#so it makes sense that that’s what they’d name the villain who goes searching for ancient artefacts after

[therubyfox]

Mayura is a cool name and all, but I can’t believe the English dub didn’t jump on the chance to call her Peafoul. Like there is an easy pun for evil peacock/peafowl here and they just DIDN’T USE IT.

[britishassistant]

Oooo oh! The post you just made is so interesting! Can you do a version with how things go down in the supervillain universe? Like all the dorm heads call Yuu Prefect and Yuu freaks out internally as to how these younger version of the supervillains know their secret?

@ectopus said: ok now i wanna know more on whats happening with older Yuu with the dorm leaders from twisted wonderland

Anonymous said: Finding out your crush is also your enemy sometimes ally is amazing funny! Reporter Yuu gots their hands full with these teenagers and twenty-year-old.

Yuu the Reporter isn’t exactly happy to hear frantic banging on their apartment door late at night. Unsurprised, but not happy.

“I know I told you all I have the 6AM shift tomorrow.” They grouse loudly as they go to open it. “So I don’t care what amazing scheme it is you want to kidnap me for, it is not my pro—”

They stop short when they see what looks like younger versions of Tsunotaro, Charon, and...is that Viper-san? The aide to Kalim Al-Asim?

The trio are huddled together miserably on their doorstep, all dressed in similar school uniforms. Tsunotaro and Charon have a blazer and a hoodie held over their heads, as if that will in any way disguise them.

“This just became my problem, didn’t it.” The reporter says glumly to the three...teenagers? They look like teenagers, Great Seven they’re so lanky and baby-faced, it’s making Yuu feel old.

Teenage Charon lets out a squeak, the edges of his hair flaring hot pink under his hoodie. Teenage Tsunotaro is just staring at them, wide-eyed and mute. Teen Viper-san swallows and says “You think?” in what is probably supposed to be a sardonic manner, but the effect is kinda ruined by his voice cracking halfway through.

It says a lot about Yuu’s life that they just open the door wider and stand aside to let the teenagers shuffle in with only a weary, “Age ray or alternate selves?”

Of course, it can never just be two or three afflicted with the supervillains.

Malleus, Idia, and Jamil are in the middle of explaining how they each came to in different lairs, running into each other on their way to the only recognizable name in the lair’s databases and running away from the screaming townsfolk in Malleus and Idia’s cases, when there’s another violent pounding at the door.

The reporter has to get Jamil to put his...magic wand? thing away before they can go see who it is. Yuu’s not sure how much damage that thing can do, but they’d rather their apartment not get turned into the scene of a brawl again, please and thank you.

The teenager insists on hovering though, as though Yuu is not a grown ass adult who can open doors on their own and not shatter like glass. He promptly gets bowled over by the three other uniformed teenagers and young adult (?) that burst in the moment the handle turns.

The younger King slams the door shut behind them, tail lashing up a storm and ears nearly flat on his head, a growl still rumbling in his chest. The teenage Octo Dealer’s glasses have been snapped clean in half. Yuu still doesn’t get why younger versions of Dr. Rosehearts and Schoenheit-san are with them, but the pair of civilians look understandably shaken.

They are all covered in glitter.

The reporter recognizes that look well. “A RSA hero found you, didn’t they?”

Schoenheit-san sneezes on glitter as he scoffs, “Hero? An overgrown manchild courting indecent exposure and awful fashion sense is more like it!”

White Neige it is then.

The reporter goes to get the first aid kit and lint roller to begin patching up the high schoolers like they’ve done countless times for the minions and supervillains before them.

So Yuu’s little apartment is now filled with high schoolers. High schoolers who are having some trouble absorbing the fact that they’re in a world where four of them are highly feared supervillains, and three of them are hapless civilians. All of them seem to be united in glaring at Grim when he strolls out of the reporter’s bedroom and asks how they all got so small.

By now, Yuu’s phone has begun blowing up with messages from the Game Night group and the other minions asking where their bosses are.

The reporter texts back that they have no idea where Snake Charmer, Poison Queen, or Royal Flush are, but they do snap a picture to send in a group message of the teenage boys who are currently bickering over who gets to sit on the couch versus the floor, and whether Leona lying down on it and taking up the whole thing is “fair” to everyone else.

Uproar in the chat.

Lilia is squeeing over how small and cute Malleus is, lookit him in his little fancy school uniform!! Sebek is both joining in with this praise, and terrified about how they can turn the young master back to his old self! Silver is asleep because he has that luxury, the lucky bastard.

Ruggie is disappointed that his boss doesn’t have anything embarrassing that could potentially serve as blackmail material to get himself a pay raise. Jack wants to arm wrestle young Leona if he’s still there tomorrow and see who would win.

Floyd and Jade want to come over to pick on Azul! Yuu says no! They say they’re coming anyway!!

Ortho is coming too!! His nii-san is now younger and needs him and there’s nothing Yuu can do about it!!

Lilia heavily implies that they all can wait until tomorrow or else.

Suddenly Yuu is no longer anticipating any more house guests tonight. Yay?

Waterboy’s weirdly excited at the picture of Jamil, and Huntsman keeps rhapsodizing about Vil’s youthful beauty, but they’re both a little odd so the reporter purposely thinks nothing of it.

Just like they think nothing of Trey’s oddly monosyllabic mother-henning over the young Riddle. He’s much smaller than the other boys—he probably just set of Trey’s big brother instincts is all. And if the rest of the Heartslaybul minions have gone strangely quiet too? They’re likely just busy searching for Royal Flush. Nothing to read into here, no sir.

Yuuken tells Yuu to call if they need any extra food or blankets for their guests or anything. He’ll try to convince their boss’s boss that Yuu’s taken ill tomorrow. For a moment, all seems right with the world.

Then Azul calls for the “prefect” to come settle the couch argument.

Yuu promptly drops the cup they were about to pour lemon tea into.

They wave off Malleus and Riddle’s concern, Azul’s apologies, and Jamil’s attempts to clear up the shards up for them, saying they were just...startled at being addressed like that.

The reporter explains that, while the students’ version of Yuu might be known as a prefect back at their school, here The Prefect is the name of a...controversial vigilante. One who foils the villainous schemes of the top seven supervillains in the city, and usually takes quite the beating while doing so. The supervillains’ ire even extends to their friend and cameraman, Yuuken, who’s only suspected of being the Prefect.

Yuu likes being on good enough terms with the supervillains that they know even if they get kidnapped, they won’t get seriously hurt. If they or any of their minions were to be given reason, however flimsy, to believe the reporter was The Prefect...

Well. Yuu doesn’t like to think about what would happen then.

The high schoolers keep shooting Yuu looks that suggest they don’t buy this flimsy explanation, but they let the subject drop mercifully, turning back to serving tea and dividing up who will be sleeping where.

Another argument erupts when the reporter offers to sleep on the floor so one or two of them can share their bed. Leona and Malleus come close to almost burning the apartment down before Yuu takes a page out of Uncle Divvy’s book and breaks out the rolled up newspaper to restore order.

Later that night, after it’s all settled and the students are all fast asleep, Yuu the Reporter has a panic attack in the privacy of their bathroom.

They don’t know how much longer they can keep this up.

[heliads]

Tells

Based on this request:  “the Avengers fight another battle in New York, including Buck. They win but between the destroyed buildings, Buck finds one familiar face, his Ex-girlfriend from Bucharest. He gets her free but fears she’s not surviving her injuries and he realizes how much he still loves her. While she’s in the hospital he finds out that she came to search him & after she wakes up a few days later, they decide to give their relationship another try”

masterlist

Bucky had known that this was going to happen for a while now. He had probably known since the moment he had met her. Every second of sunlight eventually turns dark with storm, and the loud crack of thunder always follows lightning, no matter how brightly it flares. 

He had not intended to stay in Bucharest. If Bucky was being smart, he would have moved on after a month or so, changing from country to country without leaving a trace. You can’t turn your back on an organization like HYDRA without garnering at least one tail, which is why Bucky had only planned on staying a week or two at most. If he could pass through Bucharest and out of Romania, he could disappear into some corner between Serbia and Bulgaria and be gone forever. That was what he had set out to do, anyway.

Then, he met her. The hour was early; most of the residents of this corner of the town were still asleep, passing the time away until they would have to get up and face the details of their otherwise mundane lives. Bucky couldn’t sleep anyway, too many nightmares crowded every space behind his eyes, so he had gotten up, jammed a black baseball cap over his head to at least partially obscure his face, and wandered around until he found a street packed with vendors, white tents already set up and displaying their goods.

Bucky passed by them aimlessly, not really looking for anything particular until he saw the fresh fruit vendor. He approached the tent, glancing over the tables in the front. There was a woman bent over some newly arrived crate in the back, but she straightens up and turns back around once she hears Bucky come closer. For a second, Bucky feels like he’s speechless. The woman is beautiful, and she walks with an easy grace as she waves goodbye to a friend of hers. She flashes him a smile that looks sweeter than any of the fruits set out before him.

Her name is Y/N, and she lives three streets down from him. Bucky hadn’t intended on staying, certainly not the five months, one week, and four days that has passed since he first arrived. He hadn’t intended on buying himself the small, shabby apartment down one of the sidestreets. He definitely hadn’t intended to start dating Y/N, to fall in love with her as if he was just some perfectly ordinary man who could hand away his heart to any pretty girl he saw.

Bucky told himself that despite his worries, he could be happy here. He had a dependable source of income from the odd jobs he found around the city, he had a shelter over his head, food on the table, and Y/N, a girl he found he loved more than anything. What more could he ask for? Yet after each perfectly ordinary day, he found himself lying awake at night, head pounding as he thought up every possible scenario in which things could go wrong.

It’s after one of these nights that Bucky finds himself awake after yet another night of not sleeping. The bags under his eyes only grow from week to week, and the stress he feels outweighs even the sense of exhaustion that hangs about him. He’s got a few more minutes before the day starts, so he decides to head over to Y/N’s apartment. He walks quickly, careful not to be noticed by any security cameras. Bucky honestly thinks that he might have made it, that he’s finally escaped from HYDRA’s reach, and then he reaches Y/N’s front door.

Instantly, he stops in his tracks. There’s a brochure tucked under one corner of her faded welcome mat, poking out just enough to be spotted. It’s a dark grey, with a red logo in the center. Bucky’s throat feels dry as he stoops over and pulls it out, and his heart drops with a sickening thud when he realizes just what that logo represents. It’s a skull, surrounded by six tentacles. 

HYDRA has found him.

More importantly, HYDRA has found Y/N. If this brochure is here, then that means they not only know where he is, but they know where Y/N is and that she’s important to him. They’ll hurt her if they think it’ll get Bucky to come back to them. That's a definite. Bucky runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even more, then clutches the brochure in his hand and walks quickly away, his visit to Y/N forgotten.

Bucky barely makes it back to his apartment before his nerves overwhelm him. It probably wasn’t the smartest decision to go immediately back home, especially seeing as HYDRA was most likely following him, but it doesn’t matter. He has to protect Y/N, has to get her out of here before HYDRA makes their move. But that doesn’t work either- wherever he goes, HYDRA will follow. He knows that. Besides, he can’t ask Y/N to uproot her entire life just to come with him. Bucky drops his head into his hands as he realizes just what he has to do to save Y/N. It will kill him, but at least she will be safe.

He doesn’t meet up with Y/N again until later that night. He places a brief phone call asking if he can talk to her at her apartment, and hangs up almost immediately once she agrees. His feet feel leaden on the walk over. 

When she opens the door, her happy grin at seeing him starts to fade when she sees the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

She’s sitting on the couch in her apartment. Bucky is still standing, arms folded tightly over his chest. He has to do this. It’s the only way. 

“I-” 

His voice cuts off for a second. “I want to break up with you.” 

Her smile looks frozen. “What?” 

Bucky speaks again, forcing his voice to come out stronger. “I want to break up with you. I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

Y/N stands up slowly, fixing him with a questioning look that feels as if it could cut right through Bucky’s soul. “What are you talking about? Just last week, you were telling me about how I was the only one who you could trust, about how I truly understood you.” 

Bucky shifts slightly on his feet. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Tell me you don’t love me. That��s why you want to break up, isn’t it? Say it directly to me.”

Bucky feels as if he’s going to fall apart right here in Y/N’s apartment, but he forces himself to harden his heart. Remember, he’s protecting Y/N. That’s all that matters, even if she hates him for the rest of her life. “I don’t love you.” He turns away for just a second, forcing himself to stay calm. 

“I don’t know if I ever loved you. I was just looking for a reason to stay.” 

The second the words leave his mouth, Y/N flinches as if he’d slapped her. Her eyes start to glisten with unshed tears, but her face otherwise remains calm.

“That’s all I wanted to know. I understand.” She says, and Bucky starts to open his mouth to say something, anything, to fix this, but one look at Y/N and he knows there’s nothing he can do. 

He starts to head towards the door. “Goodbye, Y/N.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything else to know that this will be the last time he sees her.

One week later, the headline in the papers says that Bucky bombed the Vienna International Centre, killing many including King T’Chaka of Wakanda. One week later, Steve Rogers shows up at Bucky’s apartment. One week later, Bucky leaves Bucharest, this time for good. He wonders if Y/N still thinks about him. He wonders how badly he hurt her, and if she will ever forgive him. It shouldn’t matter, as their paths will never cross again, but yet it does.

New York City is a tangled mess of destruction and desolation. HYDRA soldiers have dreamt up yet another villain, this one surgically enhanced to have supernatural abilities. With a slam of his foot against the ground, he can send a shockwave racing through the streets of New York, rattling the buildings and sending a shower of broken glass raining down from skyscrapers.

Bucky now fights alongside Steve, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers. It’s odd, considering he’d only become their ally one year ago. Yet here they are, taking on this HYDRA threat as if they’d been a team since the very beginning. 

Steve’s voice echoes over his comms. “Bucky, Nat- the enhanced is heading towards Avengers Tower. If you stall him long enough, we can trap him with that new tech from Wakanda and knock him down long enough to take him out.” 

Bucky nods. “Affirmative. Heading over now.”

Nat is already waiting for him there, and the two Avengers launch a series of attacks against the enhanced. Angered, the HYDRA fighter slings a massive rock their way, one Bucky barely manages to deflect with his metal arm. He rotates his arm in a circle, making sure it still functions enough to hold a gun, then keeps moving.

Two bloody, dirty, exhausting hours later, the fight is over. The HYDRA enhanced is unconscious in a cocoon of light energy, and will be transported to S.H.I.E.L.D., where he will be handled accordingly. Bucky doesn’t even want to think about what will happen when HYDRA finds out its latest toy has been confiscated, and so he diverts his attention instead to helping Steve take care of the wounded, which still litter the streets of the city.

He’s almost done clearing one main street when he sees one particular body lying underneath a pile of broken rock and concrete. It couldn’t be- no- that’s impossible. He races over, using his metal arm to fling away the largest of the pieces of rubble. The second he sees the face of the injured woman, his heart drops in his chest.

Y/N lies before him, a thin line of blood trickling out of her mouth. Her left arm is bent behind her back, probably broken. Her legs are already littered with splashes of color that are quickly becoming bruises. Even like this, looking nothing like the girl he’d left behind, Bucky still feels frozen in place.

It’s been a year since he broke up with her, a year since he tossed away everything good in his life to protect her. On that walk home from her apartment, Bucky had felt sick with himself. The look in her eyes when he had told Y/N he didn’t love her felt like a gunshot straight through his heart. Now she’s here, mere inches away.

Bucky picks her up, holding her close to him. “Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?” 

She coughs slightly, and it hurts Bucky to hear how much dust seems trapped within her lungs. “Yeah, I can. Not dead yet, you know.”

Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh at her joke. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Bucharest.” 

Y/N shakes her head slowly, painfully. “Ever since that last time I saw you, something didn’t feel right about our conversation. I thought it was just because I felt so hurt that you didn’t love me, but then I realized what it was. You have this tell when you’re lying, you know. You look quickly to the side, so fast it’s almost impossible to tell. You clench your jaw slightly, and then you look back.”

“Right before you told me you didn’t love me, you looked aside. I couldn’t figure out why you would lie to break up with me, and then the lies about you bombing that place in Vienna were everywhere in the news. I figured you did it to protect me, and I knew I had to find you to tell you I was alright and to make sure you were too.”

Bucky just stares at her in wonder. “You figured all of that out? When did you come to New York?” 

Oddly enough, she doesn’t answer. Bucky looks at her, confused. “Y/N?” 

A sickening dread starts to spread in his stomach, and he realizes her eyes have this blank, distant look, like she isn’t there at all. Frantic, he places two fingers on her wrist. There isn’t a pulse.

Bucky carefully gathers her in his arms, then runs back to the main square. “Medic! I need a medic now!” 

There’s one doctor right around the corner, but why is he taking so long to get here? Doesn’t he know that Y/N’s about to-

The hospital waiting room smells of antiseptic. The floor has a repeating tile pattern of off-white and muted green. There are rows of square ceiling panels, one after the other. 

Bucky had been waiting for approximately four hours before the doctor finally comes into the room and nods at him. “Ms. L/N is just starting to wake up now. You can visit her if you like.”

Bucky stands up unsteadily, and follows the doctor back down the hall. The doctor stops before a set of doors. “She’s in here. Don’t be too long.” 

Bucky can only nod at the man dazedly before stepping inside.

It’s strange seeing Y/N like this, lying in the hospital bed. She looks so weak and frail, completely unlike the vibrant girl he’s so used to seeing. 

He must be staring, because she glances up at him with a quiet chuckle. “Come on, it’s not that bad.” 

Bucky moves closer. “You tell me- you were without a pulse for a while. Guess I’m just nervous.” 

Y/N smiles up at him, gently gripping his hand. “I’m okay now. Promise.” 

When Bucky looks back at her, he can’t help but think of all the regrets he’s had over the last year. Lying to her. Breaking her heart. Leaving her behind. 

He speaks up after a minute. “When you came here-” 

He breaks off. “Is there a chance you still love me? After everything?” 

Y/N nods slowly. “That’s why I took the flight to New York. I knew in my heart that James Buchanan Barnes would still mean too much to me to let go.”

Bucky can’t help a quiet chuckle. “Now you know my full name? I don’t remember telling you all of that.” 

Y/N joins in his laughter. “I’ve been to a couple of museums. Background research.” 

She straightens slightly, her tone shifting to become more serious. “But I do love you, Bucky. I never stopped loving you.” 

Bucky lets out a quiet breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I love you too. I had to lie to protect you, but I regretted what I said every single day.” 

The door opens, and the doctor leans in the room. “Sorry to break this up, but we need to run a few last tests on Ms. L/N. You can come back in about half an hour.” 

Bucky stands up reluctantly, saying his goodbyes to a tired Y/N. He doesn’t know how long it will take her to get out of the hospital, or how long it will take for her to truly move on past everything he had said back in Bucharest. All he knows is that he finally has the chance to get back with the love of his life.

[shadowed-dancer]

BNHA Theory: Why Aoyama Isn’t the Traitor

Debunking common claims because I love my boy and don’t want him to be evil. This is all for fun, and if you still want to believe he’s the traitor then I'm not stopping you.

This will be spoiler free, and will only cover stuff we see in the anime.

“We don’t know where he was during the USJ attack”

Ok, very fair point. However, have you ever considered that the USJ attack doesn’t actually matter when it comes to the traitor? Whether it’s Aoyama or not, I don't think this is a solid place to look for clues.

We know how the villains got the class schedule, there was no need for a traitor. Shigaraki noticed the press was desperate to get in, he disintegrated the barrier, and let them storm the campus

Then, while all the students were trying to evacuate, the teachers were also busy dealing with the reporters.

We only see Aizawa and Present Mic, but we can assume the others were dealing with the security breach too (and if not, then perhaps a teacher is the traitor? it doesn’t really matter, but the point is: it’s not a student).

Now, it’s possible that Aoyama was not affected by the rush of students, as he usually eats in the classroom, but he’s still pretty innocent. Students likely didn’t know the schedule, and had no idea All Might would be taking them to the USJ. I doubt the traitor would go through all this trouble if they weren’t absolutely sure that All Might would be taking them off campus sometime soon. Shigaraki could risk coming up empty (as in, finding a schedule where All Might never leaves campus) because he just doesn’t know what to expect, but a STUDENT risking themselves is a lot less unlikely. They’d risk getting caught and possibly expelled, or worse.

As for the USJ attack itself, Aoyama was most likely hiding. I’ll talk about this more in just a second, but in scenarios where he’s put in danger, Aoyama gives up and hides (even if there’s no one around).

So why’d he call attention to his absence? Well, to figure that out we need to look at...

Aoyama’s goals, personality, and motivations

Aoyama’s shtick is that he wants to stand out and be the centre of attention, yet is constantly pushed to the background.

His costume and hero name are meant to stand out, and the way he constantly talks about how wonderful he is is an attempt to get attention. He’s also obsessed with his appearance (as shown when Mina ruins his cape). None is this proves he’s a traitor, it’s just a form of comic relief.

When he asks if anyone wanted to know where he was, only to say “it’s a secret”, he was most likely trying to garner attention and make himself seem more cool and mysterious in the eyes of his classmates, but as an audience, it’s a lighthearted moment to ease us out of the heavier storyline. Again, he was probably hiding in fear, but wanted others to THINK he was bravely fighting like everyone else, which takes us to our next point to break down...

“Dabi didn’t attack him during the training camp”

This is probably the most damning piece of evidence.. If you need a brief refresher, Aoyama is hiding behind a bush, peaks his head out, and is almost immediately noticed by Dabi (it’s unclear if the villain sees who is behind the bush or not, but Aoyama says, “he saw me”. Even if Dabi didn’t see his face, he saw that there was a person). He goes to check but is immediately sidetracked by Twice, who reminds him to call back the Nomu he sent out. Dabi proceeds to forget about the student behind the bush.

Here’s the thing; this scene says more about Dabi than it does Aoyama. People tend to forget, but at this point in the story Dabi has not killed anyone. Heck, he’s not even in the criminal data base. Maybe he’s just sneaky, but Giran specifically calls out the fact that, “he hasn’t done any flashy crimes”. If he’s a criminal, he’s never been caught.

Back to that comment about the criminal data base, it’s a detail a lot of people overlook. When Tsukauchi is taking statements from Aizawa and Vlad King, he tells All Might that they ran a search through the CRIMINAL data base, looking for a man that matched Dabi’s description, and they came up empty handed. Not the quirk registry, they were specifically looking for criminals.

Dabi’s appearance is distinct, to say the least, so even if he was caught for petty theft, they’d be almost certain to catch and identify him. But no, he’s not a criminal at this point.

That being said, let’s look at how Dabi acts during the rest of this arc. For the most part, the real Dabi isn’t attacking unless he’s provoked first. When Deku, Shoto, and Shoji fall from the sky, he attacks to protect his teammate (since the boys had just jumped Mr. Compress). The exception is when Dabi’s clones goes after Aizawa and Vlad King, but in these situations he is very much aware that the two are pro heroes and will protect their students. Aizawa says it best, they’re trying to keep the pros distracted.

This isn’t meant to be defending Dabi, but instead to point out that, at this moment, he’s not very experienced in being a criminal. No spoilers but it’s obvious that CURRENT Dabi has no hesitations about killing people (see: those thugs in the alley and the hero Snatch). But, in this arc, he didn’t seem to want to cause any unnecessary violence. For these reasons, I believe he would have spared ANY kid behind that bush, not just Aoyama (forgetting to go back after Twice distracted him was a conscious choice, it would have taken literally no time out of his day to go check who it was, and instead he decides to let the kid live). Dabi’s purpose is to seem intimidating and distract the pros, not to attack recklessly.

Whoops, I went on a tangent. Back to my twinkling boy!

Aoyama is a coward

(meant in the most loving way possible)

Aoyama is a coward. I brought it up with the USJ that he was probably hiding, and we saw it with Dabi when he was cowering behind a bush. But the important thing is that, at the training camp, he actually does get the courage to attack (specifically when he sees Deku and the others fighting back).

We see this again during the license exam

During the test, he was scared to fail, so he hid until Iida found him. And, once again, the courage of his classmates gives him the strength to act. Aoyama is just scared. Some people point to this as evidence that he’s the traitor, since he doesn’t have the character of a hero, but actually think about it. Hero society is corrupt; people are becoming heroes for a whole host of other reasons. Almost no one has the motivations of a hero out of Class 1A.

Bakugo wants to be the best, Todoroki wants to stick it to his dad, Uraraka wants to make money, Iida is carrying on his family business, and Mineta wants girls. And hey, Mineta is also a coward, so take that as you will. Not everyone becomes in the hero course is suited to becoming a hero, and that’s the whole point (it’s the entire motivation behind Stain and his followers).

“How about the secret message?”

Ah yes, the secret message. "il faut se méfier de l'eau qui dort", literally translated to "beware the water that sleeps". It basically amounts to “there’s more than meets the eye” or “watch out for the quiet ones”.

Would a traitor expose himself? Probably not, the only reason I could say yes is if the traitor was helping the villains against his will and needed to tell someone, but what’s more likely is that Aoyama knows who the traitor is.

This next little theory isn’t really based on anything, but it’s possible that, while he was hiding from Dabi and Twice, the villains mentioned who the traitor was. Twice seems like the kind of dude who’d accidentally let it slip, or if he didn’t say a name, maybe he mentioned that SOMEONE at UA is a traitor and Aoyama is trying to get Midoriya’s help in figuring it out. Either way, he may be trying to alert Midoriya that someone can’t be trusted.

Alternatively, he could be referring to both him and Midoriya, and may not be talking about the traitor at all! When Aoyama wrote “I know” in cheese, he specifies that it was meant to say, “I know you have a quirk like mine” or “I know what you’re going through”. This could be similar, attempting to tell Deku “we are the same, there’s more to us than people know because we go through things that others do not.”

But wait, “the water that SLEEPS?” Mr Aizawa sleeps! Is Mr Aizawa the traitor?!?!?!

Tangent: Is Mr Aizawa the traitor?

No. This dude puts himself at risk for his kids more times than I can count. It makes no sense for him to go so out of his way to protect his kids (like at the USJ) only to be the traitor. As well, Aizawa could have easily texted Shigaraki and been like “yo change of plans, All Might isn’t here, don't bother showing up”.

In addition, Dabi actually DOES attack Aizawa at the training camp. No one is around to see it, so it’s not like it’s for show, and Aizawa is deliberately shown to not know what Dabi’s power is. (As seen when he says, “the fire wasn’t his quirk?” when the clone melts).

So yeah, “the water that sleeps” isn’t referring to Aizawa.

Some final thoughts about the traitor

I personally don’t believe there is one. In one chapter of the manga, the teachers are talking with the principal and mention how the dorms have revealed nothing suspicious from the students. As well, when Present Mic first brings up the idea of a traitor, he actually points to a STAFF MEMBER before bringing up the possibility of a student.

He mentions that only the teachers and first years knew where the training camp was, and then says, “I guess a student could have used their phone”. He says it like an afterthought, as if the possibility of it being a student hadn’t even crossed his mind until he said it out loud.

So yeah, I don’t think a student is the traitor. I am also hesitant to think it’s a teacher since Nezu says he can trust everyone in the room during their meeting. I think the traitor theory was just an excuse to get the kids living in dorm rooms for all the goofy teenage moments that could arise from that.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! And I hope all Aoyama fans can feel a little more at ease, knowing their boy (probably) isn’t the traitor.

[autisticsupervillain]

The Macabre Madame Megido

Here it is. My take on an Evil Aradia. Get cozy, it's a long one.

Oh, Aradia. Everyone's favorite chaos loving time goddess.

I'm going to have to take a different approach to Aradia then I did with John and Karkat. Out the three big bads I've created so far, Aradia has probably coped best with everything that has happened to her. She still has a lot of the same light in her eyes and she's able to accept her tragic past as a part of her. It certainly helps that the loved ones she's lost along the way came back to life, which is more than can be said about John and Karkat.

Simply digging open old wounds and then hammering in the nails in won't cut it this time. So, here's a different method...

After the creation of Earth C, Aradia distances herself from the rest of the cast somewhat. Not for any angsty reasons, mind you. It's just that, aside from Sollux, she isn't especially close to any of the people who made it to Earth C. Instead, she dedicates herself towards serving as a grim reaper of sorts. She seeks out the recently deceased in the dreambubbles and works to guide them through the afterlife, helping them come to grips with their death and work through their grief.

When she isn't doing that, she's hanging out with Sollux. Playing video games, talking shit, and making sure Sollux gets out of the house and doesn't waste away into his couch. It all settles into a nice little routine.

...Which she eventually gets bored of.

Aradia is an adventurer at heart. Yes, this happily ever after is nice. It's nice to finally live somewhere peaceful. It's nice to finally kick back and relax. It's so damn nice to not get yanked around by fate anymore. But, it's not in her nature to sit around and do nothing.

So, she grabs Sollux and drags him with her to the dreambubbles, intent on discovering her next adventure.

In time, she discovers it. Whispers echoing across Paradox Space of a mysterious artifact that reveals to its holder one absolute truth. That reveals one small part of how Paradox Space operates and puts its user one-step closer to absolute understanding of the nature of Paradox Space before vanishing to be found again by some other adventurer. They call it The Scroll of Secrets.

Aradia can't resist that challenge and Sollux knows damn well that he couldn't talk her down even if he wanted too.

Aradia and Sollux spend the next few years searching for this artifact. Investigating rumors, running into dead ends, and chasing desperate leads. In the end, it takes a bit of reasoning to figure out the truth. Aradia reasons that something that freely reveals cosmic secrets of that caliber would most likely belong to a Lord of Light, so they'd just have to find one and steal it from them. Sollux points out that stealing from someone who is both nigh-omniscient and nigh-omnipotent is likely to go horribly, but Aradia has an idea.

A Muse of Void would be the Masterclass that passively hides things. As such, even the barest influence of a Muse of Void should be enough to hide them from the Lord's sight, so long as he isn't actively looking for them. Just learning the name of a Muse should be influence enough to keep a Lord from seeing them and the only people who would know such a thing are the Horrorterrors. Lickily, Feferi is on good terms with the Horrorterrors and Sollux is on good terms with Feferi.

Aradia and Sollux track down Feferi in the dreambubbles and the three of them catch up. Aradia puts the whole quest thing on hold for awhile so they can catch up and spend some time together. Feferi admits to being weirdly nostalgic for questing with Sollux during their time in SGRUB and is quiet happy to help with their quest. Sollux and Aradia would also be happy to find a way to revive her afterwards, but Feferi asks them to hold on that idea. She's more useful to them dead then alive right now.

A few trolls against impossible odds, just like the good old days!

So, Feferi asks one of the Horrorterrors for the name of a Muse of Void and the three set of to steal from a Lord of Light. Sneak into the Lord's castle, steal the scroll, sneak out. Aradia had to stop herself from nabbing every ancient relic that wasn't nailed down.

The Scroll of Secrets shows the three a horrible truth.

Simply put, history is destined to repeat itself. There must always be a big bad. Some grand villain who will spread chaos across Paradox Space. A villain will rise, causes death and destruction, and will then be defeated by some underdog heroes.

As the scroll vanishes, Sollux grumbles about losing their hard earned happy ending. Feferi optimistically points out that they don't know when the next villain will rise. It could be long after they're all dead. Aradia suggests that they just look for some way to see into the future. That way they could see who the next villain was gonna be and plan accordingly.

While the Lord of Light would likely have something that would let them view the future, trying to steal from him again would be stupid. So, they instead decide to try their luck with his opposite. A Muse of Light would be able to grant them this level of precognition, the only issue was finding one. Luckily, Feferi had them covered. She just asked Horrorterrors to point them in the direction of the nearest Muse of Light.

The Muse is actually quite impressed that they managed to steal from a Lord of Light and finds Aradia to be quite the interesting conversational partner. She’s able to keep up with all the meta-narrative mumbo jumbo and her rebellious attitude provides a breath of fresh air for the Muse. So, the Muse agrees to give Aradia the future sight she needs.

Aradia looks into the future to find that she’s destined to be the next main villain.

She sees herself reclining in a large throne draped in shadow.

She sees herself floating in the sky as Earth C burns.

She sees herself staring down at the golden blood on her hands.

Aradia is taken aback briefly… but she quickly brushes it off. Aradia is used to being toyed with by fate by now and, more importantly, she has an out here.

Remember, John has Retcon Powers. He exists outside the typical rules of Paradox Space. If anyone could feasibly help them deny fate here, it’s him.

So, Aradia thanks the Muse for her time and she and Sollux head to visit John (Feferi can’t really join them, as she’s still dead and, thus, confined to the dreambubbles). They explain their situation and Aradia reveals her plan. Have John teleport her over to the Retcon Juju before John himself picked it up so she can collect it. The Retcon Powers would then allow Aradia to exist outside the laws of Paradox Space and keep her from turning evil per what fate had intended.

While that does sidestep the issue, Sollux cynically points out that now someone else would become the next villain. Aradia hadn’t so much solved the issue as she had handed off the “become the next villain” problem to someone else. They’re still likely to lose their happy ending.

So, Aradia, Sollux, and John meet back up with Feferi to discuss their next move. John brings up how Lord English seemed to be able to influence fate and the plot somewhat at the peak of his power, which he noticed while fighting him. Sollux cynically remarks that imitating Lord English is the very thing they were trying to avoid and Aradia kinda agrees. Aradia feels that she doesn’t really want to control the narrative. She wants to destroy it.

Think about it. Nothing suggests that they need a narrative to exist. Even if they were to operate under the assumption that they are fictional characters, they still wouldn’t need a narrative. Minecraft is a game with no narrative. No story. No plot. But characters still go about their lives within it. Villagers still live their daily lives, mobs still exist, and players still build things. All destroying the narrative would do is give them control over their lives.

John agrees with the idea, he felt he got dicked around by the plot a lot too before he got the Retcon Powers. Even Sollux admits that the idea would be pretty nice while Feferi just kinda goes along with it. She hasn’t really had the same experiences as the other three, but she trusts their judgement.

But, the same question remains. How are they gonna do it?

The four of them bat some ideas back and forth and this is the plan they come up with:

The Retcon Powers are the only known way to defy the plot and break the rules of the story. So, it makes sense that if they find a way to empower the Retcon Powers, they could be used as a means of destroying the narrative. They’d just need to find a way to do that. Aradia suggests asking a First Guardian, but John laments that Earth C doesn’t have one or, if it does, they haven’t found it yet. While they can time travel, none of them would be able to understand Becquerel and there’s no way they can trust Doc Scratch. Then, Feferi pipes up.

She’d been in the dreambubbles long enough to hear about Beforus and, logically speaking, Beforus would have a First Guardian. While they may not know where that First Guardian is, it’s likely Feferi's Beforus counterpart would. As the Empress, she’d have an interest in keeping tabs on an asset like that. So, the group teleports in to a Doomed Timeline Beforus and explain their situation. Her Everlasting Compassion specifically asks Feferi for proof. Aradia and John promptly demonstrate their God-Tier abilities, proving to the Compassionate that they are in fact Gods from another world.

In the ensuing conversation, HEC continues to only refer to and address Feferi, even occasionally speaking over the rest of the group. The group is quick to get annoyed and Feferi asks her to stop. HEC takes her younger self aside for a private chat, leaving her guards to “watch the lowbloods". Aradia is amused that she thinks the guards can do anything against two Gods and the strongest psionic on Alternia.

The Compassionate asks Feferi why she allows “her lowbloods" to be so mouthy. Feferi is very… put off by how the HEC sees it that way. She asserts that her companions deserve more respect. HEC dismisses this as a case of “agree to disagree" and changes the subject. The HEC promises that she’ll speak with her First Guardian and find a way to empower their Retcon Powers.

Her true intentions are a little more sinister however.

The next night, she has John and Aradia strap themselves into a machine she swears will enhance their powers and even makes a point of apologizing to them for last night. All Sollux has to do is start it up. All seems to be going well… until Sollux hears Aradia’s voice.

He hears Aradia’s voice in his head.

Sollux’s warning gives the two just enough time to escape the machine before it blows, although all three are highly injured.

Sollux doesn’t notice his injuries at first.

That's twice now he’s heard Aradia’s last words in his head. Twice that he knew that she was about to die. And this time he saved her life. He defied fate. He’d never felt so… free.

HEC orders the three be put into medical care faculties and consuls a distraught Feferi.

In truth, John and Aradia are being taken away to gave their powers studied and potentially extracted, while Sollux is chipped with a psionic dampener and taken to a daycare to be “re-educated so his needs can be met".

There, Sollux sees firsthand how lowbloods and mutants are treated on Beforus. They’re coddled. Handheld. They’re treated like children, well into adulthood, and have all their freedoms stripped away. Any showing of disobedience has them treated with shock therapy and, at worst, lobotomy .

HEC tries to guilt Feferi for this failure, implying that if she had taken “better care of her lowbloods” that this wouldn’t have happened. She’s trying to bring her counterpart around to her way of thinking.

In the HEC's mind, the highbloods protect and coddle the lowbloods from an uncaring world that they aren’t ready for. Lowbloods aren’t people her. They’re pets. Feferi, by contrast, has spent enough time with Aradia and Sollux to respect them and she finds the HEC's implications to be disturbing.

Luckily, Aradia and John prove to be difficult to contain. They easily escape their restraints, even with their injuries, and they team up to rescue Sollux.

The HEC sees this as another opportunity to try and make her point.

She has Feferi sent away to a separate location, knowing the three will first look for her at her palace. The HEC meets them there and, after feigning a fight, lies about Feferi’s location when defeated.

In truth, she sends them towards one of her daycares. The ensuing struggle with security inadvertently gets several bystanders killed.

While everyone is reeling from what they just did, the HEC spins the incident as “two lowbloods and a mutant" rejecting her “compassionate guidance”, resulting in massive casualties. She uses this to justify her policies to the public and tries to use this to convince Feferi that “her lowbloods" need her guidance and will only hurt themselves without her. Feferi almost believes her, but then questions what she could’ve done to stop them from screwing up like that.

John, Aradia, and Sollux regroup and teleport over to The Compassionate, overthrowing and killing her. Sollux finds and rescues Feferi, but he comes back to see Aradia staring blankly at the HEC's throne.

It’s the same throne Aradia saw in her vision.

It used to belong to HEC. From a certain point of view, Aradia inherited it.

Aradia notes this out loud and the three move to comfort her. Sollux brings up how, for the very first time, he was able to save someone who he heard die in his head. For the very first time, he defied fate, defied the inevitable, and saved her life. They clearly aren’t bound by inevitability anymore. Feferi, meanwhile, relates to where she’s coming from. HEC was… uncomfortably close to what she would probably be like if she hadn’t met any lowbloods growing up. If she hadn’t gotten to know Sollux and Aradia as people. Highbloods aren’t exactly raised to think of the needs of lowbloods very often, even in a comparatively peaceful setting.

Even still, Aradia is disturbed by the coincidence. Fate is an insidious thing. You tend to end up doing what it says, even when you think you’re ahead. So, Feferi comes up with an idea to ease Aradia’s conscience a bit.

Logically speaking, Beforus Feferi ending up the way that she die would be predestined to happen. She’d need to rule the way she did so that the Alpha Trolls would fail their session, allowing the Beta trolls to exist and so on. So, if they’re able to prevent Beforus Feferi from turning evil, that would prove that they’re still operating outside of the plot. John points out that that this is a Doomed Timeline, meaning they’re already outside of fate's boundaries anyways. Preventing Beforus Feferi from ending up like the HEC wouldn’t do anything. Feferi sheepishly admits to still not fully understanding how timelines work, as she has the least experience with all this meta narrative nonsense.

Regardless, Aradia agrees to go back with Feferi to prevent Beforus Feferi from becoming the tyrannical despot they had to deal with. Both Aradia and Sollux can kinda tell that this is affecting Feferi more than she lets on, even if they don’t say anything about it. Plus, it’ll help take Aradia’s mind off things, while Sollux and John stay in the present to find the First Guardian and get their advice.

Feferi and Aradia visit Beforus Feferi at various points in her life, giving her life advice and giving her the perspective Her Everlasting Compassion didn’t have. Meanwhile, John and Sollux are able to find where the First Guardian lives via the Beforus archives. The First Guardian tells them that, while this is slightly outside the realm of their omniscience, they do believe it could be possible to enhance the Retcon Powers with energy from the Green Sun.

The two teams meet up again in the dreambubbles afterwards and catch each other up on their little side adventures. Feferi wants to see how Beforus has changed now that they’ve fiddled the Beforus Feferi’s past.

When the group arrives on New Beforus, they find Her Imperious Benevolence waiting for them. They make polite conversation, getting HIB caught up on who John and Sollux are. HIB thanks Aradia, specifically, for all the advice she’d given over the sweeps and says she wants to thank her. So, as a gift, HIB gives her the throne of Beforus.

The same throne that Aradia saw in her vision.

All that existential dread that she’d been burying and avoiding all this time stabs through her all at once. No matter where she goes, no matter what she does, fate is still there. Mocking her. Taunting her. Controlling her. Just when she thinks she’s escaped it, something reminds her of that vision. Reminds her that she isn’t free.

As long as the narrative exists, she’s doomed to become the bad guy. That’s the only way she can interpret this. The only conclusion she can offer to the throne in her vision being outright handed to her.

Aradia maintains her composure and politely refuses. After Feferi talks HIB down and the group teleports back over to the First Guardian again. The First Guardian offers up a bit of their energy over to Aradia, explaining that she should be capable of absorbing it thanks to the Retcon Juju. Aradia takes the amount of energy offered, but then a thought occurs to her.

She’d get more energy if she absorbs more. And, with all the hints fate has been giving her, it’s entirely possible she’ll need it. She might still be on track to become the next villain, so she’ll need to destroy the narrative quickly. It should be fine, First Guardian’s are tough. She’ll just absorb a little bit more….

Next thing she knows, the First Guardian has dropped dead on the floor in front of her.

Everyone freaks out. Aradia quickly explains that it was an accident. She admits that she was likely still distracted by the throne earlier. She was still worried. Afraid that fate was hanging over her.

So, the group buries the First Guardian, show their respects, and leave.

As soon as she’s able, Feferi takes John and Sollux off to the side and expresses her concerns.

Between the throne cropping up twice now, and Aradia killing the First Guardian, maybe she’s still going to become the villain after all? Maybe they haven’t actually escaped fate at all. John and Sollux are still unconvinced. John maintains that he knows how the Retcon Powers work and Sollux knows he’s never been able to defy his precognition before. Feferi concedes but remains skeptical.

The team puts together a new plan. Now that they know Aradia can drain First Guardians until they’re just lifeless husks, they could farm them. More specifically, they could farm Doc Scratch. Scratch is a complete monster, so there’s no moral reservation to be had in doing so. So they farm versions of Scratch from Doomed Timelines and each time, Aradia meets an alternate version of the Handmaiden.

Each time, Aradia’ conversation with Handmaiden gets her thinking.

What makes you think you’ve escaped fate? Why aren’t you doing more to get more powerful, to destroy the narrative faster? Surely doing so would be in everyone’s best interest, right?

After a few stops, Aradia notes that she hasn’t really gotten all that stronger. Absorbing the Green Sun outright isn’t an option, absorbing that much power at once would likely kill her. But, maybe there are other power sources she could drain from? Aradia notes how Jade and Calliope are both stronger than Scratch, which gets John immediately protective. He makes it clear that Jade is off the list and Aradia backpedals. She didn’t mean anything by it. She was just thinking out loud. Still, she can’t help but notice the looks both John and Feferi are giving her now. Apparently Feferi’s concerns influenced John more than he realized.

The versions of the Handmaiden Aradia meets now note the distrust most of the team holds towards her. If they can’t trust you, how can you trust yourself?

One Handmaiden claims she has a way to get the power Aradia craves faster. Aradia says she’ll think about it.

The cycle continues for a few days. Eventually, Aradia comes to Sollux in the middle of the night, asking him to come with her. She wants to have his opinion on hand, to keep her from doing something stupid. The two approach the Handmaiden and Aradia asks about her offer.

The Handmaiden takes them to a timeline where the Condescension won. The heroes were destroyed, the Earth belongs to Condy forevermore… and a Grimbark Jade will be forced to serve the Condescension for eternity.

Surely, it would be more merciful to put her out of her misery.

Sollux immediately tries to veto this idea.

Killing a version of John’s sister behind his back like this, even one that’s nothing but a mindless drone now, is unbelievably cruel.

Aradia looks at Sollux and then she looks down at her hands. She remembers the golden blood dripping from them. Sollux’s blood.

She decides she can’t take that risk.

So, Aradia sucks the life out of the Grimbark Jade.

Sollux tells the others what happened when they get back and the three confront her about it.

Aradia begs for them to understand it from her perspective. She just did what she had to do. It was a mercy kill. She wouldn’t have stooped that low if she had a choice.

The group wants to pull out of this plan. Get Aradia locked up until the narrative can be destroyed. For everyone’s safety.

Aradia teleports away. Since her Retcon Powers are now far stronger than John’s, he can’t keep up with her.

Aradia hides in a dark corner of Paradox Space, trying to keep herself together.

She’s gone to far now. She has to destroy the narrative and fast. It’s the only way she can fix this. It’s the only way she can keep everyone alive.

Part of her even believes it’s the only way she can get her friends back.

So, as John, Sollux, and Feferi teleport back to Earth C to get everyone caught up and prepared for war, Aradia does some preparations of her own.

She creates a horde of her time duplicates and sends the all across Paradox Space. They bring First Guardians and God-Tiered Space Players to her for her to suck the life out of, fueling up the “main" version of herself to be as strong as possible. Her end goal is to become strong enough to absorb the Green Sun. And if that didn’t make her strong enough, she’d invade Earth C as a Plan B. Overpower everyone and absorb Calliope's life force. Then, she'll be powerful enough to destroy the narrative.

She'll free herself. She'll free everyone. Even if she has to fight her closest friends.

As her body count rises, her reputation spreads. Every Space Player knows now to run when a horde of Aradias appear outside your door.

They know none survive getting dragged before Madame Megido.

[juniaships]

Actiontoongorlz's Top 8 Canon x OC Ships 💖💖

I've been looking at OTP/Couples memes for a while and decided that it's time for me to make my own! For an extra surprise I'm not putting Ben Tennyson x Jora Holiday on this list because I focus too much on them anyways & I want my other OCs & their loves to have the spotlight for a change. The timing couldn't be more perfect as we're close to Valentine's Day!!! If you don't support canon x oc or find my ships displeasing then move along because this is a Happy Place! 😁😁 Again these are couples that I consider my personal OTPs in regards to canon x oc. That and making more content with my ships in general! Be warned the text is long and contains spoilers for certain shows and such!!

Clarify: these are my own ocs so there's not going to be anyone else's oc/canon. I might have to save that for another post in the future! 💚 But yeah these are characters that I came up with :]

Alright I'm done ranting, let's get started!

1. Sonic x Lani: I never quite gave much thought into this pair as I should so I promise to do something with them in the future! I promise! What I appreciate about SonLani is that there's little drama, like everything is super chill because both parties are chill. It's not a big deal and they don't need grand gestures to show how much they care about each other. Unlike Preboot Archie with its carts full of poorly written romance and strangely OOC moments on Sonic's end, SonLani had a lot of time to grow, while keeping his established personality in check. They actually communicate with each other, and stick by each other thick and thin. Lani loves Sonic for who he is & has no plans on changing him. Likewise Sonic has someone he can rely on when things get tough; not to mention he can really be himself around her without going all "iLl sLOw dOWn fOr U." Plus the ship name I gave them is a huge nod to the games ^_^

2. Jason x Vanessa: A recent pair due to Vanessa being a new creation but I'm honestly in love with them right now. In-universe they are regarded as the prime example of 'Opposites Attract' in Odyssey. They didn't get along very well in Jason's first couple of months in town due to his hardheaded self and her aloof demeanor. But through events such as Blackgaard and Novacom they gradually learn to trust one another. They see each other in a different light, Vanessa realising that Jason is a lot more thoughtful than he lets on, and Jason discovering her hidden fun side and kindness. Vanessa provides challenges and a sense of normalcy Jason can enjoy away from spy business. Meanwhile Jason fulfills her thirst of adventure & simultaneous desire for a peaceful life as well as spirituality. They're a equals, regarding each other as such and not to mention the BANTER! Hard to believe a former nun can keep up with a secret agent both physically and trading barbs XD. There's also the Forbidden Love factor of Vanessa being the duaghter of Regis Blackgaard, Jason defending her because he KNOWS she is nothing like her old man. Their friendship and romance overcome so many obstacles. I can honestly say that if Vanessa was canon she'd be the type of person Jason would like to be with especially over Jillian Marshall *gags*

3. Kaysha Wallace x Leo Hamato: Now here's a ship that I want to get more into 😁😁 Honestly I love the idea of this pairing: the serious leadee x bubbly spirit! Kaysha is very perky yet understands Leo's feelings on shouldering so much responsibility (she being the oldest child in her family). She's very willing to support him because she doesn't want to see him get all weary from burden. Likewise Leo can be himself around her, and teach her to be more responsible. He doesn't doubt her potential and sees her as an equal even during those periods where she was not on par with the other ninja. Kaysha shows Leo it's okay to relax and let other people help him out and not shut everyone out. When Leo expresses his ability to give her a safe life she simply laughs it off; the way she sees it him simply there in her life is enough. The most interesting facet is their dynamic varies between shows, so you'd see different scenarios and reactions as well as similarities and differences in their romance subplot.

4. Artie x Rhodanthe: Another couple I seriously need to give more attention to, they're meant to be is the foil to Shrek and Fiona in several ways. Artie and Rho may come from different social classes but they're both searching for a purpose to prove their haters wrong. Artie lacked confidence while Rho was overconfident believing she didn't need help. Together Artie learns to stand up for not only for his kingdom and loved ones hut also for himself; Rho's pride gets tempered by Artie's kindness and willingness to compromise. Another thing I like is that Artie has someone who loves him for him not because he is attractive and of royal blood. Likewise Rho has someone who respects her in spite of her social standing & shares her beliefs in making life easier for the poor & outcasts. While both lacke the physical prowess of Shrek and Fiona they rely on each other's resourcefulness and strategic thinking to get by. Unlike Shrek and Fiona they don't get married at the end of their focus movie, resolving to figure out where to take their relationship next. They still have their own life goals and don't want to rush into a relationship which sends a pretty good message. However they have their disagreements - in fact they got a huge argument that became a plot point in Shrek Forever After - but through it all they rediscover the things that made them fall in true love with each other. I'm really loving the subplot I have planned where they forget their memories and slowly fall back in love again.

5. Finn x Alma: Surprise! Yes8 I have a Cars OC (that was originally a fanon Disney Princess) who is the niece of Tow Mater in my verse and she enters a relationship with Finn McMissile. The thing I love about this pair is that it allows Alma to use her skills to flourish, treating amd healing injured spies. She's also into travel and adventure so she can pretty much keep up with Finn. Likewise Finn realizes she is more than just a pretty face or a one-off fling but someone with the passion to face challenges head on; Finn seems to love a good challenge! But overall they'd make a nice pairing, Finn showing Alma the world and Alma showing Finn some of the more simpler things in life.

6. Alexander Paine & Qiu Jin: Well well well look at what the cat dragged in? If it isn't our first villain pairing? XD Just kidding only one half is a genuine villain. What makes this couple so unique in that their storyline goes way back to before the events of the show, he being a agent and she a mechanic. They loved each other deeply, even to the point of starting a family, but forced apart due to some troubling events. When they do get back together it's not so much a bittersweet reunion as Paine became a full villain and Qiu Jin had spent years in&out mental institution before being released There's visible pain & regret, Alexander desperately wanting a semblance of what they once had. He seeks power not just for himself for to heal her. But Jin refuses to go along with his schemes wanting nothing more than to move on and see their children. Jin is a huge Mortality Pet for him, but his own selfish desires for power is a major obstacle their love can't overcome. It's the more bittersweet of my pairings but an important one nonetheless.

7. Bruce Wayne x Nicola Holden: Ok the Brooding Guy/Gentle Girl trope is a mixed bag these days but I really like this trope in regards to Brucola. Like with Artie/Rho, Bruce and Nicola come from different social classes but has that same compassion and drive to help others. Nicola is someone Bruce can trust but at the same time she lets him know there are boundaries (aka don't use my weaknesses as a contingency plan). I also feel like Bruce needs a sort of normal love interest, while he has canon normal girlfriends most of them were pretty boring. At least with Nicola she has has a life outside being a love interest her own goals and motivations. She also loves Bruce for him, not because of his money and good looks. It's a generally healthy dynamic built on honesty & empathy. Another reason why I find this pair adorable is that it actually matches with the rest of the Trinity; you know, like how Superman is with a journalist and Wondy is with a soldier/agent. Nicola & Bruce having different ways of pursuing justice while still sharing similar moral codes. It helps that Nicola is actually a hero rather than an antihero/villain/straight villain (Bruce dating a villan would only make him look like a hypocrite). Nicola sees all facets of Bruce's life and makes the choice to stay; provides some much needed light not just in his life but also the rest of the Batfam. In turn Bruce has another connection to the normal world that is willing to be in his life and see him genuinely happy. They're mature adults who ground each other and build each other up.

8. Optimus Prime x Malina Lovelace: Okay is it just me or do I think TFA Optimus Prime needs more love? What's funny is that at first Malina didn't like the thought of being outshined by newcomers in her superhero career. Spending time with Optimus makes her realize that there's more to being a superhero than fame. Optimus doesn't look down on her, and is more than willing to work with her and appreciate her work. She becomes touched by his friendliness and aceepts him and the other Bots. At the same time Malina reminds Optimus that it's okay to make mistakes and move on, and that it's okay to cut toxic people out. I even wrote a noncanon ficlet where Malina calls out Sentinel and Blackarachnia for the way they treat Optimus. OptMalina is a romance built on respect despite the obvious differences. Not to mention they have each other's back, and they learn about each other each time. And just like with KayLeo and BatRose there's different continuities which means unique versions of the Optlina pair. The Bayverse *chortle* and Prime versions are a few I'd love to explore in the future!

Miscellaneous

- Chad Charming x Soraya Nedakh: Essentially snobby rich kid who learns to be self sufficient and see past appearances through a positive influence. Soraya helps Chad to understand that being royalty isn't just pretty clothes and parties but actually using that status to help others. And Chad actually has his views challenged: Soraya doesn't back down easily.

- Jetta x Zane: The concept of JettaZane (or A Touch Of Snow/IceMagic) is that the robot teaches the human what it's like to be human. Jetta started out as an extremely cold person and a loner, but her time with Zane - the literal ninja of ice - gradually melts her heart & she becomes more caring and accepting. So the robot programmed to be human helps the human raised to be a cold machine unlearn her toxic traits and reclaim her humanity. Also Pixane is kinda boring imo, like they're only together because they're both robots. Not very compelling if you ask me.

- Brian Crown x Kelly Arbol: The wellmeaning goofball and the beatnik poet are something I rarely see much of, but that pretty much sums up their ship. Brian may be a bit self centered but he has a heart of gold and through Kelly's influence he becomes more confident in being a worthy successor to his dad. Meanwhile Brian respects Kelly in and out costume and teaches her how to have fun. Not to mention Kelly interacts with someone outside her circle, which is a welcome change from the trope of only dating someone within your circle.

- Janus Lee x Lenora Rose: Another pair from the same show as Paine and Qiu Jin, there's not much to say on them other than it's one of the most tragic couples. Lenora died a long time ago due to circumstances beyond her & Mr. Lee's control and it's her death that was the catalyst to his gradual descent into evil. As the show goes on we see glimpses of their life together and realize that Lenora is more than the Ghost, she was someone with her own dreams and motivations. She and Janus were outcasts who found companionship in each other, and were able to build a life together using their hard-earned resources to help others. Even in the last few months of her life she didn't go down without a fight, wanting her legacy to be one of love and hope. It's her memory that may be the key to redeeming Mr. Lee in the future of A.T.O.M.

- Ben Florian x Paige: Again not much else to say but they're the antithesis of Mal x Ben. One thing that bothers me about Mal & Ben is that they are supposed to be equals when it's pretty darn obvious from the scenes they were not. With PaigeBen it's clear that they ARE equals who respect each other. Ben's agency isn't reduced to just love interest, he has someone he has good communication with and wants to see him succeed. Paige has someone who shares her interests and see her more than just that One American Newbie. They LEARN to work together without love potions involved. Plus we haven't had a commoner Disney Princess in a while so Paige fills in as someone who works her way into high status then uses that status to help others with Ben at her side.

That's enough of my Canon x OC OTPs! I hope to explore them more throughout the year :) I work hard to flesh out my OCs and their romantic storylines as if they're real 💚😌

I do have KayLeo week planned for Feb 14 to Feb 21 so don't be shocked when I start posting rottmnt stuff or art of Kaysha! Anyways these are my personal ships that I enjoy despite the lack of content I made of them, so hopefully I have the creative juices flowing to make more stuff! Final note I'm working on a platonic oc x canon meme to show that love doesn't have to be romantic. A

[saiilorstars]

Rise Up

Ch.11: Black Orchid

Previous Story: It Had To Be You || Current Masterlist

Pairings: Barry Allen x OFC

Chapter Summary: Following a tip from a time travelling friend, Belén starts the endeavor to find a way into the Green: a world for all botanist metahumans. She goes in search of a potential ally from another botanist metahuman, Black Orchid, who seems like she would rather work alone.

Pronunciation of OC: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​ @anotherunreadblog​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​ [If you’d like to be part of this OC’s taglist, let me know!]

"So...Mom knows about you?" Maritza watched her sister's uncomfortable form on the other side of the glass. Belén gave a silent nod of her head. She'd told Maritza about her mother finding out, in the worst way possible, she was the Azalea. "Gosh, Belén...she didn't take it well, did she?"

Belén shook her head. "Nope. She's moved on from the 'I'm ignoring you' phase and she's onto full fledged anger."

"I think the word 'metahuman' is just tarnished for her after everything that's happened," Maritza said, though in no way did she mean to give their mother a pass on her behavior. "I'm sorry."

"No, this one's not on you. It's on me," Belén sighed. "I thought that maybe after telling her my secret, things between us might start getting better again, but…"

"I'm sorry," Maritza felt the need to say again. After everything Belén had told her, going from their mother's challenging personality to the metahumans hunting them down...Maritza could only say 'sorry'. She wished, wished, that she could do something to help Belén but her past choices have prohibited her from. "I really wish I could help you out there."

Belén found it in her to smile. She didn't know how, or when, but coming to see Maritza had stopped being a chore and more like...a way to relieve stress. She could tell Maritza everything that was going on and not be judged. She hadn't quite forgiven Maritza for everything she did last year, but...Belén could say she was getting there.

Feeling her phone buzz inside her pocket, Belén gave it a quick check and found a text from Iris. She had to say goodbye to Maritza in order to meet back at STAR Labs.

~ 0 ~

Iris had done her job as best as she could and when she wanted to, she could almost be like a spy the way she found information on people. She had pulled up a profile of a woman dressed in a black and magenta suit with an over-sized jacket. Soon as Cisco saw the picture he let out a wolf whistle, along with questions about her specific clothing choice.

"This is why I do the suits, just saying," he raised his hands to show he was just making a statement...a true statement.

"Who are we looking at, Iris?" Belén asked, brown eyes already scanning the woman's picture till it burned in her mind.

"She calls herself Black Orchid," Iris began. She rose from her seat and zoomed in on the picture of woman. "As far as anyone knows, she's a meta with - take a guess - plant-based powers who usually appears in the lower parts of the city."

"The slummy parts?" Barry figured that would be the best place to lay low and still make a name for themselves.

"She's not known for always appearing when needed, but she's still known enough to have search engine results," Iris scrolled through some of her pictures, stopping at a familiar tab. "This is actually from my old blog. People still send me stuff and take a look at the date for this post."

Belén walked up to the screen to find the date stamp. The picture was of Black Orchid holding up one, no doubt, petty thief in her arms in front of a crowd of people. "That's last month." She turned sideways, one finger pointed behind her at the picture. "She's an active meta, then."

"It's been weeks since her last appearance but do you know what's interesting about that too? It's right around the time Datura and you fought for the first time."

"Could it be that's she's scared of Datura, then?" Caitlin's theory made sense since pretty much everyone in the room feared the siphoner.

"It also means she's keeping up with the news and thus still very much in the city," Barry crossed his arms.

"So, why exactly are we looking for this girl?" Cisco made the question he'd been dying to ask ever since Iris made them gather in the cortex.

Belén walked back to the main desk and put her arms over them, nervous for some reason. It wasn't like her friends would call her crazy for what she wanted to do, after all. "Graciela mentioned a place to me - the Green - that I could use to contact other metahumans that are like me. It's a place like the Speedforce, if you will, where I could train and...meet metas like me. Meta who could help me get better so that I can fight Datura and actually stand a chance."

"And you think Black Orchid will be that meta?" Cisco languidly pointed at the picture on the screen.

"With any luck, she's got a better handle on her powers," Belén shrugged. "And I can pretty much use any help I can get."

"It's worth a shot," Barry agreed with her. "We just have to find her and bring her in."

"Like...here?" Caitlin blinked. She hadn't made that connection until now. "Do we think that'd be a good idea? Revealing where the Azalea and the Flash work?"

"She's obviously taking on crime already," Iris gestured to the pictures she'd collected. "She could be a good addition to the team."

"Black Orchid was a villain on my Earth before she disappeared," Harry startled the group from behind. He'd come in as quiet as usual and strode down the room with purpose. He came to a stop in front of the pictures on the screen and gazed at them for a few seconds. "You should be careful. She's as toxic as you, Belén."

"But she's not a villain here, clearly," Belén said. "And I actually need her to be toxic, okay?"

Harry turned sideways, giving them all a look that said 'you're all idiots and are going to get killed'. "Bringing in more metahumans into this is only going to blow up in your face. You want to take Datura down? You kill her already."

"Easier said than done," Belén folded her arms. "And I'm not exactly looking to kill her."

"She is with you."

"Okay," Barry cut in before Harry's imprudence got worse. "Thank you, Harry, for your input but this is something Belén wants to do. I support her and so does everyone else."

Harry scoffed lightly. "Course you do. Cos you're all idiots."

"Do you have a better idea?" Cisco called from behind. "No?" he let a few more seconds of silence pass by before saying, "Then hush!"

"Thanks guys," Belén sent her friends a warm smile. "And thanks Iris for searching. My head's been all over the place, so…"

Iris nodded at her. "Any time. I can keep looking if you want."

"I say we focus on Black Orchid right now," Belén glanced at the screen. "We need to find her, so...yeah. Let's focus on where she appears most."

As the group made plans to continue searching for Black Orchid, eventually dispersing from the room, Harry inched closer to the super suits left on display. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone in the room then yanked off Belén's suit tracker. He then gingerly planted a decoy in its place. For Jessie.

~ 0 ~

Datura swiftly caught Belén's suit tracker with both her hands and squealed with genuine delight. "Finally!" She held the small device between her fingers and clicked her tongue. "Now the game can finally start!"

Harry stood across her in the alley, his face blank of any expression. "My daughter is safe, right?"

Datura lowered her hand and offered one sneaky smile. "Sure. I do remember to feed her once in a while." She waited for his reaction but he stood frigid. "Don't like my joke? Fine. So-" she tucked the suit tracker into her pocket, "-what's my dear Belén up to now?"

Harry stayed quiet for a few minutes. He hated this so much. A snitch. That's what he was reduced to by some 25 year old in a leather suit. Not just that but a thief and a traitor.

"Wells?" Datura's voice darkened, as did the part of her face Harry could see with her mask. "I need to know what Belén is up to. I might just forget to give Jesse some dinner today."

The mention of his daughter made the man finally move from his stance. "She's looking for the metahuman, Black Orchid."

Datura snorted. "Killed her off a while ago," she mumbled. Her dark eyes met his surprised gaze and caused another sneaky smile to spread across her face. "What? You didn't know that one? Offed her months ago."

"Why?" Harry asked wearily. He would love to finally know what she was planning, what Zoom was planning...but learning that would mean he'd die seconds later.

"She was in my way and I thought she would be the one," Datura's cryptic answer was almost like she hadn't answered at all. All Harry got from that was it just another fight between criminals. "Anyways," she played with one of her long curls, "Let Belén find the doppelganger. No matter how hard she trains she'll never be better than me. It's just impossible." She turned to leave but stopped to give Harry one more warning, "By the way, Zoom might be requiring something from you soon."

At that, Harry gulped.

~ 0 ~

"I think we got a pretty good location, don't you think?" Iris glanced back at Belén to see the woman staring down at the kitchen table that held all of their information on Black Orchid.

They were in Belén's apartment, scouring through every last detail they could find of their meta. Together, they'd found more pictures of Black Orchid, some even when she was in the middle of some pretty gruesome fights.

"She's pretty much all over the slummy streets but, if I counted right, she's appeared at this intersection more than the others," Belén picked up a picture of an intersection that happened to hold a pretty cruddy-looking bar. "I bet you that bar is where we'll find out more about her."

"You want to go there?" Iris made a face at the picture. It was only a picture and it already scared her.

"It's okay, I can go by myself," Belén's reassurance didn't exactly help Iris because she didn't want Belén going there by herself either.

But someone knocked on the door, preventing Iris from voicing these opinions out loud. Belén let the picture back on the table and went to go open the door.

"Mom?" she blinked in surprise to see Veronica. Of course, when the surprise faded she was pretty relieved - and perhaps partly excited - to see her. "Come in!"

Veronica, in her part, still looked pretty unsure of herself. She walked in and gave a brief, small smile at Iris. "You're busy…"

"Yeah, but, don't worry. You wanted to talk?" Belén's excitement did not go unnoticed by Veronica.

With a sigh, Veronica shrugged. "I would like to, but...I don't know if it'll change things." She walked towards the kitchen and noticed all the papers sprawled across the table. "Were you two working?"

Iris didn't know what to respond with. She looked to Belén for some help, or clues, as to what to say. Would Belén want to disclose what they were actually doing or keep it away from Veronica?

"Yeah, we're looking for someone," Belén came to stand beside her mother, looking pretty unsure herself.

"A meta?" the distaste in Veronica's tone was clear for anyone to pick up on. She picked up a photograph of Black Orchid and frowned. "So you're really deep into this metahuman world."

"I have to be, Mom. I'm one of them," Belén said quietly and with eyes boring onto her mother's face for a reaction.

"Don't…" Veronica seemed to shiver at the reminder of Belén's metahuman side. "I wish you wouldn't say that so openly."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"Yes, but…" Veronica stopped and glanced at Iris. Just as the reporter was about to announce her departure, Veronica caught her off guard with a question. "How do you let her do this? How can you just let Belén go into this dangerous world and be okay with it?"

"Mom!" Belén exclaimed disapprovingly, but Iris was good with quick responses thanks to her line of work.

"Because it's her choice and, to be honest, she's a perfect fit for the job," Iris crossed her arms. "She and Barry are the perfect people to protect us. And people like us-" she pointed at herself then Veronica, "-have a duty to help them wherever we can. That includes being supportive."

Veronica's face was indescribable. On some part, she seemed impressed with the response...but then another part was angry Iris wasn't taking her side. "Well...you would say that," she said in the end in a low mumble, "Barry's your brother...does Joe know about this?" Iris didn't have to say or do anything for Veronica to know. "Course he does because he's your father."

"Mom, I thought we were going to talk…" Belén inwardly sighed. She should've known that Veronica would not get over this so quickly. At least there was no shouting this time.

"Belén, I just don't understand why you are so fixated on this...this world!"

"Because it's my world, mom. And I can't abandon it when there's so many people that could get hurt if I do."

Veronica shook her head. "I-I think we need to continue this another day because…"

Belén didn't want to keep pausing this argument because every time they did, it just dragged on the feelings more. But she also feared that if they kept going in one go, they really would just end up shouting at each other like the other times. At least this case seemed to be so grave for Veronica that she wasn't shouting. She was thinking. She may be thinking the wrong things but at least she was thinking…

"I'm here...whenever you want to pick up on things…" she said quietly.

Iris sympathized for her friend while Veronica walked out. "Bells, I'm so sorry."

"No," Belén sniffed and turned back for the table, eyes flickering from one picture to the other. "I need to focus on this."

"Yeah, but-"

"-Iris, I have to focus on this first. Maybe my mom just needs some more days to process this." Belén wanted to believe this so badly.

~ 0 ~

The pictures of Central City's slum parts did no justice to its reality. There was a lot more graffiti on the walls, a lot more trash on the streets. A lot of people were ruder and definitely looking for something to pick-pocket. Belén kept her arms crossed over her chest as she walked down the street. She found the bar from the picture she and Iris were looking at and went directly inside.

There was a foul odor at the entrance that she wished she could forget.

"Take a seat with me sweetheart," she heard a man say as she walked in.

"Screw off," she spat without sparing him a glance. She came up to the bar counter, which was pretty empty save for two more customers at the end. She pulled her phone out and left it on the counter in front of her, just in case she needed to snap pictures or look at one of the ones she already have.

A tall Asian woman with long, dark hair came by a couple minutes later. "What can I get you?"

"Um…" Belén wasn't that big of a drinker, and much less during the day so she just asked for a mimosa. While she waited, she began to look around the bar with more searching eyes. She didn't see anyone that would necessarily stand out. Everyone seemed to be doing their own things, whether it was legal or not.

"Here you go," the bar tender returned with the bright orange drink in her hand. As she put the glass down, her eyes lingered on Belén for a few seconds. "You looking for someone?" her tough voice startled Belén. When the woman nearly fell off her stool, the bartender smiled. "You're not from around here."

"That easy to tell?" Belén bit her lower lip.

"Yeah. Don't walk alone in these parts."

"Is it really that bad here?"

The bartender nodded her head. She popped a bubble from her bubble gum and smirked. "Not if you know how to take care of yourself."

Belén saw some odd marks on the side of the woman's neck. She was sure there were some stitches poking up from her blouse. "Are you okay?" she pointed at the injuries, startling the bartender for a moment.

"Yeah. Just got into it with someone, no big deal." The bartender seemed to shift from friendly to brief. "My name's Shivhan if you want to leave a tip," she said before walking away.

Belén picked up her mimosa and had a couple sips from it. As she was putting it down, she heard a familiar voice behind her that nearly made her spill the glass.

"You are beautiful but crazy," Barry stood behind her and not too pleased.

Belén turned her stool sideways so she could see him. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Iris told me you were coming here! Belén!" he whisper-hissed as he sat down next to her. "This is a shady place to be at on your own, Bells. How could you come here alone?"

"Um, because I'm a big girl who can take care of herself?"

Barry deadpanned her. That's not what he meant and she knew it. "It never hurts to have backup. Besides, do you even know what you'd say to Black Orchid if you found her?"

"No, but...I'm a reporter. I'd wing it," Belén picked up her mimosa again and smiled.

Barry shook his head at her. "Alright, so what do have? Any clues?"

"Not really. I was just kind of scoping the area out," Belén shrugged and briefly looked back at the room. "But there's barely any people here and those who are, are definitely not Black Orchid."

Barry could agree with that since almost every customer in the building were men. "Maybe we should try later."

"I'm hoping something will happen that would make Black Orchid appear."

"Bit cynical," remarked Barry.

"Desperate." Belén sighed and forgot about her glass as she turned her stool to face the room. "I don't know, maybe we could speed things up or something."

"Like how?"

"Well...Black Orchid seems to appear whenever there's trouble, so…"

Barry was giving her a strange look. "You want us to stage a fight?"

"Something like that."

"I don't know about that Belén...I think we need to come up with a good plan and then-"

Belén was about to cut him off with the fact they didn't - or rather she didn't - have time to sit down and plan, when they heard a loud crash from outside. At once Belén jumped off her stool and tried to peer out into the street from her spot.

"Fight! Fight!" a crowd sitting near the door started to chant, prompting some delirious laughter from the room. It was only a matter of seconds before they rushed out into the streets.

"Creeps," Shivhan, the bartender, spat while she continued to wipe down the counter.

Barry got up as well and sprinted up to the window to see what was going on. Belén soon followed and saw with him that there were a couple of masked thieves making out of a shop with some valuables. Two of them had guns.

"We gotta do something," Barry rushed out the door but just as he was about to leave the sidewalk, Belén yanked him to her side.

"This is our chance!"

"Belén, someone could get hurt!"

"They won't because you'll intervene if she's not here in 1 minute," Belén promised then faced the street.

The thieves were trying to make an escape but there were being confronted with another group intending on taking the stolen valuables. Just as they were about to fire, something purple swooped down and punched the two gunmen from the first thief band.

"I told you…" Belén sounded breathless as she gazed at none other than Black Orchid. Barry had to hand it to her and her precise thinking.

Black Orchid was a feared presence by most of the people outside, judging how they stepped back. From what they could see, the meta had long, dark hair and dark eyes hidden behind a black mask that covered half her face. She wore a one-suit in the colors of black and violet. It was the same one Iris had shown them earlier.

Black tendrils sprouted from the woman's back and captured three of the men. She threw them halfway down the street without regards of where they hit or how hard they hit. She then ducked to avoid being hit by one of the men behind her. She jumped back up and kicked a leg up to knock the man down. As bullets fired towards her, she used her vines to create a shield where the bullets embedded themselves. Once she disbanded the shield, she sent the bullets right back and injured two more men. The last two remaining were from each of band and they both looked equally terrified.

"Drop it and go," she ordered in a rough voice.

The two instantly dropped their stolen things and made a run for it. Black Orchid raised three fingers and when she'd pulled them down, her arm did a boomerang action and released two different black masses that attached themselves to the men.

"Barry, we gotta get her alone," Belén spoke quietly to the speedster next to her.

"But how?" Barry looked around and saw that while the thieves had been taken down - killed, really - the crowd around them was still watching Black Orchid like hawks.

"I brought something with me," Belén admitted. Barry looked down at her and saw her reaching into her purse. She showed him the tip of a syringe. His eyes widened at it but before he could say something she said, "It's a sedative."

"Belén, we can't really do-"

"-I need her, Barry," she told him like this was already decided with or without him. "Datura is going to kill me if I don't up my game. Black Orchid can help me do that."

There was some questionable tactics Barry saw Black Orchid far too comfortable with, but he knew that he could stand there and argue with Belén without making a difference. "Fine." He took the syringe from her and disappeared. A minute later, so did Black Orchid.

When Belén felt a set of arms pull her as well, she smiled. She found herself in an alley where Black Orchid was already down with sedation. "Thank you," she said to the speedster.

Barry gazed down at the unconscious metahuman. "I don't think she'll be thanking us for this."

~0~

Team STAR Labs was never one for kidnapping. So when Barry and Belén brought in a guest, kidnapped and unconscious, they had much to say over the matter.

"This is not legal," Caitlin was the first to say, or scold, at the two metas. Barry and Belén stood in the middle of the cortex, listening to everyone having their go at them. "You kidnapped someone!"

"Well, if I asked she wouldn't have come," Belén argued. "You guys didn't see her out there. She's tough."

"And you think you need to be the same?" Cisco's doubtful stare made her roll her eyes.

"I need to change something and she can help me figure out what."

"Least she's taking initiative," Harry inputted his own opinion, surprising Belén that he was actually siding with her since he originally didn't agree with the plan of finding Black Orchid. "You can't always be soft. Especially when someone's trying to kill you."

"Uh, thanks Harry," she offered the man a small smile before looking at Caitlin and Cisco. "I'm not hurting her. I just needed to get her here so I could talk to her."

"And if she doesn't want to help?" asked Cisco.

"Let's hope she does."

"Well…" Caitlin has looked up from a computer, "... now's your chance. She just woke up."

~0~

Black Orchid was a woman who could be scary. Her balled fists repeatedly pounded against the pipeline pod. "LET ME OUT!" She screamed and screamed the same thing.

Cisco honestly thought the pod wouldn't last if this kept going.

Black Orchid only stopped when she saw someone coming into the pipeline. She straightened up and raised her head to judge if this person was going to help or not. "Who are you?" She didn't have to wait for a verbal answer since she saw clear as day who was on the other side. "The Azalea? Hm. That's a shocker. Would you let me go? I didn't do nothing wrong."

"You did kill people…" Belén reminded, though not as a way to punish her.

"They're thugs! It's kill or be killed!"

"Look, I'm not here to talk about who you killed or how many you killed. I need your help."

Black Orchid dropped her arms to her sides. Her chin raised again and though she had a mask on, Belén swore she was being judged. "Why would the Azalea need my help?"

"Because Datura is a dangerous metahuman that I cannot stop if you don't teach me how to get into the Green."

Black Orchid lowered her head. "Excuse me? The Green? You know about that?" Belén nodded her head. "But you don't know how to get in?"

"Have you ever seen me in there?" Belén made a good point.

Black Orchid crossed her arms and looked around the pod she was trapped in. "And you thought the best way to get me to help you was to lock me up?"

"Not my best idea but I really needed to have a minute with you."

"Here's the thing, I don't trust you. And, let's be honest, you don't trust me." Black Orchid inched closer to the glass wall. "I'm not training anyone. In this world, it's all about yourself. I need to look out for myself."

"Well, that's a pretty way of looking at life," Belén remarked. "But look, I really need your help. Datura is coming back-"

"-then you fight her off. She's your fight, not mine. Why do you think I've hidden for a month now? I'm not looking to get killed."

"But if you don't help me a lot of people are going to die!"

"Better them than me," Black Orchid said so plainly, so flatly, that Belén's mouth almost fell to the floor.

"How could you...how could you say that?"

"Because it's the truth. Self preservation."

Belén was flabbergasted to hear such a thing.

~0~

"I cannot believe she said that!" Belén stormed into the cortex, looking ready to kill someone herself. "How rude! How...selfish!"

"Sorry it didn't work out, Bells," Cisco meant as a true apology but she scoffed at him.

"Are you, though? You weren't even on board with the idea in the first place!"

Cisco made a face but, knowing she was just upset, he kept his mouth shut. He, did, however, give a look at Barry and Caitlin. Someone else needed to step in.

"Belén, maybe we just need to give her some time," Barry's suggestion was also responded with a scoff.

"I don't have time!" She groaned and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Caitlin called after her.

"Out! Don't follow!"

"She's m-a-d mad," Cisco whistled then quickly looked back to see if Belén had heard.

"She's upset, and with good reason," Barry rubbed his forehead. "Let's just keep an eye on her. She took the suit so-"

"-she's really mad," Cisco blurted and received a disapproving look from Caitlin. Barry just sighed.

"She turned off the tracker in her suit," Caitlin informed a few minutes later.

"Not surprising," Barry mumbled and moved over to see the screen himself. "She couldn't have gotten far. I'll go get her. See if I can talk to her."

He zipped out of the cortex with his suit, intending on finding Belén and bringing her back. However, it turned out Belén was very good at hiding. It'd been at least an hour of him scouring through the city before he gave up and asked for some additional help. Caitlin and Cisco were monitoring as usual, but, like Barry, they didn't have a clue where Belén went. It was like she disappeared.

"I've gone through all the places she usually goes to, I'm starting to get worried," Barry admitted. He stood at the top of a rooftop overlooking the busy streets of the city. It was fine that Belén wanted to have some time alone but two hours of no contact felt wrong.

"Uh, we got something, Barry!" Cisco exclaimed.

"Did you find her?" Barry quickly asked, ready to go as soon as they gave him a place.

"Yeah, um…looks like some warehouse off on Third and Carson street."

"That's weird," remarked Caitlin. "That whole block is for warehouses. What could Belén be doing there?"

"Don't know but we're going to find out," Barry said before speeding down the building he was on. He followed the instructions from the two and didn't bother coming in cautiously. He skidded to a stop and looked around the empty warehouse. "Belén?" he called out and received no answer. "Belén!"

"What's going on, Barry?" Cisco asked after the third failed call for Belén.

"She's not here," Barry ripped the cowl off his head and started walking down the left. There was something making a light noise coming from that direction. "But I...I don't think this warehouse is empty…"

"Belén's tracker says she's there, dude," Cisco insisted, though he was going through the tracker's ping just to make sure.

"Well, I don't see her," Barry kept walking forwards, now spotting something silvery round the corner. "Belén?"

"Barry, be careful," Caitlin warned. She was beginning to think there was something wrong with this entire situation. As if the world was reading her mind, she got a different type of alert on her computer screen.

Barry reeled back when a redhead swung from the side. "Hi there pretty boy," Poison Ivy showed off a smug smirk before firing at the speedster with a high-tech gun.

"Barry!" Cisco shouted as the computer stopped getting readings from Barry's vitals, his entire suit's actually. "Everything's gone offline." Cisco leaned back against his chair and heaved a heavy breath.

"Caitlin!" they both heard Belén's voice shriek from the other end of the line.

The two in the cortex did a quick double-take at each other before calling out their friend's name.

"Where are you!?" Caitlin demanded while she worked to figure out how the meta alert was coming from one part while Belén's tracker was pinging from another.

"Downtown! And I'm -" Belén shrieked again.

As it turned out, she was nowhere near close Barry's location. She didn't know how it happened, to be honest. She'd been sulking on her own for a while when she started to see some familiar red energy from a distance. Trained or not, she was not planning on giving Datura a pass. She chased after the energy until it led her downtown…

Datura had sucker-punched her from behind. She seemed to be on a different plan because even though she had a clear, open path to hurt Belén again, she walked past the woman on the ground and moved towards a street pole. Her eyes glowed an orange before shooting lasers at the street pole.

As Belén turned on her stomach, she saw the bottom of the street pole begin to steam as the acid from the lasers melted it away.

"Better, run, run, run!" Datura sing-sang to the people around when the street pole started creaking and leaning on its side.

"Oh, dammit," Belén muttered and scrambled to her feet. She started throwing vines to pull away the people in danger of getting squashed.

Datura boredly rolled her eyes as if saving people was a waste of time, and to her it was. When Belén pulled the last person out of the way, Datura rubbed her hands together and created a sword from her red energy.

"Uh oh," Belén had the good sense to back away. "Caitlin!" she started to call but for some reason, no one answered her. "Caitlin!"

"Where are you!?" Caitlin demanded so suddenly that, if Belén had been more focused, she would've picked up on the fact something was wrong.

"Downtown! And I'm -" Belén shrieked and ducked when Datura threw her sword at her. "It's Datura! She's back!"

"And ready to win," Datura said with a proud smile. Her eyes glowed silver, as did her hands. She radiated in Lunar energy, something Belén hadn't quite seen before and was therefore a little scared. "The power of Eclipsa-" Datura's smile widened, but Belén once again noticed there was a different voice speaking with Datura's, -is mine. Here's a little taste of what I can do!" She drew her hands back and started firing consecutively with lunar bolts.

Belén whipped her hands in front of her and tried doing what she saw Black Orchid doing earlier. She created a makeshift shield in front of her but Datura was going nonstop. "Caitlin, I really need Barry right now!"

"I - we thought he was with you!" Cisco exclaimed. "We lost contact with him!"

That made Belén automatically drop her shield in shock. "What!?" A series of lunar bolts hit her square in the chest, knocking her back on the ground. She shook her head in an attempt to rid her ears of the warped sounds. "Caitlin...where's...Barry?"

"We're working on it!"

"Oooh, are you looking for your partner?" Datura started walking towards Belén who was sitting up. "Yay-high?" She made a gesture of Barry's height over her head, "Red suit? Admittedly good looking?" Belén openly glared at her, making the woman laugh. "Don't be jealous. But, I do know where your Flash is."

Belén paused and gave Datura a look. "What?" She quickly got up and, to Datura's surprise, she swung a vine to throw the Earth 2 meta into a bus stop bench. "If you hurt him-"

Datura raised a hand and delivered a shock of electricity Belén's way. The brunette screamed as her body convulsed with the electric shocks.

Datura slowly got up and felt something over her lip. She took a drip of blood off her skin and scowled at herself. "Great." She walked towards Belén, admittedly feeling wobbly on her feet. "Listen up Azalea, here's the deal. I've got your Flash all nice and unconscious thanks to a speed gun I swept from Earth 2-" she bent down in front of Belén, smirking at the weariness in the woman's face from being attacked, "-and if you want to see him again...you're gonna have to drop this. Poison Ivy doesn't do patience."

Belén blinked rapidly from the electricity still lingering in her body. "I...want to...see him."

Datura smirked. "Thought you would." She raised a hand, making it seem like she was going to wave goodbye when instead she fired one last energy beam to knock Belén out.

~ 0 ~

In the cortex gathered at the cortex after realizing their two leading metas had been taken right under their noses.

"It was a trap," Cisco said quietly, and defeatedly, at his chair. He had his hands put together to the bridge of his nose. "It was a trap and we didn't see it."

"But it doesn't make sense how Datura got Belén's suit tracker in the first place," Caitlin hated the fact she couldn't figure that mystery out. "We didn't even realize it was gone."

From the corner of the cortex stood Harry, still and silent. His jaw was clenched with guilt but he still could not say anything.

"We know where they are," Iris reminded them. She looked at the screen on the wall, displaying the last known whereabouts of Barry. "Let's just go get them."

"First of all, we don't even know if they're still going to be there," Cisco pointed out, dropping his hand to his lap. "Second of all, even if they are still there...what the hell are we supposed to do?" he made a quick gesture at their members. "They'd kill us."

Caitlin set a hand on Cisco's shoulder and gave a smile at the rest. "I think what Cisco's trying to say is that we do not have the...meta-skills to take on Datura and Poison Ivy at the same time."

"Well, we have to do something," Iris walked up to the desk and set her arms over the top. "Can we call in Nina?"

"Even then, taking on these two metas…" Caitlin gave a shake of her head. "She'll need back up."

"Where do we get that from?" Iris looked at the trio expectantly.

Cisco looked up at Caitlin, both apparently thinking of the same thing.

"Wait here," he pushed himself up from his chair. He exchanged a nod with Caitlin before the two walked out of the cortex.

~ 0 ~

After hours of screaming to be released, Black Orchid resigned herself to the fact she may never be getting out of the pipeline. She picked herself up as soon as she heard the pipeline door opening.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded when she was face to face with Caitlin and Cisco.

"Manners," Cisco pointed at her. "We have a proposition for you."

"And why the hell would I care?"

"Because it involves your freedom, smartass," Cisco snapped. Caitlin inwardly sighed. This would definitely infuriate Belén but right now what mattered was bringing her and Barry back.

Black Orchid leaned on her hip. "I'm listening."

"The Azalea and the Flash have been kidnapped by Datura. We need you to help our friend, the Tempest, get them back."

Black Orchid unceremoniously snorted. "You want me to go up against the siphoner this entire city is talking about? She's the reason I stopped showing my face."

"What do you mean?" Caitlin's eyebrows knitted together.

Black Orchid didn't like the fact she'd unintentionally admitted that. "It's clear that this Datura wants to kill anyone in her path. I've seen what she's done to the Azalea. Imagine what she'd do if she found another botanist metahuman? No way!"

Cisco wasn't in a particular mood to remind the woman she was a human being. So, like Belén, he did first and would apologize later. "Fine, then I guess you'll stay here forever. Or at least until you die."

"You wouldn't let me die," scoffed the meta.

"Have you seen any other prisoners here?" Cisco's question made the metahuman pause. "Yeah. What do you think happened to the others in here?"

"You can't do that!"

"Then please help us," Caitlin pleaded. "C'mon. You're afraid and we get that, but if you don't do anything then Datura will kill the Azalea. And, if there's no one left to fight Datura...you're not going to be safe anywhere."

"If I go up against her I'll die right there and then," Black Orchid countered with.

"You said you were hiding from Datura so you didn't show your face," Caitlin reminded. "But the Azalea said you showed your face today after a store got robbed. That doesn't sound like self preservation to me."

"...that was my favorite store," Black Orchid rolled her eyes, attempting to make it all casual.

"Cut the crap, girl!" Cisco exclaimed. "Your freedom's on the table and you're gonna seriously waste it?"

"We can help you," Caitlin added. "We can make sure you're well prepared. We could even help you heal from your past fights." Black Orchid visibly stiffened. "The Azalea told us about some of the stitches she saw on you. And like my friend said, your freedom is on the table."

Black Orchid's dark eyes flickered from one scientist to the next. She knew what her position was and how far she could actually get. It wasn't good. "Fine," she huffed and reached a hand to the back of her head where her mask's tie was. "But I need some stitches to be re-done. So, who's the medical doctor here?" she tore the mask off to reveal a familiar face, though not familiar to Caitlin or Cisco.

Bartender Shivhan Jang stared at the scientists.

Author's Note:

So, first of all, this is a disclaimer for the fact that while I am writing in the character of Black Orchid, I am doing a different VERSION of the character. Black Orchid belongs to the DC world.

Now, the reason I decided to write this character in was because I felt it genuinely wrong she was written and barely got recognition. I never heard of Black Orchid until I started doing research on botanical metahumans for this precise arc. It amazed me she was such a complex character that I just had to write my version of hers.

And a visual reference of Black Orchid, aka Shivhan, would be the Korean singer Sunmi.

[athenril-of-kirkwall]

“That’s how the story goes.” For Solavellan?

Solavellan, “The Halla Princess” (AO3)

“Finally, Fen’Harel bit off his own tail, and away he fled,” Rivka recited with all the theatricality the tale warranted, “And ever since, the Dread Wolf thinks twice about playing his tricks when dogs are on guard.”

The elven children in Haven laughed and clapped as she concluded her story. From where they were sitting around her on whichever boxes and barrels they could find, arranged in a circle around the hearth which Varric normally hung around, they began to disperse and head to the various odd jobs which they’d been assigned to around the Inquisition camp.

Rivka watched them leave with a smile on her face as she warmed her palms, before noticing someone in the corner of her vision descend the stairs on her left. It was her fellow elven mage Solas, using his staff in the manner of a hiking pole.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding,” he said, approaching the fire, “But I overheard the end of your tale, and I simply had some questions.”

Gesturing to one of the taller crates, Rivka said, “Ask away, although I’m now suspecting that you’re going to correct me on the details.”

“Not at all,” Solas said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It merely seemed to me that you were very comfortable telling those stories.”

Feeling herself blush a little, Rivka answered, “Well, that’s logical enough. Back when I was in training to be the First of my clan, one of the duties I had was to take care of those too young to help with tasks, or even those who were between their errands, and since one of my other duties was remembering all the tales I thought I’d substitute in for the hahrens.”

Nodding as he understood, he said. “Your practice does you credit, lethallan. That was a tale well-told.”

Glancing away from the fire to him, Rivka said glibly, “But not well-composed? Perhaps there was something in the Fade that you saw which…”

Laughing, he said, “You think too much and too little of me at once. That was a children’s story, was it not? Every tale needs a villain, after all. But tell me, do you know any that have Fen’harel using his cunning?”

Thinking for a while, Rivka said, “I think I do, but surely you’ve better things to do than sit by a dying fireside and listen to old stories, not when you could see them for yourself?”

“Humour me, Rivka,” Solas said. “Besides, there is scarce little for inconvenient apostate mages to do whilst we wait for Lady Nightingale’s little messengers to return. Unless you’d rather scrounge around for ores and prospective logging sites in today’s chill…?”

Reflexively shivering, Rivka said, “I guess not. Have you heard of the Tale of the Slow Arrow, Solas?”

“I might have, but I’d like to hear your take on it,” he answered.

She began her story, narrating how a great beast was terrorising a village, with its inhabitants begging Fen’Harel to intercede by slaying the beast. Rivka continued by explaining that Fen’Harel’s only answer was to loose an arrow into the sky, letting the beast kill and eat the elders, the men and the women, who cursed his name as they died, and concluded that the arrow fell from the sky, killing the beast in a single stroke, before it was able to eat the children, who despite their grave losses still gave him thanks and offerings.

Turning to her, Solas asked, “What do you think the moral of that story was?”

Rivka shook her head, saying, “I rarely told that one, mainly because the adults didn’t want me telling their children they could die so horribly, so I don’t really know. If Fen’harel’s arrow was so powerful why didn’t he shoot the beast on sight? If he knew the beast would be there why didn’t he tell the adults to hide when it came? We only have fragments of stories, and we’re supposed to make sense of them all.”

“Perhaps Fen’Harel’s arrow was powerful but not himself,” Solas thought aloud, “and perhaps the beast would not have been positioned where it was, were the beast to find the village empty. It might have been that Fen’Harel reckoned that there was to be a cost either way, and saved the children such that the village might have a future.”

“A future where they owed that great debt to the Dread Wolf, doubtless,” Rivka said. “Still, that’s hard to argue with, I suppose.”

“Have you any which have less grim endings, at any rate?” Solas asked. “Happy endings seem to be rare in our times.”

Rivka giggled, saying, “You’re like a child, Solas!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They never let me stop at just the one story, and they always wanted the ones with happy endings, too,” she answered. “But all right, Solas, I’ll tell you one of my favourite ones then.”

“I’m privileged,” he said. “Which one is it?”

Rivka looked into the flames, concentrating. “It’s the one called ‘The Halla Princess’.”

“This sounds good already. A Dalish princess?”

“Well, it’s said to be set in ancient Arlathan,” Rivka said, “Where the elves had their own kingdoms and their own great chiefs, and their sons and daughters would be betrothed to each other just like the humans and dwarves do these days.”

“That seems fair,” he said. “Ancient memories suggest—”

“With all due respect, Solas,” Rivka said, “Do you want to hear the story, or not?”

Raising his palms in surrender, he said, “Very well, I shan’t interrupt with historical context again.”

“Good,” she said, continuing,

“There was a princess born to a great noble house, whose birth was attended by all the creatures of land and sea save for the spider, who cursed the Princess Tasallan to turn into a halla the instant she came in contact with sunlight.

“Her parents were very ingenious in avoiding that very fate, all the way till she came of age and suitors were seeking out brides. Her painting was said to be so beautiful that a handsome prince broke off an engagement with another princess, Boranehn, the instant he saw it. Boranehn was absolutely furious, and sought out the help of the spider to punish him—even though she said he was free to make his choice, she was still offended.

“The opportunity came when she was on the way to his castle, where the spider, clinging on to Princess Tasallan’s carriage, called upon the powers of Forgotten Ones first to destroy her carriage with a mighty storm, then when she was exposed, to part the clouds instantly to expose her to the sun. It worked, and Princess Tasallan was transformed into a halla, running off into the woods whilst the Forgotten Ones made Boranehn look like Tasallan, and she proceeded to the wedding, the prince unawares.

“However, the spider and the Forgotten Ones had made a terrible mistake when they interceded on Boranehn’s behalf, for the sudden storm and sunlight had killed many inhabitants of the woodland, even if none of the elves had lost their lives, and Mythal was incensed. First, she dispelled the magic which Boranehn had used, and Boranehn fled when her deception was revealed to all, but not before spitefully boasting that the prince would never find Tasallan, and he would kill her long before he managed to lift her curse.

“The prince and all his men rode out of his castle, searching the lands of his realm high and low for Tasallan, but they never found her because she was in the form of a halla, one amongst hundreds that roamed his lands, and he eventually collapsed by a stream, utterly exhausted by his search for his bride-to-be. He slept fitfully, and eventually, Tasallan found him, and approached him as he rested under a tree.

“The spider had one last trick to play, clouding the prince’s vision such that it was not Tasallan, and not a halla which he saw when he woke up, but a massive wolf, its teeth bared, ready to pounce and strike down its prey. He readied his bow and loosed an arrow, and the spider laughed to himself as he witnessed the prince committing such an unforgivable transgression by not only killing his bride by accident, but also slaying a halla.

“But even as Ghilan'nain blocked the arrow which would have pierced Tasallan’s heart and reached out to smite the hapless prince for his error, Mythal stayed his hand, explaining that the prince had been led into delusion by the spider, whom she banished into the caves which saw no light. Their power, however, was insufficient to undo the curse which the Forgotten Ones had lain so many years ago, at least not in the daytime, so although the prince gratefully tended for the halla and kept it in his stables, he did not know that Tasallan woke up every night on the stable floor, nor did the stable hands bother to check at night.

“Mythal pleaded with Elgar’nan to intercede on Tasallan’s behalf, but he said he could not act unless the prince himself realised the halla’s true nature. To this end, Mythal clouded the mind of one of the stable boys, making him leave the door unlocked, and Tasallan, finding the gate open, went her way into the palace, where the prince’s guards attempted to chase her out until Elgar’nan stopped the moon in the sky to cover the sun, transforming it back into Tasallan before the prince’s eyes, and the two of them reunited.

“The two of them married and lived happily ever after, but where Boranehn and the spider fled, no one knows to this day, save that the spider’s offspring now lurks in caves, ready to prey on careless wanderers. And that’s how that tale ends.”

With that, Rivka expectantly turned to Solas to see what kind of reaction he’d have, be it bemusement or a barely-restrained correction of some minor point or other in her story. To her surprise, he expressed neither, simply staring out to the frozen lake outside Haven, eyes glistening in the brilliant shine coming off the snow which blanketed the scenery.

“Solas?”, Rivka asked, trying to rouse his attention.

Slowly realising she’d called his name, Solas turned to her, casually wiping his eyes dry. “Hm? Ah, yes. That was a wonderful tale, lethallan.”

“Really”, she retorted, crossing her arms. “It seems you hardly were paying attention right at the end there, if we’re being honest.”

Waving his hand in front of his face defensively, he said, “That is untrue. It…simply dredged up some emotions, old and very powerful, I had experienced of those closest to Mythal, and how they would have appreciated her love and care as your Princess Tasallan had. And Elgar’nan…”

Rivka leaned forward, unfolding her arms and setting them on her knees, asking interestedly, “What of him?”

Solas laughed sharply, saying, “Oh, nothing, really. I’m just astonished that old All-Father was so positively restrained there. Were it up to me I’d have smote the spider from all existence, myself.”

“Creators forbid, Solas,” Rivka said. “Where would we get all that silk otherwise?”

Shrugging, he conceded, “You may well have a point there. I suppose they were good for something after all. I don’t know about you, but I shall retire to my quarters. You’ve given me a great deal to think about with that tale, I must say.”

“Oh?”

“Old memories kept alive by the young…” he said, trailing off, before adding, “Imagine if they were still here to listen to what stories your ilk had to say about them these days. I imagine they’d be quite amused.”

“The way of our people is that we can only hope that they do somehow…somewhere,” Rivka concluded, hooding her eyes and glancing towards the unclouded sun hanging over them all, turning away to gather her things and leave for a warmer choice of locales along with him.

-

@dadrunkwriting

[palettepainter]

What about Robos and Kowais real parents? And do they get adopted?

Warning: Mentions of abuse and suicide

Robo’s (his actual name is Haiya) parents where both small sidekicks working under a big time hero, and Robo was born in hopes to bring the family name to glory - his parents where okay at first, but after his quirks kicked in and it was revealed he inherited both of his parents quirks his mum and dad started to view him more as an extension to their work. If you want an idea of how his parents began to change in behavior then just look up Nagisa’s mum from assassination classroom on YT (if you’re going to search that up on YT warnings for abuse and manipulative/controlling behavior). 

After Robo lost the movement in his arms and his parents had his arms surgically removed, Robo by extent also lost his second quirk which he inherited from his father.His father’s quirk allowed him to either slow down or speed up the movement of an object or person with either his right or left hand, once Robo lost his arms his parents lost faith in him, seeing him more as a failure of what could have been. They hand him over to a family in Tokyo, they planned to take Robo back in if they found any kind of operation that could in some way restore his quirk, but Robo runs away at the age of 13 from his new family.

(one of the rare times I answer an ask with a drawing in it)

Now Haiya is happily adopted by Ectoplasm and Power loader, the fanart I saw for this rarepair won me over on it don’t judge me they’re cute. Ectoplasm was the first to adopt Haiya: Ectoplasm was called into the therapy centre/orphanage home for kids to help Haiya in the start of his therapy, Haiya has a fear of doctors and hospitals thanks to when he had his arms removed by his parents, he sees his lack of arms as a failure as that’s how his parents saw it. Ectoplasm offers solid, and very thoughtful advice (Ectoplasm lost his legs to a villian so I headcannon that Ecto has a lot of great advice for people when it comes to encouraging them to get back up after a rough day,), they begin to bond over time, and since both share a similar fighting stlye (both being stronger with the use of their legs rather then their arms), Ectoplasm made a pledge when Eri (Eri runs the therapy centre) made a placement request for Haiya in UA in general studies. Haiya no longer desires to be a hero, but may now have the goal of becoming a teacher thanks to his new dad. Haiya meets Power loader pretty early on in his time at UA, Ectoplasm goes to Power Loader for adjustments for his prosthetics’, since his are a special light weight model to help him fight, Power loader becomes a figure Haiya is comfortable around and begins to enjoy his company. Haiya begins to view him as a second parent, and with Haiya spending more time with Power loader it was inevitable that Ectoplasm and Haiya would begin to grow closer. It’s another personal headcannon of mine that the two where school friends back in their UA days, so the two where already close from the get go, but it wasn’t until Haiya came along did their friendship develop into something more.

Haiya is a very happy, energetic and bubbly child and loves his two new dads very much 

Kowai’s parents weren’t heroes. Her father worked in management to a furniture company and her mother was an ex doctor who lost her job and fell into drinking. Her father took her mother in when he found her out on the streets one morning, and nursed her back to health. She ends up sticking around and although their relationship is a bit rocky at the start, they soon become friends and start to enjoy the others company. In the beginning their love was actually very sweet and genuine, and then Kowai’s mother became pregnant with her. Kowai was unplanned but happily welcomed by her two parents. It was confirmed after a doctors visit that Kowai had a quirk - or would have one - but they’d obviously have to wait until Kowai was older for it to manifest. When Kowai hit five and she showed no signs of a quirk, her parents began to ponder what could be wrong. Kowai’s mother, having been a doctor in the past, suggested that perhaps Kowai had developed a quirk relating in some way to alcohol (Kowai’s mum’s body due to her past drinking habits led to her body suffering, she wasn’t in the greatest of health, so that gene passed on to Kowai). The marriage from their falls apart, her parents begin to fight and her mother turns back to her old ways of drinking to cope when her husband begins to barely talk to her. After one particularly nasty argument Kowai’s dad storms out of the house, leaving Kowai who was 6 at the time and her mother alone. Kowai’s mother takes her life, leaving Kowai alone in the apartment. A day goes by, and her dad hasn’t returned home, Kowai begins to grow hungry, and being a clueless child she reaches for the wine glass - she thought it was juice - and drank it,. Her quirk sloshed took affect, and being little she panicked which ultimately made it worse - her father finally returned to find Kowai’s mum dead and Kowai huddled by the end of the sofa. He takes Kowai to an orphanage the next day and leaves the country, things don’t get any better for Kowai as the orphanage didn’t want to deal with a child with a complicated quirk, and so the drive her to the slums and leave her there to fend for herself

(I know Nemoto’s legs look a bit weird here, I’ll fix up the sketch later when I decided to line art and colour this)

Kowai is eventually adopted by Deidoro and Nemoto (discussed the idea of Kowai being adopted by these two with @hazbinextgeneration and threw around a few ideas, and after reading some parent headcannons by @kayokos-villain-imagines I decided to make it cannon) - I’m still figuring out how Deidoro and Nemoto come to adopt Kowai, since Nemoto is already busy enough taking care of his dumb husband, but an idea I had was maybe Eri reached out to Deidoro years later when Kowai comes to the centre in hopes Deidoro would have any ideas on how to help her handle her quirk. If you guys have any ideas feel free to send them to me! Nemoto is the rule following parent, also a bit strict on cleanliness (kind of a habit that stuck after working with Overhaul). Deidoro is the laid back dad who’s a slob, probably treats him and Kowai to greasy take out food becasue he knows Nemoto hates grease, and also because Deidoro likes greasy foods - thankfully Nemoto is there to make sure he actually eats healthy stuff too. Deidoro is the stay at home dad and Nemoto is probably a lawyer or banker, some high paying job that requires brains 

Also to confirm Nemoto and Deidoro go through a reformation programe once they are sent to prison - though they are villians are where working under Overhaul, yes - without a doubt - they’re bad guys, but I don’t think they’re necessarily bad people, if that makes sense. Nemoto joined Overhaul because Overhaul was the first person to ever tell Nemoto the truth, his true feelings and opinions, Nemoto joined him because no one else was giving him that and so that made Nemoto view him as trustworthy. I don’t know if Deidoro’s backstory has been revealed as of yet, but my headcannon is that Deidoro, after his quirk manifested, was treated differently by his peers, friends and family due to its nature and how it worked, Overhaul then found him and offered him a base to live in, a warm shower, proper food, and Deidoro accepted becasue Overhaul was the first person to actually treat him as an equal in a long time.

I don’t see Nemoto or Deidoro as truly evil, more rather just misguided, so in my NGAU they are reformed villians and are living a (mostly-) peaceful life

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/COPY/TRACE MY ART OR OC’S!!

Kowai/Robo - me

Ectoplasm/Power loader/Deidoro/Nemoto - MHA

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @renecdote!! happy holidays <3

----

Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago.

Gotham feels different, even though it doesn’t appear that way on the surface. The violence is more personal, less showy, and as far as they’ve seen, there are almost no super villains. Somehow, though, there’s more crime on the whole, every corner of every street host to pimps and drug dealers and traffickers.

Tim tries to fight it, tries to intervene, but Dick pulls him back. “We can’t risk it, you know that.”

He does. But that doesn’t make it easier. “They need our help,” Tim fires back, everything he’s ever been taught about bettering the world, the pressure of saving people, battering around in his mind.

“It’s not our world or our place,” Dick explains, and for all that he sounds apologetic, his eyes don’t stray away from the shadowy parts of the street where they can hear people being hurt.

Dick is a good actor, but Tim can read him like a book. He’s following the protocols put in place for dimensional travel, playing the I’m The Big Brother And I’m In Charge card, but he doesn’t like it anymore than Tim does.

The rules are what they are for a reason, and Tim knows that. Grudgingly, he lets Dick pull him away, go back to their own little shadowy corners. They sleep on cardboard they find in dumpsters, huddling up for warmth. In the mornings, they go to the local library, hoping to fill out some of their knowledge on this world, since no rescue or way out otherwise is forthcoming.

There, sitting at the outdated computers, they find out that Martha and Thomas Wayne are still dead. Bruce wasn’t 8 when it happened, though—he was 16. He got shot too, making it painful and difficult to walk or move in general. According to one interview from a few years before, he’s kept on bedrest a lot, and has been in and out of physical therapy ever since it happened, now fifteen years prior. When he’s not doing that, he’s campaigning for control of Wayne Enterprises and tweeting about coffee.

There’s no Batman. Not like how they know him, at least.

One day, Dick flirts with a cop and Tim pickpockets the man’s scanner, and they learn that whole case files, suspects and evidence all neatly put together, have been sent to the GCPD over the past six years. They never see anyone fly overhead, though. At first, they think it might be Babs, but when they try to look her up, Tim finds that she’s been locked up in Arkham for at least the last four years.

Neither one of them want to know why, so they just don’t look into it any further. “This isn’t our Babs,” Dick reminds himself, and Tim, too. But mostly himself. “She’s not .”

They share a look, and don’t have to say anything to know it’s time to compartmentalize. This Babs isn’t their Babs. This Bruce isn’t their Bruce. This world doesn’t have the Joker or Poison Ivy or any of them except Two Face and the Penguin. This isn’t their world .

“Come on,” Dick murmurs, sticking close to his side as they leave the library. As they head to their latest alley, they pass all kinds of drug deals and gang members beating the shit out of people. By the time they actually get to where they’ve been staying, they’re both so tense, one smartass comment from Tim is all it takes to snap them into an argument.

”I’m sorry,” Tim says after they’ve gone back and forth a few times, sounding hostile even to himself. “I’m so sorry I can’t see things the same way you do. I’m sorry I’m not perfect Dick Grayson , who always knows what to do without even having to think about it, who always does the right thing, who is totally fine letting all these people suffer, because it’s in the protocol!”

He doesn’t even believe his own words. Tim’s just upset, unable to handle living on the streets for a week in a universe where everything is unfamiliar and grim, lashing out against one of the only things he can control. Dick is all he has here—and spending that much time with someone, let alone one of his brothers, would be hard even in the best of circumstances.

Dick flinches, and Tim only has a second to feel bad before the flash of a reflection from a gun in the window above them catches his attention. He moves on instinct, stepping forward and trying to pull Dick down even as Dick tries to move towards the mouth of the alley, protective to a fault. The bullet hits Dick’s left shoulder with a sickening and familiar crack-thwack .

For a moment, everything is silent, slow motion. Dick sucks in a pained breath, stumbling back a few steps, and Tim hopes and prays the bullet hasn’t hit an artery.

And then Tim twists to face the mouth of the alley and books it towards him, jumping on the bastard and bringing him to the ground. He rips the gun away and lets all of his pent-up anger and stress out, punching and punching. It’s only Dick, gritting his teeth and clutching his shoulder, calling out his name that saves the guy’s teeth from actually being knocked out.

Panting and shaking with fury and adrenaline, Tim stands. “Are you okay?” He demands.

“Fine,” Dick replies. “We—we should go.”

“Yeah, okay.” But he bends down instead, patting the guy’s pockets until he finds what he’s looking for: a wallet. As he rifles through, searching for a driver’s license or state ID, he explains. “We need to know who he is. If he’s working for Harvey….”

They both shudder at the thought, but the truth is worse. The name is Italian, familiar to Tim from a bust a few years before. He’s one of Maroni’s men.

Another thing they learned during their hours of research at the library: seven years ago, Haly’s Circus came through town. Bruce Wayne didn’t attend, or more likely, couldn’t. Mary and John Grayson fell to their deaths, and once it became clear that little Dick Grayson, only eight years old, knew something about the murderers, he ran. He’s been missing ever since, and if he’s still alive, then the Maronis are probably still on the lookout for him. Tony Zucco, apparently, is still alive. Still working Gotham’s underbelly, terrorizing and murdering. The Dick Grayson native to this universe is a threat to them.

They probably heard me say Dick’s name , Tim realizes, tucking the wallet away in the man’s pockets. Which means he was shot because of me. Fuck.

----

Big brothers, Tim finds, are fucking heavy. Especially when they’ve been shot and are steadily losing blood. When they’re dead weight, fading in and out of consciousness. When they’re relying totally on Tim to drag the both of them to uncertain refuge in an unfamiliar city.

And Tim���he wants to be someone Dick can rely on. (Obviously, he already is, but his anxiety says maybe this is just who Dick is. Tim could be anyone and the situation would be the same. Still, it would be better for Dick if Tim was Damian, instead. Or Bruce. Or Donna. Or anyone but himself, really.) But more than anything, he wants someone who can help Dick, who can keep him alive. Living on the streets the way they are just doesn’t lend much in the way of medical supplies.

Tim drags Dick all the way to the clinic, based on a vague awareness that it exists here, too. When they get there, though, the building is obviously abandoned, Leslie nowhere to be found. Wherever she is, he doesn’t know, but he hopes she’s okay. He can’t think of a situation that would keep her from helping the people of Gotham. Still, he sets Dick up against the wall and breaks in, hoping for something useful, and finding nothing inside but rubble and evidence of homeless people using the space for shelter.

He goes back to Dick, feeling like the world is ending. They don’t have any first aid supplies, and even if they did, even if a first aid kit fell out of the sky right now and Tim could patch Dick up, it wouldn’t mean anything. This only happened because Tim wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking to be careful. It could happen again. What does he do then?

What would Bruce do? Roy? Wally? Diana or Clark? Hell, Kon ? Any of them could help Dick so much more right now. More than Tim can or will ever be able to. And really, what good is Tim if he can’t even keep his brother alive?

Aware the thoughts aren’t helpful right now, he shelves them for later and looks back at Dick, cataloguing everything he sees like Bruce taught them to do. Dick’s still steadily bleeding out, and though that’s most concerning of all, Tim finds the only thing he can think about is how they don’t have clean clothes so Dick can walk around in something not soaked in blood.

With a strangled shout, Tim kicks the wall. It doesn’t affect him, much—thank god he’d been wearing steel-toed shoes when they were transported here—but the brief release feels good. Sort of. It’d be a lot better if he were still laying into the Maroni guy, if he’s honest.

“Tim,” Dick says, both reproachful and concerned.

“Shut up,” Tim replies, dragging his fingers through his hair. His mind is racing. He wants to go home so badly his chest aches with it.

Dick knows him well enough that he can sense what Tim is thinking. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, Tim. No . We can’t.”

“Where else are we supposed to go?” Tim cries out. It’s a stupid idea, it’s against the protocol, and they’ve already talked about it anyway. They’d agreed it’s stupid and they can’t do it and moved on. But he can’t help feeling the impulse, especially now.

“Stephanie’s,” Dick shoots back immediately. But they both know it’s not possible—here, Steph is another face on the dozens of missing persons posters that litter the city. He realizes it a second too late, and stumbles over his next words. “Just, anywhere but there.”

Jason is dead, has been for years now. Damian doesn’t exist. Cass is in Star City with Dinah Lance. Luke and the other members of the Fox family have never lived in this Gotham. Duke’s parents are still alive—they recently moved to Blüdhaven, and took their young son with them. Harper and Cullen are nowhere to be found, but Tim tells himself that’s a good thing—it means they aren’t in the obituaries. Kate is overseas on a honeymoon with her wife. Half of the Titans and Justice League don’t seem to exist, and the ones that do wouldn’t step foot in this cesspit of crime and drugs.

‘Anywhere but there’ means nothing. Nowhere. There’s no place for them to go, no one who can or even would help.

The words, or maybe the thoughts that come with them, wear Dick out. He starts to fade again, eyes slipping closed, and that means Tim’s in charge.

And Tim? Tim wants to go home .

He grabs Dick, keeping him from sliding down the wall, throws his brother’s arm over his shoulder, and starts off towards the Manor with every ounce of determination he can muster.

----

Several hours later, when it’s dark and Dick is pale and mostly silent, barely keeping up, they make it home. Everything feels different: the security that allows them to get all the way up the drive (after only a little effort on Tim’s part), the trees oddly placed and the doors and shutters all painted a light blue instead of the rusty red he’s used to. It’s disorienting and upsetting. Home is supposed to be familiar and it’s not and he hates it.

Tim knocks on a side door that only family knows about, hoping against hope it won’t be Bruce that answers. He doubts it, but he’s positive he won’t be able to keep his composure in front of his dad. It’ll be a little easier with Alfred. Probably. In any case, Alfred is the better option of the two.

While they wait, Dick mumbles, “This is stupid.”

Tim presses his hand against the wound, trying not to be impatient. Trying not to feel sick with nerves. He doesn’t reply, knowing Dick isn’t really paying attention right now.

When the door finally opens, Tim could collapse with relief. Alfred stands there, one hand hiding his rifle out of their sight in an all-too-familiar pose, while the other holds onto the doorjamb. His hair is darker than Tim is used to, his face less wrinkled. He’s staring at them like they’re weird, strange boys, standing at what’s supposed to be a virtually unknown entrance to a private, secure home in the late hours of the night.

Blood covers Dick’s upper body and Tim’s hands, and they both look and smell rough. They don’t make a pretty picture, and Tim knows that, but there’s nothing he can do except get Alfred to let them in somehow. He’s been thinking about what he wants to say, what’ll appeal to Alfred’s compassion or curiosity or both. Please, help my brother before he loses too much blood. Please, don’t tell Bruce about this. Please, I’m so exhausted and I need a cup of your chamomile and a cookie and also maybe a hug or I’m going to explode.

What he says instead is, “ Alfred .” It’s a relieved sob, leaving him without permission, and Alfred’s shocked and confused reaction is much more noticeable than it should be. “I—we didn’t know where else to go. He’s hurt.”

There are more words on his tongue, an avalanche of them wanting to come out, but Alfred stops him there with a raised hand. He doesn’t put the rifle down, but he says, “Come in, then,” and opens the door wide enough for them.

Dick groans when Tim drags him up the steps. Blinking sluggishly at Alfred, he says, “Alf…?”

“Yeah, it’s Alfred. Come on, help out here a little bit. We’re just gonna sit down and hopefully get you patched up, alright, Dickie?”

“Hrn.”

Tim bites his lip at the Bruce noise, stupid tears stinging in his eyes.

He’s home. It’s unfamiliar. Dick is hurt. He’s in charge.

Now is so not the time to cry.

Alfred leads them to a nearby couch in a sitting room they’ve never used in all the years Tim’s known Bruce. Rifle still in hand, he seems much more unsure than their Alfred, who would’ve already had the situation on lock by now.

“We need a first aid kit, please,” Tim says. He glances at the weapon, and adds, “We won’t cause any trouble, I promise. I—I know this is probably super weird, but….”

But what? Tim can’t think of a way to end the sentence so he just doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Dick and starts pulling his brother’s shirt off, something they really should’ve done hours ago. While he uses the fabric to put pressure on the wound again, he hears Alfred moving around behind him.

If this Bruce is anything like theirs, a first aid kit shouldn’t be too far away. There’s one in every bathroom back home.

It’s not long before Alfred is back, shooing Tim away and setting a large first aid kit on the couch. His rifle is gone, but Tim knows it can’t be far. There’s no way this Alfred trusts them enough to not have it close at hand. “Do I dare ask what happened?”

God, it’s good to hear his voice. “My brother got shot,” Tim says, reverting to his natural instinct to reveal as little as possible. Normally Alfred is someone he can give a full mission report to, but Tim is just Tim right now, not Red Robin, and this is not his Alfred, so he’s going to keep his mouth shut up tight.

“Well, my word. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him.” And there’s that Alfred sass. It doesn’t make him laugh like it usually does—no, it just reminds him again that he isn’t actually home. “Care to explain more? Should I be concerned you were followed?”

Tim thinks on it for a minute, but really, there’s no way Maroni’s guy got up in time to tail them. The rest of the mob family have probably heard about them by now, but Tim isn’t too worried about it. He can’t find it within himself to be. All he can really think about is Dick, Alfred, Bruce. If coming here was a mistake after all. If they’ll ever make it home to see their Bruce and Alfred. Eventually, he says, “No. We weren’t followed.”

Dick groans as Alfred starts to prep the gunshot wound to get the bullet out. He sways a little, dizzy, and mumbles an apology when Alfred has to readjust him.

Alfred says, “Just hold as still as you can, and you’ll be alright.”

Hearing the tenderness in Alfred’s voice does something to Tim. This is Alfred , he thinks. He can help us with more than just this.  

He blurts out, “It was one of Maroni’s men.”

“Sal Maroni?” Alfred sounds suspiciously uninterested, not even bothering to look away from his work. “The mob boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Alright, young man, I’m going to get this bullet out now.”

“Tim,” Dick grits out, reaching out his hand. Tim takes it, sitting down on the other side of his brother. He forces himself to watch as Alfred goes through the familiar motions. Dick doesn’t actually squeeze his hand that much, too used to this kind of pain, but Tim thinks maybe they both feel better having the lifeline.

He stays there until Dick is stitched up and accepts a dose of Tylenol—no matter how much Alfred gives them concerned looks and insists on something stronger, a Bat doesn’t take hard drugs.

Not quite huffing in exasperation, Alfred acquiesces and leaves Dick alone, sitting back against the cushions. Then he turns to Tim. With his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up, he’s honestly kind of intimidating. “Now you, young man,” he says.

“Um. What? I’m fine. I didn’t get shot, I don’t need anything.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow. Tim can out-stubborn almost anybody, even his other family members, but Alfred Pennyworth is not one of them. Everyone bows down to him.

Tim sighs and scoots a few inches away from Dick, and when Alfred shoos him all the way into the other corner, he goes. Surprisingly, the older man sits next to Tim, between him and Dick, and instead of reaching for the kit, he just. Puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Which Tim finds extremely weird, considering how British and physically distant Alfred is. Oh sure, he hugs them all. He catches them when they fall, he reassures them with arm pats and shoulder squeezes. But it’s unlike him to just... sit here and rest his hand on Tim’s shoulder, looking him in the face with an expression Tim finds he can’t read.

Not being able to read people, especially someone he knows so well, freaks him out.

Tense, Tim says, “What?”

Alfred is quiet for a moment, then asks, “Where have you boys been staying?”

Oh. Yeah, okay. He’s suspicious of them. Tim can understand why. “We have a place.” It’s a disgusting alley behind a pizzeria they can’t afford to eat at, scraping by with the last of the money they had on them when they were sent here, but it’s not a lie.

Alfred backs off, picking his battles and probably recognizing this one for what it is: unwinnable. He’s more than perceptive enough to read between the lines anyway, add up all the clues—their clothes are dirty, their hair greasy, and Tim knows he’s looking pretty gaunt. And considering how jumpy Tim is acting, it’s likely Alfred thinks they’re homeless. Which they are.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

Tim holds out his hand, his knuckles split and raw from earlier, and ignores how badly he’s shaking. Alfred takes his hand, and grabs alcohol wipes from the kit. He dabs at the wounds, glancing at Tim’s face like he’s expecting a reaction. And yeah, it stings a little, but he’s had much worse. This is nothing.

“Hmm.” Alfred moves Tim’s hand around, looking for other wounds, finding a few little cuts. “So your brother’s name is Dickie?”

“Dick,” Tim corrects. Bruce and Jason are the only ones who call Dick that usually, and Jason almost always does it because it’s his ‘little brother duty’ or something. The only reason he said it earlier is because he hoped it would be comforting. “Short for—”

“Richard, I assume.”

“Yeah.” Tim falls silent, trying to keep his hand still. When a few moments of silence go by, he looks up at Alfred, finding him making an expectant face. “Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m Tim.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tim. You seem to already know my name.”

Yeah. Shit. Unable to think of a lie beyond ‘you look like my grandpa’, Tim laughs nervously. “Lucky guess?”

Dick snorts. “You jus’ look like our gran’pa, that’s all. His name’s Alfred. Yours too, huh?”

Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he goes along with it anyway. “Yes, mine too.” What an odd coincidence , he doesn’t say, but Tim hears it anyway.

It doesn’t take long after that for Alfred to finish up Tim’s knuckles. He offers to put some band-aids on, but Tim shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Dick gives him a look, and despite the fact that he’s still acting loopy, there’s a strength to it. Tim can tell what he’s thinking—that if the cuts weren’t on the knuckles, a very awkward place to put bandages, Dick would be insisting on it. Well, whatever , he thinks, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. You’re not in charge right now anyway.

Alfred stands and looks them over for a brief moment, hesitation obvious in the way he pauses, inhaling deeply. Then, with determination, he says, “I will prepare you something to eat. Do either of you have any allergies I should be aware of?”

“Sulfites,” Tim says at the same time Dick says, “Shellfish. And pet dander.”

“Dick, man, I’m pretty sure they don’t have pets. And even if they did, pets aren’t allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances.”

“Oh yeah,” Dick says with a faint chuckle. “Forgot.”

“Mister Tim,” Alfred cuts in before Tim can reply. It’s unspeakably weird to be called Mister Tim instead of Master Tim, even though Alfred called him that for years. “Will sandwiches suffice?”

The thought of eating Alfred’s food—and even more than that, something they haven’t fished out of a dumpster—is drool-worthy. Quickly, he agrees, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

Alfred nods and leaves, probably thankful to get the heck away from them for a few minutes. Once he’s gone, the brothers fall quiet, both a blessing and a curse. Not having Alfred asking questions that Tim has to evade is great, but it does give him the opportunity to keep freaking out.

What do they do next? Alfred might not let them leave while Dick is healing, and that means the chances of running into Bruce raise astronomically. Tim knows that he won’t be able to handle that. Not at all.

“Stop it,” Dick whispers, loud in the overwhelming quiet. “I can see your forehead vein from here.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to think.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tim sighs, letting the banter drop for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry you got shot. I know it’s not my fault,” he says, speaking over Dick’s immediate protest. “I know that. But I’m still sorry.”

“…Thanks. I’m accepting your apology but not your responsibility.”

“Duh.” Tim fiddles with his hands, satisfied but also knowing, in his heart of hearts, that it is in fact his fault and Dick is totally wrong. “I’m not sorry I brought us here, though.”

“Duh,” Dick repeats, sounding more than a little peeved. Not that Tim can blame him, really. If Tim and Damian had agreed to something, and then Damian went back on it… that’d be really annoying.

Still, that little brother duty Jason talks about means he has to defend himself. “Dick, we were gonna end up coming here anyway, don’t you see that?” He shoots to his feet and drags his hands through his hair, pacing in front of the couch. Despite his earlier flip-flopping, he’s sure now. This was the right decision even if it does suck a lot. “Where else could we possibly go? We don’t belong here. The only way we can get home is by ask—”

Tim cuts off immediately when footsteps echo down the hall. They sound different from Alfred’s, a third tap that sounds a lot like a cane.

This Alfred doesn’t use a cane. The only person who could is—

Both Dick and Tim tense as the doorway is filled up by Bruce freaking Wayne.

“Um,” Tim says.

Bruce looks different. Not just in the sense that he is, in fact, using a cane, but just. Everything. He looks younger, a neat beard covering much of his face. There’s barely any salt in it at all. The scars that litter the skin of his face and arms, mostly bare considering he’s wearing only a t-shirt and pajama pants, aren’t there. Worst of all, there’s no recognition in his eyes.

His sons have become strangers. But no, this man is not their father. Tim has to shout it at himself. He’s not! Bruce Wayne would never look at them like this. Especially not Dick.

Dick makes a noise, a small and sad little whimper, and Tim thinks, shit. Shit shit shit. Unable to do anything to help, Tim shuffles closer to him, hoping it’s enough to comfort.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks, moving further into the room. He says it casually, like this is a totally normal situation, but there’s steel there, too. Of course there is. This is Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t mess around, especially when it comes to strangers invading his home. And as much as that feels like a knife to the chest, that’s what they are. Strangers . The word lingers in his mind, leaving a bad aftertaste.

Tim gets the distinct feeling that the cane, for all that it serves to help Bruce walk, is a weapon. One this Bruce will have no issue using against them. “Um. We—we’re homeless,” he blurts out, trying to push the thought away. “And my brother got shot, so we came here looking for help. We’ll be gone soon, I promise. Don’t worry about us, this is just a one time thing, and we won’t tell anyone else. I know this is a house and not a triage center.”

Bruce is already looking at him like he’s an intruder, but at that, the man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Oh, right. That’s something the other—the right —Bruce would say. Has said many times. Because it’s something their Alfred has always said, and apparently this Alfred too.

Scrambling, Tim keeps going, pasting a fake smile on his face. “Alfred knows we’re here. He’ll be right back. It’s okay, we’ll just wait right here and not steal anything, so you can go back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Tim,” Dick bites out, obviously trying to communicate that he thinks Tim is being a weirdo, and that he’s doing nothing but tipping Bruce off to the fact that something is wrong.

“I’m freaking out, okay?” Tim exclaims back, curling and relaxing his fingers in an effort to control himself. It’s impossible, though—this is their dad , for crying out loud. Their dad, who they haven’t seen in a long time, not since before they were attacked as civilians and flung through the wormhole that deposited them here. Their dad, who Tim really, seriously needs a hug from right now.

Bruce comes closer, leaning against one of the two unused chairs. Where Tim tenses further, unsure of what he’s about to do or say, Dick relaxes. He’s really out of it now, the blood loss and medicine finally catching up with him.  He’s blinking heavily and listing to the side. “Hand me that, will you?” He asks Bruce, gesturing to a throw blanket resting on the top of the chair.

Suddenly feeling very protective of Dick, Tim says, “I can—”

“No,” Bruce interrupts, the corner of his mouth curling up like he thinks this is funny. “I’ve got it.”

He grabs the blanket and walks over to the couch. Tim stumbles back a few steps to give him room. For a second, it seems like none of them breathe—but then Bruce leans on his cane like a crutch, bends down, and lays the blanket over Dick.

Tim has seen Bruce tuck people in before, usually Damian. All those times, he either didn’t care much, or a swirl of jealousy had tightened in his stomach. He can remember wondering why Bruce didn’t tuck him in. Why his parents never did it, why Mrs. Mac and all the nannies hadn’t either.

This time, his eyes sting with tears.  He forces them back, biting the inside of his cheek.

Dick snuggles into the cushions behind his back, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Thanks, dad,” he mumbles, slipping off into a nap.

Bruce and Tim both freeze.

“Um,” Tim says, because something has to be said, this needs to be nipped in the bud and stopped right now before Bruce can ask anything. But really, the chances of Bruce Wayne not asking questions? Less than zero. And Tim’s brain is screaming, because what the hell could he possibly say to explain that ?

Alfred enters the room again before anything can happen, carrying a tray holding a few sandwiches. He sets it down on a side table before looking up.

“Oh,” he stops short when he sees Bruce, hands hovering above the food. “Master Bruce, I thought you were downstairs.”

“I was just doing some reading,” he waves off, but he can’t quite manage to sound casual. “Now… did he just call me dad ?”

Oh fuck , Tim thinks. Awkwardly, he laughs, “No! What? No, that’s ridiculous.” Seeing that this tactic isn’t working—Bruce and Alfred both have legendary ‘bitch please’ looks that go beyond the confines of time and space, apparently—he shifts gears. “I mean, okay, yes he did. But—but it’s just because you look like our dad! A lot like him, actually. Haha.”

Bruce and Alfred stare at him, concern building as he keeps laughing, spurred on by a week of non-stop stress and the pressure of being in charge— maybe , he thinks, this was a bad idea all along and we shouldn’t have come here and Dick was totally right. It’s only when his laughter turns to hiccuping sobs that either of them move, Bruce managing to grab his bicep in time before Tim can sink to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Alfred hurries to his other side, fretting, “Come on, young sir, just sit down now.”

They lead him to one of the chairs, where he collapses, his head in his hands. Dick is better at this—at leading, at interacting, at not breaking apart. It should all be the opposite: Tim sleeping off a GSW while Dick lies through his teeth as he explains what’s going on. Not that Dick would’ve gotten them into this situation, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles, refusing to look up. They’re both staring at him again, clearly unsure what to do with a strange, crying teenager.

After a moment, Alfred says, “You boys say I look like your grandfather, and now Master Bruce looks like your father. By chance, what is his name?”

“Bruce Wayne,” Tim replies to the floor. “But… not him. A different one.”

“A different Bruce Wayne?” The confusion and curiosity is clear as day in Bruce’s voice, and Tim can’t help but snort a little.

“Yeah. Um, this is going to sound really crazy, but my brother and I are from a different universe.” He peeks at their faces, not surprised at all by the blatant disbelief he sees. “I can prove it.”

Alfred and Bruce share a wide-eyed look.“How?”

“I know you’re the one who’s been sending the GCPD all those case files. And before you say you’re not, you just said you were doing some reading. Downstairs. In the cave below this property, right? Back home, it’s called the Batcave and you’re Batman.”

“Go on, Mister Tim,” Alfred says after a moment. “We believe you.”

Relief crashes down on him and more tears slip out against his will. “I need your help. We need your help. We’ve been here for a week, and—and—and we have no idea how to get home. None. There’s no one else we can turn to, ‘cause the people who would usually help us either can’t or wouldn’t, since they don’t know us here. And god, this world is nothing at all like ours…. I just want to go home. I don’t know what to do. Please,” he begs, desperate. “I need advice.”

Bruce hesitantly sets a hand on Tim’s back, rubbing up and down in a motion that is, wow, extremely soothing. “We’ll figure this out, Tim. I promise you, Alfred and I will help you boys any way we can.”

Before Tim can ask if it’s just because they’re his sons in some other universe, Alfred clears his throat. “It may take some time, mind you. But you and your brother will need to stay here anyway, seeing as that wound needs time to heal. I can’t, in good conscience, let that happen out on the streets.”

Tim wants to refuse. Wants to say thanks but no thanks, you can put us up in a motel or something until everything is worked out. Wants to cry and cry and wake up from this nightmare. Instead, mentally and physically exhausted, he just says, “Okay.”

Both men are concerned by the response, he can tell. Though he isn’t looking, he can practically hear the silent conversation they’re having over his head. Then Alfred stands. “I will make up two of the guest rooms, then, sirs. Mister Tim, could you help bring Mister Dick upstairs?”

“Just set up one, we can share,” Tim replies. It’s late and he doesn’t want Alfred to have to do anything more than he’s already done. Than he’s already doing.

“If you’re certain….”

“I am. Thank you.”

He’s not gone for long, and thank god, because Tim can hardly stand to be alone with Bruce without spilling even more. He’s already said so much tonight, he feels empty and hollowed out, kind of like a balloon that’s been blown up only for all the air to wheeze out of it, leaving it sad and stretched. Holy shit, that metaphor. He needs to go to bed, and he needs a mattress instead of another cardboard box laid over hard cobblestone and concrete.

Shaking his head to stop his thoughts, he moves over to Dick and wakes him, a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Dick, wake up,” he says a few times until his brother is blinking heavily at him.

“Wha’?”

“We’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Come on, I’ll help you.”

“Hrn,” he says again, and this time, Bruce hears it. Tim glances at him, almost surprised to see the emotions on Bruce’s face. Apparently that’s a Bruce noise in this universe too, and it only helps to cement Tim’s story.

Tim helps Dick stand up, swinging Dick’s good arm over his shoulders. Together, they slowly ascend the stairs, something Tim is more than familiar with considering how many times something like this has happened at home. At the top, they meet up with Alfred, who takes them to a guest room that is thankfully unused in their version of the Manor.

Alfred helps Dick get settled into the mattress, his shoes and belt shed. “I could get you both some pajamas,” Alfred says when he sees the way Tim flops down, both of them still in battered, dirty, expensive chinos.

“We’re okay,” Tim says, aware that the only pajamas in the house must belong to Bruce and Alfred, and that neither size would fit them. He’s not sure he could handle it right now even if they did. “Thank you though. For…for all of this. It means a lot.”

Alfred graces him with a gentle smile. “Of course, young sir. I would like to think that your Bruce will appreciate this.”

He leaves, and then it’s just Tim and Dick. They’ve shared a bed plenty of times before, on nights when there was no one else around and they didn’t want to be alone. Dick was the one who taught Tim one of the best parts about having siblings: cuddles. Dick is a cuddle monster, but maybe tonight Tim won’t wake up being held protectively to his brother’s chest.

Under the covers, Tim stares at the ceiling. His mind refuses to shut off even though they’re finally somewhere safe. Somewhere he can sleep and not worry about what might happen when he’s not paying attention.

He feels a little better, now that there are actual adults in charge, who are going to help. Who can keep Dick from getting hurt again, especially from Tim’s carelessness. But it makes him miss home, just reminds him how far away he and Dick are from their real family. He’s curious, on some level, about this Bruce Wayne. He trusts him to take care of them long enough for them to return home. How long that’s going to take is a question, though, one that he thinks can probably be answered by: a long time.

It’ll be good for Dick, at least. Give him time to heal.

God, Dick shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. But of course he did, and of course it was because of some dumb argument, because of Tim—

“’M not perfect,” Dick whispers, making Tim, who was certain he was asleep, jump. When he turns to look, he finds Dick’s eyes are closed. Squeezed shut. “’M not . I don’t know what I’m doing, Tim. I didn’t wanna come here ‘cause of the rules, and ‘cause it’s hard… hard to see them. ‘M lucky I getta sleep through it, I guess.”

“Dick—”

“I woulda done the same thing, okay?” And now he opens his eyes, meeting Tim’s head on. “This was the right choice. Coming here. Alfred gives the best advice.”

“Yeah.” Tim’s throat feels thick, the word hard to get out.

Dick reaches out his good hand and rests it on Tim’s cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here. You saved me. Now go to sleep,” he says, and then teasingly smacks him. “I can hear you thinking all the way from here.”

“You’re like two feet away,” Tim points out, but he tries to listen anyway. He closes his eyes, thinking maybe he will be able to rest. Dick is the best at comforting people.

“Shhhh,” Dick says, grinning. “Doesn’t matter. Sleep.”

“Yes, mom.”

“ Shhh !”

Tim laughs, and for the first time in a while, it’s real. He feels safe and warm and not alone, and while he can’t exactly say he’s happy right now, he’s a lot closer than he was just a few hours before.

Tomorrow , he decides, settling down, I’m going to take a shower and eat a real meal. And then, then I can finally start figuring out how to get us home.

[allmightyneed]

Villain!All Might (Smite)x reader. part 4/20

Link to part 1. Link to part 2. Link to part 3.

The luxury high rise apartment he takes you to is spectacular, but the manner in which he takes you is even more so. 

From the fourth storey landing of your building, he launches into the sky, having slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, turning a deaf ear to your protests. How undignified. At least he had propped your broken door back in place. You live in a safe enough area; hopefully nothing gets stolen. 

All of your worries and protests are swept away as you are subjected, in that awkward position, to an inhuman burst of speed. The G-force of it is completely unexpected. You’ve watched news reel of him leaping around like this and he never betrays if it affects him. 

You squeeze your eyes shut against the wind and the stomach-turning height. Just as vertigo threatens to overwhelm you, you feel a gentle yet solid thump. He’s landed and lets you down, setting you on your feet. He holds you by your shoulders a moment, making sure you won’t stumble. When he lets go of you, you pull your cardigan tighter and cross your arms. This balcony is very nicely furnished, and large— there’s a pool up here, and a fire pit— but it’s also cold being so high up. 

It’s slightly off putting to find out that he doesn’t reside in a dingy abandoned warehouse full of rats and contraband and fellow criminals. Good looking, powerful, wealthy— what possible reason could a person like that have to be the number one villain? To devote himself and his talents to sowing chaos? You regard him with renewed suspicion, which is at odds with the slow, steady trickle of desire he had tapped when he had coaxed the truth out of you earlier. But, no. The desire had come before that, even. You can pinpoint it to a month and a half ago in that alley, where he had turned into another person before your eyes.  

“Just to be clear, girl— you’ve come here willingly. You can leave now if you want. I won’t stop you or come looking for you again.”

He has become strangely impassive, so that you cannot really guess at what he wants. There is no emotion to read in his face; instead you must do as he tells you. Your imagination goes into overdrive; maybe he’ll bend you over any one of these fine pieces of furniture, kick your legs apart and slowly but forcefully penetrate you. You watch, dry-mouthed, as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and strides past you inside.  

You follow, hovering at the threshold.

“When you enter this apartment, you will not speak unless spoken to.” He tosses the jacket carelessly over the back of a chair and begins unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up. Absurdly, your pulse quickens at bearing witness to this simple action. All Might in a state of undress, and what your prurient mind chooses to notice is that his forearms are so thick. “You will obey every order promptly and without question. That’s all you need to know for now. Do you consent to these terms?”

“Yes,” you say.

“Then come in.” He beckons you, having taken a seat on one of the elegant leather couches. You step through the door and slide it closed behind you. 

The apartment is richly furnished in a modern western style, all black and cream and wood. The floors are polished stone— granite or marble, you’d guess— and the corners of every rug and chair and table come to right angles. This is much too refined and tasteful for All Might, or so one would think. Can this place really be his? 

As you drop your purse, step out of your heels and pad across the floor in your stockings, a photograph on a table catches your eye. Smiling out of the frame are an elderly couple who look like they’re dressed for the opera.

You almost ask All Might if they’re his parents, but stop yourself just in time. It wouldn’t do to break one of the rules so quickly.

You come to stand in front of him, again pulling your cardigan closer and crossing your arms. Your heart beats wildly in your chest; you search his face for some indication of his intentions, or any emotion at all, but he is inscrutable. His control is absolute. 

“Come here.” He pats his thigh. “I’m going to spank you.”

“What?” It’s such a ridiculous notion you almost laugh in his face. 

His eyes flash at your flagrant disobedience. “You’re new to this, I grant you that, so you get one pass. That was it.”

You drop your head. “Sorry.” But he’s All Might— the symbol of discord. Why is he concerned with discipline?

“Empty apologies will not lessen the severity of the punishment. Place yourself across my knee, facedown. Do it quickly, girl.”

You hesitate a moment too long, so he does it for you, scooping you with one arm into his lap and pinning you there. You yelp in surprise. That arm is like a steel beam at the small of your back. With dispassionate efficiency, he hikes your wool skirt up over your hips, the material bunching at your waist. Your pantyhose underneath do little to alleviate the indignity of the situation, but it’s something. His hand caresses your bottom, large enough to hold you almost entirely; he chuckles and remarks that he likes that even his hand can’t manage that. [All Might likes a fat ass ok?] You squirm at the touch, uncertain as to whether you like this or not— or rather, whether you should like it. There is no ignoring the arousal pooling in your core, a direct result of his touches.

“This is in the way,” he says. Your pantyhose. He grips the thin material, getting purchase on it at your cleft-- “no, please--!” you cry-- and rends it.

You struggle against him to no avail so he brings one hand down upon your now-bare flesh, making you cry out. Unmoved by your pleas, he widens the tear. “Your constant arguing is becoming tedious.” He smacks your ass again, harder, right at the widest part. It hurts this time, really hurts. The stinging pain shoots straight to your aching core, and you gasp, squeezing your thighs together. 

“Th-that was too hard!”

He responds with another open-handed hit on the other cheek. “Slow to learn. I can work with that.”

“I… I thought…” 

He laughs darkly. “You thought I was going to fuck you, huh?” Yes. Please, yes. “No… I don't think you could handle it. I’m too big for you, little one.” If you didn’t know better by now, you’d mistake his jovial nature for leniency. He’s anything but. He is sharp and commanding and uncompromising.

He rains blows down upon your exposed bottom, alternating sides. He takes care not to hit the same spot twice in a row, and soon your backside burns, the nerves too sensitive but All Might does not relent, even though you are sobbing. Exactly why, you couldn’t say. From the pain, or the humiliation… or the shameful feelings he’s aroused in you. Your fear does not disarm him; from his lack of reaction, it seems your fragility does not particularly endear you to him. He merely expects submission as a matter of course. 

Except… you hear his slightly labored breathing and, when he shifts, you feel the unmistakable jut of his erection against your hip. He desires you. Still, in your desperate, selfish state, you barely register any need besides your own. You clutch your hands in fists, tears falling freely. The sense of time slips away, and you can only await the blows, and then you lose track of even that, existing only as a duality, between sensation and anticipation, and pain and pleasure. 

At last, the punishment ends. His hand comes to rest on your ass, stroking the inflamed skin as gently as a lover would. He nudges your thighs apart, deliberately avoiding the center you want so desperately for him to touch. 

“You’re wet, girl,” he remarks in that deep voice you know from TV. Such a familiar, menacing voice, though you had never imagined it saying the things he’s saying to you now. “I can smell you.”

You bury your face in your arms, suppressing the embarrassing sound that escapes your mouth. His fingers dance between your thighs, surprisingly nimble for being so large. Without thinking, you raise your hips to his touch. Fuck, why not? He can see you and smell you, he has access to every part of you, what could you possibly hold back? You’re splayed across All Might’s lap, raw and wet and needy from him spanking you and you want more. 

He dips down in between your legs, teasing the slickness between your labia. You whimper, only for him to withdraw, and trace the curve from your lower thigh, up your ass, down your back. The abused skin is overly sensitive; you can only imagine how red it must be. 

“Maybe I won’t let you come,” he says, his thick fingers finding and plucking at the nub of your clitoris and then deserting you. “I can smell your arousal. I can see it. Your cunt is soaked. It’s all over your thighs. Maybe I’ll send you home like this. Or— it’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

You barely manage a moan— please, please. He slaps your inner thigh. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes! I left early when I found your phone number. I missed chorei.”

“How unprofessional.” He makes a tsk. “What would your coworkers think if they saw you right now? What would they think if they saw you getting spanked? They’d see that you liked it, hmm?”

You choke out a defeated sound. 

“Tell me,” he says. “What would they say if they saw you, what would they call a girl who’s begging All Might to finger fuck her?”

The thought is mortifying. Your life would be over. You’d probably have to leave the country.

“I know what I’d call you.” His tone turns rather playful. “I’d call you a slut.” 

You want to deny it, but your body betrays you.

“Say it.” he presses, his fingers skillfully coaxing you to relinquish any remaining dignity. “You know what you are, girl. Say it.”

“A slut!” You wail, writhing to seek his touch. “I’m a slut!”

He rewards you with his thumb in your cunt and the heel of his palm against your clit; you rock against him wantonly. At last, at last… you hear the rumble of his voice, faintly, outside your cries. He purrs your name as you orgasm on his hand, pleasure and relief flooding you, drowning everything else. 

After a time he rights you, cradling you on his lap. You enjoy leaning against his chest, hardly daring to move for fear that you might end this bliss too soon, even though you still feel the hardness of his arousal against your ass, and it’s as big and intriguing as the rest of him. You find rest in his embrace, in the even rise and fall of his breathing. It puts you at ease a little too much, because the photo of the elderly couple catches your eye again and you ask about it.

“This isn’t really your apartment, is it?”

“...No.” 

“Who are they?”

He huffs angrily, like a bull. “Have you ever heard of the hero Beacon?”

As a matter of fact, you have. You remember most heroes and villains based on their dossier stats, which you repeat aloud. He’s a small-time up and coming hero, with a solid C-rank quirk called Shine, he’s had some success despite not really standing out in any one area—

“I killed him,” All Might interrupts you.

You draw back to look him in the face. He isn’t lying. You just want to see what someone looks like when admitting to murder. 

“They were his parents.”

“Were?”

“They financed every step of his career,” he snorts, twisting the word sarcastically. “Paid his way into U.A., paid for a prestigious internship spot, paid so he passed his licensing exam, paid to get him a work-study, paid for his placement at a top agency. The kid had no business being a hero.”

“The Aoyama attack,” you say quietly, suddenly remembering. “But— there was only one fatality. What about his parents?”

If All Might has a curious reaction to your good memory, he doesn’t show it. “They came after me. They found me.” He doesn’t have to say any more. 

You lay your head against his shoulder, feeling strangely little guilt about enjoying the opulent surroundings, and even less about snuggling All Might. He’s… well… practical. Refreshing. And his hard cock is still trapped against your bottom. You wiggle a little bit, prompting him to grunt. “Enough of that.”

You throw your arms around his neck—“don’t you want...?”— and he pries you off just as quickly, standing and dumping you off his lap.

“No. Don’t mistake this for anything more than the discipline you needed.” 

You give a pointed glance down at his crotch, where his obvious desire bulges in his trousers, and then you notice the wet spot you’d left. 

He notices too, but doesn’t comment on it. “Make yourself decent. I’ll call you a car.”

The dismissal stings. More than that, it’s a feeling you can’t quite describe. That night in the alley when he had accidentally shown you his true form, and then deserted you. It feels the same as that night. Bitter and grasping. It is worse to be sent away than paid the compliment of his attentions. 

You smooth your skirt down over your ruined pantyhose. Those are a lost cause. You’ll have to go back home again, and by the time you get there half the day will have gone by. Might as well not go back to work. Not like you’d be able to concentrate, anyway. Is this going to be the end of it? Will you ever get to see him again? You sneak a glance up at All Might; he catches you looking. 

“What?” He snaps. 

He certainly has a way of reducing you to a blushing, stuttering teenager. “Is this— uh, am I allowed to… can I call you?”

He laughs in your face, with little mirth. “No more lies, girl. If you want this again, send a damn text message and fucking admit it. And don’t wear panties. Next time you enter my presence, raise your skirt and show me your bare cunt so I know why you’ve come. Now go. Old man Arai is downstairs, he’ll drive you wherever you want.”

With great reluctance, you collect your purse and leave, riding the elevator down from the penthouse to the first floor. Mr. Arai is there in a black town car. Both here, and when he drops you off at your apartment building, he gets out and shuffles around to open the door for you and you accept gratefully. It’s only 11:30, you realize.

“Could you wait for five minutes?” You ask him. “Could you drive me back downtown?”

You are loathe to go back to work, especially with your thighs sticky, your backside burning, and your core pulsing, but if you confine yourself to your apartment for the rest of the day you’ll go crazy thinking about All Might. It had been a little less than three hours with him. Three hours and he had reduced you to a quivering mess. You freshen up as best you can, pitching your ruined pantyhose in the trash and wiping the smudged makeup off your face. By the time Mr. Arai delivers you at your office building, you’re already scheming about how soon would be too soon for that text. And you resolve to put Mr. Arai on your Christmas card list, if you ever get to see him again.

***

Link to part 5.

Tags:

@smokindoinksinthejungle @may-machin @brolyfangurl-istandwithvic @world-dominating-kitty

[alphabees-writes]

Glee - S1 E1 (Pilot)

Is it a smart idea to rewatch glee again? No.

Am I going to do it anyway? You bet your sweet bippy I am!

Am I going to liveblog my garbage monkey brain thoughts along the way even though nobody asked for it? Hell yeah.

Here goes!

Wow. The first frame of this entire show is literally of a woman who looks like she’s about 10 years above the natural lifespan of a Cheerio. Then again, I’m sure Sue’s not above holding back her best recruits for multiple years because Ohio high schools are apparently just Like That™

I also never notice this opening song was a remix of Keep Me Hangin On, wow. That’s actually kind of interesting foreshadowing of sorts, like, kind of smart. I’m glad I’m watching the part of Glee that was kind of smart.

This scene also doesn’t feature any of the Unholy Trinity as far as I can see. Are they a JV squad? Am I putting too much thought into this?

Sign #1 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Really, my guy? Driving around with your muffler dragging on the ground so bad it’s making sparks? That’s not very Road Safety of you. Fuck off. 

Sign #2 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Wow, there’s going to be a lot of these, huh? Anyway, anybody with working eyes would clearly see how scared Kurt is right now. “Making some new friends Kurt?” Fuck off. 

KURT. FIRST SIGHTING OF THE BOY. What a delight. But also, not a delight, because he’s being bullied and he deserves better. Look at his outfit. Iconic from day fucking one. 

Finn, you’re a himbo. What’re you doing with these assholes?

Puck’s first line in the whole series is “It’s hammer time!” What a fucking dork? Who made this boy popular. 

DO MORE THAN TAKE HIS COAT, FINN. LET HIM GOOOOO!!!

I paused while they were tossing Kurt in the dumpster and, wow, got the most hilarious frame where the guy who isn’t Puck is getting a meticulously polished boot to the face. Netflix let me take screenshots, you coward.

The first shot of Quinn... My wlw bones are shaking.

Why would they use that photo for Lillian Adler...? WHO WAS BORN IN 1937, MIGHT I ADD. THAT’S NOT A REAL YEAR. 

It’s weird to see Mr Schue actually speaking competent Spanish. Why did they veto that later? The ONE likeable thing about him was his competence as a school teacher, and they really threw it out the window huh?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE MEMBERS OF SANDY RYERSON’S GLEE CLUB??? This kid seems to really like singing. Also, welcome to the beginning of Ryerson being annoying as all hell.

Oh my gosh, the background choir stuff. This show really had style back in the day!!!

R A C H E L B E R R Y Y O U R M A K E U P ! ! !

Ken Tanaka walked so incels could run.

Jane Lynch you beauty. You absolutely impeccable beauty. 

“Since when are cheerleaders performers?” Uh... Emma...? I get that Sue’s going ham on her budget but, like, be nice to the students? They perform their butts off!

Sue really just BRAGGED about having an iPhone. I was 9 when this came out. Why do I feel old...

Sign #3 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He hears his coworker, presumably of several years, just got fired and doesn’t even ask why. He just jumps on the glee club like a frog on hot asphalt. 

He really wants to Make The Glee Club Great Again, huh? 

MySpace was really a thing, huh? And why does this grown-ass male teacher know so much about the students having them?

I know nothing about actual American schools, but I do know that they sure as shit don’t work like this. Why does a club have to win EVERY competition to be considered an asset?

Mr Shoe really lying awake at night half-naked next to his wife thinking about the glee club already? Yeah sounds about right. Also, of course you’d think up Nude Erections for a name, you asshole. Put some clothes on.

R E S P E C T MERCEDES YES!!!

Brad the piano player was really here from day ONE... Icon.

Cellophane, Mr Cellophane... Yes Kurt bby you killed it. 

Chris Colfer looks so YOUNG here!!! 

The hair fix... I C O N I C !

Tina really wrote her stutter down, huh? And nobody ever saw through it? Amazing. 

The goth Tina look, too... Perfect... Never change...

Say what you want about Rachel Berry being generally insufferable, but I really fucking feel it when she sings On My Own. The monologue kind of kills The Drama of it, but they really solidly established her character by layering them. She really is a gold star right now.

The first-ever on-screen slushie!

The way she walks down that hall. My God you can just see how terrible she is to be around.

Never forget Rachel staring at photos of her with two men who turned out to not be her dads. Who are they? What are their stories? We’ll never know.

God, I love this stupid scene of Quinn, Santana, and a bunch of Cheerios cartoonishly typing hate comments on Rachel’s MySpace video and laughing like knock-off Disney villains. 

I like watching season 1 Artie because season 1 Artie was a good character. Mostly. And he KILLED Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat. Rachel wasn’t asking for a male lead who could keep up with her vocally, she was being straight up ableist and that’s a fact. I love Cory, but Kevin McHale was always a better singer.

Mercedes picking up and spinning Rachel for this little routine is something I never really appreciated before, it’s cute even though they don’t like each other yet!

I really don’t get why Rachel says they suck. Yeah, sure, she’s gunning for a solo, but the vocals were solid there. The choreo was just a little janky, possibly because it’s their first EVER rehearsal?

“There is NOTHING ironic about show choir!” Incredible.

How long did it take Mr Shoe to find Rachel out on the bleachers? Did he search the whole school first?

ARTIE! CAN! KEEP! UP! WITH! YOU! VOCALLY!

I never understood Rachel quitting so soon. How long was she in the old glee club for? Surely they were never popular either?

Ah, the first “My hands are tied” for the series. Mr Figgins is a garbage principal. 

Not going to advise the principal against referring to Artie as a cripple, William Shoestir? Alright. 

How did the Schuester marriage last as long as it has? Do Will and Terri’s insufferable personalities just cancel one another out?

Sandy Ryerson really just openly brags about cheating the system for medical marijuana and dealing it? 

Matt Morrison 100% has lip fillers. Nobody’s smile curls like that naturally.

“Terri and I are trying to get pregnant” What a weird way to phrase it. What is it, a race? Who���s going to get knocked up first!

A FIFTH OF BEETHOVEN, HOW I’VE MISSED YOU... The sound design of this show at this point is just... *Chef hand kiss*

“What you’re doing right now is called blurring the lines” Oh just wait until season 4, Sue... Just you wait.

WHY is Mr Schuester so ridiculously sweaty? I didn’t need to think about that?

EVERYONE on the football team is 30.

William Schuester you can’t just watCH TEENAGE STUDENTS SING IN THE SHOWER YOU ARE A TEACHER WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR LICENSE?! 

Hearing Cory sing this always makes me emotional. What a talent!

Sign #4 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: I don’t think I need to say why using the weed to blackmail Finn is a shitty thing to do, do I?

“I’ll pee in a cup! ...I’ll pee...” I love Cory’s delivery. 

PRIORITY #1: HELP THE KIDS Oh season 1... I love you so.

Mr Schue you WISH you were anything like Finn Hudson. You never will be.

Ah... Finn’s first monologue. He’s such a sweetheart. AND SO IS CAROLE. Carole is a queen I will stan forever. YOU THROW THAT MILK BB!!!

All Finn wants to do is make his mom proud. What a sweetheart. Mr Schue you do NOT deserve him.

These POV shots really enhance things, why the fuck did they stop using them?

Subtly having Kurt look at Finn in the same shot as Rachel was a nice touch indeed!

RACHEL WAS REALLY DOWN WITH ROLLING ARTIE RIGHT OFF THE STAGE HUH?

Terri’s a straight up hoarder, huh? Like a raccoon but instead of collecting edible garbage, it’s monogrammed garbage.

Surely you can’t just... BECOME an accountant, right? You need some serious qualifications for that right?

Also say what you want about how insufferable Terri is but her actress is ridiculously talented and absolutely steals every scene she’s in.

Now the background choir is doing Soul Bossa Nova and I am L I V I N G why didn’t they keep that motif!!! It was so ICONIC!

I don’t need my prostate removed. RIP Carole Hudson but I’m different :/

NO MEANS NO, KEN! TAKE THE L AND MOVE ON! Way to take out the fact that a girl won’t date you on everybody else around you! Toxic bastard. The absolute stench of melodrama on this bastard is noxious.

I was going to ask why Rachel didn’t know about Finn and Quinn if they’d already been together for 4 months, but then I remembered gossiping requires friends...

“Terri rides me. Hard. And I’ve always appreciated it!” Why don’t we talk about how this line sounds more. Why doesn’t Emma bat an eye at it oh my god

HERE COMES VOCAL ADRENALINE!!! And Jesse St. James is nowhere to be seen. How convenient. Also, they’re all 30. I’m sensing a pattern.

Sorry VA, all songs popularised my Amy Winehouse legally belong to Santana Lopez

Puck, if you were stupid enough to fall for the prostate excuse, that’s on you. Or maybe it’s on the education system...

You can do better that Mr Schue, kids. Don’t mourn him.

Ok, what the fuck is this scene where he’s filling out the job app to become an accountant? There’s a dude in the row in front off him just throwing crisps around? What is this place?? Why are you here sir??? 

“Accounting is sexy” shut up you horrible married man

The Cheerios sure did have straight ponytails for like, one episode, huh?

Finn is such a good boy. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is, and saving Artie from that portapotty is his first step to figuring it out.

This shot of Finn just wheeling Artie out of there... Ugh. My HEART.

KURT WHAT ARE THOSE LAYERS? SWEATER SHIRT SWEATER? HELLO???

Pee balloons. Nailing the lawn furniture to the roof. Finn, you’re better than that!!! Stop your dudebros. 

They really had Artie be a guitar player, and a pretty good one at that, but they never mentioned it again? Artie had such potential SMH. (Also, Netflix subtitles are telling me it’s Arty, but I categorically refuse to spell it that way.)

Whyyyyy didn’t he go to KURT for the costumes as well? Look at his outfit, Finn. He clearly wants in on that job. 

Will Schuester really is just desperately clinging to his glory days in high school. I’d feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a creep about it. 

Emma, meaningfully: Do you know who that is? That’s you, Will... [FRANTIC DISCO MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND]

I find it hilarious how the audio of Don’t Stop Believin’ just DOES NOT match the characters except for the solos... Also wow, autotune city. Am I awful for genuinely not liking this cover? 

I like watching them perform it though. Kurt’s adorable little shimmy... Rachel and Tina smiling at each other like that... Everybody having a blast... I’m here for it

LOOK AT MY BABIES TILTING THOSE MIC STANDS...

Ok the way Rachel and Finn look at each other here is making me FEEL

I know Puck’s about to join anyway but WHY is he there watching... Just to have a mysterious bad boy moment? Lol you dramatic bastard

Please let them win nationals without you, Will.

So, yeah! There’s that! Those are my thoughts and feelings, basic though they may be. Episode one is fantastic, the kids are fantastic, and William Schuester can suck a toe. 

[lovelyirony]

Hey! COuld you please write #49 "Who hurt you?" with Bruce/Clint?? (Also could it be a highschool/teenage au or something if it's not too much to ask??)

Clint Barton was professionally known as Hawkeye. He never missed a shot, saved the city multiple times, and even had a small little base of fans. 

In high school, it was a different story. He tripped all over the place, couldn’t focus in English class, and only had one friend, Natasha Romanoff. Nat was scary, could probably kill a man and get away with it even if the odds were stacked against her, and was the best person to have as a friend. 

This morning was rough. He’d had to put more band-aids on the new calluses on his hands. Stupid new bow. Lucky also got too excited for breakfast and tripped on the floor and then made Clint trip and fall by default, which means that Clint has a nasty bruise on his knee and his arm is stiff. 

“Why do you always have the worst luck? Who hurt you?” Natasha asks. She’s currently tearing down another “Aldrich Killian for Student President” poster, tearing it into tiny pieces as she waits for Clint to search for his English textbook and try to balance his coffee. 

“Ask God, I’m sure I did something to piss her off,” Clint groans. “I think I’m honestly going to die because of my own self. I think it’s just that. And I had a run-in last night with some of the downtown dudes. Bad news.” 

“Nah. If you die it’s probably gonna be from Lucky. And you won’t even care because of how much you love that dumb dog.” Nat doesn’t mention anything about the downtown incident, because she’s not stupid and she will take him to the range that night and help him with combat. 

“He’s cute and he likes cuddles, what’s not to love?” Clint asks, slamming his locker shut. “Let’s get to class.” 

He doesn’t really like English all that much. Words don’t make a lot of sense unless Natasha explains it in a way or he can find the movie version of it that doesn’t completely suck. 

But he goes to English because of one person, and that person’s name is Bruce Banner. Bruce is a science nerd who has a very nice voice and is also exactly Clint’s type. Sweet, nerdy, and he has very nice arms. Clint stares too much at those arms. 

He wishes that he could be more like his alter-ego. Hawkeye would walk right up to Bruce, ask him out for ice cream, and sweep him off his feet. 

What he gets is tripping over his own loose shoelace because Bruce got new glasses and they look very nice. 

The class explodes into laughter as Clint slinks to his seat, frowning. He wishes the world would swallow him up. 

“I wanna die,” he mutters. 

“Not yet, we have a dinner appointment at seven,” Natasha says. “You promised to  let me choose a semi-healthy option.” 

“If I have to eat celery I will arrest you.” 

“You can’t arrest me for that, it’s not a felony.” 

“Celery sucks, I’d say it’s a felony,” comes a voice. Clint recognizes that voice. 

It’s Bruce Banner, who’s smiling. 

“Sorry you fell, Clint. Always sucks.” 

“Thanks dude, I appreciate it.” 

That’s the first interaction. Clint smiles at Bruce from across the room before it fades as the teacher assigns a new essay based on Lady Macbeth. 

“I hate this class,” Natasha mutters, looking at the directions. 

“No you don’t, you enjoy breaking the teacher’s spirit,” Clint says. “And if you keep it up, she might be broken enough to stop adding to the final.” Natasha shrugs, admitting it; there was a certain pride in getting shitty teachers to finally back down. 

It surprises when Bruce starts waving to him in the hallway, smiling as they walk into school. 

Clint gets bold and starts striking up casual conversation. Just about which classes are up next, what he brought for lunch. 

Bruce sits next to Clint and Nat in English, laughing about the books and some post they saw on an app. 

“Wait, so you’re telling me Clint will eat anything?” Bruce asks, eyes wide. 

“If you pay for it, then yeah,” Clint says with a shrug. “I don’t turn down food.” 

“You wanna go to the shittiest pizza joint you will ever go to?” 

“I guarantee you it’s gonna be my favorite place in the world,” Clint says. “Shitty pizza is kinda my specialty.” 

As it turns out, he hasn’t been there before. It’s in a small corner, surrounded by abandoned buildings, and even Clint can point out the violations from outside. 

Bruce laughs as Clint looks at the pepperoni they ordered. It looks fine. He just can’t tell if it’ll be good. 

“It’s not about being good, it’s about the experiences,” Bruce says. “Such as maybe getting a mild case of food poisoning.” He then proceeds to take three slices for himself, eats one in quick time, and reaches for the other. 

Clint gets to know Bruce a lot better. Bruce is a nervous guy, likes the way records sound, and his favorite movie is The Sound of Music. They watch it in Bruce’s basement while munching on popcorn and sipping on fruit juice, because Bruce’s mom hates soda. 

“Make yourself at home, Clint,” Mrs. Banner says. 

“Thanks Mrs. Banner.” 

“Please, call me Rebecca.” 

“Okay Mrs. Banner.” 

She laughs at that, tells Bruce she likes his new friend, and they go down to the basement and sit on a couch that is honestly way too comfy to be the basement couch. 

They sit close. Clint notices how nicely TV light defines Bruce’s nose. He then turns to the popcorn and reaches for a few pieces. 

Both their phones buzz with a message saying to stay inside. 

“Another villain,” Clint says weakly. He doesn’t want to leave this, it’s so nice. “I hate it when this happens. My mom wants me home.” 

“It was nice hanging out, but yeah. My mom would want your mom to have you home safe.” 

If they both weren’t so focused, they’d notice that the other is a very shit liar. 

But they didn’t. 

Because Hawkeye runs out to the fray about fifteen minutes later, out of breath and a one-liner about the subway being out of commission due to connectivity problems. 

And then, there’s Hulk. Hulk is cool. he’s a nice guy. Roars a lot, but Clint likes him. 

“What’s the problem?” Hulk asks, voice rumbly and deep. “Skipped out on a date for this, it better be good.” 

“Me too buddy,” Clint says darkly. “But I guess we’re just trying to destroy the robots. I hope Iron Man is back in town.” 

Hulk gives Clint the strangest look, but shakes his head and leaps to a the villain’s minions, smashing the tech to little pieces. Clint counts out his arrows, frowning as he realizes he left four of them at home. 

“Aw man,” he groans, checking the bow. “I’m gonna have to be careful.” He still hasn’t talked to Iron Man about the possibility of homing technology on his arrows. Maybe it would be too complicated, but it’s worth a shot. 

Clint doesn’t really talk to many people other than helping the families get the hell out of the way and one memorable moment from Hulk, who scoops him up in his arms to avoid a car being thrown his direction. 

“Thanks Jadey,” Clint says. “I have an algebra test that I need to study for.” 

“Can’t let you die,” Hulk responds gruffly. “You’re funny.” 

“You say the nicest things.” 

Clint books it after the villain is defeated; no sense in his mom actually getting worried about him being gone. (Not that she usually notices, but still. Natasha might be over.) 

School the next day was rough. Clint had to cover a bruise on his arm (ow) and even worse, endure Natasha’s teasing. 

“You went to your crush’s house. To watch his favorite movie. I think that sounds like you looovvvveee him.” 

“You literally are quite honestly the worst person in the world, Natasha. I should really feed you to the pigeons.” 

“Their best meal yet.” 

Bruce looks really tired in class. He barely talks, eyes are glassy, but he still smiles at Clint. 

“I was wondering if I could tell you something after class at lunch,” Bruce says. “Meet me in the courtyard.” 

“Uh, sure? What’s it about.” 

“You’ll find out.” 

No one likes to hear that they’ll hear something later. It’s usually bad. So Clint worries about it for all of his classes, messes up his math quiz entirely, and tries not to look so nervous come lunchtime. 

He goes to the courtyard. They’ve planted nicer flowers this year, probably thanks to the botanical club. Bruce is sitting on a wooden bench, lunch spread out before him. He has celery and peanut butter. 

“Hey,” Bruce says, smiling. 

“Did I do something bad?” Clint blurts out. “Because if I did, I’m really sorry. Sometimes I say things that are just terrible all the time because my filter only works about twenty percent of the time, and--” 

“Nah,” Bruce says. “Just wanted to tell you something.” 

“What?” Clint asks. 

“I know you’re Hawkeye.” 

Clint drops his lunchbox, and then sits down. 

“Please don’t tell the school.” 

“I’m not going to. But I need to tell you something. It’s a secret. Nat can know, but no one else.” 

“You got it,” Clint says. Bruce breathes deeply, closing his eyes. 

“You know the green monster?” 

“Um, you mean the Hulk?” Clint asks. “I wouldn’t really consider him a monster, he’s considerate about hotdog carts.” 

Bruce blinks and then giggles a little bit. 

“I’m him.” 

Clint blinks. 

“I can see it. You have the same kinda nose. His is just bigger.” Bruce snorts, laughing. He takes a bite of the celery. 

“And here I thought when I asked you out I’d have a hard time explaining that I was considered a superhero.” 

Clint grins, moving closer and kissing Bruce. 

“Not as difficult as you thought, huh?” 

[allisondraste]

Temperance (17/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   A chance encounter in the Coastlands turns Nathaniel’s life upside down. 

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

The Coastlands, 9:31 Dragon

Black smoke billowed up from Amaranthine City, filling the sky like quiet, brooding storm clouds. Though it had been days since Lucia had given the order to burn the capital of the arling to the ground, the last of the flames were yet to die out, and the hazy sky that resulted was a dark testament to the tragedy that occurred.  Difficult and ruthless as it was, she made the right decision. Nathaniel had said as much, though she didn’t believe it.

Just days before the darkspawn attack, Delilah had written to him to say that she and Albert fled the spread of disease in the city to stay with his family in Kirkwall.  Even before the Mother’s forces laid siege, Amaranthine was a lost cause. Lucia’s actions prevented more harm than they had caused, though the stubborn woman insisted upon blaming herself.  He could scarcely fault her for that either. She was a young mage, not a hardened general and it was difficult to watch a city burn, especially one that did so upon your own command.

There was a flash of lighting, and thunder rang out, causing Nathaniel to jump, his attention shifting from the ruins in the distance to his more immediate surroundings.  The Coastlands stretched between Amaranthine and Highever and were known for their temperamental weather. Now, they were better known as the lands where the talking darkspawn stragglers fled.  When news of the creatures attacking villages and outposts in the area reached Vigil’s Keep, he offered to investigate and search for entrances to the Deep Roads. Velanna and Sigrun, the newest recruit, had asked to join him.  Though he would not say so directly, he was glad. Being a Warden, having comrades who cared for him, it was the first time since he’d spent his last summer with the Couslands that he felt like he truly belonged. Solitude no longer had the same appeal.

“Fenedhis,” Velanna hissed as another clap of thunder rattled the sky, introducing the subsequent downpour.  She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, grumbling.

“You sure are jumpy for someone who’s lived on the surface your whole life,” Sigrun said, giggling, “Nate too.”

“And you are surprisingly unaffected by the storms,” Velanna remarked dryly.

“I’m used to it,” the dwarf answered with a shrug, “The Stone is loud when it moves.”

Nathaniel laughed and pulled up his own hood, scanning the area around them for anything that could provide shelter from the cold, winter wind and rain.  They’d be no use against any darkspawn they encountered if they were soaking wet and freezing. He spotted a cliff several yards in the distance with a sizable overhang that would be suitable protection from the elements.

“We should take cover,” he explained, “Just until the storm lets up.”

Velanna and Sigrun nodded, relieved expressions crossing each of their faces, as they made their way toward their temporary shelter.  The space beneath the overhang was actually larger than he expected, and even he was able to stand comfortably beneath it. He sat anyway.   He should rest while he had the opportunity. His blood vibrated in his veins as it did when darkspawn were nearby, and it was certain to be a long afternoon of scouting and fighting, not to mention the several hours of walking back to the Keep.  It wouldn’t have hurt the Warden-Commander to spare a horse or two.

“You are quiet,” Velanna stated, voice as soft as she could manage, which was not actually that soft.  She was so accustomed to having to shout to be heard. It made sense.

“I am always quiet, my lady,” he replied, with no effort to hide the smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth, “Unlike yourself.”

“I am not -,” she began, stopping as she heard her own voice echo off the stone around them.  She crossed her arms and adjusted her voice to just more than a whisper. “I am not loud.”

“I apologize,” he said, a twinge of guilt pricking at him, “I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“He was just flirting ,” Sigrun interjected without looking up from the dirt where she traced spirals with her finger, “He thinks its fun to tease you.”

Velanna turned to look at him, brows furrowed, blinking in disbelief.  Nathaniel just shrugged in response. It wasn’t an inaccurate appraisal, after all.

Velanna opened her mouth as if to speak, closed it, and then opened it again, but before she could do more than huff at him, she was interrupted by men shouting and a horse whinnying in distress.  The commotion came from the cliff just above them.  

Nathaniel rose to his feet and  grabbed his weapon. “I’ll check it out.”

His companions nodded in response, each preparing themselves for battle, should it come to that, and he rushed out from beneath the overhang and up the hill that led to the ledge.  A group of four men in worn, rough leathers surrounded a cloaked figure in expensive plate, who sat atop a horse that looked twice as expensive as the armor. Bandits looking for profit, and some noble fool who was stupid enough to travel alone while flaunting his wealth.  He shook his head. He’d have to save the idiot.

Nathaniel readied his bow, aimed, and shot in one fluid motion,  the arrow piercing the back of one unfortunate man’s knee just as he landed a blow to the fool’s arm, causing him to release the reins and fall from the horse.  The thug cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground as well, his comrades turning to face Nathaniel.

One of the men, middle aged, carrying a shield decorated with an all-too-familiar bear, scowled and shouted, “Oh, look.  It’s a Warden. Bet his pretty little head is worth a fortune.”

“Them’s the ones that burnt the city,” added another, younger man—no, a boy— knuckles white against the hilt of his sword.  He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, trembling with tears filling his eyes. “My mum was in there. Little sister, too. You lot are murderers. ”  

“I lost my wife to the darkspawn,” said another, “Lost my son to the fire.  Heroes my arse,” He bounced his daggers in his hands and spat, and then flung one at Nathaniel.  Before he could move to dodge the projectile a wall of roots and vines surged up in front of him catching the dagger before receding back into the ground.  

“A knife-eared witch,” rasped the man on the ground, pointing a shaky finger at Velanna who now stood just behind Nathaniel.  

“What did you say, Shem,” Velanna growled, clenching her fists.  The ground around them trembled and Nathaniel stretched an arm out in front of her.

“Don’t,” he said softly,

“What?” She shook her head indignantly. No!”

“Look at them,” Sigrun spoke, “They’re terrified, and they look like they haven’t eaten in days.”

“We haven’t,” the men chimed in unison.

“We’ve got nowheres to go,” the boy added, a large tear visibly streaking down his face. “No money. Nothin’ to our names.”

“You meant to rob that man just to get by.” Sigrun furrowed her brows and frowned. She was thinking of Dust Town, no doubt.

The men nodded, silent and stone-faced.  The hooded man who had remained remarkably still and quiet, clutching his wounded arm, had only been attacked because these men were desperate.  They were only desperate because they’d lost everything. The Wardens had cost them all but their lives. It didn’t matter how many people had been saved, the Wardens were villains in their eyes.  To them, the means would never be justified, regardless of the ends.

“On behalf of the Grey Wardens,” Nathaniel said bowing his head, “I apologize for your losses, I-“

“What do you now of loss, Warden?”  The middle- aged man spoke calmly, despite the deep, disdainful lines on his forehead, and his stance that suggested he was ready to attack at any moment.

“Me?” Nathaniel laughed a dry and empty laugh, reaching up to remove his hood despite the heavy rain that still fell.  “My name is Nathaniel Howe. In case you are unfamiliar: these were my family’s lands before the Wardens took them from us.  I am bitter, and I am angry, and there isn’t a day that goes by without me wishing I could have been here to make sure that this didn’t happen.”

Nathaniel paused and scanned the faces of the men, noting their shock and bewilderment.  They all had lowered their weapons, and the boy had stopped his crying.  

“But I am also grateful.  You heard what happened at Ostagar, the West Hills.  Without the Wardens, there would be no lands left untainted by darkspawn filth.  I am sorry for what happened to your families, your homes. It was a difficult and terrible decision, but it was the right thing to do.  We desperately want to make things right -- I desperately want to make things right -- but that won’t happen if you go around killing us before we get the chance.”

“Lord Howe,” the middle-aged man said with some degree of reverence.  His shield was clearly a symbol of his loyalty to the family.

“I am no lord,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head, “Not anymore.”

“But -.”

“Here. “ He removed his coin purse from his belt and tossed it to the ground at the man’s feet, “There’s enough there to feed you and your men… and to fix that one’s leg.”  He motioned to the wounded man.

“I… thank you.”

“If you need refuge, you are welcome at Vigil’s Keep.  We’ve been providing shelter for those displaced by the darkspawn uprising.”

“But we tried to kill you,” the boy protested.

Nahaniel smirked.  “You’ll be surprised to know how little that matters to the Warden-Commander.”

He sighed as he watched them walk away, hoping he’d made some difference, that they’d choose a better path.  There was no way to be sure.  

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and he turned to see Velanna offering him a smile.  “As much as I would have loved to teach those shemlen a lesson, I believe you did the right thing.”

“I agree,” Sigrun added, a sad smile on her face as she, too, watched the men walk away.

A rustling and scraping together of metal behind them reminded Nathaniel that the man he’d saved was still there, wounded.  He turned to see that the man had risen to his feet and removed the hood he’d been wearing. Nathaniel blinked several times at the sight of his face, a familiar face, and one he would never have expected to see in the middle of the Coastlands being attacked by starving refugee bandits.  

“Maker’s Blood.”  He took a few steps forward, examining the man more closely.  There were more lines on his face since the last time they’d seen one another, but there was no mistaking who he was.  Especially not when he smiled that wide, cheerful grin. “Fergus?”

“Little Nate,” Fergus replied, clicking his tongue, “All grown up, and a Grey Warden at that.”  

There was a long, heavy pause before he moved forward and embraced Nathaniel, who tensed at the sudden affection.  It was as tight and sincere a hug that could be managed with only one arm unwounded, ending with a rough pat on the back as Fergus pulled away.  For the first time Nathaniel could ever remember, there was an indescribable sadness behind the man’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t have to, as Fergus spoke first.  “It’s good to see you, brother.”

Brother.  It had been so many years, and there was so much strife between their broken remnants of families now, the term hardly felt deserved.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Nathaniel said, still stunned.  This whole affair had been emotionally taxing to say the least, and now Fergus Cousland was standing in front of him.  Not dead, and a very solid, very real reminder of what Father had done. He looked down, rage and grief building in his chest again.  Then, he looked up. “I-.”

“I know what you’re going to say, Nate,” Fergus interrupted him, shaking his head, “And don’t.”

“Delilah told me what Father did,” Nathaniel explained, holding onto his composure by a thread, “I owe you an apology.”

“No you bloody don’t,” Fergus snapped, “You aren’t you’re father, and you’re not responsible for his actions. Besides, I’m sick of apologies.  It’s been the first thing out of everyone’s mouths when they see me. It’s a nice gesture and all, but no amount of sorry is going to bring my family back, you know?”

Nathaniel nodded.  “I know. I just… wish I could have been here.  I would have never let it happen. I’d have died first.”

“I know.”  Fergus smiled somberly but then hissed and clutched at his wounded arm with the opposite hand, which was stained with fresh blood when he pulled it away. “Damn. It’s worse than I thought.”

“Velanna, do you think you can…” He trailed off, motioning vaguely at Fergus, his mind in a blur.

“I will see what I can do,” she answered, “But we will need to get out of this rain.”

“Good idea,” Sigrun said, teeth chattering,  “I’m starting to change my mind about this whole weather thing.”

They returned to their spot beneath the rocky overhang, Fergus walking along beside Nathaniel, clumsily.  He must have been disoriented from falling from horse which had run off during the fighting. Fergus said that he figured she hadn’t gone far and would wander back eventually. Either she was a well trained horse, or the man’s hopes were misplaced.

It was still cold under the ledge, and it’d be difficult to start a fire with damp kindling and wood.  However, it was dry and illuminated well enough by the daylight that Velanna could get a better look at Fergus’ arm.  

Nathaniel sat quietly observing as Fergus introduced himself to the other Wardens, charming as ever.  Sigrun bantered back and forth with him playfully, but Velanna scoffed and rolled her eyes. She was probably a lot more entertained than she’d let on.

“Can’t say I expected you to return to Ferelden after everything,” Fergus said, grimacing as Velanna pulled away his armor and the tattered bloody fabric just below his shoulder.

“I had to see what happened for myself.” Nathaniel laughed.  “I planned to kill the Warden who destroyed my family and took our lands.

“And so you joined them instead?”

“I was conscripted, a pardon for theft.”

“Theft?” Fergus squinted. “You’re no thief.”

“The Wardens claimed some of the Howe heirlooms belonged to them.  I got caught trying to take some of them back.”

“Maker’s Breath… and they conscripted you for that?”

“It was that or the noose.” Nathaniel shrugged.  “I chose the noose, but the Warden-Commander refused, so here I am.  Killing sentient darkspawn and pissing off the people of Amaranthine.”

Fergus shifted uncomfortably as Velanna began to tend the wound. Without healing magic, it needed stitches, and stitches were painful.  Nathaniel wished he had something to offer him to cut the pain. It was a shame Oghren wasn’t around with a flask of whatever. Ever since he’d started to cut back, he was much more inclined to share. In fact, he’d been annoyingly pushy about it. Nobody wanted the ale he found in some dungeon somewhere.

“That’s actually why I came out this way,” Fergus said through a pained growl, “I’d received word of some commotion in Amaranthine City, but nothing official from the Arlessa.”

“The Warden-Commander was busy putting out fires,” Nathaniel replied more defensively than he should have.

“Seems more like she’s been busy starting them,” Fergus said with a wink and Nathaniel relaxed, “Sounds like it was necessary, though.”

“Unfortunately.”

There were a few moments of silence and Nathaniel spoke again hoping to change the subject from such an intense focus on himself.  “You’re the Teyrn now, huh.”

“Unfortunately,” he mimicked Nathaniel, before grinning.  Again, his smile only barely concealed his sadness. “It’s unbelievable to me that people would be so hungry for this kind of power.  It’s miserable. I miss my family. I’d be a poor, powerless man if it meant I could kiss my wife again, if I could tuck my son into bed.”

“I can’t imagine.” Nathaniel frowned, unsure what else to say besides an apology that Fergus would no doubt reject.  

“Elissa had it worse than I did, there in the castle, witnessing it all…” Fergus trailed off, eyes losing their focus briefly.  “She blames herself, you know. Wishes she could have died instead of my son as if the Maker would have been open to barter. You should really try to talk some sense into her. She might listen to you.”

For a moment time stood still, as Fergus’ words rang in Nathaniel’s ears.  Liss was alive.

“What’s wrong, Nate?” He flinched as Velanna continued stitching the wound.  She looked up at Nathaniel briefly, meeting his eyes. Sigrun watched him as well, and Fergus continued. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…”  He couldn’t quite form a meaningful message for his mouth to say.

“You… you didn’t know my sister survived, did you?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No.  My sister told me everyone who was in the castle that night died. I just assumed-.”

“You know better than to underestimate Liss,” Fergus scolded, “Fought her way out with a borrowed sword wearing nothing but her nightgown.  She’s a damn legend.”

“Where is she now?” Nathaniel’s breath was shallow and his heart raced up his throat as if it were going to crawl out of his mouth at the news.

“Denerim, working for Queen Anora,” Fergus answered, smiling mischievously.  “You should pay her a visit. It’d make her entire year, I think.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?  Your father isn’t stopping you anymore.”

“It’s been nine years.” Nathaniel laughed and shook his head, despite his nagging desire to take off to the capital at that moment. “I’m sure she’s -.”

“What?  Happy and moved on?”  Fergus interrupted him.  “Hardly. I mean, she tried, but nobody ever mattered to her like you did. She never stopped waiting for you, even when she swore she had.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Sigrun said, clasping her hands together.

“There,” Velanna announced abruptly as she finished tying up Fergus’ bandages.

“Thank you, Lady Velanna,” he chirped cheerfully.

“Ugh. There’s two of them,” she groaned, and rolled her eyes. “You are welcome, I suppose.”

She wiped her hands off with a strip of cloth and busied herself with putting things back into her pack —loudly— and announced that she needed to take a walk, stomping out into the rain, which still lingered as just a light drizzle.  Fergus looked to Nathaniel, eyebrows raised in amusement, but Nathaniel just sighed. It wasn’t amusing.

“Anyway,” Fergus said rising to his feet, “You should at least talk to her.  You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

“I will need to think about it,” Nathaniel stood as well, “I am not the same person I was when I left.”

“Neither is she.” Fergus laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and eyed him sincerely.  He hated that the man could still get to him like that

A horse whinnied behind them and Fergus’ face brightened.

“There’s my girl,” he said, walking over and running a hand down the horse’s forehead and muzzle. He turned back to Nathaniel.  “Well, the storm’s let up. I suppose I should head out. Let you all get back to… wardening. Thanks for saving my arse back there.”

“Take care, Fergus.”

“Yeah, you too,” Fergus said, climbing up onto his horse, “Go talk to my sister, and don’t be a stranger.  We’re family.”

Nathaniel nodded, a smile spreading across his lips and Sigrun waved at his side.

“It was nice to meet you, Lady Sigrun.  Lady Velanna, too, if you’ll pass along the message.”  

“Did you hear that?” Sigrun giggled, bringing a hand to her face, as they watched Fergus ride off in the direction of Highever. “He called me a lady.”

Nathaniel was silent in response, aching already at Fergus’ departure.  As fraught with emotion as their reunion was, it had been good. He’d missed the man, someone who’d so readily accepted him as a friend and brother.  Perhaps they’d have more time to catch up in the future, especially if Liss, well, if he went to her in Denerim. If nothing else went horribly wrong.

“What are you going to do?” Sigrun asked, eyes blinking up at him.

“I’m going to find Velanna,” he answered, knowing that wasn’t what she meant, but hoping to avoid a discussion about it. “Then, I’m going to kill whatever darkspawn are nearby making my blood itch.”

It did not take long to locate Velanna, who sat in the grass, leaning against a large tree that looked as if it had been split in two by lightning.  She stared off into the distance, forehead wrinkled and twisting the tattoos that marked her face.  

“There you are,” he said, sitting down beside her.  “I’d ask if you’re okay, but considering the way you stormed off, I think I already know the answer.”

“I apologize for leaving as I did.” She shook her head.  “It was juvenile.”

“My conversation with Fergus upset you, didn’t it?”

“As foolish as that sounds, yes. It did.” Velanna brought her eyes up to meet his briefly before looking away. “I have always been an outsider.  Lonely. Misunderstood. Excluded even by my own kind. I thought that it was some sort of flaw in me, that it was how I deserved to be treated. It’s not as if I had any reason to believe otherwise.

“Then I met you, a human, a noble...the epitome of everything I should hate, and yet I could not.  Besides Seranni, you were the first person to ever treat me as if I was worthy of kindness before I did anything to earn it, or before I scared it out of you.  On top of that you gave me compliments, called me beautiful. It would be hard for anyone not care for you after that, I should think.”

“You would be surprised,” he answered, dryly, “Justice did not take kindly to my compliments about his complexion.  The rotten bastard called me disingenuous.”

“You were being disingenuous,” she said laughing slightly, “With him. Not with me.”

“No.” He shook his head, tone serious. “I meant what I said to you.  Still do.”

“That woman you all spoke about, his sister.  She is the person you could never move on from isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Nathaniel admitted, “I have been in love with her since I was just a boy, though I was never allowed to say as much.”

Velanna was quiet, and he worried for a moment that she would lash out at him, furious that he led her on, but she didn’t.  Instead, she just smiled and sighed. “I envy her.”

The soft acceptance pierced him more deeply than any amount of anger could have.  “Velanna, I’m sorry. I would not have been so forward with you had I any idea whatsoever that she was alive.”

“I know that,” she assured him.  Her small hand was warm to the touch as she placed it over his.  “Please do not be sorry. I’m not.”

“But-,” he began, interrupted by the soft pressure of her lips against his cheek.

“I am disappointed, but that is all,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.  “I will get over it, and I would like it if we could still be friends.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they sat in silence for several moments before Velanna spoke again, moving out from under his arm to glare at him. “You have to tell her how you feel, Nathaniel.  You would be a fool to let her go again.”

“I know,” he said, rising to his feet and offering a hand to her, “As soon as we take care of these darkspawn stragglers and return to the Vigil, I will ask for leave to go to Denerim.”

“Good.” Velanna took his hand and allowed him to help her up. “I will harass you if you do not.”

“At this point, I think everyone is going to harass me if I don’t.”

By the time they found Sigrun, she had -- to no one’s surprise -- already dealt with a half-dozen darkspawn, and made a much-deserved prod at Nathaniel and Velanna for being “lazy bones.”  They had not exactly been lazy, but they also had not been fighting hurlocks either. Altogether it only took a couple of hours to scout the area and finish off the remaining creatures. They located only one Deep Roads entrance in the area, and boarded it up so that some unfortunate wanderer would not stumble into it accidentally, and set out on the return trip to Vigil’s Keep.  One of the experts there could seal the hole properly at a later date.

It was not until the next morning that Nathaniel sought out Lucia to request permission to travel to the capital.  He and the others had not arrived back at the Keep until late at night, and he’d been too emotionally and physically exhausted to do anything but take a bath and collapse into bed.  No doubt the Warden-Commander would grant him permission. She would most likely wonder why he even felt the need to ask her. Still, regardless of their friendship, she remained his commanding officer, and he intended to give her the formality and respect she deserved.

He made his way to the Great Hall, intending to visit Lucia in her office, which was just off it’s east wing.  The office had previously belonged to his father, and he was never allowed in there. He wondered what the man had been hiding, if anything at all.   He was stopped in his path by Garavel, the former Guard Captain who was promoted to Seneschal in the wake of Varel’s heroic demise.  

“Warden Howe,” he shouted, his voice reverberating throughout the hall, “I take it you are looking for Warden-Commander Amell.”

“Yes.”

“She’s not there,” Garavel stated with some hesitation.

“You seem concerned, Seneschal.”

“We don’t actually know where the Warden-Commander is right now,” the man explained, “Some of the guards saw her leave her quarters in the middle of the night, but she has yet to return.”

“Was she armored?”

“The guards said she was just wearing nightclothes…” he trailed off as Nathaniel shook his head and sighed.  “What is it?”

“I know where she is,” said Nathaniel, turning to exit the hall. He grabbed a woolen blanket from the storage bin conveniently placed by the main door.  “Thank you, Seneschal.”

The battlements that surrounded Vigil’s Keep were extensive, encompassing the entire courtyard, as well as the castle itself.  When he was a boy, Nathaniel had often sought refuge from his father’s wrath up there. If anything, it kept him out of the way during the worst of it.  Father had lacked the patience to search the entire length of the wall for him. He suspected that’s what had happened with Lucia and the guards. He’d run into her up there several times, often late at night and completely underdressed for the weather.  She seemed to have as much trouble sleeping as he did, perhaps more.

Certainly enough he found her, elbows on the parapet, looking out over the Keep.  She did not hear him at first, and he took a moment to watch her as she twisted what appeared to be the dried up remnants of a rose between her fingers.  There were tears in her eyes, and she looked so broken and sad. It was too intimate and not for him to see. He shifted uncomfortably, preparing to walk away and attempt to speak with her again later, but she heard him, hurriedly wiping a tear from her cheek and straightening her posture.  

“Nathaniel?”  She furrowed her brows at him as he moved forward to stand by her side.

“Sorry to disturb you.  Some of the guards saw you leave your quarters in the middle of the night, and Garavel was worried when you did not return.  I figured I might find you up here, attempting to freeze to death,” he explained, unfolding the blanket and draping it over her shoulders, “If you want to die, I can think of a hundred more noteworthy ways to go about it.”

“I’m not trying to freeze to death,” she snapped, pulling the blanket more tightly around her, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Troubled?”  It was none of his business, really, but he had to ask.  He leaned forward and joined her in resting her elbows on the parapet.

“I’m fine.  Just restless.”  She looked straight ahead, off into the distance, and sighed.

“You know, you’re an excellent commander, but a piss poor liar.”  He looked at her, then down to the flower in her hand, nodding at it. “What’s that?”

She laughed humorlessly and looked at him.  “My latest weapon of choice.”

“A withered rose?”  It appeared he was not the only with difficult feelings he’d rather avoid.

Lucia shrugged. “It’s poetic.”

“Right.”  He rolled his eyes, grateful she was his friend as well as his commanding officer.  Any other commanding officer might be offended by the sheer insubordination. “Permission to speak candidly?”

“Always.”

“I’m not sure what is on your mind right now, and I’m not going to ask.  Whatever it is, though, you’re thinking entirely too much about it.”

“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”  She raised her eyebrows and grinned. “I believe “brooding” is the term Anders uses to describe you.”

“Maybe so,” he conceded, “But, just from experience alone, I know that it’s stupid to waste so much time thinking about all the things that could go wrong that you lose something important to you.”

“It’s unwise to act without thinking things through,” she argued, “That’s how you end up hurt: making rash choices.”

“Failure to act is also a rash choice.”

“I… I don’t know what to do, Nathaniel,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, voice cracking, “I feel like every decision I’ve made in the past year has been wrong.  I made sound, logical choices and they all had horrible consequences. People got hurt. People important to me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“People always get hurt, even when you do the right thing ,” he said gently, his own voice raw with emotion, “Sometimes, all you can do is go with your gut, and hope it works out.  You have to trust yourself. I learned that the hard way.”

“How does one go with one’s gut,” asked the woman who had clearly never made an impulsive decision in her life.

“If you could do anything in the world you wanted right now without consequence, what would you do?”  

“I’d go to Denerim,” Lucia replied almost instantly.  Nathaniel couldn’t help but smirk at her coincidental answer.

“Then you need to go to Denerim.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he answered with a nod, “It’s funny because I actually came up here to ask for leave to go to Denerim.  I have some business to attend to there, myself.”

“That’s ironic,” she laughed, “When shall we leave?”

“Now, if you’re up for it.”

Lucia tensed up and blinked several times.  “Now? Right now?”

“Yes.  Right now.   I’m tired of both of us moping about.”   He whirled around as he spoke, waving for her to follow, and she did.  

For better or worse, they were bound for Denerim.

[heartsandmuses]

Code Name: Armour

Universe: MCU-based AU

Rating: T (for language)

Summary: Being friends with benefits with Steve is great. Really, it is. But sometimes Tony wishes they were more than just that. (Or: the modern!no-powers!AU where Tony has a crush, Steve has a secret, and both of them are pining idiots.)

for the @capim-tinybang // inspired by @cat-solari‘s gorgeous art

It only occurred to Tony after he’d knocked on the door that maybe this wasn’t the kind of conversation to have at this time of night, on impulse and while slightly tipsy. But he needed the liquid confidence to even broach the subject, and Happy was already pulling away from the curb, throwing one last wave out the window of the town car as he headed back towards the Brooklyn Bridge.

Well, it was too late to back out now.

Tony tried to go over talking points in his head, tried to remember everything he wanted to say and string them into at least moderately cohesive sentences, but found himself distracted by how strangely, shockingly nervous he was.

It made sense, though — as full as his forty years on Earth had been, this was a pretty much unprecedented event in his life. He’d had fuck buddies before, sure, and he’d gone on more than a few dates… But Tony had never grown this attached to someone, had never actually wanted feelings to be involved.

At least not until he met Steve.

More than once, Tony found himself wondering what it would be like to actually date the guy: holding his hand from across the table at dinner, buying him a new set of expensive paints every time he complained about his old ones running out, discovering all the ways to coax that lovely blush to his cheeks and that bright, lopsided smile to his lips.

They’d only met a couple months ago, and slept together a handful of times since, but Christ, Tony was whipped.

The thing that gave him pause about attempting to ask Steve out sooner, though, was the fact that Steve seemed more than happy to keep things strictly casual between them. He always kept Tony at a distance, no matter how unintentionally; he never stayed the night. If it was a fear of commitment, Tony could definitely understand that, but it seemed like something else. Exactly what, though, he couldn’t quite figure out.

He tried the doorbell this time, then again after a minute had passed and no one answered. Tony had only been here once before, to quickly pick up a painting that he’d commissioned from Steve for Pepper’s birthday, and just when he stepped back to assess the dingy old brownstone, starting to wonder if he’d gotten the wrong one, the door finally opened.

Steve stood on the other side, in that blue button-up that brought out his eyes, and when he saw that it was Tony, blinked in surprise. “Hey,” he said, belatedly, and pulled the door closed ever-so-slightly, so just his face was visible. “Um, listen, now’s not really a good time to—”

“Oh, no,” Tony said, with a small chuckle and a shake of his head. “No, not here for a booty call. I was just, y’know. In the area. Thought I’d drop by, say hello.”

Steve just raised a brow, dubious.

“Okay, yeah, that was a lie,” Tony admitted, mouth suddenly dry. He could play it cool around millionaires and movie stars, but there was something about Steve that just made him melt into a big puddle of mush. “I, um. I actually came down here to ask you to dinner. Not tonight, obviously, it’s— Oh, God, it’s late, but, uh, I was thinking maybe this weekend—”

Thankfully, before he could ramble any more, Tony was effectively cut off by a resounding crash from somewhere deep in the brownstone, as if a piece of furniture had been knocked over. Whatever it was, Steve seemed more exasperated than concerned, and it didn’t take long for Tony to jump to the most logical conclusion.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over.” Tony was caught between wanting to take a step back and at the same time wanting to peer behind Steve’s broad frame to locate the source of the noise, and ended up merely swaying on his feet for a moment. “I can come back, if this is a bad time.”

It was stupid, pathetic, to feel so gutted at the thought of Steve fooling around with other people; although, in retrospect, it would shed some light on some of his more mysterious habits. Still, Tony was in no position to judge, not when he’d bedded half of Manhattan himself by the age of thirty.

And anyway, Steve was dismissing the idea entirely, with a simple wave of his hand.

Tony tried not to sigh in relief.

“No, I don’t— It’s not like that,” Steve argued lightly, gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled to find his next words. “Listen, Tony, there’s something I need to tell you.”

But before he even had the chance, there was a quick patter of bare feet over hardwood, and a little boy, probably around five years old, poked his head in the space between the doorframe and Steve’s hip, half-hidden behind Steve’s legs.

They had the same sandy blond hair, the same gentle blue eyes. Hell, they were even wearing matching outfits: those god-awful khakis Steve was so fond of, shirts tucked in and sleeves rolled to their elbows.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Tony sobered up immediately.

“You have a kid.”

There was just something about saying the words out loud that made everything click into place. Steve’s reluctance to share of some of the finer details of his personal life, the unwillingness to sleep over, the evasive responses to any suggestion of meeting up at his place. Out of all the reasons Tony had considered, this one hadn’t even made the list, and he couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath. Because sure, Steve having a kid was a pretty big deal — but it definitely wasn’t a deal-breaker.

Tony was great with kids.

Steve’s expression flitted through about twenty emotions in the span of five seconds — bashfulness, apology, determination — before settling on something close to surprise, probably by how well Tony was taking the news. “I do, yeah. This is my son, James,” he said, smoothing a hand over the boy’s silken hair. “James, this is my... friend, Tony.”

When Tony held out a hand, James grabbed onto his index finger with a tiny little fist, giving it a few firm shakes. “My daddy talks about you all the time, y’know,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Uncle Bucky says it’s ‘cause he’s got a crush on you.”

Tony smirked, glancing up at Steve, who was blushing a lovely shade of red. “Is that so?” he murmured, teasing.

“I think it’s about time you go to bed, Jamie,” Steve said pointedly.

James pouted. “You said we could play superheroes first,” he argued, turning those baby blue puppy-dog eyes on Tony. “Do you wanna play superheroes with me?”

“You don’t have to,” Steve told him, voice soft.

“Can I?” Tony jutted out his bottom lip, imitating James. “I mean, look at that face. How could I say no to that?”

“Very easily, once you get to know him. Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not, I love kids. And superheroes, for that matter.”

Sharing one last look with James, Steve finally stepped back, pulling the door open a little wider and gesturing Tony inside. “Well, alright then,” he said, with a small smile. “Come on in.”

— — —

Playing superheroes, as it turned out, consisted mainly of piggybacking James around the house, running from Steve who was apparently playing the part of the villain, and coming up with ridiculous names and equally ridiculous powers on the spot.

Needless to say, Tony was having the time of his life.

“I’ll save you, Iron Man!” James yelled, unprompted, even though Tony was the one holding him protectively. He held his hand out, making tiny little pew-pew-pew sounds under his breath as Steve approached, shooting him with invisible repulsor beams.

Tony couldn’t help the fond laugh that escaped him.

— — —

After about half an hour of tucking James in, complete with a handful of bedtime stories, a thorough search for any monsters in the closet, and an Irish lullaby, Steve finally joined Tony on the couch in the living room, all but collapsing tiredly beside him.

“Munchkin finally asleep?”

“For now, yeah. All that running around must’ve tuckered him out.” Steve looked over at Tony, searching his expression, brows slightly furrowed, lips curled upward, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle, or perhaps read Tony’s thoughts. It took a moment before he found his next words. “I’m sorry. For not being entirely honest with you. I know that we — well, we weren’t serious or anything, but still, I should’ve at least told you about Jamie.”

“Hey,” Tony cut in, and before he knew what he was doing, he raised a hand to cup Steve’s cheek, thumb sweeping gently over the blush that was starting to rise under his palm. “It’s okay. If anything, it’s a relief. I mean, Christ, Steve, I was starting to think you were— I don’t know, a spy or something, the way you never stuck around or told me anything personal. Either that, or you turned into a pumpkin at midnight. Or you’re married.” He paused. “You aren’t married, are you?”

“No,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “Not married. Never have been.”

“Secret agent?”

“Nope, just a regular starving artist.” Steve huffed out a laugh, but his smile faltered somewhat as he admitted, “I don’t usually introduce Jamie to the people I’m… y’know. With. Not at first, at least — in case it doesn’t work out. He gets attached pretty easily.”

“Just James?”

“Well. So do I, sometimes.” Steve averted his gaze from Tony’s, picking at invisible fluff on the back of the worn chesterfield. “Listen, now that you know… I think it goes without saying that we’re a package deal. And kids are… a lot of work. A lot. Even a good kid like Jamie. So I completely understand if, uh, if you want to rescind your offer to dinner—”

Tony shut him up in the only way he knew how — he leaned in and pressed his lips to Steve’s. It wasn’t rushed and heated, like before; this time, the kiss was slower, softer, and when he finally pulled away, it was to rest their foreheads together, breathing each other in for a long moment. “I’ve been half in love with you for the better part of the past couple months. And of course I fell in love with Jamie the minute I met him,” he murmured. “I want this, Steve.”

“I want you too. So much,” Steve replied, smiling against Tony’s lips as he kissed him again. “Stay the night. Please.”

“Your son’s in the next room, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea—”

“Just to sleep,” he interjected gently. “Cuddle, maybe.”

“Well, we do need to make up for lost time.” Tony grinned as he stood from the couch, taking Steve’s hand to help him to his feet as well. He didn’t let go afterwards, just giving it a light squeeze as he nodded in the direction of the stairs. “Alright, sweetheart, lead the way.”

[davidmann95]

Some Kingdom Hearts future thoughts

Have to get ‘em out! Went into some thoughts with my psuedo-review of III, but I’ve got others and stuff worth expanding on. I’ll put them under the cut since it clearly goes into spoilers, except for my boldest, most controversial guess: along with being announced either this year or next (since Kingdom Hearts has never reached the end of a calendar year after a release with nothing on the horizon) I think Kingdom Hearts IV is going to be a 2022 release. I recognize that sounds like an intensely generous timeframe, but I have several reasons:

1. Above all else by far: once again, Square Enix and Disney are going to be on Nomura’s ass, nose to the grindstone, to get him to start delivering these on a consistent basis again. Do you think they’re looking at Kingdom Hearts III topping sales charts and thinking “well, it sure was worth the wait”, or do you think they’re going “gosh, these are some nice sales, sure would be nice if it came out years ago and we had a bunch more similarly-selling titles by now, let’s try and aim for something closer to that in the future”. Especially-especially since Nomura and the actors aren’t getting any younger and the series is at a point where the core fanbase for the franchise as-is is going to be the primary target rather than new audiences, which means it has to wrap up in a timeframe where that’s still a viable market. So rapid, priority development and few if any more spinoffs. I mean, not as if there’s really a handheld platform for them to be on anymore.

2. My understanding (and this is going somewhat into the technical side of things, so I’m going thirdhand here based on what I’ve heard from others) is that the lifecycle of the current console generation isn’t going to run out for quite a bit yet, so they can reuse a lot of the assets and whatnot from III.

3. A big deal was made about Dream Drop Distance coming out on the 10th anniversary of the franchise, and given 20 is a much wilder number for this series than most equivalents when it’s about a single cast of characters going through a single story, I can’t imagine they won’t want to push that as at least a similarly big deal.

4. Finally, when things don’t go as catastrophically off the rails as III did, these games seem to have a fairly consistent 3-4 year development span (even III, once they announced the beginning of development in 2013, would have come out 2017-early 2018 if not for switching from Luminous to Unreal Engine), and for the reasons I listed above I think this is going to be on the speedier end of that.

* Firstly: the main discussion I’m seeing at this point regarding IV is “it’s gonna be a Kingdom Hearts/The World Ends With You/pseudo-Final Fantasy Versus XIII crossover!”, and I really expect and hope that isn’t the case. Not that I’ll be pissed if it is, I’m sure it would still be rad, but it strikes me as both unlikely and the lesser outcome. I don’t know that I see the powers that be diverting resources in one of their biggest cash cows towards a sequel to one of their minor games - one that’s already been in Kingdom Hearts, meaning its inclusion here wouldn’t reasonably be a huge enough deal to base a lot of the full story on - and a way to reimagine another project. And for that matter it strikes me as conceptually small-scale given the setup. Nomura went with a name in Yozora that doesn’t just have the bent meaning of Sora’s name but actually literally sounds like him, went with a setting that aside from the one cameo sign mainly screams to viewers “Sora’s suddenly in the real world, holy cow”, and unless I entirely misread it Verum Rex was presented as a total self-roast in Toy Box. It doesn’t strike me as spot-the-reference (even though that’s 100% in there) nearly so much as establishing a tonal contrast to Kingdom Hearts.

I joked initially about this being a Flash of Two Worlds! (linking to a description for non-comics readers who are here because I tagged Kingdom Hearts)/’Kingdom Hearts goes to war with its own gritty fanfic’ setup, but...I actually suspect that’s pretty close to what’s going on here? This seems like a send up of Final Fantasy’s relative self-seriousness and over the top Super Cool characters, as a contrast to Sora’s goofy open-hearted sincerity and optimism. It’s the Secret Movie aesthetic that some want not just more prominent but as the actual main tone of the series morphed into an entire universe all its own, and Sora, out of place, has to find his way through and back home even as the real threat mounts, and probably has to save this world and get through to its heroes who aren’t likely prone to grinning through off-the-cuff monologues about the heart. That is not only entirely my kind of ridiculous meta jam, it feels like a logical next step for the series: if the first trilogy was in part about growing up, the next (and I suspect last, as the Master of Masters and his Foretellers have been set up as the primordial antagonists of the entire mythology and this is where they’re coming to the fore; my old theory of Eraqus being the big bad of an intermediary trilogy looks solidly shot to hell) could very well be about reaching adulthood, in which case it makes sense Sora would have to pass through a near literal fire of Adolescent/Adult Cynicism.

* Speaking of where Sora ends up: I kinda doubt he’s literally dead, or that if he is it’ll last past the opening of the game. They’ve already made a big theatrical production of Sora dying twice now, the second time in the most literal way possible and just a few hours prior to this, so while third time’s the charm I think there’ll be more to it than that. The again common thing I’ve been seeing is that he’ll have to play the Reaper game to win his life back (not something I’m much familiar with but I think I’ve got the basics), but again, while it’ll certainly be part of the game I don’t think TWEWY is going to be the big thing here (like they’d really make that a bigger deal than the Final Fantasy elements have been), and he just dealt with the afterlife and had to essentially play a game to win his soul back, and this wouldn’t even be a game he’s unfamiliar with. My impression is he’s incorporated back and whole - if likely powered down from the ordeal to justify him being back at level one - and the mystery is less whether or not he’s truly alive so much as how he ended up here and how to get back.

* On the other end of things - and I realize it’s a risky prospect to suggest after her getting a shockingly small role compared to everyone else in III was the damning weak aspect of its otherwise basically perfect finale - I think this is where Kairi is actually going to start to come to the forefront. She and Riku would be at the head of a search that everyone would be a part of (they were there when it happened, they know death is negotiable in their world, and they’re good people who all owe him), her especially since he’s her boyfriend - they may not declare it outright but there’s clearly no ambiguity between the two of them as to their situation anymore - and the one he sacrificed himself for, and she’s out there fighting now even if she’s inexperienced. And Riku seems like he’s going to end up lost himself on the search, leaving her behind as the sole Destiny Trio representative. So even if she isn’t a playable co-lead I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one going on a more traditional Kingdom Hearts adventure searching with the rest while Sora and later Riku deal with the genre mindfuck. On the bright side if nothing else, she’s died twice now too and they’ve both been presented as dead in a “maybe this time for real” way for a finale, so while again third time’s the charm, I figure she and Sora are relatively bulletproof from here on out.

* Speaking of Riku, while this seems more like an old-school proof of concept trailer from I and II rather than the more recent actual scenes, meaning his appearance might well change just as Kairi was different in I’s Secret Movie than she really was in II, it’s very notable that he hasn’t aged at all. So likely instead of another tragic I to II scale timeskip of Sora being lost from his friends, it looks like IV will be picking up immediately and the search for him won’t take long to succeed. Also speaking of Riku, I seem to see people thinking he’s with Namine now? Not that that seems impossible, but while the scene as a whole is romanticized in that it’s basically a princess being carried away by chariot to her happily-ever-after, it reads to me less as an actual romance than Riku fulfilling his ‘brother’s promise. Though if Square/Nomura does want to really get into romance with the next trilogy, since Sora/Kairi is locked down maybe they’ll just say fuck it and do a whole Riku/Namine/Xion/Roxas Love Square situation.

* Actual prediction rather than analysis of evidence: I suspect this is the last major time the Destiny Trio is going to be split up, at least in the searching-for-each-other, not-knowing-if-everyone’s-alive sense. I was the search for Kairi, II for Riku, and now IV for Sora - that cycle looks to be completing. Wouldn’t be surprised if V and/or the finale was finally the three of them as the adventuring party as fans have wanted for so long, with III as the grand finale to Sora/Donald/Goofy.

* It seems early to predict the main villain, but at the same time everyone was accurate in assuming a Keyblade-wielding Xehanort would be the final boss of the trilogy circa 2006, so I’m gonna go ahead and say Xigbar/Luxu is gonna be the end-all with IV. The Master of Masters is still the end of the road, and perfect for it because he’s a real-world normal savvy guy who can manipulate this world of straightforward classical adventurers with ease, while Sora at the opposite end of the scale is silly and sweet even by that world’s standard. But Luxu addresses the same ideas in a way that’d be perfect for this game in particular as it seems to be set up, he’d be the villainous connective tissue as this game moves from one trilogy to another, and he has the dangling personal thread of the ‘reward�� he suggested was coming for Sora. Or hell, since now it looks like she’s at least somewhat privy to what’s going on, maybe Maleficent will finally step back up.

EDIT: Ooh, just remembered, speaking of what Xigbar says to Sora, his Olympus conversation also predicts Sora’s fate? The whole “if you leap in to save somebody, you might just end up in the clutch needing to be saved yourself” lecture, i.e. the premise for IV. Maybe his teach isn’t the only one privy to future events?

* Not both, they’ll wanna space it out, but I’m like 70% sure this is where Marvel or Star Wars are gonna happen.

* Finally, while I’ve heard speculation that the Mystery Star is one of the Foretellers or the person who died in that Union X game, I don’t think she’s one of them given it’s a new voice actor and she cites a name Sora knows. More likely she’s ‘Subject X’ (I went ahead and looked up the Secret Reports, haven’t gone back and done all the bonus challenges myself yet and won’t I imagine for some time), who does seem to be from that time but is I think someone new.