” Tony asks and points at the table for Bruce to sit down, barely waiting for the affirmative nod before he pulls out two cups.

They are silent while the machine works, until they are both seated, holding their cups like shields in front of them. Any other time, this coordinated awkwardness would have amused Tony. Now, he is just wondering what he is doing here. He should have let the keys be handed over and never opened his door.

“Our coffee machine was malfunctioning today,” Bruce suddenly says. His tone might be nonchalant but the intensity in his gaze is not. “As did our showers. One burned everyone coming too close, the other did its best to turn us into ice blocks.”

Very carefully, Tony does not look in the direction of one of JARVIS’ cameras. It could be a coincidence since Tony has forbidden JARVIS to do the Avengers any harm other than when they are directly working against him, but little things like that could easily be considered harmless pranks. JARVIS loves to interpret things his way.

“So? Call maintenance,” Tony offers lightly, making sure not to seem guilty He is not, after all. If he really wanted to mess with them, he would do worse things. “Or wait,” he adds, smirking, “that’s not so easy when you’re living with the mob, right?”

Bruce hums, never looking away from Tony. “Just wondering whether that has something to do with your USB drive.”

He is too smart. Tony has no doubt that Bruce would have guessed the intrusion even without JARVIS messing with their systems. This is still Tony’s best way to gather intel on the Avengers, so he pretends he does not know anything about it. Also, it will surely be amusing to watch them try to get rid of JARVIS.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t sell that already,” Tony says, all wide-eyed scepticism. He does not actually think he will get any information about the buyer this way, but it will not hurt to try.

For a moment, it looks like Bruce is going to let himself be drawn into a conversation about this, but then his lips twitch into a small smile and he takes a sip of coffee.

“How are you doing?” he then asks again, with the same professional courtesy as if he did not know exactly that Tony’s pain cannot yet have faded. He might look better, his face not as much of a swollen ruin anymore, but the actual damage sits deeper.

“I’m fine,” Tony replies, dismissive. There is no reason to be honest with Bruce, even if he truly does not report back to Steve. Tony’s default setting is fine. At least until he really is not anymore, and unable to hide it too.

Bruce does not let Tony out of his sight when he says, “I imagine it must be hard to adapt to the soul bond.”

Heat flushes through Tony as he instinctively jerks his left arm farther away from Bruce and under the table. He should be better at keeping this secret, but he guesses it is already out.

He wants to ask about when Steve told Bruce about that. Whether this most intimate of things is something they discuss openly. Then again, the rest of the group found out right after it happened, so it should not surprise Tony that Bruce knows about it too. Only Tony has to keep it a secret, if only to keep these people safe who did him harm. It is just not fair.

“There’s no adaption needed. I’m not going to pursue it,” Tony says with all the conviction he can muster despite the bond thrumming with disagreement right inside his core. “And I’d prefer if Steve would not either.”

Sympathy flashes over Bruce’s face, which is not at all encouraging, but tells Tony what he has already known. There is no getting rid of Steve, not easily. They have already made a mess of something that is supposed to be wonderful. It is only natural that they will make everything else difficult too.

“No one has ever told Steve no,” Bruce says. He does not mean it as a threat but Tony cannot help but take it as one. He guesses he will just have to say no more clearly from now on.

“If your plan was to reassure me,” Tony replies dryly, “you failed.” He stares at his coffee and drinks half of it in one go before he looks up again.

“My plan was to tell you that we are still looking into who hired us, and that none of us is going to come after you,” Bruce says in a tone that makes it clear he believes what he is saying. “Not Bucky and especially not Clint.”

Tony winces at those names, remembers the hunger in Barton’s eyes. The only reason he does not end this conversation right here is that there is no trace of pity on Bruce’s face.

“Why would I believe you?” Tony asks, even though, for some reason, he already does.

It is, perhaps, because Bruce is a fellow scientist. More likely, it is because he has been kind to Tony up until now. For all of Tony’s bad experience with other people, he still falls for kindness every time.

“I don’t think you’ll do, and you’ll surely keep your eyes on us as well,” Bruce answers without judgment. “I’m not here to mend Steve’s bridges, but I believe in the common courtesy of giving you a heads up.”

Draining his cup, Bruce puts it down with a firmness that speaks of endings. Before he gets up, though, he reaches for his pocket. Tony hates the way he automatically tenses up, then inwardly scolds himself when all Bruce gets out is a piece of paper. A number is written on it.

“I’m not going to spy for either you or Steve,” Bruce says firmly as he pushes the paper over to Tony, “but you’re welcome to call me if you need anything.”

Tony does not say anything as he picks it up, studying it closely to buy himself some time. It feels like this is a test, but one where he can only lose no matter what he does. He can either trust Bruce and establish a line of communication that might just backfire terribly. Or he can spurn Bruce, who is likely the only ally he has among the Avengers. Or, more correctly, the only one who appears to be neutral where it comes to him.

Well, Tony has been told often enough he is the king of bad ideas, so he takes out his own phone, saves Bruce’s number and even sends a text so that Bruce will have his number too – all without giving himself too much time to think about it. He can always get himself a new number. Which he probably should have done the moment it became clear that Steve can contact him via his old one.

After that is done, Tony looks at Bruce, raises his eyebrows in challenge, although he is not sure what he is aiming for. Bruce does not rise to the bait anyway.

With a nod, he gets to his feet, clearly not eager to draw this out unnecessarily either, and Tony follows him to the door, wondering whether he should offer his thanks.

Right in front of the elevator, Bruce turns around again, finally some signs of conflict on his face. The part of Tony that does not wish to hide in dread shouts that he knew there was more to this visit.

“Fair warning,” Bruce says and looks guilty about it, “Steve might try to contact you again.”

Immediately, Tony’s arms snake around himself again, pressing against his broken ribs as if the pain will make it easier to deal with this.

“I told him to stay away from me,” he exclaims stubbornly as if words hold any power over them, especially over a gang leader who generally does what he wants.

“Yes.” Bruce nods sheepishly. “But I yelled at him and might have put the idea in his head that he needs to apologize.”

Good, Tony thinks, but it is immediately followed by a strong aversion to the whole idea. He wants to be left alone, wants to deal with the pile of shards his life has turned into, without having to listen to false apologies and even more speeches about fate. Fate has failed him, and he does not particularly want to fix it.

“I don’t need him to apologize to me just because Mummy told him to,” Tony snaps, taking an instinctive step back. For all that Bruce just said he is not here to mend Steve’s bridges, this feels suspiciously like he is doing it anyway.

“It’s not like that,” Bruce argues, even though he must see Tony is not inclined to listen. “Steve – he doesn’t do what others tell him to do. He only does what he cocks up in that stubborn head of his. If he doesn’t want to apologize, he won’t, but sometimes he needs a push to realize that some actual conversation is needed for others to know what he is thinking.”

That sounds like Steve has a lovely character but confirms that he has chosen the right job. Who is going to tell the mob what to do? Certainly no one in their right mind.

“My point stands,” Tony says dismissively, wishing Bruce would not look at him with so much understanding on his face. “I don’t need Rogers’ apology, coerced or not.”

“You do,” Bruce counters immediately, as if he has waited for Tony’s protest, knowing it would come. A small sigh escapes him. “You don’t have to forgive him because of it, but you need to hear that he is sorry.”

In the safety of his mind, Tony can admit that, maybe, he does. An apology is not going to make anything right, but it would go a long way in making him perhaps believe that Steve’s constant talks about keeping Tony safe are true. That there is no more danger coming for him from the Avengers.

He is not naïve enough to trust Steve’s words, but that does not mean he does not want to hear them.

“All right,” Tony exclaims and would have clapped his hands if he did not need them to hold himself together. “Enough of this psycho talk.” He gets enough of that from Pepper when he lets her.

Bruce looks like he is going to say more anyway but then shrugs. “Thank you for the coffee.”

And Tony, in a show of how great he is with human interaction, says, “Thank you for getting me out of the warehouse. Your key is waiting for you at the front desk.”

Right on cue, the elevator door opens. Tony hopes Bruce is too busy with psychoanalyzing him to notice that neither of them ever pressed the call button. For all that JARVIS is supposed to be a secret, he is sometimes very careless.

“Goodbye,” Bruce says as he steps in, still looking like he has much more to say to Tony but knows better than to waste his breath.

Tony waves awkwardly and breathes in relief when the elevator door closes. He is not sure what to make of this visit. All of what Bruce said appeared to be genuine, but they are still on opposing sides of this. Tony wishes there would not have to be any sides at all and they could all go on with their lives. Nothing is ever that simple, though.

While he is on his way back to his workshop, his phone buzzes inside his pocket. Right up until he pulls it out, he is convinced that it has to be Steve. He seems like the type to think that an apology per text message counts.

It is not Steve, and Tony is not sure how to interpret his relief.

What have you done to my bike? Bruce writes.

Tony must have stared off into space for longer than he thought if Bruce has already made his way down to the garage.

You’re welcome, he writes back. It’s not so much of a death trap anymore. But don’t worry, I only used parts that won’t take away its antique charm.

Tony really has not done much with it. He had not wanted to touch it at all, considering who it belongs to, but he could not get the bike off his mind and the way it had practically screamed for help when Tony rode it back to the tower. He could have spent hours on it, remade it into something that is worthy of the name motorcycle. Instead, he had just made sure that it would not fall apart beneath Bruce – all the while steadfastly ignoring why he would care.

Thank you, Bruce writes back, always one for proper manners, although it takes him a long minute to do so. He probably needs to get over the fact that he offered Tony a half-dead bike and got back one that could actually pass the next security check-up.

I didn’t do it for you. I was bored and that thing was an atrocity. He should, perhaps, not protest too much. Rhodey always says that reduces his credibility.

That doesn’t mean I can’t be grateful.  

Tony is sure that is meant as another lesson, as an indirect comment about the conversation they just had. He could take away something from that. Instead, Tony shakes his head and gets back to work. With some luck, this whole matter will be over soon and then he will not have to worry about it anymore.

[legends-of-nisty]

Run From Home

Fandom: Fairytail

Ship Title: Gajevy/Gale

A.N.: Hello everyone. Apparently my last one wasn't as bad as I thought considering you all wanted a second chapter. Soooooo here it is. Hopefully chapter 3 won't be far behind. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fariytail or it’s characters

______________________

Chapter 2

“Thank you for the coffee.” I say as he sets a mug in front of me. Gajeel had taken me to a local place that was popular after the baseball games but we were lucky enough to beat the rush as the game had gone into extra innings.

“Yer welcome…” He says gruffly as he sits down next to me. I hug my fingers around the warm ceramic letting the heat calm my nerves.

"Ya okay?" He asks taking his hat off and I can’t help but look at him. He’s ridiculously attractive but in an unorthodox way.

"Ya" I manage a smile.

"I'm okay, just a bit shook up I guess." I answer and he looks away, his cheeks turning a soft pink.

"Sorry again bout the kiss…" He mumbles.

"I shoulda stopped after I dumped my beer on em." He takes a drink from his coffee to cover his awkwardness and he must have burnt his tongue because mine is still piping hot.

"No, it's alright… I-it was actually very nice." I stammer and mumble into my own cup. I see him raise an eyebrow a bit surprised then grin.

"Gonna hafta get a neck brace or something if ya wanna make it a habit." He rubs at his neck dramatically but still grinning. "It's a long way down ta yer lips. Gihihi" He laughs and my cheeks flame. He wants to kiss me again?!

He laughs harder when he sees my blush and shakes his head.

"Relax shorty. I'm only kidding" he says and grins at me and my eyes get caught on his teeth which look surprisingly sharp. I almost miss his next words when he speaks but I catch them.

"We'll get ya a step stool." My blush goes crimson and I want to be mad at this stranger I only met an hour or so ago but I find myself giggling along with him. I can tell he's just trying to cheer me up and it's working. He takes a sip of his coffee and I mirror him.

"So Gajeel… what do you do for a living?" I ask shifting the topic wanting to know more about this man.

"Now?" He asks and I nod.

"Play baseball for the Fairies" He says after a moment and with a shrug like he just told me he worked at this coffee house. My eyes go wide and I lean forward in my seat.

"What?! How?! You were just watching a game less than an hour ago!" I say a bit more than a little disbelieving. I don't recognize him and I would even If he were the bat boy for the team. He's not a physique you miss and I've never seen him before today. He grins at my disbelief.

"Just got called up yesterday ta play for em from my farm team." He explains and I still don’t believe him.

"Then why weren't you on the field today?" I ask crossing my arms thinking that I'm calling his bluff. His smile fades a bit.

"My old man…" He starts off, sitting back in his chair.

"He took me ta a bunch of games when I was small then one day we were at a game and I was comin back from the men's room and he was just…" He makes a shrugging motion with his hand.

"Gone." My expression changes from disbelief to sympathy as he talks. He stares into his coffee for a moment before he speaks up again.

"Today was ten years since he disappeared. I go ta that game every year and sit in the same seats." He shifted in his seat not making eye contact with me.

"My agent worked it out so I could still watch this game. I start with the Fairies next one." He says and finally looks up at me. My heart swells in my chest but part of me, the meaner part of me, wants to call him a liar but he seems so sincere in his words.

I open my mouth to say something but before I was able to say anything, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I felt a knot form in my stomach. The dread must have shown on my face because Gajeel’s expression darkened.

“What?” He questioned as I pulled out my phone.

“That asshole messagin ya?” He said not concealing the fact that he was still angry. I unlocked my phone and tapped the new message which of course was from Todd.

‘U have some explaining 2 do! How could u kiss another guy!? Do u know how hurt I am???’

I read it twice in my head feeling guilt wash over me. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have kissed Gajeel. It was wrong of me to do that. I should have pushed him away. I should have-

“Oie. Shrimp.” Gajeel calls waving his hand in front of my face bringing me back but instinctively I flinch away from his hand before I realize it’s not Todd I’m with. Gajeel’s face grew increasingly angry.

“Does that fucker hit you?” He asks with a calm voice and a look that would scare a demon. He really isn’t one for beating around the bush. I shake my head after a minute but I’m a terrible liar so I look away hoping he wont see the truth.

“No, Todd just gets a bit… excited when he talks sometimes.” I mummble and hug my arms covering the bruise with my hand. He hadn’t technically hit me. It was the bannister that had left the bruise but it was his push that made me fall into it.

It was only once. It didn’t mean anything and he had apologized right after. He told me he loved me and that he would change. He had bought the tickets that night for the baseball game and gave them to me as a gift.

It was only once.

I repeat it to myself because maybe if I think it enough I’ll believe it was only once. I’d believe that his hand gripping my arm roughly wasn’t that bad or him forcing himself on me when I didn’t want to was just him persuading me to make love.

Because I do love him… I do… Don’t I?

Gajeel watchs my face as I’m thinking all of this and his expression does not lessen it’s rage. I pretend not to notice and blow on my coffee to fill the silence.

“You live with him?” He asks clarifying what I already told him, his voice unreadable in tone. I nod in answer this time and I see his jaw go tight.

I feel my phone buzz again in my pocket and I ignore it for now.

“It’s really not going to be a big deal.” I say, feeling my phone buzz again.

“We’ll talk when I get home and it will all be okay.” Another vibrate.

“It was all a misunderstanding.” Again it buzzes against my leg and I debate putting it on silent as I know Gajeel can hear it and, combined with my unlikely prediction for the evening, is making him look rather skeptical.

Another buzz and Gajeel raises an eyebrow. “You gonna answer that?” He asks, thinking it’s a phone call from the frequency of the vibrations and I blush.

“I think they’re just texts.” I say embarrassedly pulling out my phone. I open the messages one by one and feel my anxiety growing.

‘Where the hell r u?!?’

‘U better not b fucking that goth emo reject from the game.’

‘U slut.’

‘Ur going 2 b so srry when u get home.’

I read them and feel my face go pale.

“I need to go.” I say standing up and grabbing my purse. Gajeel looks up at me clearly knowing something is going on.

“What’d he say?” He asks looking at the phone still in my hand that I slip into my pocket self consciously.

“Nothing but I need to be getting home now.” I repeat trying to force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

“It was really nice meeting you Gajeel, even under the circumstances.” I mean this and try to be genuine as I say it but my stomach is tight with anxiety. He looks at me not sure what to say then he pulls out his phone and taps a few buttons.

“What’s yer number?” He asks looking up and he mistakes my anxiety for nervousness at his request.

“Don’t worry shorty I’m not lookin for a date. But I owe ya a baseball game.” He says and I pause for a moment. I don’t want him to buy me a ticket to a game but then again, if he's telling the truth, he likely gets free tickets, if Todd allows me to go that is.

Then there is also the fact that I very much want to have his number. I haven’t had a friend in a long time and even if he's a liar at least he knows something about baseball so we can chat about it.

I end up telling him my number and he punches it in before standing up.

“I’ll get you a to go cup.” He says and walks over to the counter to retrieve the two cups for our drinks that we didn’t get the chance to finish.

“Do ya need a ride home? It’s late and the subway is gonna be filled with fuckers trying to rob, rape or kill ya.” He says and he smiles a bit and I think he’s attempting a joke. I smile more at the attempt then at the joke because he is trying and its cute but that was terrible.

“If you wouldn’t mind dropping me off I’d appreciate it.” I say transferring my drink as he does. He nods and we go out to the parking lot.

The ride is surprisingly comfortable despite the lack of conversation but the silence is filled but the radio as it plays smooth jazz music. Never would have thought him the type for it but I notice him getting into it every now and then, as he slightly bobs his head from side to side.

As we get closer to my place, my anxiety changes to fear and I lose focus of much else.

“Could you park around the block?” I ask, thinking ahead. If Todd sees me get dropped off by Gajeel, tonight could go much worse than it already will. I notice Gajeel give me a sidelong glance but he says nothing and does as I ask.

“Thank you for the ride, and the popcorn… and the coffee.” I say motioning with the cup as the car comes to a stop at the curb.

“And the kiss?” He asks looking at me and he’s smiling in a way that makes my stomach clench in a very different way then it was mere moments before. My cheeks burn from the blush that floods them and I don’t realize I’m nodding till he grins wider. My hand fumbles for the door handle as my guilt resurfaces.

“Maybe one day we’ll come back ta that.” He says shifting in his seat to focus back on the road as I open my door. I don’t answer him as I step out but manage another quick ‘thank you’ before closing the door.

I watch him drive away before I turn and start walking up the street. So many emotions swirl inside my head and my chest that I barely know what to feel when I arrive at our door. I go to put the key in the lock but hear it suddenly and quickly be unlocked from the other side.

Oh right, fear.

Fear is what I’m feeling.

___________________________________

A.N.: Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. If you have any comment or questions about this fanfic, another one I wrote, or just me in general feel free to contact me :)

I know this one was kinda bad but maybe I’ll continue it but maybe I won’t, In either case I hope to see all of you in the next fanfic!

[truthbeetoldmedia]

iZombie 5x09 "Fresh Princess" Review

This episode’s “case-of-the-week” had one of the most chipper brains with one of the saddest stories. During Miss Future Seattle 1998, a pageant queen named Laurie Beth had her makeup powder spiked, giving her an allergic reaction which left her in a coma for 20 years. When she finally passes, the charges have changed to manslaughter, which means Clive and Liv are on the case and Liv gets to munch on pageant queen brain. She delivers clueless platitudes the entire episode (see what I did there?) and tries some nostalgic, throw-back fashions. What seems like pretty petty pageant drama has left broken lives in its wake — like the suspect Velma, who used to want to be an actress but now craves the simple life after the traumatic events of the pageant. Laurie Beth’s parents provide all the 90’s VHS footage for Liv and Clive to peruse, but it manages to catch Laurie Beth’s mom, Gail, at the scene of the crime at the same time. It turns out that Velma was the intended target, and Gail sobs she was just hoping to give her a rash. Instead, her daughter fell into a coma for 20 years and eventually died. Woof. That is dark, even for this show. Season 5 has waded into the waters of showcasing several estranged parent-child relationships, sometimes in surprising, plot-advancing ways. 

Other than our pageant debacle, there’s General Mills and his daughter Sloane. I was confused last week how Sloane could have gone missing in such a short time period between her conversation with Major and the arrival of General Mills to New Seattle, but now I get the kidnapping with the couple being shoved into the van was Sloane and her boyfriend. It happened pretty quickly and I didn’t identify Sloane as the victim, so that was my bad! It turns out Dolly has had her all this time, trapping her in a port-a-pottie and not feeding her brains, bringing her to a nearly “full Romero state” — which in iZombie’s world, means you’ve reached the point of no return. A totally mindless zombie state, focused only on eating brains. Don E and Darcy try to track down their kidnapper, Kristin Cox, but she tries to jump buildings and falls five stories. Even if Kristin’s not around to talk, her brain is. Major and the Fillmore Graves squad each eat a portion, in hopes they would have a vision that would reveal the location of Sloane before it’s too late. Unfortunately, they show up right as Dolly is about to sic Sloane and her boyfriend onto a local bakesale. They run wild, and Major regretfully, fully aware of the ramifications of this action, has to kill Sloane. It was the best thing to do in the moment, but any hopes of winning General Mills over to their cause is absolutely finished. 

Peyton and Ravi do their own little sleuthing this episode too, and it’s a fun ride to see these two in action. Still trying to follow the trail of Beanpole Bob, Ravi figures the utopium they need for the cure is actually in the evidence room. The last person to check the evidence box they need was a dirty cop named Mosier, who was in bed with the Cobras, which means a return from Seattle’s hottest gang leader, AJ. Peyton offers him some extra amenities to his prison cell if he talks, and they learn that he did in fact order Mosier to steal the utiopium, but it never arrived. It was intercepted by a one “Barkley Schnexnader,” who’s a dead ringer for Don E. Don E insists that disguise is ridiculous even for him, and it was his twin brother Scott E. Don E tells them Scott E probably hid it in their mom’s basement before Scott E checked into a mental hospital. Peyton and Ravi try to pull of a sneak-around, but as we know, Blaine is camping out in that very basement. He catches them trying to find the utopium, and even though it’s burnt her in the past before, Peyton promises to restore Blaine’s good name if he helps them. He opens a false wall, and Ravi combs desperately through the empty utopium vials. They are back at square one. He’s ready to give up, but Peyton goes a step further and tracks down an address for Beanpole Bob. Ravi commends her for her tenacity, but it turns out there is a reason she has so much free time. She resigned from being the interim mayor, since the council found out she sold the naming rights for the Space Needle in order to fund Hi Zombie. Even though Peyton is probably the best person for the job, I have to admit, I love that she now has a few moments open to help Ravi find a cure, and that she’ll be taking less dangerous trips to DC. It also explains why she was so willing to make AJ and Blaine grandiose promises — she can’t actually grant any of them, but they didn’t know that. They follow up on their Beanpole Bob lead, and they are surprised to see Liv leaving his apartment. Now that Ravi and Peyton know that Beanpole Bob and Martin are the same person (and they only know the tip of the iceberg), will they tell Liv? Will she even have ears to hear?

Liv is fully invested in helping her father heal. She arrives at his apartment to check on his recovery, when she finds him passed out. She invites him over to her apartment so she can keep an eye on him, but I’m worried this was all an elaborate ruse to get inside of Liv’s apartment and get closer to her operations. He even tries to get information out of Peyton, and attains a sympathy brain tube from Major. He and Liv have a conversation that sounds startling similar to the one during that tragic last encounter between Major and Justin. “I worry sometimes that humans might never come around on us,” said Martin. “If the time comes where we have to choose sides, I hope you’ll let me take care of it.” Liv is unsure it’s necessary, but nevertheless, she calls him “Dad” for the first time and they hug. Liv is going to get her heart so smashed.

Liv’s mom and her brother also make an appearance. Evan’s health isn’t doing so well and he didn’t make the cut on Fillmore Grave’s emergency exit program. Liv’s mom asks Liv to smuggle Evan out of New Seattle. Liv is hesitant at first, and tensions rise when Liv’s mom and Martin see each other for the first time. Martin encourages Evan to get scratched by Liv, but Liv points out that he hasn’t quite earned the right to dole out “fatherly advice.” Liv concedes, and promises to smuggle Evan. The sweet way that Evan smiles at Liv absolutely took my breath away, and it makes me sad the show hasn’t taken the time to develop this relationship even more. Now that we know that Liv’s coyote operation is compromised by Martin himself, I’m pretty concerned for every mission that crosses the wall. 

Stray Thoughts 

“Now he knows he has my heart, it’s like the bromance is gone.” I love Ravi and Major’s friendship 

Anyone worried about Peyton when she’s sitting so close to Martin like that?

“I’m not on a side, I’m in the middle, trying to hold everyone together.” All this talk of sides is making me nervous for Liv when the final showdown gets here 

Peyton and Liv are the cutest human and zombie roomies ever 

Liv and Major are looking more domestic than ever...I’m starting to get impatient, show! 

The security guard is a big fan of Hi Zombie, but the jury is still out for me. 

The look Don E gives Major when they talk about Sloane reminded me of their odd couple day trip episode, which makes me wish it had been under better circumstances

Team Pavi forever 

Haley’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝 

iZombie airs Thursdays at 9/8c on the CW.

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 18: Reunion)

Black and Trunks had just passed between two large, jagged mountains after seven hard hours of unsuccessful scouting. They had checked every beach and forest they had come near, yet there was still no sign of you or traces of Zamasu’s magic. And since they couldn’t rely on your chi which had weakened significantly since your escape, the best they could do was look by hand, which didn’t provide a very fast recovery.

“Black! Look!” Trunks’ frantic call snapped Black out of his thoughts as they continued to zoom through the air. “Is that a fire?”

She said red lights…��…He wondered. Could she have meant……

You had fainted before he could think up a reply, and no matter how hard he tried he was still unable to communicate telepathically with you. His eyes widened when he finally figured out your cryptic plea for help.

Black could see it. Billowing clouds of smoke and flashes of bright white lightning just up ahead, in a thick-wooded forest.

“She’s there!” Black shouted frenziedly, shooting past the confused teenager.

“What?! How would you know?!”

“Just shut up and follow me fool! There’s no time to explain!” Black hollered back, not keeping his eyes away from the wildfire.

“Y/n? Y/n!” There was no response that could be heard from the chaos below.

Two pairs of keen eyes scanned the hellish forest floor, searching for any sign of you as they flew in circles barely above reach of the scorching heat.

“Look!” Trunks shouted, pointing triumphantly at a dot in the crumbling undergrowth. “It’s Y/n!”

They both dove to you at the same time, Black overtaking Trunks as his heart beat furiously against his ribcage. The smoke didn’t affect his keen senses in the slightest, but it was still hard for the once heartless God to breathe.

From their position, all the two warriors could see was only half your body, splayed out underneath a heavy blackened trunk. Bright red tongues lapped at your skin, but you didn’t appear to be moving.

“Shit!”

Black reached you first, tossing the gigantic tree of you like it weighed nothing, which it probably did to him at least. He grabbed you and cradled you in his arms, Trunks beginning to protest until he saw the state of your legs.

“That’s going to hurt, even if she is immortal,” Trunks winced in sympathy. “It’s a good thing she’s knocked out cold, and even better that we have a Senzu Bean.”

“Let’s get her out of here first,” Black murmured, relief flooding through him once he saw the slight rising and falling of your chest. He rubbed a bit of soot of your face and adjusted you a bit in his arms, forgetting Trunks who was watching in disbelief. Something flitted in his eye when he looked at you, but it was gone so fast that Trunks wasn’t able to completely discern what it was.

Can Black really be….Is that why he wanted Y/n back so badly? No, it can’t be, can it? He a psychopathic murderer!

Thoughts swirled like a hurricane in his brain making him slightly light-headed, and Black must have noticed as Trunks began to sway on his feet. Even Saiyans weren’t completely immune to fire.

“We should get the Hell out of here before you pass out too, and if you do, I’m leaving you here,” Black snapped, roughly shaking him from his astonishment. There were a time and a place, but here was neither of those.

“Come on!” Black sprung off into the sky, the confused teenager following shakily behind, mind still reeling.

“We’ll stop here,” The older Saiyan commanded with a tone that called for no objections as he descended into one of the most habitable caves in the twin peaks they had just passed. Throughout the entire flight Trunks hadn’t dared to utter a single word, not even looking at him. They placed you on the floor, cushioning your head with Trunks’ sword and Black’s sash, using the boy’s jacket as a blanket. It wasn’t the best, but it was still much better than absolutely nothing. If Trunks wasn’t here, then Black would have preferred to keep you in his lap, where you could be warmer and safer, but there was no way he was going to do that with Earth’s mightiest hero glaring at him like a hawk. Even slightly burnt by the fire, he was still dangerous. Some of the skin on Trunks’ hand had been seared off when they had touched down, but that wouldn’t stop him from grabbing his sword.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Black jeered once you were settled in, and suddenly Trunks’ hatred returned. Or more specifically, sprung back to the surface. It had never left. Even now his mother’s death still hurt.

“Yeah what-” His voice began to grow louder until the oncoming argument was halted by your frail moan of discomfort.

“Just get the damn Senzu,” Black growled lowly, his onyx eyes mere stormy slits.

Trunks closed his jaw with an audible snap, and clenching his fists, he forced himself to calm down, at least until you had healed a little. Digging around his dirty Capsule Corp jacket, his fingers closed around the last Senzu.

Gently, he pried open your dry lips with one hand while the other held your head, and managed to slip the bean inside your mouth without choking you. Your face relaxed and you appeared to go limp in his hands, a small smile twitching at the corner of Trunks’ mouth as he stared at you in solace. Black had to physically restrain himself from attacking the boy when he saw that Trunks was touching what was rightfully his, though he knew you would disapprove if you were awake.

I just have to deal with him a little longer, Black told himself, struggling to contain his composure. They were one word away from continuing their fight, and your presence was the only thing stopping them.

For now, all they could do was to wait for you to rest up enough to fly back to Zamasu. There were too many things that needed to be sorted out, and frankly, Trunks wondered if they would ever be able to untangle the spider’s web of murder and secrets. After returning you to your former position, Trunks slid as far away from Black as possible while still being close enough to keep an eye on you, sitting against the wall with one tired eye open. Like Black, he had to suppress the impulse to spring to action when he saw the spiky-haired God scoot closer to you, though not yet touching.

Though his feelings for you weren’t the same as Black’s, his survival this far was partly owing to you, saving his life multiple times. Over time, he had come to think of you as one of his closest friends, on par with Mai. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe much like Black, though the idea that that serial killer had his sights set on you made his insides riot.

As hard as Trunks fought to stay awake, he finally lost to the alleviating lull of sleep’s velvety wings, whisking him off into another dimension. Black waited until the hero’s head hit his chest before moving over to you, losing all interest in Trunks when he glanced over at your moonlit figure.

Even after everything you had been through you still looked to him the same as the day he had first met you, more alluring than any being in the universe. Sliding his fingers into your h/c locks, he began untangling all the knots and picking out the bits of leaves from your hair. The silver moonshine framed your face beautifully, and even with all the soot and wounds on you it made you no less appealing to him.

After all this time he was still unsure what caused him to obsess over you, and at this point he didn’t really care anymore. Love was still a foreign emotion to the lonely God, and even in his youth he had never experienced anything remotely like it. At this moment he wasn’t really sure what he felt for you, Hell, it might not even be love. Whatever it was, it inexplicably drew him to you. Black used to try to convince himself that it was because you were technically immortal and one of the only females left who genuinely didn’t make him vomit when he touched them, but now he knew that it was a complete lie to justify his attraction. Your immortality had nothing to do with it, though it definitely made things a whole lot less complicated. Or maybe it was the feeling of not wanting to be alone for the rest of eternity, once the Zero Mortal Plan had been completed, though he would never admit it to anyone.

However, none of those seemed to play as big as a factor as the fact that you were simply different, unusually kind and capable of just enjoying life as it is, and not constantly seeking for more as he’d seen many other beings do, wasting their life away to obtain something they could never reach.

He hated vanity, something the earth was sweltering with, and something that you seemed to be nearly or even completely devoid of. And best of all, you didn’t seem to despise him, even after everything he had put you through, and Black had certainly given you numerous reasons to. Despite these feelings, there was still occasionally the irrational, terrible urge to kill every human being in the vicinity, which usually meant you. But he managed to restrain himself every time, avoiding your presence and venting on something else. The old Zamasu had not completely dominated and the lingering presence of Son Goku was not quite gone. They molded together to form someone entirely knew, Goku Black. He knew he wasn’t either men, but still it felt like his soul and body were at war sometimes. It frightened him, that maybe one day the good Saiyan’s presence would win and turn him soft, but worst of all was the thought that perhaps Zamasu’s hateful habits would overbear all reason and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wounding you. Though you couldn’t die, he was sure the Zamasu he had once been could find a way to make it living Hell for you.

Even now, when everything was calm for once, he could still feel the war raging on inside him. There was no doubt whatsoever that he wanted you, but his morals were battling against that desire. Son Goku’s morality and Zamasu’s ambition, that was made them different, and that was what made him. It was true that he was a deity in a mortal body, but someone as strong as the kind-hearted Saiyan would not let his body go completely, especially when it was taken and used in such a manner. It was something so simple even the people of earth could understand. A different environment could produce two versions of the same person, and Goku’s body was a different environment in a sense. And it had changed him.

But I’m neither of them, Black assured himself. I still hate humans. That’s for sure and it always will be, I wouldn’t want to like them anyways. But there is one I can tolerate.

That’s what split him from Zamasu. That one exception that the Kai could not make.

You.

And the Zamasu inside him howled in fury.

“You should see how you make me, Y/n.” Black exhaled, placing his head next to yours, clenching his eyes shut.

To his surprise, one of your e/c orbs opened slightly, focusing on his features.

“I know, Black.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he seemed at loss for words. “You should go back to sleep,” he lied. No, that was the last thing he wanted after being apart from you for so long that he had missed the sound of your voice.

“I can’t,” You murmured back, entwining his hand in yours, to which he stared at in shock and maybe even a little discomfort. “I can’t while people are dying.”

“You know exactly why they’re dying Y/n; they’re dying for paradise.”

“Oh Black, I know that you have a good goal in mind but there are better ways to do things than by killing everyone. As much as I appreciate your ambition, I don’t think this is the right way to get there.”

He gave you no response, instead just continued to gaze into your eyes.

“You really believe that, huh?” Black grumbled, you could tell that he was irritated but it was better than before when he would become physically aggressive every time something ticked him off. It didn’t matter what it was, if a branch hit him in the face he would blow up the tree, and if it was raining when he didn’t want it to then he could disperse the clouds with special chi blasts. It was even more violent with humans, in which case he had no mercy. You were the only exception to his purposeful brutality, and you were borderline a deity with human blood. And even then, he had broken your nose or hand multiple times on accident when you startled him. He never meant to hurt you those times, but violence seemed to be ingrained into his muscles.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of debate, you realized there was no point in arguing with him over mortals at this time, and especially when you were still very feeble. He could either remain silent for days or argue for hours, and usually there was no in-between.

“Anyways,” You tried steering the topic away from mass genocide, and onto a slightly less gruesome subject. “I never thought you would team up with Trunks.”

Black just huffed and looked away from you, muttering something about half-breeds under his breath. “That persistent little brat wouldn’t fucking leave me alone,” he growled. “I can still kill him though.”

“No!” You grabbed his shirt as he began to raise his arm, slapping his glowing hand out of the air. Immediately tensing up when you realized what you did, you scrunched your eyes shut in case he decided to hit you. Instead, all you got was a light smack to the head and opening his eyes, you could see him smirking.

“I’m not going to hit you, Y/n. You remember what happened last time.”

Back then, he had tried to surprise you by punching you, a little bit too eagerly, and ended up nearly breaking your entire torso. Sometimes he didn’t even know his own strength, and more specifically Goku’s. When he had first hijacked the body, their cabin would be filled with constant noise when everything he touched shattered into a million pieces, notably several sets of tea cups, chairs, and doors. Zamasu had become so angry that he had forced his partner outside for a day to learn to control his strength, which was part of the reason why there was a sparse space of empty land surrounding the cabin. It wasn’t noticeable, but upon closer inspection quite a number of the trunks were mutilated from his “gentle” practice.

“I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Black.” You reassured him, “I trust you.”

He was taken by your sheer innocence, and sullenly wondered how you could ever have been born in a world like this. It just wasn’t fair, but life never was.

A yawn forced its way past your lips, capturing Black’s attention.

“You should go to sleep Y/n, the faster you recover the sooner we can return and sort this whole mess out,” Black hummed tenderly against your cheek.

“But I-” You tried to protest, though it was promptly muffled against his chest when he pulled you closer.

“No buts. Sleep, now.” His grip tightened around your back, letting you know that there was no room for arguments.

It wasn’t over yet and you both knew it, but frankly you didn’t have enough energy to care at the moment. Giving up once you realized there was no point in arguing with him, you soon fell asleep in his arms, lulled by the rhythmic thumping of his heart and the warmth of his firm body.

You had never slept so well.

[here-there-be-nerds]

Single Dad Taako 10

( 0 ) ( 1 ) ( 1.5 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 ) ( 9 ) ( 10 ) ( 11 )

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Everything had to be /perfect/. Anything short of that was going straight in the trash and the can was starting to get full.

Okay, so Taako burnt a few things, he was nervous; he made mistakes when he was nervous. He knew that, it only made him more nervous. Tonight was it, the big night.

It was the night Kravitz and Angus were going to meet for the first time and everything had to be /perfect/ or Taako would have a meltdown. He might just have one for the hell of it at this point.

He had finally come up with a course that both of his boys would enjoy and neither would think there was favoritism going on. Taako had burnt through three sides and one entrée already. It was a good thing he over shopped.

Angus was in his room while Taako was having this cooking break down; the boy was banished there till Taako could handle himself better. He didn't want to end up screaming in front of Angus and Taako may have enchanted Angus' door so he couldn't hear him.

Taako finally finished setting the dining table with a /perfectly/ cooked meal, it was something like Fantasy Thanksgiving, a little of everything that his boys both liked. Taako had Lup bake the chocolate cake for desert so he would have one less thing to do and naturally it was over the top. Damn he loved her.

It was fifteen more minutes before Kravitz should get there, so it gave Taako some time to seal off the kitchen and the disaster held within that he would deal with later. And it gave him a second to check his appearance for the millionth time and do any needed touch ups or fix his hair.

The familiar sound of crinkling of time and space ripping apart behind Taako alerted him that a rift opened in the entry way just behind him.

"You look stunning." Kravitz said to Taako's reflection in the mirror as he smiled in greeting.

Taako spun around excited, his nerves easing at the sight of Kravitz and replaced with giddiness. A common occurrence that seemed to be cropping up more often than not. Taako threw his arms around Kravitz's neck to pull him into a quick kiss.

"Babe, you're early." Taako said, hardly mad especially when Kravitz pressed another kiss to his glossed lips. Taako was /melting/.

"Couldn't help it." Kravitz admitted sheepishly. "I'm a little nervous; I haven't been around a child in quite some time."

"You'll love him; he's the best kid on the plane." Taako assured, but was comforted to know he wasn't the only one that was nervous.

Taako dropped the spell on Angus' door as he dragged Kravitz to the living room.

"Your home is impeccable; I expected nothing less for you." Kravitz said after briefly looking around.

Taako blushed lightly and playfully gave Kravitz a small push.

"You already have me, you don't gotta butter me up." Taako laughed.

"I'm being honest." Kravitz assured, taking Taako's hand and pulling him close. "It’s nearly as beautiful as you."

Taako giggled, it was horribly cheesy but damn if he didn't love the way Kravitz would stroke his ego.

"Taako? I heard voices, is he here-" Angus cut off as he wandered in the living room and locked eyes with Kravitz.

There was a sudden tension in the air as Kravitz and Angus stared at each other with these looks of shock that Taako couldn't possibly fathom. Taako got out of Kravitz's arms to keep the awkward to a minimum but the man hardly noticed and it was really starting to creep Taako out how they were just standing there...staring.

"You!/?" Both Kravitz and Angus accused or demanded and Taako was officially confused as he looked between them.

"You're his son?" Kravitz asked in disbelief, what were the odds?

"He's been dating /you/?" Angus accused and he didn't seem happy about it.

"Uh..." Taako tried to ask but was talked over at once.

"I can't believe this."

"You can't possibly be the one."

Taako looked back at forth as the two started arguing and throwing some weird accusations at each other, getting into each other's faces as much as a grown man and little boy could.

Taako deftly left the living room, grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of wine and returned, sitting on the couch just as Kravitz said something along the lines: I thought you were dead.

Taako snapped his fingers with a little magical assistance to up the drama and volume, gathering their attention just after Angus climbed up the arm chair to actually get in Kravitz's face.

They both looked at Taako, rightfully ashamed and embarrassed. Taako stared at them in deadpan as he sipped his wine.

"Okay. So explain." Taako said.

"Um..." They said together, exchanging looks.

"It's a little confusing/ it was a few years ago/ you didn't say your son was/ that your boyfriend was the Grim Reaper!"

"Stop! Stop it." Taako demanded waving his hand and sighing as he rubbed his temple. "Okay...one at a time."

Angus took the chance before Kravitz could.

"We met before." Angus explained.

"It was before I met you." Kravitz added.

"Before we met either." Angus said. "It was six months or something like that before the train."

"So..." Taako said, swirling the wine in his glass. "You know each other."

Taako didn't know what to do with this, somehow, this was worse than a first meeting.

"Why?" Taako asked. Why would his baby boy know his Reaper boyfriend?

"I'm a detective." Angus said, a pretty standard go to for him.

"He got mixed up in some cases he /shouldn't/ have been anywhere near." Kravitz said, looking disapproving at Angus.

"I can take care of myself!" Angus defended.

"Say that to all the times I had to save you." Kravitz said starting to slip into that shitty work accent.

"Stop!" Taako snapped, setting down his glass, what kind of nonsense had he found himself in?

"But!" They both protested but fell silent when Taako squared them with a sharp look.

"Angus. Come here." Taako patted the couch next to him and Angus didn't hesitate to come to his father’s call. Taako gently took Angus' face in his hands and looked him in the eyes. "What the fuck?"

"I…look, I took the cases I could! Sometimes it was...a little dangerous, but..." Angus started to grumble as he avoided Taako's gaze. "I had to eat."

Taako pulled Angus into his chest, kissing the top of his head. He understood; they talked it all out before. But Angus never mentioned taking on something so bad a Reaper of the Raven Queen had been involved.

Taako looked over at Kravitz and he looked completely uncomfortable and wasn't looking directly at them. Like he was invading their moment.

"Okay, okay." Taako said, still holding on to Angus. "So you two met before, okay, so hey, makes it easier."

Kravitz didn't look so sure but he nodded anyway.

"Ango, you good?" Taako asked.

"Yes, I'm okay." Angus said as he pulled away from Taako and looked warily at Kravitz.

"Krav, you good?" Taako asked.

"Yes, darling." Kravitz said but he looked tense, so did Angus.

Yes, this was somehow so much worse than Taako feared.

Dinner wasn't any better, it was delicious natch, every dish cooked to perfection, the flavors were unparalleled. But the atmosphere turned it all to ash in Taako's mouth. He glanced on his either side to catch Kravitz or Angus giving each other these looks Taako didn't understand.

Taako might have been on his second bottle of wine by the time he cleared dinner away and brought out the cake, already sliced and served on plates.

"Oh! Aunt Lup make cake?" Angus asked in excited interest.

"I could have made it." Taako scoffed offended.

"Did you?" Angus tilted his head.

"...no." Taako mumbled.

Kravitz stifled a chuckle and Taako stuck his tongue out at him.

"Aunt Lup marbles her cake batter to look like flames." Angus said as he stuck a forkful of cake into his mouth in delight.

"Sounds like my sister." Taako mumbled, looking over at Kravitz. "You haven't met her already too, right?" He teased but even he knew it wasn't all that funny.

"Can't say that I have, love, as I wasn't aware you had one." Kravitz said taking Taako's hand, rubbing gently circles into the back of Taako's hand, his eyes filled with love and sympathy.

Angus watched the exchange carefully, gathering every detail.

"Right...guess I haven't..." Taako said sheepishly, but Angus hadn't been surprised, he didn't know about her until months after doing magic lessons with Taako and only because she came over unannounced.

"You'd know if you had." Angus supplied, but the adults were too busy looking into each other's eyes like in those romance novels Angus would accidentally pick up.

The tension that had been in Taako's shoulders all night started to ebb away and the smile on his face began to soften. He seemed delighted when Kravitz kissed his knuckles, Taako's ears twitching and everything.

Angus concluded something extremely important: Kravitz made Taako very happy. Happier than Angus had ever seen him. Kravitz had to stick around, it was important.

So he decided to forgive and forget about what happened between him and the Reaper. That was a long time ago anyway, Angus knew they both loved Taako and that would have to be enough to learn to get along.

After everything Taako had done for Angus, putting some arguments aside was nothing. He wanted to make Taako's life easier not harder; he didn't want to be in the way of something that could shift Taako's mood like that.

Besides, Kravitz seemed different here than he did on their cases. He seemed so soft around Taako while he had once been quite a terrifying force when fighting against liches.

After desert, they moved into the living room, Kravitz and Taako on the love seat and Angus took the arm chair.

"Krav, babe, Krav." Taako giggled as he attempted to whisper to the Reaper but Angus could clearly hear. "I think I'm a little drunk."

"Yes...a little." Kravitz said patting Taako's thigh as the elf slumped against him. "Taako...maybe we should call it a night?"

"Noo, still awkward, gotta make nice." Taako whined as he clung to Kravitz's arm.

"Oh dear." Kravitz mumbled, looking at Angus. "I'm so sorry I caused this tension."

"What?" Angus perked up confused.

"I know...back then, it might have seemed like I thought...I may have treated you poorly. I want to apologize and say...I was only worried for your safety, little detective...Angus." Kravitz said. "I didn't want you to get hurt. In my line of work, life is precious and short to all creatures and you just started. I didn't want that to get cut short."

Angus gripped the arms of the chair, straining the fabric under his fingers. He hadn't expected this, was the Reaper just saying that because of Taako? No, Angus' perception was high and he could tell Kravitz was telling the truth.

"Thank you..." Angus said honestly, relaxing. "I'm sorry I was rude...and that I yelled before, that wasn't nice."

"Thank you." Kravitz smiled softly and Angus decided, yea, this Kravitz, off duty Kravitz, was a lot better.

"Aww~" Taako cooed. "Even if you two were just doing that for me I'm loving it~!"

"Ah ha," Kravitz laughed nervously, patting Taako's arm. "I think now it's definitely time to call it a night."

"Alright~" Taako agreed, allowing Kravitz to help him up to his feet.

Taako leaned against Kravitz for support, leaning up to whisper something into Kravitz's ear. Going by the grin on the elf's face and the sudden blush on Kravitz's face was anything to go by; Angus would have to say it was something inappropriate.

"Love please!" Kravitz quietly chided. "We c-can't! Not tonight, okay?"

Taako pouted a little but still mildly pleased at the reaper's reaction.

"Aww, I can sound proof the room if that's what you're worried about." Taako said grinning.

Kravitz floundered for something to say if he had any idea would he could possibly say in response. His physical appearance started going taut until it went completely skeletal.

Angus had remembered seeing Kravitz like this when they first meet as he attacked those necromancers they encountered but it was still startling to see the change now in the middle of their living room as his father hung off the Reaper's arm grinning. Taako seemed pleased as could be at this reaction which Angus couldn't fathom.

"Sexy~" Taako purred.

"I! I'm going to get Taako to bed; it was nice meeting you properly Angus. I hope we can do this again soon." Kravitz said quickly and started guiding the tipsy elf down the hall to his bedroom.

"Hell yea~" Taako said with a tone of victory that Kravitz shushed as Taako indicated which bedroom was his.

"No, darling, we can't...please behave." Kravitz said trying to be quiet as he took Taako into his room and shut it behind them.

Angus stayed in his chair as he pondered things over. This night sure had gone so different than he expected, there had been so much he had prepared for and this hadn't been anywhere close to the things he thought might come up. He had to admit...it went better than he had hoped or at least it ended that way. He still wanted to get to know Kravitz better of course, but he made Taako so happy so easily. Angus wanted that for his father he deserved to be that happy.

Angus got up and padded down the hall quietly, he could still hear Taako and Kravitz talking in Taako's room.

"Love please just let me...please stop that." Kravitz said exasperated.

Taako giggled and there were sounds of the covers shifting.

"Hey babe?" Taako asked.

"Yes Taako?" Kravitz asked.

"Do you think tonight went okay?" Taako asked concerned.

"I...think it did. It was pretty tense but I hope things go smoother next time." Kravitz said softly as the covers moved again.

"Next time~? So there's gonna be a next time?" Taako asked pleased.

"Yes, if you'd like. I'd like to get to actually know the little detective. I mean, Angus." Kravitz corrected. "So I would enjoy a next time."

"Next time...yea, me too." Taako yawned. There was a quiet moment before Taako whined. "Do you gotta go?"

"Yes, it isn't appropriate...you know how we can get." Kravitz said playfully.

"Oh I do~ It's why you should stay." Taako said.

"No, some other time." Kravitz said and there was another quiet moment.

Angus decided that was enough eavesdropping and quickly went into his room. He didn't know if Kravitz was going to come back out anytime soon but he didn't want to get caught.

It really had been an interesting night and Angus had a lot to think about. He laid on his bed and stared up at his ceiling. Things were going to be so different from now on, that's for sure.

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( 0 ) ( 1 ) ( 1.5 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 ) ( 9 ) ( 10 ) ( 11 )

[rebels-ptau]

Do you have any stories from people being jerks to the family besides Tarkin?

(Ezra)Eh, the real problem isn't jerks so much as what Sabine likes to call “poachers”.See, we came to the horrified realization a few months ago that people think Caleb is HOT. I know, right? I mean, okay he's thirty-two, not fifty-two and he's in pretty good shape with all the therapeutic running/calisthenics, and now the getting back into martial arts since his “cane-fu” instructor (some Donnie Yen-looking guy named Chirrut) convinced him to start teaching his whole thing of “If you have your hands on them or they've grabbed you, you don't need to see them”.And now that summer has rolled around he’s familiar enough with the area that he can actually run and he started dragging me along because I’m on the track team now anyway. Between all that and the haircut and the sleeves-torn-off running gear that shows off his ink without showing off his bullet holes and the Ray Bans, he looks like he rolled out of bed and onto the set of something like Sixteen Candles or Breakfast Club as Bad Boy Love Interest #1. You’d think the blindness thing would throw them, but the fact that he compensates really well for it, enough that people sometimes don't notice until they see his cane or he takes off his glasses just makes it weirdly sexy-pitiable because he's Just So Brave.Roll it all together and he's apparently Suburban Mom Catnip. Most of them are fine, like, Mrs. “Call Me Annette” Davis is harmless. She lives across the street from the neighborhood park and has apparently made Caleb-Watching part of her morning routine. She'll be out on her porch with a coffee cup and a book she doesn't read while Caleb cranks out a few dozen pull-ups on the monkey bars and goads me through however many I can manage. I asked Katylynne about it one time and she just kinda shrugged like, “Eh, between me, the twins and the divorce, she needs some Me Time.”Which was totally fine, but then she had to keep going.“That and she says 'Dating is a shark tank I don't want to dive into again, but Mommy has needs.’”Ew.“Face it, your dad’s hot.”And then Katylynne started joining her mom out on the porch and pointedly yelling Good Morning! at us. It's a bonding ritual for them now I think.It only started getting Weird the first time Hera got deployed after we moved here. Unfortunately there's Ye Olde Stereotypes about military families: The spouse left at home is basically single, right? (Wrong, ew.) But that didn't stop the casseroles showing up at the door, held level with unusually (and completely pointlessly) low necklines and promises to make sure he called if he needed absolutely anything~💖Mrs. “Call Me Diane” Hallifax isn't serious, I'm pretty sure she's just getting a little Desperate Housewives/50 Shades/Cosmo Sex Tips-Style Illicit Thrill out of her system via Forbidden Flirtation and SOMEONE should appreciate her ham-and-broccoli-cheddar quiche because holy crap it's amazing. I might kill a man over the peanut-butter 'brookies’ (it's double dutch chocolate brownies with peanut butter cookies baked in somehow?!)Mrs. “Oh, please, it's Karen” Marshall is a little creepy and the real reason Caleb started dragging me along on his runs. Apparently she just ran up beside him one morning (in, I and thus he, would later discover, head-to-toe Victoria Secret PINK! running gear, complete with teeny-tiny velour jacket half-zipped over teeny-tiny push-up sports bra (WHY BOTHER HE'S BLIND)) and was running way too close so she kept """accidentally""" brushing up against him (which made him veer sideways to compensate and subsequently nearly smack into a stop sign, which would have been hilariously ironic) and she wouldn't fucking shut up about how much yoga she does. I'm basically an inverse-wingman, and provide helpful tension relief like, “Oh yeah, Hera’s really flexible too, and she can bench-press him. It's pretty cool.” She mysteriously got bored of running for cardio after like, a week of cockblocking. Or whatever the female version is.… and then there's That Bitch Cecile Greene. Who, by the way, we didn't name. She's kind of queen of the community, head of the PTA, Neighborhood Watch Council, HOA, all the acronym societies that go into running a gated community with an iron fist. She fights dirty. Like, all that sympathy stuff, the “Call if you need anything~ 💖”? All of that, but laced with things like how it must be So Hard being a Single Dad… well, not quite a single dad but doesn't it seem like it sometimes? And sure the kids are sweet but it's just so much to ask to raise them alone... He must get So Lonely… And God only knows what SHE's doing out there. Oh, no, of course she wouldn’t do anything like THAT but there are those Rumors you hear about sailors and pilots and she's both...She never outright said Hera was abandoning us when she went to sea, but she was basically doing a fucking manipulation tango around the words, and she was never quite rude or invasive enough for Caleb to feel right about telling her to fuck off like he should and wanted to. Just enough to get under his skin, destabilize him.Thanks lady, way to prey on a guy battling chronic depression and, oh yeah, the fear that he's not good enough for his girl anymore, ever since he was brutally tortured and crippled.Luckily, she tried her shit on Hera. The same sort of backwards-compliment-insult at (of all places) a PTA meeting. Some crap about how it must be So Hard, that Hera is So Brave to stay with Caleb even through all the Hardship he was going through…And Hera, who knew aaaaaall about her shit from me and Sabine, looks this Martha Stewart wannabe dead in the face, takes a sip of her sugar-free punch and says,“They burnt out his EYEballs, Cecile, not the important ones.”(Sabine and I, of course, were in earshot, and I nearly died via punch inhalation because I knew where she was going with this.)Cecile had kinda like, blinked, because oh no she won't. “I… don't quite understand what you mean?”“I mean he still fucks like a goddamn champion,” Hera answers calmly, still sipping her punch like she isn't discussing her sex life in the middle of a fucking PTA MEETING. “I'm sure as shit not about to give that kind of dick up just because I have to explain what's going on onscreen for Movie Night.”“I BEG your pardon?!”“We may not have spent a couple thousand dollars on a sparkly rock and a white dress but it's still TIL DEATH DO US PART.” And then she tossed her cup in the trash, walked over, hooked Caleb’s arm in hers and they WALKED OUT. Conveniently Sabine was already set to stay over with Ketsu and I had literally JUST asked Caleb if I could go to Zare’s, because yeah, don't want to be home after that.

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Apricity - James Potter x Reader

Request: Can you write a James Potter x reader where the reader is a rebellious just like James and Sirius But they both hate each other because of the competition. But they adore each other too And you can make it as you want. Thank you! Warnings: My English, language. Gif/images aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners. Also Blake Steven as James. It’s not that great but I’m back and that makes me happy :)  Apricity: The warmth of the sun in winter. Word Count~1.3k MASTERLIST Pending Requests

“You little stubborn git! If you followed the instructions for once in your life none of this would have happened” you screamed at him. It was the first time that Slughorn had paired the two of you for the day and disaster had set loose since the first second. He was stupid, stubborn, childish, egocentric, shallow, provoking and Merlin, you hated him. He huffed in mild annoyance but smirked at you with his eyebrow arched. He was looking to get slapped. “You look better when I can’t see your face” he said coldly. He had covered you with slime and it was disgusting. It smelled funny and you looked orange. You calmed your breathing and looked at him all too innocent. You grabbed the cauldron and spilled whatever was left on him. Fuck you, Potter you thought. “Now you look lovely too” you remarked when he squealed with aggravation and a pained expression was plastered on his face. Sirius and Remus were looking at you two with a funny look because they knew something that you had yet to discover. “Merlin’s beard! Mister Potter, Miss Y/L/N, care to explain what happened here?” Slughorn exclaimed but not surprised because he was talking to the biggest rebels of Hogwarts. All that was missing now was Sirius’ comment. The other problematic student, as he called the three of you. “Don’t worry Sluggy. They were just flirting!”. With a roll of your eyes, you stood up and left the class. Screw you, Potter. Remus smiled to himself while Sirius laughed at a wide-eyed James. He had it bad.

After a long and very dreadful semester, Christmas seemed to be the perfect opportunity to unwind and relax. Being a rebel was tiring, after all. You had to keep up with their pranks so you could out-top them and of course, crash that little frat boy, Potter. You were just fine with his friends, even studied with Remus sometimes. They were okay. He was… getting on your nerves. Therefore, you were glad that Christmas was near. He would go home and you would be left alone. Or so you thought. You had to keep up with the pile of homework that your professors had given you as well. You walked into the common room and settled in front of the fireplace, making yourself comfortable. You opened your books and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and started your first assignment. But of course, you couldn’t even focus on it. Your mind was a mess, going back to places that you had long forgotten. Or rather, places you wanted to forget. You had chosen to act like you did. It wasn’t exactly you. It was what you wanted people to see when they looked at you. “We have the common room to ourselves!”. His obnoxious voice was perfectly clear and loud. How full of himself was he? His amusement was cut short because he spotted you. Something was off. “Obviously not” he huffed. Merlin, he was awful. You pulled yourself together and faced him. Not a god-damn chance you would admit it. “Silence is golden. Duct-tape is silver” you softly said, causing Remus to snort and Sirius to glance at his friend with a very pointed look. “Oh, you’re sarcastic today. I like it” he continued like nothing was wrong. You turned your back to him and continued pretending you were studying. “Sarcasm is the body’s natural defense against stupidity, Potter” you said cheerfully yet your heart was speeding up without your consent. He was ready to answer when Remus cut him off. “How about a truce with wine and chocolate?” he suggested quite diplomatically. Your eyebrows shot up on their own accords. “And plenty of smoke?” Sirius butted in and you couldn’t help but find yourself wanting to agree. The truth was… you had grown tired of hating him and receiving his hatred back. It was toxic… yet, strangely addictive. “As if” he commented dryly and your face fell. Why? Why were you reacting like this? “James, it’s Christmas” you heard Remus whispering at him. You didn’t want his sympathy. Not like that. You could almost sense him rolling his eyes before dramatically plopping down next to you like he just granted you the best gift you could possibly be given. It was going to be a big night. Frustrated, you turned and faced him. “Why are you still here?” you asked but it came out a bit more aggressive than what you would have liked. “Well, you’re welcome! I am clearly the best thing that has happened here!” he answered and everything in his voice made you believe that he truly believed that. You wanted to slap the hell out of him but you simply shrugged. Remus and Sirius were watching you carefully, analyzing even the smallest reaction. What were they looking to find? “How about that glass of wine?” you asked, hoping and wishing that the alcohol would loosen you up. And it did. Not long after the first empty bottle of wine, secrets were being spilled with ease. Your mind was clouded and your actions were a bit more effusive. You couldn’t exactly think of boundaries and manners. Or how much you ‘hated’ him. Why was he so attractive? Oh, no. No. No. NO. You couldn’t go down that road. “Why do you pretend to hate each other?” Sirius deadpanned and all fuzziness left your body. You were sober and very aware of the situation. Merlin, no. When you didn’t answer, James laughed. His cheeks were pink- courtesy of the alcohol- and his eyes sparked alive. His lips… pulled back in a smile… a genuine smile. That little shit. “I don’t hate her, Pads. You know that!” he exclaimed but you saw the tiniest of blushes creeping into his face. You had a very hard time keeping your hands to yourself. You wanted to feel his messy hair and touch his soft skin. Merlin, yes. You liked him. Very much. Nobody got the chance to say anything because he said something that was very close to 'it’s hot in here’ and got rid of his shirt. And oh, lord. He was shirtless. One look at his eyes… The warmth of the sun in winter.  “Then why do you act like it?” you softly and carefully asked him, moving a bit closer to him. Suddenly, everything else didn’t exist. You did realize that the guys slowly stood up and left but apart from that… it was just him and his captivating hazel eyes. “I had a reputation to uphold” he said trying to be cocky but he just made your heart beat faster and your breath to be trapped somewhere between your lungs and your lips. He leaned closer. You could smell the alcohol and the chocolate on his breath. Maybe you should just walk away. But you couldn’t even move your eyes. “Had?” you mustered to question. You were dizzy from the tension… He never exactly did something to hurt you… even when he played a prank on you, he made sure that it was nothing much. He would make you tick but so did you. You had a thing going on and everyone else could see it. Your sarcastic remarks and his cynical flirting would drive you-both of you-crazy for days. “Had” he confirmed. How many times would this chance present itself? How many times would you be able to act on your feelings and just grabbed him and… No. You should stop. No. “I don’t hate you, James” you admitted as well before you could stop yourself. Well, it was obvious but some things have to be put in words. “I know”. After that, you didn’t have the time to process what he had just told you, mainly because his lips were on yours and they did taste of wine and chocolate. His hands to your waist, yours getting lost in his hair, wandering down his torso. He felt like he was the sun as well. Bright, hot and consuming. And you, just like Icarus, would fly too close. But unlike him, you wanted to get burnt.

Tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @geeksareunique

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Lol, I want angst. I want Agni to survive the attack at the manor but has tremendous PTSD from the event and one day has a detrimental panic attack and is comforted by reader.

YOU WANT ANGST, DO YA

WELL LUCKY FOR YOU I’M LIKE THE ANGST FAIRY

… This, uh… got… waaaaay longer than I meant for it to…

It’staken months for Agni to physically recover from what happened. As itis, despite the fact that he’s been out of hospital for a while,and he isn’t in too much pain anymore, he’s still got scars. Theydot his back like a map, and according to him, they ache when he getsup in the morning. It’s almost impossible for him to sleep on hisback. The scars aren’t unbearably painful, but they are stilltender.

Thatis nothing compared to the way he’s still not recovered mentally.

Ittook a while for you and Soma to convince Agni that it’s okay tostay at the townhouse. That nothing’s going to happen. That even ifsomething does happen, you’ll protect him. There are nights you’vefound him sitting up in the parlor, staring at the door, because hismind just keeps tormenting him with the possibilities of bad thingsthat could happen. He has nightmares about Soma dying, about youdying, and about being killed himself. He flinches whenever the dooropens, especially when it’s sudden, quick, and loud. It’s hardfor him to even cook anymore unless you and Soma are both in thekitchen with him. Although he’s always been protective, because ofthe attack, it’s crossed over from that into him being overlyclingy.

Youdon’t think you’ve ever felt worse for anybody in your life. Agnican’t fully relax anymore. Every day is nothing but anxiety forhim. He’s a prisoner in his own mind, and there’s nothing you cando to free him, and it makes your heart hurt.

Todayis the first day in a long time that you’re visiting thePhantomhive manor. While Agni is completely wound up about it andunable to keep himself from worrying about something bad happening,at least he’s not trying to escape the outing. You can tell he’sstill not happy about it, of course.

Forthe most part, nobody makes any big fuss about you all coming here.Ciel is happy to have you back – as happy as he can be, you think.As irritated as he is by Soma sometimes, (and as hurtful as he was toAgni right before the attack happened), it’s clear as day that Somaforgiving him enough to at least come visit the manor is a hugeweight off his shoulders. To be perfectly honest, as cold as Soma hasbeen to Ciel after the incident, you weren’t sure yourself whetheror not he would forgive the young earl. The look of relief on Ciel’sface when Sebastian announces the three of you speaks volumes. Onsome level, he must have considered Soma and Agni friends.

MeyRin, bless her heart, hurries to get you all comfortable sitting downin the parlor, with a tray of tea and cups poured for each of you.She seems to be a bit bewildered as to why you’re here instead ofin the sitting room; her demeanor morphs into one of understandingwhen Agni shyly explains that it’s because he feels safer here.Near the door. Then she hurries off to get something for you all toeat. Hoping to comfort you with food, probably.

Bardclaps his hand down on Agni’s shoulder, gently, making sure he’sin plain sight of the man first, and giving him a friendly grin.There’s a shine of sympathy in his eyes when Agni jolts slightlyregardless. He makes a comment about how he missed seeing you all,how you and Agni look more handsome together than ever, how he hopesAgni is healing well. To his credit, Agni nods politely, says thankyou, and is able to chat for a moment.

Finnycomes racing in – probably having come from the back door onpurpose, because it’s clear by his grass-stained shirt and muddygloves that he was just outside – and lights up with a smile uponseeing the three of you. He’s got a flower for each of you,carefully pressing them into your fingers. His words go a mile aminute, saying that he’s so glad to see you and happy that Agni andSoma are doing well. Agni is startled, but thankful for the gift andkind words.

Snakefollows after Finny, almost managing to hide, and predictably, hedoesn’t have a whole lot to say. He never really does. You don’tblame him, though. He seems even shyer than Agni. When he translatesfor his snakes, one of them says something to the effect that they’reglad Agni “didn’t die”. Snake at least berates the serpent inquestion for speaking so bluntly. Agni is a bit flustered, but Snakeapologizes before hurrying off… presumably to hide under a rock.

Tanakaand Sebastian, bless them, have the good sense to keep their supportfairly brief. Tanaka gives Agni’s arm a small squeeze and says thatit’s nice to see all three of you in better health and spirits.It’s very sweet, especially considering that you weren’t awareTanaka paid that much attention to you all. Sebastian gives each oneof you a smile, inquiring as to how Agni is feeling. It’s prettyobvious how much it means to Agni; Sebastian is one of his onlyfriends here in England. The butler leaves you all with strictinstructions to relax and keep recovering, before he disappearsupstairs with Ciel.

Onceeveryone is gone and it’s just the three of you in the parlor, Agniat least calms down the slightest bit. He leans against you,listening as you read a book aloud. Every so often, he shifts aroundand gives you a smile, or lightly runs his fingers through your hair.That’s something he used to do frequently before the attack, andhe’s been trying so hard to regain as much normality as he canlately.

Aboutan hour into this, Soma gets up from his chair, stretching out a bitbefore he tells you he’s heading to the kitchen. Which is fine,because you’ve all managed to finish the food Mey Rin brought, andSoma’s still hungry. You can’t fault him for that.

AlthoughAgni tries to move and get up to follow, you keep your arms aroundhim. Quietly reassuring him not to worry. It’s fine. Soma’s justgrabbing a snack, and he can take care of himself. He won’t be gonelong. Agni does his best to protest, but after a moment, he justheaves a sigh and relaxes against you. Yes, it’s fine. It’s fine.

He’sa bit more calm now than you’ve seen him in a while. You set thebook aside, just playing with the parts of his hair you can reachunder the turban. A soft hum vibrates from your chest, and he smilesas his eyes drift closed. “Ah, so nice… I think… I could fallasleep right now…”

“Goahead,” you giggle before resuming your humming.

Justas he seems ready to drift off – it’s taking much less time thanusual, for some reason – there’s a loud BANG from thekitchen.

It’sa miniature explosion (that didn’t hurt anybody, judging by Bard’sshout of, “Goddamn it!” followed by Soma’s snorting laughter),not a gunshot. There seems to be little difference to Agni’sagitated mind, however, because he’s immediately alert again. Worsethan before he even came in. Everything happens so fast that youdon’t even get a chance to pull him back when he jumps up from thesofa. “My prince!”

“A-Agni!”Your hand does catch him before he can fully run off toward thekitchen. In fact, you wrap both arms around his waist to keep himfrom going too far. He’s a lot stronger than you, though, despitethe fact that he’s still not quite at full strength. “Agni, Agni!Stop! It’s okay! Soma’s fine!”

It’sas if he can’t hear your voice. His eyes are wide with panic,darting everywhere to look for Soma, and your weight slowing him downdoesn’t even seem to register. He’s gone back to everything hewas feeling that day, to the memory, to his desperation of notwanting it to happen again. “Soma!” he calls again, louder thistime. There are tears in his eyes now, and you can feel that he’sshaking all over.

Youtry to dig your heels in and prevent him from moving more. It doesn’tdo much, though at least Agni looks back and actually notices younow. “Agni, please, stop! Didn’t you hear Soma laughing? He’salright!”

Heblinks at you a couple of times, as if he’s trying to recognizeyou. It’s eerie; it almost feels like he’s looking straightthrough you. “(Name), you… you need to stay in the other room!”His fingers try to pry at yours in a feverish attempt to get you offof him. It’s pretty obvious to you that what’s happening isn’ta flashback. It’s more that he keeps remembering what happenedbefore and thinks something similar might be happening again. Hewants you to stay where he knows it’s safe while he gets Soma intothe same room. So that he can protect both of you.

Yourfingers slip, and you quickly reach up to cup his cheeks. There’sgot to be something – something you can do to make himrealize that it’s okay. “Agni, Agni, please… it’s okay. He’salright! Nothing bad is happening, I promise… Bard just fouledsomething up in the kitchen again…”

It’sat this point that Soma finally comes out from the kitchen. His hairis a little disheveled and he’s holding a burnt… something… inhis hand, with a thin layer of ash on his clothes, but he looks noworse for wear at all. “Eh…?” His big gold eyes blink at bothof you. It’s like he’s silently asking what’s going on.“(Name), Agni! Is everything okay? What’s the matter?”

“Myprince…” This is what seems to finally snap Agni out of it. Youcan see the realization in his eyes as it dawns on him that anotherattack isn’t happening. Something flashes, slightly, and hisbreathing gets heavy. The tears that started to pool in his eyesbreak free, making trails over his face. He squeezes his eyes shutand, at last, allows his weight to collapse against you. He mumblessomething in Hindi that you don’t quite catch before starting tocry against your shoulder. “(Name), I – I’m sorry… I don’t…I-I thought…”

“Iknow, I know. It’s okay, love.” You hold him tightly, trying toavoid touching the scars on his back too much. Instead you let yourfingers play with the strands of hair that poke out from under histurban. The beads wrapping around one lock slide a little under yourtouch. “It’s alright. Everything’s okay, and you don’t needto be sorry.”

Doeshe really think he has to apologize for this? He’s trembling,sobbing, undoubtedly still terrified, being tortured by his own mind– and he thinks he has something to apologize for? This isn’t hisfault. It’s the fault of the people who attacked him months ago.

Hetries to say something else; it comes out as nothing but a strangledgasp and more sobs. Proper words won’t even come to him right now.He’s so overwhelmed and afraid and upset that he can’t make hisbody speak.

Youmove a bit, just so that you can kiss his temple a couple of times.Hopefully that’s as comforting a touch as you can give him at themoment. “It’s okay,” you repeat as you give him a gentlesqueeze. “I’m here. Everybody’s okay. Nothing bad happened, andnothing bad is happening right now. It’s okay.”

Anotherhalf-wheeze comes from him, and he wraps his arms around you.

“It’sokay. It’s all going to be okay.”

[roedusk]

Maalraas Pt3 (Knol and Savage)

I’m not sure how much I like this part and it’s entirely unedited, but I figure I’ll come back an edit it later. (Beware of autocorrect and typos.)

Getting Savage onto the Maalraas was an adventure.  The selcath were able to help her get him onto a hover stretcher in the wider spaces of the observation room, but the more cramped corridors of a starship weren't exactly planned with two meters of prone Zabrak in mind.  It took some creative force usage, but Knol was finally able to get him into the bunk room on the end of the hall, where she'd be between him and the rest of the ship if necessary.  There'd already been an oversized bunk inside, fortunately, and a few more careful force lifts got the kid settled in without too much jostling.  Then she disassembled the stretcher and packed it away in their new portable med pack.  As a final touch she tucks him in with the duvet from the sailer.

"You good there for a bit, Savage?  Anything I should do or anything you'd like me to get before I go?  Not sure how long it's going to take to get out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace once we get going."

"No, I will be fine," the Zabrak insists, voice steady in spite of the wrinkle of pain on his forehead.  Knol considers him for a moment before deciding she should take him at his word.  A final force-prod to reassure herself he wasn't hiding an injury before she nods and heads for the cockpit.

Orbital Control clears them for liftoff without a wait.  Half an hour to the hyperlane then they were away, course set for the Phelleem Sector.  The report had indicated Republic forces were gathering in the interference field surrounding the shadowy Orixon Nebula and Tae was with them.

What their ultimate goal was and even their numbers was unknown, too sensitive for even encrypted communication without due cause.  And Knol didn't really need to know, she just appreciated knowing all the angles beforehand.  Picking up Tae was going to be unfortunately similar to flying a mission blind.

Not to mention trying to hide a force sensitive on her ship undiscovered while tracking Tae down.  Knol have herself a moment to lament just how cruel the universe was to get her stuck in this position.  Then she stood up with a shrug and headed back for the cabins, it was her own fault really, not worth angsting over.

"Still doing alright, kid?" She asks as she stepped into Savage's room, only to wince as he startles awake. "Sorry, hey, Sunshine, it's fine, go back to sleep."

The Zabrak blinks suspiciously up at her, his brow deeply furrowed, and Knol can't help the amused ruffle that causes her.

"It's fine, kid, really.  Was just coming to tell you we made it to the hyperlane.  We'll be in hyperspace for a while now, barring any technical malfunctions.  You need anything else before I let you sleep?"

Savage frowns at her for a long moment, then abruptly looks away.  "No."

Knol shrugs.  "I'm going to try to get some sleep then.  I'll be right next door if you change your mind, just give me a poke or something.  Can you do that?"

"I cannot," the Zabrak replies, looking frustrated. "I can barely move on my own, let alone reach your chamber to 'poke' you."

Knol blinks, then shakes her head quickly. "Not a physical poke, in the Force.  Something like this."

She reaches out to tap at the edge of his Force presence with her own and he startles, looking up at her with wide eyes.  At her smile his eyes narrow, and he tries poking her back.  On his third try Knol nods, smile widening.

"That's it exactly, just like that.  You poke me like that and I'll know you want my attention.  If it's an emergency you can always give me a pull too."

She demonstrates and his eyes narrow even further.  His answering pull is hesitant, but still obvious, and the bothan nods happily.

"Yeah, like that.  Give me a yank rather than just poking me and I'll know to come running.  Got it?"

"I understand," Savage agrees.  His brow is still furrowed but he's back to staring at the ceiling, so Knol figures he's done with their talk.

"Alright then, sleep well, kid, and call me if you need anything."

An affirmative grunt as she leaves.

The bunk in the cabin Knol picked for herself is a more reasonable size, though she appreciates the little bit of extra room than she'd get on a Bothan sized bed.  It doesn't matter much, though, she's asleep the instant she's under the covers and doesn't wake for the next six hours.

When she wakes it's to the annoying chirp of her chrono alarm.  Knol almost snoozes it again when she remembers the Sith, his injuries, and the dietary supplements.  Instead she forces herself out of bed and wanders into the cooking area to see if they have anything she can make into a meal.

Fortunately the Station Commander seems to have preempted her, leaving factory sealed boxes of foodstuffs stashed in the cooling unit, as well as several different kinds of drinks.  They won't be reduced to surviving off rations and her newly acquired liquor collection anytime soon.

Knol rolls her eyes and makes a mental reminder to send the guy a nice thank you gift once they're safely away.  Then she sets about reading all the labels, eventually grabbing a couple boxes of protien loaf.  While that's heating she debates the different drinks, comparing them with the nutrition chart newly affixed to the cooler door, and snags some of the processed fruit juice cans to go with it.  Laying out the supplements takes almost another 15 minutes of cross checking diagrams and pill boxes, but she's pretty sure she's got it by the time the timer goes off.

Knol grabs the tiny tablecloth on her way out, balancing the tray full of food with the Force when she has to adjust it to knock on the door.

"You awake Sunshine?  I brought food."

A pause and a low sound that might have been an attempt at a reply before Savage growls.  Then, gingerly, he pokes at her.  Knol's fur ruffles cheerfully at that, and she lets herself in.

Savage has somehow managed to wedge himself sideways up against the wall of his bunk, his eyes catching her as soon as the door opens.  He makes no move to unwind, however, and Knol can sense the undercurrent of pain even through her shields.  She sets the tray down on the table and gestures at him.

"I was thinking you'd rather be sitting up for this.  So I can try to help you upright or we can work on moving you to the chair.  Depends on if you think you could stay upright on your own or if having the corner to lean on would be better.  What do you think?"

Savage grumbles under his breath for a moment, considering his choices, then huffs.  "The bunk," he growls, voice dry and raspy, and Knol winces in sympathy.

"Sounds good, then we'll get you something to drink straight away, you sound terrible." She pulls some spare pillows from the closet and does her best to arrange them into a pile with the kid's head still in the way.  It's not perfect, but stays up well enough for her to awkwardly slide and force lift Savage into place.  Most Zabrak at least had the decency not to be over half a meter taller than her…

Once Savage was in place she draped the tablecloth over his lap and opened one of the juices.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, but this is the healthiest drink we have at the moment, so I figured you could try it, and if it's terrible I'll get you something else.  If it comes to that we also have just filtered water.  Here, see if you can turn it while I hold.  Once you've wet your throat we can see if you're up for holding it by yourself.

Savage only barely refrained from rolling his eyes before he nodded, so Knol chose not to mention it as she held the juice up so he could drink.  After a few swallows he tilted the juice back upright and looked at her expectantly.

With a shrug Knol moved her grip to the top of the bottle, letting Savage wrap his hand around the base.  Then she slowly relaxed her grip a fragment at a time.  There's a muted stab of pain when she finally let's go fully, but Savage manages to keep it upright without outwardly revealing the effort it must be taking.  He even manages a shaky drink by himself before Knol gently moves the tray to his lap so he can set it down.

Savage eyes the lumpy meal in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "What is this?"

"Protein Loaf," Knol admits with a shrug, taking a bite of her own and making a face.  "Basically they grind up the meat really small, into something like a paste, then compact it back together before freezing it."

"Why?" The Zabrak demands, giving the loaf on his plate an extremely dubious look.  "What is wrong with just smoking actual meat"

"The taste mostly," Knol guesses, "Most folks these days don't even realize meat has to come from dead animals, and they don't like having the burnt taste of smoked meat when they're trying to make dinner.  While protein loaf can theoretically be any flavor you want if you have the right ingredients.  You can also make it into a lot of different shapes and cook it into lots of different recipes that way.  Plus it stacks better in the hold and if you have to you can eat it through a straw." She makes a face after her next bite and shrugs. "The texture is still a bit off-putting though."

Savage manages to get his fork up to his mouth without spilling and grimaces, nodding his agreement as he swallows.  Then he goes for another bite. "The taste is not terrible at least."

"True, it's a mix of a lot of things but they tend to try to keep the flavor consistent," Knol explains.  "I'll make you a few recipes I picked up sometime when we know your stomach can handle the oil.  Need to keep your protein intake up and this should be a decent way to do that, though you'll still need the supplements for a while." She gestures to the pills on the tray and Savage frowns at them in turn, scooping them into a hand.

"Do I chew them, or…?" He glanced at her, honestly unsure.  Knol shakes her head quickly.

"Just swallow them whole, they're made to release nutrients over a period of time as they dissolve."

The face he made at the taste was certainly memorable, and Knol gestured back to his loaf.

"Try some more meat to clean your tongue, then juice to while away the taste.  The other way around and sometimes the Juice manages to taste worse than the meds did.  There you go.  Better?"

"Yes," Savage mutters struggling through another mouthful of juice before he returns to the meat.

They both eat in silence after that, and Knol paces herself to avoid it looking like Savage was falling behind.  He's careful though, and manages to avoid getting almost anything on the tray.  The tablecloth he manages to keep clean all together.

But he's exhausted when he's done.  Knol collects the trays and the tablecloth back up, then gestures to the bed.

"Let's get you settled again before I go clean the dishes.  Would you rather be on your side again? Or on your back?"

Savage's face hardens at that, and Knol can see him considering both whatever made him home into that hunched position and the pain it was putting him in to sustain it.

"I would rather see the door," he ground out finally, and Knol knew better than to ask for an explanation with that tone.  She had a pretty good guess anyway.

Instead the bothan considered her pile of pillows for a moment before nodding and stepping forward.  With a little maneuvering she had Savage laying down on his side again, mostly supported by the force, while she rearranged most of the pillows behind him.  That done she leaned him back and gave him the last pillow to hold onto.

"Should help support your shoulder somewhat," Knol points out when he frowned at her.  The kid rolls his eyes but tucks it under his arms anyway, so she's taking it as a win.

She picks up the tray and the tablecloth before turning back.  "Pike me if you need anything," she reminds him, poking him for good measure.

Savage pokes her back with a grumble, "Yes."

Knol grins at him.  "Good.  If I don't hear from you I'll be back in an hour with something to drink.  See you then."

She returns to the kitchen to clean their plates and check what she has the supplies to make once Savage is feeling better.  Then she doubles back to check the estimated weekly diet tables for his recovery, just to be sure.

An hour passes quickly in the depths of research, and soon her chonomiter is going off again.  She grabs a pitcher of water and a cup this time then goes to check on her guest again.

If the whole fight goes by this fast, three days won't feel like anything.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage is both the easiest first time patient she could ask for and a terrible patient, all in one.  Anything Knol asks him to do directly he obeys, but anything she's careful not to directly order him to do is up for negotiation apparently.  By which she means he's struggling to sit up without help on the second day in spite of all of her suggestions, but at least he keeps taking his pills and meals when she hands them to him.

He also fails to mention any pain he is experiencing unless she asks him very specific questions, and even then he's extremely hesitant to verify anything.  It makes Knol want to shake him until he understands her sometimes, though she'd never act on it.  And it makes her want to track down Dooku and beat some reason into him.  Maybe the Nightsisters for good measure.

But she can do none of these things.  Instead she's stuck trying to figure out when Savage is going to be the most obedient prisoner ever and when he's going to use every loophole she's given him to insist on injuring himself.

Really, that selkath doctor's dig about jedi and hospitals makes a lot more sense now.  She knows she's been far worse than this, and the healers all deserve medals for putting up with her.

By the third day Savage is forcing himself to stay awake after his hourly check-ins and attempting to pull himself out of bed.  Knol's worried he'll eventually succeed and then end up stuck on the floor.  At least there's a system in place for him to get her if he needs it, she's just still not sure he'll actually do it if she isn't tracing out to him first.

"I'm not sure what you're accomplishing, exactly." She tells him the next time she catches him leaning heavily on the bunk wall between attempts. "I mean, I understand not wanting to be on bedrest any longer than you have to, I've been there.  But you and I both know that if you actually manage to push yourself out of bed you'll just end up on the floor with no way to get back up."

The kid snarls at that, gaze focused determinedly off to her left.  But his grimace says he agrees with her.  And all she gets when she tries to read him is the same mix of frustration and self-recrimination he's had since yesterday.

That and the undercurrent of fear that's been with him since he woke up poisoned days ago, that spikes whenever she presses him for answers.  And yet she has to try.

"Come on, Sunshine, what's this about?"

Savage grits his teeth, refusing to meet her eye, before finally sighing and focusing on something near her elbow.

"I cannot simply remain unmoving and expect my body to recover functionality.  If I cannot move now then I will not be able to move tomorrow.  In less than a day we…"  He shakes his head and starts again. "I cannot continue to rely entirely on your assistance.  I must regain limited mobility, or remain a burden for you to carry or cast aside."

"That's not…," Knol cuts herself off, forces her fur flat, and sighs.  "No, you're right.  I can't exactly give you a reason I won't just leave you behind somewhere.  Nothing I'd believe in your place, anyhow.  And your body is healing, not returning to the way it was.  It's true you'll need to exercise to get back into your best form.  But you aren't there yet.  I know it isn't comfortable, but you're going to have to wait before your body can actually take the damage a fall might cause."

In all honesty she was probably not helping.  It hadn't escaped her that she was a Jedi and Savage at least currently a Sith.  But in his weakened state he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, let alone attempt to escape, so it had been much simpler to give him the benefit of the doubt than it would be if he'd been at the top of his game.

If he'd been healthy she doubted he'd have been willing to come along with her at all, even just to break his mind control.  He might not even have been able to follow her in this state if Dooku hadn't abandoned him to die on Dxun.

And tomorrow they would be rendezvousing with the task force so she could look for Tae.  Would she have trusted him this close to the other Jedi if he weren't as weak as a yearling cub right now?

Weak as a yearling cub, and he knew it.  A Sith under a Jedi's command and completely at her mercy if she decided to turn on him.

"Look at me," Knol demanded, tapping Savage on the chin when he didn't obey.  "Come on, Sunshine, look me in the eyes and listen."

He growls, hands clenched in the duvet across his lap, but yellow eyes meet hers and she nods.

"Good.�� Now listen, I will have to depart when we arrive, to find my contact.  You are not leaving the ship.  I have no intention of telling anyone you're even on-board unless things go completely sideways, but even then you are remaining here while they will be remaining outside.  Do you understand?"

"I understand," he growls, his jaw tight. "And after you meet your contact?"

"With any luck we'll be taking him with us," Knol admits.  "He's a padawan," She reassures Savage when he tenses. "I'm looking for his master, but they're on different missions at the moment.  In the meantime I'll vouch for his conduct.  If you don't do anything to harm him or me he won't do anything to hurt you."

He doesn't believe her, Knol knows.  There's disbelief and fear in his eyes as he studies her face, but he nods nonetheless, choosing, at least for now, to take her at her word.

Not like he has much of a choice.  And the feel of that leaves a sour taste in her mouth long after the conversation is over.

But there are no easy answers, no reassurances she can give that will be believed without proof.  And proof can only come from promises kept.  On both their parts.

Knol finds herself once again belatedly hoping that bringing Tae into the middle of this won't turn out to be a terrible mistake.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage is radiating a constant background static of fear and the resulting defensive anger by the time they're breast to drop out of hyperspace the next morning, and Knol is honestly pretty concerned about him accidentally tipping off the other Jedi to his presence just with that.  Not that she'd ever tell him that, it would only push him further into the depths of frustrated paranoia.  At least with her promise to lock him in the ship and leave him there he's been willing to behave, no matter how grudging his belief is.

Coming out of hyperspace in the Phelleem Sector is a bit anticlimactic for all the stress it's been causing them both.  There's another encrypted data file waiting for her, and Knol takes a moment to decrypt it before she continues.

Turns out since she last checked in the Republic has officially moved its staging ground to Handooine.  The Jedi Commanders have moved to a listening post there to supervise the final preparations for an assault on Jabiim, bringing Tae with them.

Knol reads the report twice just to be certain of the details, then tosses the datapad into the copilot's seat and sets a course for Handooine.

With the fleet now orbiting the planet rather than hiding in the nearby nebula they pick up the Maalrass's signature long before she reaches them, sending out an identification request that's much closer to a friendly request than the bothan was expecting.

Maybe she's been out in the Outer Rim too long.  Or maybe the Republic's army just hadn't been out here long enough.

There's no complications with her Council provided codes this time, the paperwork on Manaan having fully returned her to active status. A few brief questions later and they're able to give her clearance and a landing area on the outskirts of the militarization zone.  Traffic control makes quick work of guiding her down and then Knol is left to finalize last-minute plans as she preps the ship for lockdown.

She hesitates by the cabins, knowing Savage is probably tracking her force signature.  Even if the witches or Dooku didn't teach him that's pretty instinctive, right?  Either way, leaving the ship without saying anything probably isn't the right call.  Wouldn't be with any of the agents she's run ops with at least.

A thought occurs to her and she ducks into her room for a spare canteen to use as a peace offering, filling it up in the kitchen before heading back to Savage's room.

At the door she pauses, then reaches out to poke him.  After a moment's hesitation he pokes her back, and she lets herself in. Inside he's already sitting upright but not trying to pull himself out of bed just yet.  Knol rolls her eyes at his defensive glare and holds out the canteen.

"There should be enough water in here to last you a few hours, and the cap seals when you're not using it so you shouldn't have to worry about it leaking everywhere." The bothan demonstrates how to open the cap and how it goes back on before handing it over.  "I'm about to lock up and head out to find my contact.  Anything else you need before I go?"

There's silence and Savage still won't meet her eyes, so Knol sighs and turns to go.  Just as she reaches the door, he finally responds.

"Keep your word, Jedi," he growls, his fear peaking as she turns to face him again before he gets it back under control.  He's looking her in the eye, though, in spite of it.  Knol nods firmly back.

"You will be leaving Handooine with me.  For now, hold here and wait for me to get back."

That earns her a nod in return, the yellow eyes burning into her back long after the door closes behind her.  She activates the defensive systems in the loading bay then departs, sealing the ramp closed behind her.

Surprisingly there's actually a trooper waiting for her at the edge of the landing zone.  He salutes as soon as she gets close and informs her Air Traffic Control sent him to bring her to Central command as soon as she was ready.

It's almost exactly what she would expect from a mission briefing on a large op.  But the trooper's stiff and standing out against the background where any of her agents would have spent the time trading jokes with one eye on their surroundings.

Knol knows she isn't suited to be a military commander, far more skilled in espionage and infiltration.  But a part of her doubts anyone could be suited for this, ordering kids who never had a chance to live into battle and calling it the greater good.  Maybe she's being too hard on the council, they might not have had much of a choice in this, but neither did the clones, and they deserve better.

Still not their fault they exist.  She smiles at the trooper, "Thanks, I guess it'd be a ways to walk."

He relaxes fractionally, and nods, gesturing her towards the speeder.  "Around 3 kilometers, sir.  Long enough it's better not to walk it if you don't have to."

"I agree, though sometimes needs must.  What's your name, kid?"

"Foray, sir."

"I'll remember it, Foray, thanks for the lift."

She can feel his embarrassed gratitude even if she can't see behind his helmet.  But the last of the nervous tension leaves his spine.

"Thank you, sir.  Let's get back to base."

- - - - - - - - - -

There's a fog in his mind that Tae's been having trouble working past.  It's a lingering cloud of thoughts and emotions that press against his skin from the inside out, making it hard to think and harder to breathe.  He knows how he’s supposed to sort the feelings out, all the little tricks his master was able to teach him to get his mind clear and back to being his again.  But his uncle is missing, and Tae is trapped in what seems like an endless whirlwind of stress that lingers until he can't tell where his thoughts end and the others' begin.

Normally he'd reach out as soon as he started to feel overwhelmed, but his uncle was supposed to be dead and hadn't gotten back in touch since the coded message he'd sent Tae to say he wasn't dead but would be going undercover for a while.  So he couldn't risk accidentally broadcasting to anyone that his uncle was alive, let alone explaining to any of the Jedi in charge of the newly renamed 'Padawan Pack' exactly why he was so stressed.

Instead he had to let the others assume his erratic shielding was due to grief and having never been on an active battleground before.  While his master was missing and he couldn't do anything about it.

The battle preparations weren't helping either, though.  He'd assumed a battlefield wouldn't be much different than being in the middle of a bar brawl, all those minds, most of them with drugs lowering their filter level, and each one in some way upset about what was happening.

So far battle was nothing like that.  On the starcruiser it had been cold with a flurry of suppressed panic as years of experience and training took hold for every trooper onboard.  Keeping his sense of self in the middle of that had been hard, especially when he'd badly wanted that reassurance that if everyone did their part they probably wouldn't all die.

Now he's realizing that feeling wasn't the sense of certainty he took it for.  It was adrenalin, and training kicking in in something like muscle memory.  Here on the ground the troopers readying for deployment said goodbye with a sort of grim finality that echoed their certainty that many of them were going to die.  They knew their generals were worried, had heard gossip of the somber expressions in the war tent, and responded by making extra certain they took this one last chance to say goodbye.

Their low morale was affecting all the Jedi, he knew, but Tae kept catching snatches of thoughts that made him crave his master's reassurance.  A rare few of the troops kept their spirits up, some wanting to lift the others' spirits, and yet more with the hope that the Jedi would somehow produce a miracle.

It was these thoughts that prevented Tae from sleeping, because he was one of the Jedi they were laying their hopes on, and he was every bit as uncertain and afraid.

The others had cornered him finally, Elora taking the lead but even Xule had followed.  He wasn't sleeping, his shields were failing, and they could all feel his distress.  Tae could hear their concern, feel it around the edges of his cracking shields, so he'd agreed to spend the day meditating rather than training for the upcoming fight.

He's halfway through carefully reinforcing his dwindling shields when Master Norcuna comes looking for him, his mind a carefully collected spiral that doesn't leak any of the concern visible on his face.

"Padawan," He starts, then pauses before beginning again.  "Tae, a Jedi Master arrived this morning, asking for you by name.  There are some difficulties in verifying her identity however, more importantly, we cannot verify her connection to you.  Have you ever met a Knol Ven'nari?"

It takes a moment for the concern to make sense.  A moment where all Tae can remember is a tiny bothan with a fiery mind laughing at his master in a bar fight, before she hands him her drink and wades in to help.  Then reality comes crashing back and he remembers a remembrance ceremony, with her name following his uncle's.

He's rising almost before he realizes it.

"She's here?" He asks desperately.  "She's alive?"

Master Norcuna frowns faintly. "As far as we can tell, yes.  Knight Leska informed me of her arrival and has been destracting her while I sought you out.  Would you know her well enough to spot an imposter?"

It's a chilling thought, that someone might want him badly enough to impersonate a deceased Jedi to get to him.  But Tae breathes through the chill before nodding.

"Master Ven'nari let me practice reading her mind once, on a mission where we ended up working together.  I think I'd be able to recognise her mental signature anywhere now."

The Twi'lek nods slowly, "And would you wish to see her to try?"

Tae doesn't even have to consider it before nodding.  If Master Ven'nari is alive she might have news of his Uncle.  And even if not he wants to see her again, to have the chance to see her alive after mourning her.

Master Norcuna accepts his decision without stopping to make sure he's certain a second time.  They make their way through the training grounds and past the war tent, heading for the medical tent.  Halfway there Tae realizes he can sense her.  It's muted by the fog following him, but only just.  There's a swirling heat that accompanies her thoughts Tae is pretty sure no one could fake that even if they managed to fake everything else.

Knight Leska gives Master Norcuna a sharp look as they arrive but doesn't comment.  Beside her the bothan catches sight of Tae and steps around the other master to meet him.

Though the first words out of Master Ven'nari's mouth are, "Shit kid, you look awful."

Knight Leska tisks at her, but Tae finds himself smiling.  "And you look like you've been well, Master Ven'nari."

"I look like I've only just rediscovered hygiene, you mean. But you're too polite to say it." The shorter Jedi shakes her head, "A holdover from your Master, he always did speak like a politician."

It's not a hint or code, but it's also the first time anyone's brought up his Uncle in months without Tae mentioning him first, and suddenly he feels like crying.

"Ah shit, Little Diath, come here.  I'm too short to do this without your help."

There's a hand on his arm and Tae leans into the offered hug, hiding his face in the bothan's neck for a long moment as he pulls himself back together.  This close he catches flickers of her thoughts in spite of the shield.  He thinks he must be projecting a bit too because a hand comes up to rub at his temple.

"We really weren't considering you at all, were we kid?  Sorry, I should have come back sooner."

Flashes of a conversation overlooking a lava field, a plan to fake their deaths and go underground.  Traces of guilt for not discussing Tae's future there at the same time.  And under it all are a thousand different plans she's prepared since, and flashes of a yellow and black striped figure she's left on the ship.

Tae pulls back, blinking down at her as the impressions settle into order in his mind.  She's going to look for his uncle.  "You need my help."

Master Ven'nari nods, "We do."

He looks to the other Jedi next, "May I go?"

"It will be dangerous," Knight Leska informs him.  "Master Ven'nari had a run-in with Dooku on Onderon.  He may be pursuing her still."

"The Council assigned Tae to our supervision," Master Norcuna interjects.  "It would be a grave misstep to entrust his care to another."

"You want Master Ven'nari to claim him as her Padawan learner," Knight Leska accuses, and Tae blinks, glancing down at the bothan Master.  She meets his gaze steadily.

"I have no intention of replacing Master Diath.  That said, as long as it's alright with you I'm willing to give it a try."

"I accept," Tae replies quickly, glancing up at the other Masters.  "This is something I need to do."

"Very well then," Master Ven'nari cuts in before the others can respond.  "Padawan Tae Diath I take you as my Padawan learner." She turns to Knight Leska, "Any objections?"

"Keep him safe and I'll have none," the Knight replies.  "We can get the paperwork filed right now and get you both out of the system before Count Dooku has a chance to track you down."

"You should take this time to say goodbye to your friends," Master Norcuna suggests gently before Tae can follow them.  "Whatever papers you need to sign will wait until you're ready to leave."

Master Ven'nari nods at the suggestion, giving Tae a shooing motion when he turns to her for permission.  It's an echo of his first day as a padawan, but this time the feeling in Tae's gut is regret, not excitement, as he hurries away to find the others one last time.

- - - - - - - - - -

Knol watches the kid, her new Padawan learner, leave to say his last goodbyes and has to bite back a scathing criticism of the war effort.  But her company already knows everything she could say, and they don't need to hear it from her.

Diath might tho, when she finally manages to track him down.  How did they let it come to this? Where he could have lost his Padawan on the battlefield and not even known until it was too late?  Tae might be the most well adjusted psychic she's ever met, but the separation had left him battered.

No matter what good had come of their ruse, Tae had suffered for it.  And they owed him for that.

"Sorry for leading the Count this way," she offers finally, following Knight Leska into a small logistics tent.  "I know him showing up on my tail could make things messy for you."

"Maybe if he shows we'll be able to get the forces we actually need to pull this off," the human replies tiredly.  "I'll be honest, Master, the Senate is pinning their hopes on Master Kenobi somehow finding a diplomatic solution.  If that fails we're fighting a civil war I don't think we can win."

"And the Council's response is to sent you more Padawan's," Knol puts the pieces together.  "They can't allocate more Knights without consulting the Senate, but the kids are an available resource."

"We shouldn't be asking a handful of Padawans to stand in for an army of soldiers, but there you have it," the Knight sighs, handing over a datapad with the correct paperwork.  "At least you're getting Tae out of the line of fire.  All we're waiting for now is Master Kenobi and we'll be deploying."

Knol's ruff flattens slightly at the thought.  She quickly finishes the paperwork and hands it back. "Anything else?"

"That should be everything," Leska agrees with a faint smile.  "We don't have much but if you need food or fuel…"

"Save what you have for the troops, we'll be fine for a while," the bothan cuts her off.  That earns her a faint smile.

"Then that's all.  May the Force be with you, Master Ven'nari."

"And with you all, Knight Leska."

- - - - - - - - - -

The ship is larger than Tae expected.  Admittedly about half the size is down to the folded wings, but the other half is still larger than a few scattered snipits lead him to expect.

The trooper who dropped them off saluted sharply then turned back the way they'd come.  He'd been cautiously interested in them, departing this close to a major mission, and had let Master Ven'nari draw him into a light back-and-forth that left the trooper feeling better than he had when they arrived.  Tae still isn't sure exactly what it was about the conversation that helped, but maybe it was simply being acknowledged rather than ignored.

There's another Force presence on the ship, a quiet sort of darkness that feels like sickness.  Underneath it is an abrasive sense of fear, and a determination dedicated to surviving in spite of it.

Tae's never met a Sith, isn't entirely certain he'd know what the Darkside feels like in a friend who's lost their way.  But he knows there's something wrong with that signature.  He doesn't realize he's stopped, staring up the loading ramp dubiously, until Master Ven'nari is abruptly in front of him.

"You sense him, don't you?  And you're wondering if I'm out of my mind."

Tae sputters at the accusation.  "I-! No! Of course I don't think that Master Ven'nari!  I'm certain I just don't know the whole picture.  There's probably a perfectly good reason to keep such a dangerous secret this close to so many other Jedi."

The bothan's brow twitched skeptically.

"For some reason, kid, I get the feeling you're trying to scold me.  But I'll just take you at your word instead." She glances up the ramp herself, then turns back to him with a frown. "I won't be able to talk about it until we're gone, so if you want to take a look at my reasons consider this permission.  Go ahead."

Tae hesitated at that.  Telepathy was an uncommon skill, and a powerful one, but those who knew about it could diminish its effectiveness with deflecting techniques, or even traps.  And while using his abilities to enter another's mind gave him a lot of power, it also left him uniquely vulnerable to counterattacks.  If Master Ven'nari had fallen and intended to overpower him in some way this was likely a trap.  But if she hadn't it was still possible her thoughts could be misleading.

Or they could be the simplest way to verify her intent.  There was no way to be sure.

Tae closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and reaches for the Force.  There's no warning, just a twinge of anticipation, and he decides to trust his newest Master isn't lying.

Years before his Master had introduced the Bothan after they were thrown out of a bar.  Master Ven'nari had chuckled when Tae handed her back her drink and agreed easily when his uncle asked if Tae could practice reading her mind.

"We all have secrets, kid," She told him when Tae had been surprised.  "And it's not like a normal Jedi can't rummage around enough to find some of them anyway.  The secret's not thinking of things you don't want other people to find out.  Just focus on my thoughts rather than digging through my mind and I promise you won't find out anything you'd end up in danger for knowing."

He's not sure that's true anymore.  Whatever secret she's keeping is certain to bring with it a whole mess of trouble.  Enough that she's seeking out his master for help sorting it out.  But Tae needs to know what he's walking into.

He closes his eyes and leans into the fire that burns in Master Ven'nari's mind.  This time there are no mirages, no misdirection layered on top of thoughts meant to redirect the eye.  He falls straight into a memory, a sickbed confession played back slow as it was deliberately recalled.  There are fragments of thought tacked on in places, connections her mind makes automatically but there and gone before they can become complete images on their own.  It's enough for him to guess at the bigger picture, and doesn't feel like she's leading him on.

When it gets to the end the memory shifts back to normal though patterns.  Flickers of plans underneath the more direct feeling of awaiting his response, though Master Ven'nari already suspects what it will be.

Tae opens his eyes, glancing past the other Jedi into the shadows of the ship.  Then he meets her gaze again.

"You're right.  He deserves the chance to make his own choices before being condemned."

It's a reflection of his own skill, twisted into a tool for slavery.  Even a simple Force Suggestion doesn't feel that innocent now.

Master Ven'nari gives him a sympathetic glance.  Then she sighs and gestures up the ramp.

"We need to get back into space sooner than later.  But I promise we can talk about all this more once we're in the air."

Tae nods quickly, hurrying up the ramp into the ship proper.

Master Ven'nari follows him in, sealing the ramp behind them before starting off down the hall.

"Get yourself settled into either room on that side," she says with a wave. "Afterwards you can come meet me up front.  Don't wander around until I can give you the tour and introduce you properly, got it?"

He nods quickly, earning him a smile before she vanishes down the opposite hall.

Tae turns away before he can give into his curiosity and try to figure out which door she went through.  He's been given a choice of rooms after all, and clearly that decision should be given the utmost care and attention.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage hadn't been planning on sleeping, hadn't been expecting to be able to with all his senses on high alert.  But his body betrayed him once again and sent him spiraling into unconsciousness anyway.

When he wakes the Jedi has returned, and there is a second presence following behind.  Even in his exhausted state Savage hasn't forgotten their discussion the night before, so he must assume the presence is the Jedi's contact.

He hopes the Jedi will keep her word, but cannot be certain.  Knows only that she will not defend him against her own kind if they choose to fight him.  And in this state he knows whatever conflict arises will not be much of a fight at all. 

The only weapon he has is the waterskin, the hard head of which might be able to do some damage if he had the strength to back it up.  He's too weak to run, too weak to win in a fight, but not to fight at all.

There's a small part of him that insists it won't be necessary, but he's lived too long to take anything on faith under another's rule.

By the time they make it into the vessel he's pulled himself upright, wedged into the corner of the wall, with the waterskin half hidden under a corner of the blanket.

But the new presence doesn't come to his room.  Instead the Jedi stops at the door once again and prods him with the force, only entering after he prods her in return.

The Jedi takes in his defensive attempts with one glance, and Savage fights down the illogical impulse to try and hide what his plans were.  She doesn't order him to stand down, though, and he can't decide if she doesn't think he's a threat or if she truly believes her companion won't start anything.  He forces himself to meet her eyes either way, and after a moment she nods.

"My contact agreed to come with us.  I'll introduce you as soon as we get a destination and are back in hyperspace.  For now we need to be on our way as quickly as we can afford.  That said, do you need anything before we set out?  It might get a little bumpy, but I'm assuming you want to stay upright.  Anything else?  It might be another half hour to an hour before I can come back."

For a second there's an impulse to ask for a weapon so strong it's dizzying.  Even for the most stringent tests the Elder Nightbrothers would grant you a dagger if you asked.  But he was an enemy here not a child prepping for his coming of age.  She'd be a fool to humor him.

Savage shakes his head instead.

"You ok on water?" The Jedi presses, pointing to the waterskin in his hand. "There still any in there?"

He has rationed it, uncertain when she would be returning.  There's a little less, and while more would be acceptable he's not about to hand over his only weapon like that.

"I will be fine," he tells her firmly.

The Jedi studies him for a long moment, then reaches for her own belt, disconnecting an identical water skin and holding it out.

"Just in case," she tells him, stepping forward to rest the waterskin on the bed within reach before turning and leaving the room.

Savage takes the second skin gingerly, suspicious of a trap and yet finding none.  He considers the new presence but they seem to be ignoring him, moving instead to join the Jedi in the front of the vessel.

He settles more firmly into the corner, anticipating the lightning shocks of pain liftoff will drive through him.  And reluctantly reassures himself that the Jedi kept her word.

It's the upcoming introduction and what may follow that must concern him now.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Have a seat over there," is the greeting Tae gets as soon as he makes his way up to the cockpit.

Master Ven'nari is in the middle of a complicated series of inputs, but has the time to indicate the chair to her left. It's massive compared to the one she's piloting from.  Tae eyes it dubiously for a moment before sitting down, but it's not as uncomfortable as he expected.

"Your permissions just came through, Maalraas," a voice speaks up from the communications array in the console in between their two seats.  "You are cleared for departure, stand by for exit flight plan."

Master Ven'nari nods as she flicks the return signal button.  "Understood, Maalraas standing by."

There's a data transmission of some sort and flicking a few switches somehow sends it on to a small green console in the corner that wakes up with an irritated clatter before beginning its job.  An overlay appears in the far right of the viewport but the older Jedi doesn't seem phased, tuning instead to press the return signal button again.

"Flight path received, Air Control, the Maalraas is ready to proceed."

"You are clear Maalraas, depart when ready.  We'll inform you immediately if anything changes."

"Departing now."

There's a flurry of switches and a jolt as the ship starts rising.  Then they're sliding forward and up as the ground falls away from view.  Moments later the sky shifts through an array of shades until it settles on a dark blue-gray and they level out.

"This is Air Traffic Control, Maalraas you are clear.  Fly safe out there."

"Keep up the good work, Air Traffic Control.  This was the least painful departure has been in a while."

There's a startled laugh.  "Thank you, sir.  We'll do our best.". And then the line goes dead.

Tae stares at the buttons lining the console in front of him and wonders if the sequence somehow makes sense with practice or if the bothan simply had years of experience in him with which to guess.

When he glances up they're still flying generally away from Handooine and Master Ven'nari is watching him.

"Well kid, any idea where your Master might have been headed?"

Tae shrugs apologetically. "I haven't heard from him since his last message to tell me he wasn't actually dead.  But I know it was sent from the Lannik System."

"He's headed straight for Hutt Space," Master Ven'nari muses, tapping the edge of a console idly.  Then she smiles.

"That close to Bothan space there's no way he made it through undetected.  Don't worry, Little Diath, we'll find him."

There’s more toggles and buttons, and a deep hum somewhere in the hold, then they’re changing course again.

“Fifteen minutes to the hyperspace lane,” the older Jedi spoke up as she leaned over the controls. “Then I can finally answer any questions and get you that introduction.”

Tae nods and settles back into the chair to wait.  He just hopes the whole explanation doesn’t make him wish he was back on Handooine.