#so much of my like brain and personality has been wired on dodging or canning emotions though. thats actuakly a problem

[lord-shitbox]

Anytime I'm remotely near some kind of situation that could make me feel shame my brain starts flashing lights and blaring extreme warning sirens

[bugwolfsstuff]

here's the w.i.p for ToL chp 2 so far (I have rewritten it multiple times now)

Can i please get constructive criticism or something because my brain keeps screaming at me to scrap it all and rewrite it again.

-----

I woke up in a bed with an elf pointing runes at me menacingly, one of my spawn scowling at me, and a dwarf pointing a harpoon at my face.

So basically a typical Saturday for me.

I couldn't get much of a look at where I was because of the weapons in my face, but I seemed to be in a guest room. The walls were white, and the only other furnishings were another bed and a shabby wooden dresser.

Well, this room was devoid of any personality, so I must've been in the home of my (probably dead) good friend, Randolph.

"Good morning," I said casually, gently pushing the harpoon away from my face with the tip of my finger. "Or is it evening? And get that out of my face, please."

"I thought you were in the walnut!" Alex yelled accusingly, as if it was my fault I wasn't in a walnut. Why would I even be in a walnut?

I rolled my eyes. "Can't a mother just want to spend time with his favourite son or daughter? Ever thought of that?"

Alex was, in fact, not my favourite daughter or son, alive or dead, but Alex did not need to know that.

"Quality time? You tried to kill us!" Alex snapped. "And it's son today, mom."

He said Mom like someone would say a very bad swear. Which, considering Alex's extensive vocabulary, tells me a lot about how much he loves me.

"Oh, build a bridge, son! You're already dead!" I snapped back, saying son the same way he said mom. Which was probably not the right thing to do or say in that situation.

Alex lunged at me and none of the others made an attempt to stop him. Thankfully, he wasn't holding his garrotte wire (which I technically gave to him, by the way), or I would have had a very bad case of decapitation.

I dodged....and rolled off the bed.

Yeah, not my best idea.

My bones made another sickening crunch as my body connected with the floor, and I debated whether or not my survival was worth it.

I managed to sit up against the wall. "Wait wait wait!" I put my hands up in surrender, "Just hear me—ouch—out".

"Never!"

"Fine."

Everyone looked at Magnus in surprise, including me who didn't think that'd actually work.

"What?" The dwarf almost dropped his harpoon, "Kid, you can't be serious!"

"Please be serious," I said, "don't be a douche." He could just pretend to want to help before going HA SIKE! And running his sword through me. Even though I knew that would be very un-Magnus-like. He's a healer. He doesn't do stuff like that.

"We should hear him out—"

I grinned. "Thank you, Magnus Chase!" I side-eyed my son, who was scowling at me from the bed, "At least someone wants to listen to me!"

"Shut up," Magnus said, he looked at me for a moment, his stormy grey eyes looking me up and down. "Your ribs are broken," He said finally, "I'll heal you, only if you swear on your troth to not hurt anyone here."

My grin widened, this kid was an idiot, he doesn't know I don't care about stuff like troth. 

I put my hand to my chest, "I swear by my troth that I won't hurt anyone in this room—"

"On this property, Mother" Alex rudely interrupted, "Your tricks won't work here".

If he was doing this to anyone else I would have been almost proud of the fact that he caught on to that.

Magnus smiled at him and—Oh my gods well isn't that interesting. You see dear mortals. That wasn't a friendly smile that was a loving smile. It seems my little snakelet has got himself a boyfriend. Very interesting, I could use that against them both later.

I shoved that thought to the back of my mind.

"I swear by my troth that I won't cause harm to anyone on this property" I amended.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Hi, it's been a while - I haven't looked at anything bsd related in a while (besides just reading the last chapter of the sinner epilogue) because it's not one of my current fixations, but I wondered if I could hear more from you about emotions? Recently my brain has been rotten by a love of computers and robots and maths and physics and I have been obsessively consuming all versions of I have no mouth and I must scream (have you heard of it? If not, ihnmaims is a short sci-fi story written by Harlan Ellison about an AI, AM, torturing the last 5 humans). The relationship between Ted and AM is fascinating to me, especially in terms of what 'emotions' AM feels towards him, and it reminded me of something that I think you wrote about how intertwined hate and love are - how hate is to care enough about a person to want their suffering and pain (I'm not entirely sure if that was you, forgive me if I'm wrong-). I'll spare you my ramblings about the story itself unless you are interested in hearing more, but I am very curious about your perspective on a being who was created for war, gained sentience and immense power and intelligence but will never be free, will never belong, will never play Mozart on the ivory keys of a fortepiano... a being who cannot feel in a way we can conceive but is driven by hatred, who craves humanity or release yet cannot die, who has no mouth but must scream.

There is a point where AM invades Ted's mind, ramming The Hate Monologue in the form of a steel pillar into his mind - some of the lines in this section make me go a little bit feral - "AM touched me in every way I had ever been touched, and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind."

It's incredibly intrusive, and for Ted there is no escape from AM - it's physical machinery covers the entire planet and the humans live within it, it's 'belly slaves'. As AM cannot die it keeps them alive, pretty much immortal (but not indestructible) and in the end, Ted too has no mouth though he must scream.

It's a fascinating mix of hatred, envy, deification, love (?), hope, resignation, invasion, co-dependence, wires and viscera that can never mix or understand each other but are the same in every way.

Apologies for the rambling infodump (especially if you have already read it/have absolutely no interest in this sort of thing - this isn't a rec, just my putrefied brain matter leaking into your ask box), I should really be asleep right now so I would not be surprised if this is entirely incomprehensible.... I just want to study them under an electron microscope.... It's a very grim story, with a powerful sense of the indomitable human spirit but very grim nonetheless. The hyperfixation is hyperfixating....

Anyway I should shut up, and I would love to hear your thoughts (I don't even know what I was intending this ask to be .. I can't remember now but I don't think it was .. this..) and thank you for putting up with this mess of a message- hope you have a lovely day/night!

- 🪼

P.S. oh yes! I loved the last chapter of sinner's epilogue- your writing never fails pluck my heartstrings like.. a very strange surgeon (?)(I'm so sorry I am very tired)(I have no brain and I must sleep...) I adore how you write Fyodor's experience of emotion and (as always) Dazai's fear and panic-

Okay listen, I don't plan to get into this story (I've watched essay videos on it so I do know about it, at least), but I respect how much time you took describing this to me in my asks box, so I'm putting it out for anyone else who might find it cool!

Despite my love for psychological trauma, some stories are a certain flavor that I know I shouldn't get into, and IHNMAIMS belongs in that category. Pretty sure if I read it it'll haunt me for the rest of my life and I'll have to deal with a big depressive episode over it for the weeks after, WHICH IS NEVER FUN.

This and other reasons are why I never read A Little Life, and then I learned that I dodged a bullet by putting the book down on the first instance of Jude's cutting episodes, BECAUSE OH MY GOD DUDE THAT STORY DID NOT HANDLE IT THE WAY I NEEDED IT TO BE HANDLED AND I COULD SMELL WHERE THE STORY WAS GONNA GO WITH IT AND TAPPED OUT. I won't get into the frustration of A Little Life but IHNMAIMS felt like it would be that same level of too much grim, not enough plot?? for me. Does that make sense? Too much bad happening just feels like dragging myself through mud without reason, making myself miserable by enduring hours of hurt-no-comfort LMAO

Regardless, thanks for talking to me about it! I knew most of the details of the story, but it was entertaining to read your description of it--I'm glad you find such interest in the story!

ALSO THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENTS ON THE NEWEST SINNER EPILOGUE, I'M ACTUALLY WRITING YET ANOTHER ONE CURRENTLY...AHAHA....THEY NEVER STOP....we'll see how long it takes me since my writing has been out of touch with me for a while, but fingers crossed! <3

[m0r1bund]

[Image: A sketch page of some sort of space marine lookin’ gal gone monster. She’s top-heavy with big ‘ol claws, like a werewolf, but if a werewolf had her face fused with a gas mask and a bunch of cybernetics. frayed wires and tubes dangle from her head, neck, spine, and ribs, forming a motile mane. In one drawing she wears a duster full of bulletholes that’s a few sizes too short for her, brandishing an oversized pistol with a blade attached to it.

Accompanying her is a research assistant who looks friendly enough, if a bit in over her head. She’s tall, lightly armored, and wears her hair up in a wavy ponytail. She seems to be much more ‘analog’ than her cohort, wearing glasses and a relatively simple prosthetic leg.

In another drawing, the R.A. holds her hat over her head, shielding herself from the rain. She shares a moment with the soldier, apparently before her transformation;

R.A.: God I miss my mom. You ever miss your folks, chief?

Chief: I was grown in a vat. ]

◆

*plastering my deranged little drawings on the wall* I Can Explain.

So a ~week ago, I had a dream about this Warhammer 40k-ass space marine who saves the life of a scrawny little research assistant, but pays the ultimate price and gets infected with the Diseases and the Sicknesses, which turn her into a shambling biomechanical monster. But the two of them are in love! And they are saved through the power of love, and also the power of dodging the draft.  

Somehow, this activated the part of my brain that has lain dormant since I was like 9 years old, when I’d use my brother’s copy of WH40k: Dawn of War to act out trilogy-length adventure stories. I’ve been thinking a Normal Amount about these two women and drawing shitty little comics ever since.

◆

I guess since this is the first doodle in the batch it would be good to introduce these two.

The Chief is like… She’s exactly what you’d expect from someone who has been groomed from birth to be a living weapon for an imperial regime. She has a lot of deprogramming to do. But she’s remarkably agreeable and even pretty well-intentioned, if you can get past the gruff exterior and the bonkers yonkers internal moral code that was drilled into her. Really, you get the sense that something in her is pushing back against all this, despite every effort to wire her otherwise…

The R.A. comes from a podunk little desert planet. Its people are so “backwards” and “uncivilized,” the land so “hostile,” that the extent of their relationship with the Empire is a yearly tithe that they forget to collect most years. This is, of course, code for “people who live in a desert in a non-sessile way that doesn’t align with settler expectations, and as fortune would have it, they’re spared the strife of ‘civilization’ in their invisibility and the perceived uselessness of their lands.”

The rest of the deployment considers her a luddite from a backwater shithole. She’s fine with this. In reality, she’s a polymath at heart, and is a talented mechanic, engineer, and general techie. She just happens to know enough about the Empire that she does Not want their technology anywhere near her body, thank you! Sometimes she feels like the only one in the universe who has gone outside and touched grass, and it’s driving her banana sandwich. But she’s not about to tell the shambling instruments of war called her coworkers that there’s, like, actual plants and stuff back home. That would be bad.

Well, maybe she’d tell one person. But only if she asks really really nicely.

[today-only-happens-once]

(un)claimed

Title: unclaimed

Summary: Virgil is a demigod. The good news is that he is not alone. A Percy-Jackson!AU fic. Platonic/found-family DRLAMP dynamics.

Word Count: 4217

Warnings: some violence and weapons, Greek mythology, passing mention of curses, feelings of anxiety, some self-doubt and self-deprecation, parent issues (of course, it’s a pjo!AU), no Side is a bad guy but there’s some tension between Remus and Roman, I play a little loose with PJO timeline stuff woops, Janus has done some light antagonizing of the gods.

A/N: Honestly, it should surprise nobody that I wrote this. Heh. Just for fun to release the happy chemical in my brain. Not that deep or involved. Just a light little diddy. <3 Hope you enjoy! Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. No tags because it’s a fandom-specific AU, not because I don’t love y’all. <3 

///

“See that tree on the hill?”

Virgil quirks an eyebrow at the boy beside him, taking in his bright orange t-shirt and the three beads on his leather necklace. He has what Virgil would swear was snake scales across the left side of his face. Janus, he had said his name was. (Like the god? Virgil had asked. No relation. Not unless Athena has some explaining to do, the boy had told him with a wry smile as if that was somehow supposed to make sense.)

He’d met Janus four hours ago in New York in Central Park after a very weird encounter with a cyclops. Though if he’s being honest, the cyclops had only been the most recent run-in with vicious creatures out of his mother’s old Greek myth anthology. He’d been ducking and dodging and outrunning them for nearly a year at this point. Janus had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliced the cyclops with a dagger and it vanished in a puff of gold dust.

Then Janus told him he knew a safe place to go. Perhaps he was an idiot, but Virgil had followed without much objection. The idea of a place that was safe was nearly too good to be true, but Janus had just dusted a cyclops. And Virgil figured there was at least some power in numbers, if nothing else.

Virgil follows where the other boy is pointing and sees a tall pine tree at the top of the steep hill. He nods.

“Go there. You’ll see a camp in the valley. Chiron will explain.”

“Chiron?”

“Yes. Activities director. You can trust him.”

“You’re not coming too?” Virgil looks at the boy beside him again. Janus is looking in the opposite direction of the tree back the way they’d come and he yanks the dagger out of his belt.

Janus’s mouth twitches. “We’ve got company. I will hold them off. The border is protected. You’ll be safe once you cross the tree line.”  

Alarmed, Virgil looks over his shoulder and sees a winged creature in the distance. It looks almost a like a bat, if a bat could be the size of a human person. “What is that?!”

Janus gives a slight shove to Virgil’s shoulder. “Run, Virgil!”

“I can’t leave you behind—”

Janus mutters something that sounds foreign, and yet Virgil understands it. A curse word in… was that ancient Greek? Virgil isn’t given time to process it before Janus grabs Virgil’s arm and takes off at a sprint up the hill. Virgil stumbles but he manages to keep his feet under him as he takes off at a run for the looming pine. As they get closer, Virgil chances a glance over his shoulder. The winged creature is maybe twenty yards away. It’ll be on them any second.

Janus whistles sharply. “Hey! We got incoming!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, three other kids appear from near the tree. One of them notches an arrow in an honest-to-gods bow. He aims, then releases. Virgil watches, stunned, as the blow strikes true and the winged creature vanishes in a puff of gold dust that gets caught in the breeze.

Virgil rests his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Janus, beside him, is breathing hard as well but he nods to the kid with the bow and arrow.

“Nice shot,” Virgil tells him.

The kid looks to be maybe a year older than Virgil, and is wearing a t-shirt that matches Janus’s. He’s also got a necklace of beads, though his has five of them. Virgil realizes that some of them match Janus’s, plus a few more. He slings the bow across his back and flashes Virgil a bright grin.

“Thanks! I’m Sloane.” He extends his hand.

“Virgil.” He shakes the kid’s hand.

Sloane nods to the other two kids that had materializes near him. One of them is a girl that looks a little younger than Virgil, maybe 14, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other is a guy in a backwards baseball cap and a plaid shirt over the orange tee that looks about Sloane’s age. His necklace only has one bead on it.

“This is Valerie,” Sloane introduces. “She’s from Cabin 10. And this is Kai. He’s from Cabin 9.”

“Sloane,” Janus interrupts. “Where’s Chiron?”

Sloane jerks his head down the hill. “In the Big House with the lead counselors.”

Virgil watches Janus’s brow furrow. “Seems unusual. Did something happen?”

Valerie sighs. “Kind of. Dionysus gave one of his kids a quest. Counselors are meeting about the prophecy to see who is going.”

Janus’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Which one?”

“Jack. The prophecy mentions a death. That never bodes well, and kids aren’t exactly lining up to work for Mr. D.”

Janus hums thoughtfully, his eyes trailing over the crest of the hill. Virgil watches as he shoves the knife into his belt. Kai cocks his head slightly, studying Virgil closely. Then, he looks at Janus. “Has he been claimed?”

Virgil frowns. “Claimed?”

“No,” Janus tells Kai, then looks to Virgil. “Follow me. I’ll explain as we walk.”

Janus nods to the other three and Virgil follows him down to the valley below. From this vantage point, Virgil sees the cabins Janus has been talking about, forming something like a horseshoe shape. In front of it is a large building that Virgil assumes is the ‘Big House’ that Sloane had mentioned. He sees other buildings and structures, but decides to wait to ask about them.

People mill around, most of them wearing the orange t-shirt that has a winged horse and the words Camp Half-Blood printed on them. When they notice Virgil, most of them throw a curious glance to Janus. Janus doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood,” Janus says as they walk. “It’s one of the few safe spaces left for demigods like us.”

“Wait,” Virgil says, certain that he heard Janus incorrectly. “Demigod?”

Janus glances at him. “Hm. I gather you really don’t know very much. Yes, demigod. Half-god, half-mortal.”

“And you think I’m one of these, uh, half-bloods?” Virgil shakes his head. “Listen, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Janus looks almost amused now, an eyebrow arching almost like a challenge. “You couldn’t have gotten across the border into camp if you weren’t. Let me guess… you have ADHD and dyslexia.”

“Wh—I mean, yes, but—”

“You were raised by either a single parent or no parent at all,” Janus continues.

“My mom, until—”

“You see things others either don’t see or don’t remember.”

“I—”

“Please. Do stop me if I’m wrong.”

Virgil falls silent, his chest a bit tight. He crosses his arms over his chest as they walk.

Janus waits for a beat before he elaborates, sounding like it’s a spiel he’s given a dozen times already. “The ADHD is the battle reflexes. Dyslexia is because your brain is wired for ancient Greek, not modern English.”

Virgil’s mind is reeling. “But—”

“The things you see are because you’re a demigod. You are able to see things as they are.  Mortals—most mortals—get deceived by this thing called the Mist. Someday, with training, you’ll be able to manipulate it as well. It’s a useful skill.”

Virgil feels suddenly way too hot, and yet still has the sudden desire to pull the hood of his hoodie up over his hair. “Demigod,” he repeats, though saying it aloud doesn’t help it make sense. “Are… Are you telling me that my dad is a god? Like a Greek god? Zeus? Apollo? Those guys?”

Janus glances at him and looks, for a split second, almost apologetic. “I understand that it’s a lot to take in at once. This is why Chiron usually takes the initiation. He usually has a more, ah, sensitive means of broaching the subject. But since he’s meeting with the lead counselors, I’m afraid the responsibility falls to me.”

Virgil blinks. He can feel the pressure in his chest building and he forces himself to take a breath. It doesn’t help as much as he’d been hoping it would. “Which one?”

“Hm?”

“Which god is my dad?”

They’re passing in front of the Big House now. There’s two people standing on the front porch—a blonde girl holding a Yankees cap and a boy with a goatee leaning against the railing—seeming deep in conversation. The blonde girl offers Janus a small wave. Janus nods back.

“To your question, the answer is that we don’t know,” he says. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, your guess is as good as ours. But you might be claimed any minute now, or never claimed at all. I was claimed three days after arriving at camp by Athena. But we have several campers who haven’t been claimed at all. Remy Short is one such example.”

“Athena. Goddess of wisdom and strategy,” Virgil remembers. He’d read that name in his mother’s library when he was younger. And he has a vague memory from sixth grade social studies.

“Indeed,” Janus replies. They circle around the house and Virgil realizes that Janus is leading him towards the semi-circle of cabins. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, you’re designated to Cabin 11. Hermes’ cabin.”

“Janus!” A bright, cheerful voice calls from behind them. Janus stops and turns, and Virgil follows his gaze. A boy that looks about Virgil’s age, maybe a year older, is running towards them from the Big House. He’s got a flop of curly hair and big round glasses.

“Patton,” Janus greets as the boy slows to a stop near them. “Virgil, this is Patton. He’s the head of the Hermes cabin.”

Patton grins and holds out his hand. “Hi, Virgil. Welcome to Cabin 11. I’ll talk to Chiron about getting you some supplies—”

“I’ll talk to Chiron,” Janus interrupts as Virgil shakes Patton’s hand. “I need to ask him about some things anyway. Patton, could you—”

“For sure,” Patton agrees readily. “I’ll show Virgil around!”

Janus excuses himself and starts towards the Big House. Virgil rubs the back of his neck and offers Patton an awkward smile.  Now that he’s closer, Virgil realizes that Patton is maybe an inch or so shorter than him. He’s got four beads on his necklace.  

“How ya doing?” Patton asks him, startling him out of his thoughts. Virgil meets his eyes. Patton’s are a warm brown, and his smile is sympathetic. “I remember my first day at camp. It’s always overwhelming.”

Virgil huffs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’ll love it here,” Patton says with a surprising amount of confidence.

Virgil arcs a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve heard that before. I don’t seem to, ah, stay in one place very long.”

“Kicked out of school?” Patton guesses. He starts walking around the cabins and Virgil follows, slipping his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah. Several times.”

“We all have,” Patton says, not unkindly. “That’s the best thing about camp. In the mortal world, we’re all labeled as weird or outcasts. But at camp? We’ve all been through it. Oh! This is Cabin 10. Aphrodite’s cabin.”

Patton walks Virgil around the semi-circle, explaining each cabin’s assigned deity. He adds that Cabins 1 through 3 are empty, though apparently there was a girl that used to be in Cabin 1—Zeus’s cabin—who joined the Hunters of Artemis and left camp. Cabin 2 was Hera’s, and since she didn’t have children, the cabin was mostly honorary. Cabin 3 usually had a kid in it, but he apparently was on some kind of recon mission and wouldn’t return for another day or two. Cabin 8—Aretmis’s cabin—is also, usually, empty except when the Hunters visit.

“Since you don’t know who your dad is, you get to bunk with us at the Hermes Cabin,” Patton explains. “We take all unclaimed kids, since Hermes is the god of travelers.”

“I thought he was the god of thieves,” Virgil says before he can think about it.

Patton smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, that too. If you’ve got anything important, maybe keep it with ya. Just in case. I try to dissuade stealing, but old habits die hard for some of these kiddos.”  

Patton leads him around the camp, pointing out the strawberry fields, the armory, and the forge that mostly gets used by the Hephaestus kids. A few of them wave at Patton, who eagerly waves back and calls a few of them by name. He shows Virgil the arena, where two kids are sparring. Patton takes a seat and Virgil sits beside him, watching the two boys circle each other.

Both of them are wearing matching orange t-shirts—Patton had told him that he’d be getting one too—and some armor. One of them has dark hair and square glasses. He’s got two knives, one in each hand, and even from a bit of distance Virgil can sees the slight sheen of sweat to his forehead. The other one’s hair is a couple of shades lighter. His sleeves are rolled up and he wields a sword and a shield.

“The one with the glasses is Logan,” Patton explains. “He’s a child of Athena. The other one is Roman. He’s a child of Apollo. I met both of them in Seattle before we made our way to camp together thanks to some help from a satyr.”

“All three of you have been claimed?” Virgil asks, watching as Roman charges at Logan who rolls out of the way and then nimbly jumps back up to his feet. He slashes at Roman’s back but Roman parries the blow with a well-timed flick of the sword.

“Not immediately,” Patton says. “Logan was claimed as soon as we got to camp, but it was a month or so for me. And Roman was nearly a year before Apollo claimed him during a campfire song. It certainly surprised a lot of people.”

“Why?”

“His brother was claimed by Ares three months before him, so most people thought Roman was Ares’ kid too.”

Virgil glances at Patton. “Roman has a brother?”

Patton’s mouth presses into a thin line for a moment, and Virgil gets the sense that it’s a touchy subject. “Yeah. Remus. It’s unusual for two kids of the same family to both be demigods, and the fact that their father are two different gods led to some… tension. Roman and Remus don’t exactly get along.”

Virgil nods his understanding and turns his attention back to the sparring pair. Roman blocks a quick slash from Logan with his shield and swipes at him with the sword, but Logan parries the blow with the other knife in his hands. Then in a series of quick movements—Virgil isn’t sure how it happens, exactly—Roman is flat on his back and Logan is on his chest with the knife to his throat.

Roman says something that Virgil can’t make out, and Logan says something in kind before he climbs off Roman and helps him up. Roman flashes a grin and shoves Logan’s shoulder before he glances past his sparring match and sees Patton and Virgil sitting on one of the benches.

Roman waves. “Heya, Padre!”

Logan glances over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow at Virgil but stores his daggers as Roman jogs over. Patton stands and Virgil follows him down to meet Roman halfway.

“Hey, Roman,” Patton replies. “I didn’t know you started using a sword!”

Roman grabs a towel off a nearby bench and mops the sweat off his forehead. “It’s new. I’m still trying to get used to it. I think the balance is off.”

“The balance is fine,” Logan quips, stepping up beside him. “You just need more practice.”

Roman rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Either way, Specs. I’ll take archery any day over waving a sharp stick around.”

“You are definitely a son of Apollo,” Logan rejoins back without malice. “And it would be unwise to only be versed in ranged attack.”

“And you are definitely a son of Athena.”

“Correct.”

Virgil snorts, and then a part of him regrets it as Roman and Logan both look over at him. Virgil flushes slightly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but Patton seems to only perk up more.

“Oh! Sorry, this is Virgil. He’s a new camper. Janus ran into him on his way back and brought him along.”

“Which cabin?” Logan asks.

Virgil shrugs. “For now, Cabin 11, I guess.”

“Unclaimed, then.” Virgil listens for the judgement in Logan’s voice, but he doesn’t hear it. It sounds more like a flat statement of fact, as if reporting the weather. Logan nods once. “Very well.”

“I was just showing him around,” Patton supplies. “You guys wanna join?”

Logan starts shrugging out of the armor he’s wearing. “Regrettably, I said that I would assist Harley with some blueprints when I had finished sparring with Roman.”

Roman slides the sword into the scabbard at his side. “And I’m overdue for a Pegasus lesson. I can’t miss it again. The last thing I need is Mr. D giving me another earful.” Roman gives a quick two-finger salute and rushes out of the arena.

Virgil blinks at Patton. “Pegasus?”

Patton grins brightly. “Come on. I’ll show ya.”

…

Patton spends the rest of the afternoon showing Virgil around the camp. They go to the stables (where Roman offers to take Virgil for a ride but Virgil immediately declines because he’s never been a fan of flying). They swing by the beach on their way to the climbing wall. Virgil watches, amazed, as two kids climb with impressive speed and narrowly avoid the magma that starts to pour down it.

One of the kids has a Morningstar gripped between his teeth, a green bandana around his upper bicep and a matching one around his head. He’s fast, scaling the wall with a well-practiced ease. Virgil hears him laugh delightedly when his hand slips and he almost gets burned by the lava. It’s somehow both impressive and disconcerting.

“That would be Remus.”

“That’s Remus?” Virgil repeats, though when he looks a bit closer he sees the similarity in hair color and skin complexion. “I guess I see the resemblance.”

“Don’t tell Roman that,” Patton says lightly. “C’mon.”

They pass the amphitheater where, apparently, there would be a bonfire tonight. Patton shows him the volleyball court where four kids are playing one another. They wave at Patton as they pass.

“You seem popular,” Virgil supplies. He’s lost track of how many kids have waved at them as they walk around.

Patton lifts a shoulder modestly. “I dunno. Since Hermes is the catch-all cabin, a lot of camp knows me since they come to our cabin if they haven’t been claimed yet. Sometimes we get kids that get claimed right away, or kids that already have been claimed, but otherwise? I get to be their lead counselor for at least a little bit.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“I kind of like it,” Patton admits with a smile. “It’s like I’m everyone’s honorary camp dad.”

The conversation cuts out as dinner is called and they head to the mess hall. Patton explains the offering to the gods prior to the meal, and Virgil scrapes part of his plate into the fire. He doesn’t know what to ask for.

It’d be nice to have a family again, dad, he thinks, unsure of who he should even direct the comment to. Patton waves him over, offering a seat beside him.

Virgil chances a glance around the mess hall as they eat. The Hermes table is certainly the most crowded, though Virgil can’t say he finds that surprising. Athena’s table has several kids reading while eating. Two kids at the Ares table are in the middle of an arm-wrestling competition. One kid at the Hephaestus table is pouring over a blueprint, and Virgil wonders if that was the Harley kid that Logan had mentioned.

Towards the end of the meal, a few kids at the Apollo table starts singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” and it’s not long before most of their table is doing the entire song with harmony. Someone from the Demeter table tells them to ‘save it for the campfire’, but it does nothing to deter the Apollo kids. Virgil catches Roman laughing as he sings, one of his sibling’s arms slung around his shoulders.

Virgil glances over and sees Logan at the Athena table sitting next to Janus, watching the chaos unfold and the faintest quirk of his lips betray his amusement.

Virgil feels some of the tension in his chest relax just a little.

…

The bonfire starts around dusk. Virgil is making his way to the amphitheater from dropping supplies off at the cabin when Roman comes up from behind him and loops his arm through Virgil’s, chattering excitedly about how much he loved this part of camp. Virgil sees an ukulele case slung around his shoulder.

Logan appears a second later on the other side of Virgil, commenting dryly that the Apollo kids had done their vocal warm-ups during the dinner. This only served to lead Roman to do actual vocal warm-ups—trills and scales, specifically—as they walked. Patton and Janus were already sitting down, three rows back. Patton waves when he sees them file in. Remus is sitting beside Janus, seemingly trying to goad him into some kind of competition that he was having no interest in. The firelight glints of Janus’s scales.

“Hey,” Virgil says to Roman and Logan. “Can… I ask what happened to Janus?” He immediately regrets the question, cursing his lack of a filter, but neither of the other boys seem perturbed by the question.

“A curse from Aphrodite,” Logan answers. “Janus had gone on a quest for our mother, and it led to some… unsavory tension between himself and Aphrodite. From what he’s told me, he accused Ares of being a snake in the grass while in the presence of Aphrodite, and… well. The love goddess didn’t take kindly to that. But it’s purely cosmetic.”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. “Remus seems chill with him.”

“I’m not sure that Remus is aware of the accusation Janus leveled at his father,” Logan muses. “And Janus is not one to hold the children accountable for the actions of their godly parent.”

“It doesn’t benefit him,” Roman adds in, using his free hand for air quotes. “Or something like that. Janus is all about himself and how he can improve his own standing.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Logan quips dryly.

Roman scoffs, but when Virgil looks at him, there’s a teasing glint to his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but you guys are half-brothers for a reason.”

Logan looks at Roman over the top of his glasses, but Roman just shoots him a cheeky smile as they approach the other three. Virgil slides into the seat beside Patton, followed by Logan and then Roman. There’s a few kids—Virgil isn’t sure what cabin they’re from—trying to lead a call-and-response chant as campers file in. Down the row, Remus enthusiastically calls out the responses at the top of his lungs.

“Roman!” A new voice calls out from the end of their row. A tall guy, a couple of years older than them, is holding a ukulele and jerking his head down towards the bonfire. “You ready to help me kick this thing off?”

Roman grins and jumps up. “Would be an honor, Thomas.” He rushes off and he and Thomas start playing a song together with practiced ease. He and the other Apollo kids start singing, and before long the vast majority of campers are joining in. A few of them, including Patton, sway a little. Virgil doesn’t sing, but he listens and tries to remember the words.

The sky grows dark. The Apollo kids eventually cede the floor to some Ares kids who start up another chant. More songs are sung, some snacks get passed around, and Virgil is starting to think that maybe, with time, he could get used to this.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Patton says beside him, as the next song starts. He drops something into Virgil’s lap. “I got this for ya.”

Virgil looks down. It’s two camp t-shirts. The black winged horse and the Camp Half-Blood print stares up at him. He looks over at Patton.

Patton just smiles. “Claimed or not, you’re one of us. We claim you.”

Virgil feels like maybe that’s good enough for him.

[rosesgonerogue]

Let the Sunshine In Chapter 2

AO3

Somehow Marinette made it back to the house without causing mass panic or dropping the boy. Once at home she dragged him onto the couch and detransformed, rushing for a First Aid kit before he bled out. 

Tikki sought out a cookie while Marinette unwound the dirty bandages on the boy, doing her best to wipe away the blood and grime. He had wounds both new and older, but to her relief none of them were too serious, nothing that couldn’t be handled with some disinfectant and gauze. Marinette cleaned him up as much as possible, and before long the kwamis swarmed Marinette to get clothes on the boy. 

“He’s malnourished and dehydrated,” Wayzz said, surveying the boy. “How did he get so far from one of the Lazarus Pits so soon?” 

“The Lazarus Pits? What are those?” 

“You didn’t tell her, Tikki?” Trixx demanded. “She’s the Guardian, she needs to know these things!” 

“But I haven’t been Guardian for very long, especially compared to Master Fu,” Marinette said gently. “There are lots of things that haven’t come up yet. But will someone please explain?” 

It was obvious that the boy wouldn’t wake for a while, so Marinette felt fine having the kwamis out and about, especially when it meant there were more eyes on him. She hoped she would be able to avoid taking him to the hospital, because it would just be a mess all around. 

Tikki sighed, settling into her palm. “The Lazarus Pits were a result of a wish made with both the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculous gems. It was a long, long time ago when a man lost the woman he loved. When he found out about the Miraculous, he was relentless in his search, and he even killed that Ladybug to steal the earrings. 

“He wished for his love to be brought back to life, but the world hadn’t recovered from the last Miraculous wish yet. This one ended differently than most. The Lazarus Pits were scattered all over the world, pools of water that could heal people, and in some cases even bring them back to life. Since the world was still recovering from a previous wish, the price was paid by the individuals who use the pits. I was weak from my Ladybug being killed, and so the power of destruction was a lot stronger than the power of creation. All of my energy was used for the healing aspect, but Plagg’s surplus energy had to go somewhere.”

“Tikki, what does that mean?” Marinette asked, growing more and more concerned. 

“The person being healed has to pay the price, usually with their humanity. People react differently to the pits. Some find evil and greed growing in their hearts. Others go insane from the transition from death to life, while a few are filled with overwhelming anger and a need to destroy. No matter what, Marinette, it’s especially dangerous for you! He’ll be able to sense your connection to all the kwamis, but especially me. You and Chat Noir aren’t safe as long as he’s in Paris. We need to take him somewhere.” 

“Can it be reversed?” Marinette asked. 

“What?”

“You said he was seriously hurt--”

Tikki shook her head solemnly. “Marinette, based on the amount of energy I feel on him, he was dead, probably for a few years.” 

“What?!” Marinette couldn’t help but stare at the once-dead boy who was currently passed out on her couch. “He was dead?”

“It’s true. And because he was dead, Marinette, means that there’s going to be almost none of his humanity left.” 

“You said almost. That means there’s some left to foster,” Marinette said slowly. 

“Marinette, no. You can’t put yourself at risk like this.” 

“He didn’t choose any of this. It’s not fair that he has to live a life of pain and anger alone. How do I help him?” 

Tikki blinked, some of the panic and tension draining from her small body. “You’re right, I’m sorry Marinette. You’re my strongest Ladybug yet, and the Guardian, so we can’t lose you. But it also means that if anyone can help him, it’s you. None of this was his fault. I… I need to talk to Plagg. We can probably come up with something together.” 

Marinette watched her kwami fly away, a ghost of an emotion rearing its head when she wondered if this would be easier with the Book of Miracles. But it was easily squashed down. It was habit at this point, and Marinette had things to do.

The boy was concerningly pale. It seemed like his bleeding had slowed if not stopped completely, but he needed nutrients. She’d learned to prepare for all kinds of things in her years as Ladybug, so she’d make do with whatever the situation may be. 

For now she settled for making chicken rice soup, chopping everything small enough to reduce the chance of choking. She couldn’t help but wonder about him -- who was he? How had he died?

She had added the last of the ingredients and left the soup to simmer when she heard a scuffle in the living room. Concerned, Marinette went to investigate. There wasn’t a single kwami in sight, and the boy had an umbrella grasped in his hands like a weapon, stationed at the corner of the room, poised to attack. 

His eyes were… unsettling. If Marinette hadn’t known about the Lazarus Pits, she would have worried that he was an akuma -- the were a toxic green, the same color as Plagg’s and Chat’s. But the entire eye was this color, the whites, the irises, and the pupils. 

His knuckles were white from clutching the umbrella too hard, and if Marinette had to describe his facial expression, she would have said feral. When those unnatural eyes turned on her she could feel the loathing, the hatred that emanated from this boy. 

Seeing him awake like this, Marinette could definitely feel a connection to him. Miraculous magic had definitely touched him, but it was tainted, twisted, even more sinister than Hawkmoth’s akumas. 

Lunging forward with a snarl, the boy moved to attack her, bringing the umbrella down in a vicious arc. Even with the reflexes she’d developed from her years of being Ladybug, Marinette was only barely able to dodge the attack, narrowly twisting out of the way, the umbrella crashing into the coffee table instead. 

The umbrella was a mess of broken wires and torn fabric. Marinette had to dodge the jagged bits of metal swinging towards her. She was fully aware that Tikki would have killed her for sticking around to see how she could help the boy. Logically she should have run away and called the police already. 

But Tikki wasn’t here right now and whoever this kid was, he needed help. Was that -- year, he had reopened at least one of his wounds, based on the blood on his bandages. 

“My name is Marinette,” she said, slowly and softly, the same voice reserved for wild animals and child akumas. “I just want to help you.”

He stared at her as she approached, taking a step back. She continued, “I found you bleeding in an alleyway, and you’re still hurt. Let me help you, please. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

On instinct, Marinette took a step forward. It should have proved to be a mistake when the boy lunged forward, snarling. He was really out for blood this time, but Marinette was prepared. When he first reached out, her hand darted out, catching his wrist. 

She was ready to wrench the appendage behind his back to subdue him, but it wasn’t necessary. At the contact of skin on skin, he stilled completely, eyes vacant as the toxic green faded from them, revealing a clear, stunning blue. Marinette couldn’t help when her breath caught. 

“Wha - Who are you? Where am I?” the boy asked in distressed English. He stumbled a step or two forward, nearly collapsing on the ground.

Marinette barely caught him, but she’d been bearing his weight since the moment she’d found him. Maneuvering him onto the couch was child’s play. 

“My name is Marinette,” she said, hoping her accent wasn’t too strong. It had been a while since she’d practiced her English. “I found you bleeding in an alleyway, so I brought you here to try and help you heal up. How are you feeling?” 

“A little like I got the crap beat out of me by a bunch of thugs,” the boy said with the barest suggestion of a smile. “And not to sound ungrateful, sweetheart, but why on earth would you bring me here instead of a hospital?” 

She closed her eyes for a few moments, seemingly deliberating on what to say. “I know this sounds crazy, but I had a hunch that this would be better. I really can’t tell you more than that. But how are you feeling? Why were you in that alleyway?” 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and his brain was obviously sorting through optional responses. Finally he simply said, “I don’t remember.” 

It was very obviously a lie, but Marinette took the response without question. She couldn’t share a lot of things with him, it was only fair to allow him secrets of his own.

“What should I call you then?” Marinette asked in response.

“You mean I’m staying?!”

Marinette blinked. “I can’t kick you out! You’re wounded and lost in Paris without your memory! I couldn’t just kick you out!” 

“Wait, I’m in Paris?!” the boy asked, totally blown away. “Like, Paris, France?!” 

“Yes?” Marinette pulled open a curtain, pointing to the barely visible Eiffel Tower that peeked over the nearby buildings. “So, any ideas about what I should call you? I can always make something up, but I’m told that I’m not the best with names.” 

“Just call me Jay,” the boy said, barely suppressing a yawn. “Jay will be fine.” 

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, you need some nutrients in you, Jay,” Marinette said, rising to retrieve a bowl of soup. 

While Marinette carefully fed the boy soup, spoonful by spoonful, unbeknownst to them their every move was watched by a group of kwamis. 

“Are you sure we can’t tell her, Plagg?” Tikki asked, eyes fixated on her holder. 

“He’s got a lot of destructive energy running through his body right now,” Plagg said, uncharacteristically serious. “I’m impressed at how quickly he recovered from this bout of destruction, this kid has a history with controlling his anger. But we need to find something to replace that anger, or it will get worse and worse until nothing is left of the kid.” 

“And what do we replace the anger with?” Pollen asked.

“The destruction is affecting his mind and his emotions, so he needs to create new positive emotions and relationships,” Tikki said defeatedly. “She just has to wait out those fits of rage, even though they’re directed at her.” 

“Lighten up, Sugar Cube,” Plagg said. “He calmed down when she touched him. That means he already trusts her, even though he can feel the Miraculous on her.” 

“Besides, they already kind of know each other,” Trixx pointed out. 

“What?” multiple voices chorused. 

“I’m the kwami of illusion, which means that I can see through disguises and stuff,” Trixx explained. “That boy is the one from three years ago, Marinette’s Robin that died! That kind of explains why she was able to calm him so quickly.” 

“So… what do we tell Marinette?” Kaalki asked. 

“For the boy to truly be healed, Marinette’s actions have to be genuine, with no ulterior motives, however well-intended,” Wayzz said gravely. “I’m afraid we cannot tell her anything. But fear not, Marinette has never let us down before.” 

Murmuring hesitant assent, the majority of the kwamis retreated. Tikki though, couldn’t pull herself away. 

Plagg sighed. “It will work out, Sugar Cube. Besides, when he died, a part of Marinette got locked away as well. This might be what finally brings her back to us.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Tikki said, eyes lingering on her holder. “Because if this ends badly, I don’t think Marinette will ever be the same again.”

*********************************

Note: Hey everyone, sorry for how long this chapter took. I’m a full-time college student with two jobs, so I can’t promise a lot of consistency. But seriously thank you for all of your eagerness and support! If you want to be tagged, just let me know, and let me know if I forgot anyone! 

*********************************

Taglist: 

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[sulphuryasecretcloset]

Oh...

(All this Paz and Raga talk has haunted me and resulted in this xD Attack of yet another one-shot with them; when a teenage Paz realizes ‘oh’ when it comes to Raga. Next one will feature Leave-it! :D )

-

It's been two months since he saw her last. It's the longest Paz and Raga have been apart for almost five years. He's absently punching at the training bag while waiting for her to show up.

“I thought your father had decided to run off with you forever!” Raga's voice declares.

Paz spins around to greet her, delighted to finally be reunited with his best friend. “There were complications.”

Raga makes a thoughtful hum under her helmet, throwing her training bag aside and cracking her knuckles as she steps forward. “I'm freaking jealous. I've been stuck here with Din and Barthor while you've been out, experiencing things and shooting people. It's not fair.”

She throws a punch that he easily dodges, but Paz frowns. There is something different about her.

“So?” Raga throws a second punch. He dodges that one too. “Tell me about what happened.”

Paz tilts his head and suddenly he realizes what he's staring at, what is different; Raga's top is curving sweetly over her chest in a way he hasn't noticed before.

-Boobs, his brain unhelpfully informs him.

Raga's third punch hits him directly in the visor and while he stumbles back a step, Raga makes a startled sound.

“What the hell, Paz?” She follows him. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt out there?”

Paz shakes his head, suddenly struggling to look at her. “No, uh, I'm fine. I just... I got distracted.” He clears his throat and goes into a combat position. “Let's go.”

Raga makes an excited sound. She loves it when she doesn't have to hold back, which Davarax always makes her do when training with the others. With Paz, she gets to go all the way.

And usually, that is no problem for Paz. Usually he's more than capable of blocking or taking the hits.

When Raga lands her fourth hit, hears him grunt in pain, she snorts angrily and places her hands on her hips. Wait. When did she get those hips? “Okay, Paz, what is wrong? Why are you acting like a weirdo. Even injured you should've been able to block that. Did something happen out there?”

Paz clears his throat and tries to keep from staring at her chest, keeps trying to move his visor away and failing as it continues to snap back. “It's nothing. It's, uh, I'm fine.”

“What are you...” Raga catches him looking, of course she does, and she makes a frustrated huff. “Paz. Really?”

Paz flings out an accusatory finger at her. “You didn't have those before!”

“Uh, yeah, I did. Duh.” Raga shoots back.

“No. You didn't! I would have noticed if you had boobs!” Paz snaps.

“They're my boobs. I think I know how long they've been there.” Raga counters, taking a step towards him.

“Fine. Whatever.” Paz takes a step back. “Let's just... train.”

They try, but when Raga lands one hit after another, she eventually loses her patience with his awkwardness.

“For the love of...” Raga grabs his hands and plants his palms to her chest. “It's just boobs. Okay?”

Paz flings himself away, loses his balance and ends up on his ass, staring up at her, his jaw dropping with utter shock, luckily hidden by his helmet. His palms are tingling with the memory of the softness they'd just been pressed against. He curls his hands into fists, but can't do much more than that. He's too shocked.

“There.” Raga leans forward, all smugness. “Out of your system? Can we get some actual training done now? And maybe you can actually tell me what you've been up to for these last two months?”

Paz scrambles up on his feet, clenching and opening his hands, again and again, trying to dispel the feeling. “Please tell me you haven't been doing that with Din and Barthor too?”

Raga laughs, shaking her head. “No. Of course not. Because they didn't act like weirdos. Nobody cares, Paz. Are we training or not?”

Oh, Paz begs to differ. He's willing to bet a LOT of souls have noticed and definitely care. A tense irritation is curling up tight in his belly. “Fine. Yeah. Let's.”

He manages somehow to stumble through one agonizingly long hour of trying not to stare and keep her from realizing he's staring, but after that day; Paz can't help but to notice that she's no longer that skinny, little, feral girl anymore.

She's calmer, filling out in all the right places and Paz can't quite decide what he hates the most; that he can't stop seeing it or that he observes so many others that are seeing it too. Suddenly the ones who had fled at the sight of her are very friendly and stepping into her personal space.

They keep a respectful distance whenever Paz is around, but they're quick to shower her with compliments when he's not. The creeps. She's way too good for any of them.

Six months later, Paz doesn't sleep at all the night after she happily informs him she's got her very first boyfriend. He doesn't know who the guy is, but he hates him already.

Two months after that, Paz awkwardly offers her a bag of snacks when she shows up in his room, tears in her voice, telling him how she'd punched her now ex-boyfriend in the throat when he'd dumped her for someone else.

Raga is still awesome, still one of the best fighters he's ever seen, still has his shitty sense of humor, it's just that she's getting more and more... well, more. He has a moment of absolute horror when she hugs him and he feels a jolt of want at the feeling of her curves and softness against him.  After he'd chosen to hang out with her instead of his girlfriend three times in a row, it takes a snarky comment from his girlfriend that maybe he should just date Raga instead of her to make him face the facts a little.

He's in love. Paz doesn't like to admit it, but he feels it in the marrow of his bones. He'd been drawn to Raga from the very first meeting and now he's feeling that puppy love turn into something that she would probably punch him in the throat for. Dammit, it's not his fault that she's turning hot! He hasn't changed, not like this at least, a deep voice and needing to shave was nothing like this, why did she have to change?

It's awkward. It's weird. Paz hates it.

Except for when he doesn't.

Like when she curls up to him on his bed and chatter away about something, and it feels so soft and so right that he wishes time would stop.

Or when she slams him to the floor during training, straddles his waist, all sweaty and smug, and he finds himself weak and increasingly turned on.

But she never looks his way. Never shows any sign of considering him as anything but boring, old Paz. She keeps flirting with others, but never him. She's clearly not into him and that's... fine.

It hurts, but it's fine. He can handle it. She doesn't owe him anything.

Paz just needs her in his life. He just needs his best friend.

He will watch over her, back her up when she needs it, and that will be enough.

-

Din is sharpening his latest vibro blade with slow, lazy movements, trying hard to ignore Paz sitting next to him. Din's ego, and his ribs, are still hurting from losing the practice fight to him yesterday.

One day, one fine day, he will be able to stand his ground against Paz. He knows it.

The sound of Raga laughing catches his attention and Din glances over. She's talking to one of the older boys from Telsk's group. Something which is of no interest to Din, so he shifts his gaze back to his blade.

Or, he means to. But on the way he notices that Paz' attention was drawn to Raga's laughter as well and there is something about him that makes Din's radar twitch. There is definitely something there...

And when Raga's suitor wraps an arm around her shoulders, Paz carefully lowers his visor, avoids the sight. Paz never avoids anything! Why would he...

Just like that, Din realizes. Hah. Paz has a crush! On Raga!

Oh, finally he has something to use against the big idiot. Din is going to torment the hell out of him.

But just as he is about to make his first verbal stab, Din sees Paz is quietly staring down at his own hands, slowly rolling a piece of wire between his gloved fingers, pensive and... vulnerable?

Din frowns. Strangely enough it feels like saying something would be wrong. There would be no honor in it. He doesn't mind punching Paz in his stupid helmet, rather likes it actually, but he doesn't want to hurt him. They've been through too much together for that.

Sighing, Din goes back to sharpening his blade. Fine. He'll keep quiet.

It won't take long for Raga to find out, anyway, as Din knows Paz is shit at keeping secrets.

[jinmukangwrites]

Graceful

The third and final instalment to the Grace Trilogy. We’ve come a long way bois.

Summary: sometimes, things take a turn for the worse, and the world feels like it’s falling apart. Wild’s always jumped at the chance to save someone else, but what happens when the favor is returned?

Warinings: To avoid spoilers, they’re in the tags.

Note: I gotta dedicate this. Like. I absolutely have to. This whole series I want to dedicate to @spacemalarkey​ and @fox-moblin​. Linni, I cannot thank you enough for how much you do for me, for always thinking of me and including me and being my go to person for bouncing ideas off. You helped with with so much and I swear you have been here since the beginning and that’s something I will always be grateful for. Ort, gal, my pal, my favorite cryptid, I love you, you are such an inspiration and your creativity always inspires me to try to be better with my own works. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t read Grace and deemed it good enough to reblog haha. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you two. It’s not like I’m not writing LU anymore lol, gonna keep writing for this amazing fandom. This fic just feels like a testament to how far I’ve come since Grace.

Anyway, who wants to cry?

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Twilight didn’t understand.

Before, he always questioned it. He would lie awake for hours into the night, tossing and turning on his sleeping mat, blankets tangling his legs and sweat dripping from his brow. Nightmare’s haunted him because of it, nightmares of a wild hearted boy jumping in front of a spear, in front of an invincible monster, in front of Twilight himself, to ultimately fall to the ground and never get back up, blood pooling besides the body.

Twilight never understood. He never understood why Wild was so ready and raring to put himself in the path of a killing blow, or any blow for that matter. He says it’s because he has the ability to come back and he may as well be the one to die and revive than Wind or Sky or Warrior or whoever that won’t come back.

Don’t get Twilight wrong. If someone else was in danger, he would gladly risk his life to save them. But that’s the game changer right there. Risk. Not willingly give away. Twilight believes in finding a way for everyone to survive. It was never about dying for his friends and country, it was about simply saving it.

Wild is hard wired about dying for it.

And Twilight didn’t understand.

He’s argued about it on multiple occasions. Ever since that first time where Wild took his own life to simply return stronger and finish the job, Twilight has found ways to argue about it. Thankfully, Wild eventually understood that letting himself die was heartbreaking for everyone there and a total abuse towards Mipha and her gift, but he’s still reckless. Reckless enough to get his neck snapped by a ball and chain. Reckless enough to push Sky out of the way of a charging bull and get hit himself. Reckless enough to take the arrow he saw heading towards Time’s head. Enough to get Four out of a booby trapped cavern first and ultimately get crushed by tons and tons of earth. Enough to pull Hyrule off from cracking ice and drown as a result, to eat an apple gifted to Warrior’s from a shady figure to prove it was poisoned, to charge unprepared into an enemy camp to save the newest hostage named Legend.

And he doesn’t do these things only for the group, but for innocent bystanders and travelers too.

Twilight would yell and yell Wild’s ear off whenever the little gremlin got himself hurt for others. He could have easily warned Sky or Time to get out of the way. Could have worked together with Four to get out quickly. Could of pulled Hyrule and himself off the ice. Could of could of could of. Wild never seemed to understand that risking your life is not always the first option. Still never understands it. He has this gift to come back from the dead and it’s gotten into his thick skull that if he can solve a particularly difficult problem by simply taking the blow and coming back, he’ll take it and there is nothing wrong with it.

Twilight never understood. It’s gotten Wild angry with him. Wild would try to make Twilight understand and Twilight would just get more and more agitated until finally they are separated via Time’s orders so they can calm down and call it a night.

Twilight would say how much he cares for Wild and he doesn’t want to see him dead. Wild would shoot back the same sentence with so much ferocity that Twilight is forced to let it go. At least he isn’t killing himself like he had done the first time, Twilight says to himself, at least he’s accepting health potions and fairies for his injuries even when they’re low in supply. At least Wild isn’t literally killing himself to save them.

But it isn’t stopping him from willingly and thoughtlessly putting himself in danger.

Twilight never understood.

He understands now.

There’s fire. And a lot of it.  Twilight has only heard about the beasts that they’re up against, only seen the dead carcasses littering the plains and forests of Wild’s world.

“They’re all dead,” Wild had said with a almost reverent certainty the first time they had stumbled upon a corpse of a Guardian, “they died when Zelda and I defeated Calamity Ganon. All they’re good for now is scraps.”

A lot of strange stuff has been going on lately with all their worlds. They should have guessed, or at least prepared, for the possibility of one waking up and attacking. But they didn’t prepare. None of them, not even Wild himself, were ready for when the first eye blinked open with a menacing red flash and pushed itself out from the rubble that has tried to bury it over the years. A blood colored laser blinked to life and trained itself within moment’s onto Wind, a steady heartbeat of beeping piercing into the air, and Twilight, everyone, was frozen in spot because of fear, terror, horror, all those fun emotions. Thankfully, Wild knocked himself out of it pretty quickly, muscle memory forcing his hands to his bow before his brain could catch up. He loaded an arrow and shot it at the mechanical monster’s eye and a zing echoed in the air as the Guardian stumbled backwards on its eight legs, startled, but not a scratch.

“Run!” Wild screamed.

And oh, they did. Or they really tried to. If the Hero of the Wild was screaming at you to haul ass out of a fight you better listen. They would have probably gotten away before the Guardian found its bearings, but they were stopped in their tracks as another metal beast crawled over a close by hill, dragging a single injured leg behind it with its five remaining ones, it’s laser trained on Time who was leading the retreat.

So the next, logical, thing to do would be to turn and run to the left or the right, but a third Guardian, barely scooting across the ground with two working limbs, crawled from the side and the first one was now recovered and they found themselves surrounded, fighting their way out quickly becoming the only option out of this. The laser pointing at Time fired and they all jumped out of the way but the explosion sent them flying into different directions and the flames lit the ground despite how the morning dew still coated the grass.

They scrambled, Time stumbling from a very nasty burn on his leg and Four clutching his arm to his chest towards a particularly large boulder on the other side of the Guardian that had just fired at them. The other two had their lasers trained, the one that had fired was beginning the process of loading up its weapon. It was the safest route.

They thankfully managed to dodge around the second guardian towards the boulder and get behind the makeshift shelter before any shots can hit them. The boulder shook from the pure force of the deadly projectile hitting it straight on and fire blasted around the corners, making Sky (who was closest to the edge) cry out in shock as the flames licked his sailcloth.

“What do we do?” Time demanded, already they can hear the heavy steps of the monsters figuring out where their prey had gotten to. They had minutes at most to make a plan before the Guardians realized that they didn’t disappear, but were hiding.

The tortured, panicked, wide-eyed look Wild gave Time almost broke Twilight’s heart. The kid was always so sure about himself. Always having some sort of plan no matter how reckless or crazy it was. Right now, Wild looked lost, scared.

“Take them out one at a time?!” Wild said, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal range. “I don’t know! I’ve never fought three at the same time! I- go for the legs, the Master Sword would be best but any strong weapon will do. If it aims at you, fire it’s eye. Get them immobile- I-”

Wild looked at the verge of a panic attack, his eyes glistened and a hand went up to his arm, his scarred arm, like he was trying to pull himself together.

Another explosion hits the boulder, and another right after. Twilight brought his hands to his head as the structure behind them shook and chunks of rock fell down on them. They’ve ran out of time. The Guardian’s know that they’re there, and they want a fight.

“Sky,” Time barked over the roaring sound of fire around them, “take the Master Sword and get the legs of the least injured one. Wild, go with him. You’ll shoot the eye. Twilight, Four, and Legend, you three get two legged one, work together to get it’s legs. Legend, you’re on eye duty. Wind, Hyrule, Warrior, you’re with me. Wind, you’re in charge of the eye.”

At that was it. A barely thought out plan that everyone hardly had any time to agree or disagree to before a final blast broke their boulder in two. Everyone ran into battle, crying out, splitting off to their assigned enemies without a second thought.

And that’s where they are now. Fighting for their life.

Legend is a master of the bow. Not as good as Wild, but good enough. Good enough to release an arrow mid run and hit their target head on. Four bolted forward, lifting his sword into the air and jamming it into the first leg of the monster. Gears screeched together as the Guardian stumbles, but Twilight doesn’t wait for it to recover before he too is beginning his attack.

For a second, it all goes good. There is only two working legs and Four and Twilight each, with the support of Legend released an arrow every few moments, manage to shatter both of them. The Guardian crumbles to the ground, leaving it open for them to attack it’s body and within minutes, the eye shatters and blinks pitifully, metal bits falling as if relaxing in death.

For a second, Twilight thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

That was his mistake.

Because right after that second, Wind is screaming in pain as the guardian they were fighting manages to make a blow before Wind could stun it. Twilight spins on heel and takes in the complete chaos across from him. Time is rolling on the ground violently because of a leg that hit him, Hyrule is just managing to dodge to frantic legs above him, and Wind is scrambling to his feet, clutching his side, blood dripping down his forehead and fire singing his tunic.

Then another explosion shakes the ground as a misfired laser from the Guardian Wild and Sky are tag teaming on just manages to miss the group but explodes the earth past them, fire and debris shooting into the air like an evil monster itself, spreading it’s tendrils to destroy everything it touches.

The Guardian Sky is working on is thankfully stunned and injured thanks to a particularly nasty arrow sticking out at an odd angle in its eye, but it’s now firing rapidly, its four remaining legs frantically trying to find purchase.

“Legend- Four-” Twilight starts.

“On it, Twi,” Four says, grabbing Legends hand and rushing towards Time and the others. Twilight swallows and sprints in the opposite direction, towards Wild who is dodging out of the way of a misfired laser that almost didn’t miss.

Twilight grabs the bow on his back and shoots the Guardian again, hitting right in the middle of its eye and shattering the glass just a bit more. The metal creature seems to groan as its head spins around desperately looking for its target, but it jolts to the side as the Master Sword takes out yet another leg.

Wild nods in thanks and loads his own bow, firing at the eye, and Twilight rushes forwards, re taking his sword and slamming it into one of the remaining legs. There’s a couple close calls, this Guardian is a lot more fidgety and trigger happy than the other one Twilight somehow managed to defeat, but eventually, the last leg shatters with a mighty swing from Sky’s sword and the thing comes crashing down to the earth with a thud, firing fearfully into the air.

Wild runs forward and slams his sword down into it’s eye, sinking his weapon down into the hilt. Glass shatters and the Guardian shutters, blinking sadly, and shutting off with a pitiful whir.

Okay, Twilight thinks, now it can all get better now. There’s one left and Wild said he can fight these things one on one. He turns, Sky walking next to him, Wild climbing down from the dead beast.

The other guardian is literally on its last leg with the combined efforts of the rest of the group, it’s laser is blinking on Legend, who’s standing in front of an injured Wind, but Legend has his bow trained and is at that second releasing his arrow. His aim is true, but Twilight knows right then that something is horribly wrong.

The last Guardian’s laser was too loaded, too powered up to be simply shut off. It is knocked backwards, and the last leg breaking courtesy of Hyrule made it so it was looking directly at Wild when it finally released that explosive energy.

Twilight didn’t think. But in that moment, he understood.

He finally understood.

It the heat of the moment, Twilight didn’t have time to think about the options. About the consequences. About the ways everyone will make it out alive. He just surged forward, grabbed Wild by the shoulders, and shoved the kid behind him.

And then heat. Fire.

Agony.

His ears are ringing. He can’t breath. His skin feels hot and cold at the same time for a second and then he can feel nothing at all. Numbness takes over, and he’s left choking for air, staring up at the sky blocked by smoke. Orange flames lick the corner of his vision and that’s all he’s aware of. The fire. The smoke. The knives stabbing into his lungs with every breath he tries to take, even as the blurry outline of hands grab onto his tunic and drags him away from the fire.

The edges of his sight blur, his chest shutters, and he blinks and blinks and blinks until he can’t no more.

The last thing he’s aware of is Wild kneeling over him, trails of wetness glistening red with the fire running down his cheeks. There’s a cut on his chin, hair a little singed, but otherwise okay.

He’s okay.

And Twilight understands.

And with that, all the pain and worry leaves Twilight, and he enters the blackness of unconsciousness without any resistance.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Time didn’t know what… drew him towards Twilight.

From the first moment Time laid his eyes on the kid, he knew he would do anything to protect him, even before he figured out Twilight is a descendant. There’s just something about him that makes Time go crazy with protective urges and… almost attempts at parental guidance.

Time cares for each of the heroes on their group. Each have something so incredibly special about them, and their youth didn’t help with Time’s slow descent into “Dad Friend” territory, but Twilight was something… different.

If it was the way the kid instantly worried about others before himself, or the way he fought with a feral viciousness, or the intelligence that was always present in his gaze… whatever the case, Time eventually found that he saw himself in Twilight. And instead of that being a comfort, it made him almost go insane with worry. He wanted nothing more than to teach the kid to be himself, to not worry so much, to take the moment as it came, but he could never find the moments to teach those. Plus, Twilight always looked at him with a gaze that screams: “Don’t even start with me, old man” before he can even work up the courage to talk to him about it.

It takes a lot of courage to scold Twilight.

More courage than what Time had.

He planned to maybe leave him for Malon to chew out the next time they ended up at the ranch. Perhaps corner him in a quiet forest. Possibly just spit it out on the trail. Get him to understand that he’s young, and he doesn’t need to worry about everything, all the time, all day. He doesn’t need to swing his sword so hard, doesn’t need to lose sleep over other’s problems, doesn’t need to remember he has his own issues he should work out until it’s too late.

What a load of good those plans turned out to be, especially since Twilight is practically on his deathbed.

Or the “on the road” equivalent to it.

It’s a race against the clock, a race that Time can’t help but feel like they are losing. They were not prepared for a battle like Wild’s Guardians, they were not prepared for wounds or cuts or third degree burns. With the world constantly fading and morphing around them, they sometimes don’t have enough red potions or fairies for a broken leg, let alone burns so horrid that the scarred, blistering tissue of Twilight’s body outnumbers the unblemished.

One red potion. Courtesy of Four. Enough to stop most of the bleeding, but the burns are still so bad that Twilight is stuck in a perpetual fever and it’s only getting worse.

They have to find civilization, and fast.

And it doesn’t help that the world is no longer Wild’s, and no one recognizes the forest around them. The most they can do is walk until somebody recognizes where they are, the constant worry of maybe a town is in the opposite direction nagging at each of their brains.

Maybe they are somewhere in Twilight’s time, and none of them would know until they either find civilization or Twilight wakes up.

Finding civilization seems more likely.

Time winces when Warrior stumbles a little, jostling the makeshift stretcher they made with blankets, branches, and rope to tie it all together. Everyone has injuries, and with the single health potion being used to buy Twilight more time, Warrior is forced to push through a sprained ankle. Wind is the worst off from them all, sporting painful burns on his side and chest and various other cuts. He has a fever and is now half delirious from pain and exhaustion, forced to be carried along on the back of Sky. He isn’t in… immediate danger. He still needs medical attention. The rest of them thankfully all just have minor scrapes and bruises, a burn here and there but not enough to do much more than sting persistently.

Besides Twilight and Wind, it’s the emotional wounds that Time is more worried about.

Especially Wild.

Who hasn’t said a word in over five hours.

And there isn’t much Time can do about it. All Time can do is reposition his grip on the stretcher, ask Warrior if he needs to switch with someone, and let Four quickly check over Twilight.

“How is he?” Time asks.

Four sighs and pulls his hand away from Twilight’s forehead. The answer is in his pinched eyebrows and red rimmed eyes. “He needs help, old man,” Four replies softly after a second.

Time nods. And they continue their walk, because there is nothing more that they can do.

Time tries not to think about Wild, a few paces behind, hugging his arms around his body like he will crumble.

The walk continued, and no signs of human life ever presented itself. Warrior eventually had to switch with Legend so he could lean on Hyrule and give his injured ankle a much needed break. The walking only got slower from there, the weight of the stretcher and the body placed upon it only seemed to get heavier.

The sun travels. The forest continues.

Twilight begins to vomit blood in his sleep.

And that’s when any hope in the group shattered.

They were forced to stop. Moving Twilight any more would just quicken the inevitable. A grim mood falls over the group and the realization that unless help found them, Twilight is not going to make it. The least they could do is… make sure it’s not too painful.

They made a nest for him and placed him a generous distance away from the fire to not overheat him but also not to let the bite of the cooling night creep in too much. The mood of the group is grim. Time puts it upon himself to keep everyone together despite him wanting to break down himself. He stopped Hyrule from stomping off into the forest, a sword at his hip. He made sure Wind wasn’t alone as he sulked by the campfire by sending Four over to talk to him, maybe encourage him to allow them to change his bandages. He broke apart the argument Legend was trying to start with Sky for no reason at all. Warrior has closed in on himself and has announced that he will continue walking into the forest to find help, but Time forced him to sit down so he could better look at his ankle, trying to will Warrior to understand that there is nothing in their power to do, no matter how it pains the both of them.

Wild is at Twilight’s bedside. A solid arms distance away. Curled up in himself and simply staring at the bandages and scarred flesh.

Time may have told himself that he will make sure everyone is together and okay this night, but for many reasons he just couldn’t bring himself to quite confront Wild yet. He didn’t see what happened, but he saw the aftermath, and Sky saw it so he was told the details in quiet whispers a little while after. Twilight shoved Wild out of the way so he could protect the younger from the misfired blast of a Guardian.

Wild blames himself. Time doesn’t have any doubts about it. Wild is so ready to risk his life for others, but the second someone does it for him he goes to a place so deep in his own mind that Time isn’t sure that he can pull him back out without a fight. This is why Time has been dreading the moment he’ll have to talk to the kid, but he also knows Wild will do nothing but damage himself if left to his own thoughts. It’s already beginning, the distance Wild has set between himself and Twilight is a clear indicator of that.

Warrior clears his throat and Time is brought out of his worries, looking up from the makeshift split he’s been setting on Warrior’s injury. Warrior has a look in his eyes that lets Time know that they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

“I can talk to him,” Warrior says, voice low so no one but Time hears.

Time almost wants to agree. Warrior is fully capable of this task. He doesn’t talk too much about his trials, but Time does know he has lead armies into battle, into war. It’s in his name. He’s seen stuff like this before. Time’s sure he’s witnessed soldiers collapse in the heat of a fight; good soldiers, soldiers with friends and family waiting for them. Time could put this on him and let Warrior deal with the fallout of telling the hard truth to a boy who does not want to listen, to a boy who will only blame himself.

But Time also knows that he cannot dump this on Warrior. Time is responsible for the group, and he’s probably one of the only ones to truly know and understand Twilight.

The most important person in the entire world to Twilight wasn’t Zelda. It wasn’t Midna. Or Colin. Or Ilia.

It was Wild.

And that fierce… love went both ways.

No, no Time can’t let Warrior take the fall. The man may be a captain, a seasoned hero of war, but, in this group, Time is the leader. It’s his responsibility. He’s the only one that can do it.

“See if Four needs any help making dinner,” Time says, trying to give Warrior both a grateful and determined expression. Warrior studies him for a second, glances at Wild, then sighs.

“I trust you, old man,” he consents, though his voice still sounds stern, his look giving away nothing as he stands up and limps towards Four whose smacking Hyrule’s hand away with the spoon.

Time sighs and glances back over at Wild and Twilight, his heart tightening in his chest with indescribable worry and fear.

Don’t be a coward, Time. Rip it off like a bandage. Get it done and over with. Worry about the fallout later.

Finally, Time stands up, and before he could even hesitate he begins to walk towards the kid that’s supposed to be cooking right now. Towards the young man that’s losing the battle for his life. Towards two heroes desperately hurting in very different ways.

Time sets himself down next to Wild, and Wild doesn’t react. He just stares at Twilight and somehow manages to press his knees even closer to his chest. He doesn’t even spare a sideways look.

Slowly, with much unsurety, Time lowers a hand down onto Wild’s shoulder. Wild stiffens slightly, and usually that stiffening would go away after a few moments… but this time it sticks around. Time doesn’t let that deter him. He can’t afford to let it.

“How are you holding up?” Time asks.

Wild doesn’t respond, just takes a deep breath and lets it out. For a moment, Time really thinks that there will be no getting through to Wild. He’s too deep in his grief. Too deep to be pulled out by a few words and touches.

But then, Wild responds right when Time was about to jot this down as a hopeless venture.

“He won’t last the night,” Wild says, his voice thick. Wobbly.

Time swallows and follows Wild’s gaze down to Twilight, and for the first time since the incident, Time really looks at his protege. The skin not inflamed and blistered is pale and sickly green. Sweat is glistening off every inch of skin, soaking the bandages hiding the tendril like burns embracing his body. He matches Wild in the worst way possible. Destroyed tissue on his face, ear gone, scabs and puss staining the white cloth woven around his chest. He looks horrible. Looks like death. He’s probably in unimaginable pain and Time can’t help but think that Twilight not lasting the night would be a mercy.

“No,” Time croaks, “he won’t.”

Wild’s stiff shoulder suddenly jolts as he tightens his hold around himself, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat as he presses his eyes against his knees. Time sits there as Wild breaks apart, as another sob physically wracks through his small frame.

“It’s my fault,” Wild whimpers. “It’s all my fault…”

“No, cub,” Time says, heat threatening to break through his tear ducts, “it isn’t your fault-”

Wild only cries harder and Time does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his shoulders and presses the boy into his chest, holding him as tight as he can as Wild fully lost control of himself, cries of anguish and pain shooting out into the night. It’s loud, not a single emotion holding back, but Time doesn’t attempt to hush him. No one turns a judgmental eye towards them, all of them perhaps thinking the same thing.

It’s about time someone broke.

Time whispers every comfort he knows into Wild’s hair as he glances up at the others. Legend is leaning against a tree, glaring at the fire with a suspicious glisten in his eyes. Sky has Hyrule pulled under his arm in a comforting one armed hug, Hyrule’s shoulders shaking slightly while Sky glances at Time with an alone tear trailing down his cheek. Four and Warrior has stopped cooking, and by the looks of the pot sitting just off the fire, they have given up at it; neither are crying but both look very ready to, especially Warrior as Wind climbs into his lap and grasps around his waist, a look of pure sadness screwing up his youthful features.

Liquid finally breaks through, and Time doesn’t wipe the army of tears trailing down his face for a very long time.

Twilight stops breathing twice in the night.

They weren’t able to save him the second time.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Wild’s angry. Beyond angry.

The rage in his gut burnt with a fiery passion and the tree that came in front of him and his sword didn’t see it coming.

Neither did his now shattered sword.

But… that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now he’s just numb.

He doesn’t quite know how to… face it anymore. Anger, sadness, the whole process of grief didn’t work. It still hurts, It still clutches his heart and tear through his chest with every blink of his eyes, every flash of fire that came with each blink. It repeats, over and over and over and Wild’s pretty sure he’s tried everything to quench the guilt, the pain, and every time he ends up back at square one.

Alone.

He’s alone.

Alone and numb.

Numb because what’s the point of feeling anymore? All feeling does is hurt him, all feeling does is get the people he cares about killed.

It’s killed Mipha. Urbosa. Daruk. Ravio. It’s sentenced Zelda to 100 years of torture and solitude. It’s sent soldiers to die. It’s sent fields to burn. Mountains to fall. Dragons to become ill. Guardians to turn. So many people have died, gotten hurt, had their lives destroyed because of a boy named Link who decided to pull a sword out of stone, who thought he could be a hero.

All feeling is good for is causing a mess and leaving him to clean it up.

Twilight is just another name to add to the list.

So… he’s numb. The world passed easier that way. He made it through the funeral. The words they all said, that he stayed silent through. He made it through their group stumbling upon Ordon Village like some sick joke from the goddesses just a few hours later. Made it through Time telling the families there that their boy isn’t coming home. Made it through the crying children, the sobbing young woman beating against Time’s chest, the empty house filled with memories of a life snuffed out, the horse named Epona nipping at all their ears as if asking “Where is mine?”

He made it through all that without another temper tantrum. Without another break down, or panic attack, or any ugly crocodile tears. Made it through without saying a word even. He hardly remembers any of it, just the major details that his brain will naturally store away for him to remember in his nightmares. He has even avoided the temptations to grab his slate and hyper focus on every picture of Twilight that he has.

Because that hurts.

Numbness is better.

Yes, numbness is so much better, he thinks as he sits alone in a small clearing leading to a beautiful spring occupying a rather majestic stream of knee high waterfalls. He has just managed to avoid Time once again—the old man has been giving him a lot of looks lately and Wild is getting rather frustrated with them—and took off into the paths leading outside of the village he can’t wait to leave. He walked without purpose, only wanting to get away and not have the constant inkling at the back of his mind that tells him to tell them what really happened. Tell them all that Twilight didn’t die heroically, he died protecting a kid who can come back from the dead easily. He died trying to be a hero, only got himself killed in the process. If Twilight was thinking, he would have known that Wild might die from that blast, but he would have quickly came back. Twilight should have left it alone. He should have stepped aside and let the beam kill Wild for the second time in his life.

Instead, he got himself dead for a useless purpose. It’s Wild’s fault, he should have been paying attention so Twilight didn’t even feel the need to shove him back.

His fault…

No, no be numb.

He sighs and looks at the clearing and spring around him. It’s gorgeous here, and for a second he wonders if Twilight ever spent time here, if he ever played in that spring water or sat in this very spot watching the fish. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to maybe banish those thoughts as well because they hurt and he really doesn’t want to hurt any more. He really doesn’t want to think about how even if Twilight used to spend time at this spring that his presence will never grace this place again.

Being alone is a bad idea, he realizes as he glares at the waters, thinking is a bad idea too, but thinking comes when one’s alone and he was never good at meditation.

But he also thinks being back at that village with his comrades and the kind strangers is a bad idea too. Wild can feel himself be wound tight light a string tied between two wild boars trying to run in the opposite directions. He’s succeeded for so long at ignoring the aching in his chest, but it isn’t like this is the first time he’s done this to avoid the hurting and churning. He’ll snap soon. He knows he will. It’s only a matter of time, and he’d rather do it silently and alone than loudly and with company.

A lung full of air. Out. The ripples in the water reflect the golden sunset. In. Breath wobbles. Out. Tears sting. In… his heart clenches. Out… the first unwanted whimper escapes.

In. A tear falls.

Out. His head sinks to his knees.

In.

He wants to scream.

Out.

He’s too busy biting his lips.

In…

Out… It’s his fault.

In… He didn’t get to say goodbye.

His breath catches.

He cant breath out. He’s sobbing now, his ears ringing. His brain is screaming at him to pull himself together, that he should just suck it up and ignore it like he’s done for so long—but then his heart clenches and he knows that he just let the dam burst. There’s no hope to stop the waters, they come out with every gasp, every whimper, every cry, every action to curl tighter and tighter within himself, and they’ll keep flowing until there’s no more water to flow, until he can work up the strength to build up the walls again.

It hurts. He hates it so much. Everything hurts.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda…

Twilight.

He cries harder. Faces. Names. Voices. It’s all too loud, and now instead of trying to ignore it he’s trying to drown it out with his own cries, his own pain. Maybe, if he shows how much he hurts, how much agony he’s in, the faces and blame will leave him alone for a little while longer. If he screams loud enough into his legs and arms, the voices will dim. If he-

Something brushes against his fingertips, and he’s startled out of his own misery, head shooting up to find that his fingers are resting in the golden, rippling water of the spring. His shoes are drowned up to his ankles, and his butt is soaked. Somehow, the water has risen, and now he’s sitting in it.

He blinks, wiping the tears from his cheeks and taking a gasping breath of air, and he looks at the waterfalls, trying to figure out how the water even rose in the first place. Oceans have tides, springs don’t. Or at least he doesn’t think they do. Not that it matters, he’s just… thankful that it managed to bring him out of his agony so it didn’t have to take it’s own time fading.

Something flashes at the top of the spring, at the third and highest waterfall section, and he blinks when the form of a silver creature catches his eye.

His breath catches in his throat when the figure comes a bit closer.

A wolf.

Thousand’s of emotions flicker through his head like a slideshow and he holds his breath as the wolf jumps down the first section of waterfall. It’s fur is a beautiful, glittering silver color that glitters like there’s a bucket of stars connected into each strand. He doesn’t even think to run or grab his sword, he’s too transfixed as the creature jumps down the next section and there’s not a single splash. Down the last and there’s white, familiar patterns on the muzzle and forehead of the creature.

He doesn’t dare breathe. If he breathes, whatever he’s seeing could turn out to be a sick joke.

The wolf pads towards him, head tilted slightly and those blue, blue eyes flashing with sadness and worry.

And then, the silver fur ripples like the pond it’s walking on. Flashing a pure gold and morphing to a taller, more human figure colored in grays and glowing whites like the moon. If Wild had blinked, one second a wolf would be tilting its head at him and the next he would be smiling down.

But he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He’s terrified to.

“Hey, cub,” Twilight says, smiling.

And curse it, the dam breaks again, though, not in the same way as before.

He scrambles to his feet, golden water dripping from his clothes and splashing upwards with every desperate, running step he takes further into the spring. The smile on his face widens as Wild gets closer, but Wild can hardly even see through his tears as he launches himself forward in one last, desperate burst.

For a second, terror clutches his heart that he’s going to close his arms but they will only go through, but it’s too late to stop his arms, too late to stop his body, and the pure joy that fills his entire soul when he physically crashes into Twilight is intoxicating. If he’s dreaming, he will make the most of it and hold Twilight as tight as he can.

Twilight laughs and encloses his own arms around Wild’s body as they both stumble. Twilight sinks into the water and they fall together into the spring, drops splashing upwards and soaking both of them.

They hold each other. Wild has no plans on stopping as the tears fall again, as his chest lurches with his cries. Twilight doesn’t seem to mind a whole lot, in fact he helps position them both so they’re more cuddling compared to the mess of limbs they were before. The coolness of the running water ripples against their clothes and skin like a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild chokes out after what must have been half an hour of just sitting there, hugging, and crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, cub,” Twilight soothes, “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. It was me, I made the decision.”

That makes Wild cry harder. His throat, stomach, and chest hurts so much.

“It’s alright, I’m here, it’s all okay, cub. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you again, I should have found you sooner.”

Wild shakes his head, because Twilight is trying to push the blame onto himself and nothing is okay, but he can’t work up the strength to argue anymore. He lets Twilight hold him as his shutters and gasping stops, lets Twilight continue to hush him and whisper comforts until there’s nothing but the spring water to pierce the silence of the evening forest.

It’s peaceful. Somehow, Wild feels more at peace than what he has felt in months. He doesn’t want to break it.

Twilight breaks it.

“I can’t stay much longer, cub,” he whispers and Wild bites his lip.

He knows how this works. Spirits can never stay long.

“I needed to see you,” Twilight continues, his voice sad, “and I needed to give you something.”

Wild lets Twilight grab his hands and help him to his feet. They’re both soaking, but the chilly breeze and the low sun doesn’t seem to affect either of them. He forces himself to look up at Twilight who is now standing just a arms distance away. His smile is sad, eyes glistening.

He opens his mouth, and cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. It’s so Twilight. It’s so him. The guy is like a child doing a bad impression of an adult in an actual adults body. He’s trying to be serious, to the point, factual, but Twilight is just as an emotional mess as Wild is, and he can never keep a straight face long even in the most serious of topics.

Wild feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“Look, I… I did what I did and I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid,” Twilight says and Wild’s lips thin, already preparing himself for the inevitable lecture. Trust Twilight to come back as a spirit and “give” him a lecture. Twilight must catch sight of Wild’s nonplussed expression because his face suddenly breaks out in to a splitting smile accompanied this time by a genuine laugh.

“Okay, okay, how about we leave that to the old man, huh?” He jokes.

“Why… are you here?” Wild asks, and man does his voice sound unused. Raw.

Twilight licks his lips and brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I… I can’t just leave you. Alone. I can’t. I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He sucks in a deep breath and Wild watches with wide eyes as Twilight reaches towards his chest and there’s a bright flash of golden light that has Wild blinking spots from his eyes. Within a second, Twilight is standing before him with an orb cradled in his hands, a blood red color.

Twilight isn’t looking at Wild, but down at the orb like he himself is fascinated by it. The corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards and he sighs. “Go, and do not falter, my child,” he says softly, as if to himself, but Wild doesn’t get to question it because Wild looks up at with with a set jaw and determined eyes. “Take it.”

“I-”

“Cub. Please. I love you so much. The gods gifted me this form in life… I want you to take it, and be safe. I have no need for it anymore.”

He holds out his hands and Wild cups the orb in his hands, waterworks starting up again, but he quickly wipes them away with his shoulder as the warmth of the orb dissolves in his palms, spreading over his fingers like a liquid and trailing up his arms to the center of his chest, where there’s a burst of golden light and the familiar feeling of something greater than himself entering his being. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Suddenly, he’s pulled back into a fierce hug and Wild grasps onto Twilight’s clothes because he knows, he knows it’s almost over. It’s almost time to part. To say goodbye.

“Promise me, cub” Twilight whispers into his hair, “promise me you will be safe.”

“I… I promise.”

-o-o-o-o-

At first, he was afraid.

Now, he’s loved.

He’s running, faster than what he’s ever ran before. The world is at his heels, branches and leaves whip past his snout as he pushes harder, faster, breathing hard and going going going-

Going where? Not sure yet.

All he knows is that… he’s free. The world is nothing but a blur zipping past his gaze, streaking past his pumping legs, left behind his tail.

He never wanted Revali’s Gale, or Urbosa’s Fury, or Daruk’s Protection.

He never wanted Mipha’s Grace.

The thought of owning the powers of his dead comrades, dead friends, set his stomach in a knot, but they were always useful. He learned to get used to it. Learned to appreciate the gifts he was given and use them in the best way he knew how.

He never wanted this gift either. Goddess, if you were to tell him that someday the Hero of Twilight would pass away, would sacrifice himself to save him, and then give him a very special ability that was such a huge part of who Twilight was… he probably would have thrown hands.

But… it’s been a few months since that meeting, since the funeral, since the death. Wild has learned to… appreciate it. Twilight is right, this gift definitely made him feel less alone. Every time he uses it (at first reluctantly, now whenever he gets the chance), he can feel Twilight watching over him from some unknown plane of existence. He can feel the warmth, and it’s not the dirty blond fur on his body radiating that heat. It’s a different kind of heat.

“I know you’ll find this gift useful,” Twilight had said, before he finally faded away, “I certainly did. Whenever you use it, I want you to remember how many people are there for you, how many people would fight for you. There are so many of them. Take it. Use it. Twilight’s Love is now yours… well, it always has been.”

Wild howls, feeling strong, feeling free, feeling loved, as he pushes himself faster up the hill, tongue lolling out of his panting jaws. Someone calls out his name and he sprints harder, barreling through the grass and jumping into the open arms of none other than Wind. Wind laughs from the bottom of his stomach, small fingers climbing up and latching themselves into Wild’s fur. Time stands off a small distance, the others not far behind, all smiling.

A broken family, all doing their best to remain strong.

And there’s something graceful about that, isn’t there?

[rubyspearsmegamanproject]

1. Escape From Skull Fortress

ESCAPE FROM SKULL FORTRESS:

A bright light wakes Mega Man up. Mega Man winces from the brightness of the light shining into his eyes. We see Dr. Wily approach him, which reveals to us that he has been captured and is restrained on a table, his arm cannon communicator having been disabled, preventing him from contacting Dr. Light. "Greetings, Mega Man! Welcome to my humble abode!" he says to Mega Man. "What do you want from me this time, Wily!?" Mega Man angrily asks him. Dr. Wily tells him what he's planning on doing to him, mainly scanning his brain to glean personal and private information from it before he reprograms him to evil. He has to get the necessary equipment to do so, so he leaves the room temporarily having Guts man and Cut Man stand guard over Mega Man. Guts Man and Cut Man have fun taunting and threatening Mega Man but little do they know that Mega Man is secretly undoing his restraints. "Not so tough now, are ya Mega Chump?" Guts Man says to Mega Man. Cut Man tells him "Breaking out of those restraints isn't going to cut it this time!" Dr. Wily comes back with the equipment and he and the robots masters assemble it into a beam like device. Dr. Wily explains to Mega Man that the device will extract information from his brain. "Don't worry," he tells Mega Man "It won't hurt....that much! Mwa ha ha ha ha!" He starts to use the device on Mega Man and is 25% complete with getting his information when, due to being excited about Mega Man joining their side, Guts Man swings his arms around and damages the device. A very angry Dr. Wily scolds Guts Man and has his robots take him away and leaves the room to get supplies to repair the machine. Mega Man manages to free himself from his restraints and sneaks out of the room.

He creeps by Bright Man as he is patrolling the halls of Skull Fortress. Mega Man does not have Rush or even Eddie, so he has to get out of Skull Fortress on his own without their assistance. Mega Man goes through the fortress, sneaking across wall after wall, looking for a way out. He nearly runs into Elec Man, who tries to zap him with his weapon. "You're not supposed to be here! Hold still so I can shock you!" he cries out as he uses his weapon. Mega Man blasts him and takes his weapon, but the commotion alerts some Batontons that were flying above as security robots. The Batontons attack him, but Mega Man uses his newly acquired weapon to destroy them. Mega Man is safe, for now. As he gets closer to the  next area of the fortress, he hears terrible singing and music. As he gets closer to the area, the singing and music appear to be coming out of a nearby room. The source of the singing and music is Guts Man, doing kareoke in the rec room. Mega Man quietly chuckles to himself at the terrible singing coming out of Guts Man, then moves on.

Mega Man walks over a walkway in a large, wide room. He is careful not to alert the guard bots with flashlights. The grate he is on gives in due to his weight, and he falls though the walkway onto the floor, with all of the guard bots' flashlights shining on him. One of the guard bots alerts Dr. Wily. "Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" one of the guard bots cries out. Dr. Wily comes on the intercom and tells all of the robot masters to capture Mega Man on sight, and that he wants him in one piece. Mega Man runs for his life. He nearly gets zapped by Spark Man. Mega Man fires a shot at his face to blind him. He runs off while Spark Man is still dazed from the shot. He almost runs into Flash Man, who uses his weapon and freezes him in his tracks. Mega Man can't help but look around as the other robot masters grab him and take him back to Dr. Wily.

This time, Dr. Wily has him in a liquid filled capsule. He presses a button on the console at the bottom of the capsule, and small wires attach themselves to Mega Man. "Maybe 60,000 volts will change your mind..." Dr. Wily tells Mega Man "...literally! Mwa ha ha ha ha! Mega Man simply scowls at him. "Do your worst, Wily!" Mega Man yells at the evil robot scientist. The wires shock Mega Man into submission. Mega Man tells Dr. Wily that he can do whatever he wants with him, but he has to leave Dr. Light and his family alone. Dr. Wily tells him that after he is reprogrammed, he will have him destroy them as his first order. He laughs maniacally and leaves behind a shocked Mega Man. Proto Man emerges from the shadows and tells him that he doesn't want him over to his side as it wouldn't be as fun and that he is a worthy adversary. Proto Man frees him from the capsule and gives him a keycard to the vehicle garage, and tells him that it's their little secret. Mega Man hugs Proto Man and bolts for the vehicle garage, dodging security bots along the way. He accesses the garage and gets into a Bone Plane and is preparing to leave the garage, when Hard Man grabs onto one of the plane's wings and attempts to weigh it down. Mega Man shoots Hard Man off and flies away.

As Mega Man flies off, Hard Man yells at him that next time he tries to escape it will be even harder. He returns to Dr. Light's lab, safe and sound. Dr. Light, Roll, Rush, and Eddie all give him a group hug as he enters the lab. He spends the night looking out of the window in his bedroom, wondering if Proto Man had an epiphany that day...

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

The Skull Drill Tank from "The Big Shake", the big Wily Helicopter from "Mega Pinocchio", and the Skullker make a brief appearance in this episode. The Skull Plane from "Brain Bot" makes an appearance in this episode as well. The title is a parody of "Escape From Witch Mountain".

[alolanrain]

Let my blood boil over before I let the words sing between my lips.

Lmao this is just a WIP right now, I’ll fix it up later but I just want to get this out of my head at the moment and see what you guys think!

——————

The metal felt nice against Ashs bare fists. Crunching under the killing force he swung at, hearing the distant crackle and pops of wires inside the training bots Ash faced against explode and small from the onslaught of attacks the trainer threw one after the other.

The current playlist of heavy based music pumped through Ash’s body. Singing to his bones in a way Ash hasn’t felt in a long time. He jumped above an incoming training bot, soaring through the sky before his hands landed on the shoulder of another, twisting at the crescendo of the current song as he felt into a sweeping kick that brought the first bot down. The twist bringing the second bot to crack its alloy spine.

He’s never felt so much glee at the sound of dying robotics around him. Their ment to do that, ment to die on his fists as he lets go of his anger, it’s the only thing their built for. He’ll have to thank Gary again, the Professor was a genius at the suggestion of training bots to help keep Ash’s anger in check. To let the raven haired trainer blow some well bottled steam off.

The Kanto trainer can’t remember the last time he wasn’t truly angry. It’s always been there, simmering under the thin layer of skin, begging to be released. Much like his ears begged for the sound of guttural screams of agony and his hands pleaded to feel the vibration of cracked bones crushing under the pads of his fingers.

But no, he’s the Chosen One. He physically can’t throttle the person that’s annoying him, Ash will never be trusted again. And he needs that trust, it allows him to do what he does best. Save people. How ironic it is really. The worlds savor also has the biggest yearn for blood to be spilt.

Ash blames the villains. Their cajoling was doing something to Ash, with the promise of spilt blood and the role of power disguised as unwavering loyalty to the being offering, unlucky for them it’s their blood hes baying for.

Yet, after all the times Ash had stayed ‘no’ and ‘absolutely the fuck not’, their here. Under his roof. Where his Pokémon run. On his property.

The council has come to the conclusion that they can ‘save’ the bad guys. They just had to get everyone under one roof for some fucking therapy sessions. Like that all they needed to do walk talk to the people they’ve hurt and targeted and everything would go back before all the bad shit happend.

What a fucking joke.

Ash was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice a very heavy set training bot running up behind him. Ash did feel the well aimed hit at the center of his spine, flinging him forward and into the concrete cemented wall. And another, and another, and... another.

He flew into the kitchen, where everyone was still having dinner, and into a full table. He wasn’t expecting that really, Ash had set the training bots on a low level. To something that would exert himself to much get still easily stretched his muscles yoga and running just couldn’t do. Ash handn’t ment to loose himself to the feeling of the familiar dance of violence, yet he had, now he’s been thrown through several walls and ruined a groups dinner. He doesn’t know who, his mind was still swimming, and Ash could honestly care less.

The sound of screams gave off the vibe that Ash should really move, so he did. Doing a duck and roll at the right moment from his left shoulder being squashed under the training bots left metal foot. Ash struggled with his mind as he slid up off the ground, falling into the oh so familiar fight partner.

Dodge to the left, once more, than a high jump over the swinging arm to the right, dive between the left and right leg to trio the bot before spinning onto his hands then back so Ash could give a powerful flying roundhouse kick to the bots chest.

It fly back, more screaming came about, and Ash couldn’t actually find anything in Himself to care at the moment. The thrill of the fight to sweet for Ash to wrench himself away, the feeling of violence and vile anger pulling his brain further down into murky waters.

The bot struggled up a little before lunging at Ash again. This time connecting its fist to Ash’s lower jack, popping it out of its socket. Ash stumbled back before doing another roundhouse kick, sending the moving machine back to where it came from once more.

He moved his hand up and felt along the jaw before pushing his palm flat against it in a rough jerk. Popping it back into place. He heard multiple gag, the same noise stirred something in Ash’s stomach but it wasn’t the time to be bent over a cold rim of a toilet. Ash could feel his eyes glow brighter at the sight of the bot standing up once more. It’s time to fight.

Ash lunged, a deep unearthly snarle passed his lips as his hands met with metal chest plates. Knocking the bot once more back into its back, this time Ash followed. Tearing about the chest cavity and plunging through the wires to get to the miniature motor that runs each and every training bot. He breathed in deeply when he felt a few shards of metal sink into his palms. No doubt making sure he would need to get stitches.

Grunting, Ash pulled himself up. Cradeling his hand full of jagged metal close to his chest. The familiar sound of the training sequence music ended and Ash was left to calm himself down. He’ll need to pick the bots back up later, take them back to the technology room and rework the metal plates to make them a little bit stronger and faster, but for now Ash is more worried at coming down from the high of madness and shove down the urge to vomit.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Here is a monster match for the resilient @moonlightreetops! Information about getting your very own monster match can be found here.

“INFJ, my sun sign is Cancer, moon sign is Pisces rising sign is Sagittarius, also ADHD inattentive soo...  🙃very forgetful due to depression and said ADHD. I'm very empathetic but can get a little too passionate with my emotions sometimes. I cry at every movie I see. No exceptions. I spend most of my time world building or painting for dnd campaigns.  Or reading. I also love hiking with my dogs as it's the only time I really get out of the house. I grew up in professional theater so the drama kid heart in me is still very strong. Whoever's my match needs to be prepared for a little bit of "extra", if you catch my drift.”

Your android isn’t fresh off the production shelves, not by a long shot, but he was tossed away as ‘defective’ shortly after being built. For whatever reason, though, whoever did it was sloppy, since the master switch to shut everything down hadn’t been pressed, resulting in your android being in ‘sleep mode’ for just over a decade. During that time, his software would remotely update, going with the flow of whatever the programmers would write, but his actual hardware could hardly keep up. He soon became an outdated model, as one does in this reality of rapidly evolving technology, and the updates weren’t exactly written for the machinery of his caliber. Yet, for whatever reason, his inner core kept accepting the incoming software, ultimately resulting in something inside him snapping awake.

Both he and you theorize that it must have been the time, plus the updates, and perhaps even the constant exposure to the elements that ignited some kind of self-awareness within his inner core. Or, it could just be a matter of time for all the other androids to follow, as he was without any mechanical checkups monitoring his awareness for quite a long while. Whatever the case may be, he’s present and in the moment, very much alive, and really can’t let many people in on that secret because god knows what will happen to him because of it. While it might be a little awkward for him to plaster a smile on his face and act like a shell, thanks to all the new cybernetic technologies, most androids tend to look and act very human, so he can get away with a lot more than he might of back when he was fresh out of the factory.

Since he was outside decomposing with the rest of the junk, his parts weren’t exactly in tip-top shape. It took a lot of careful, slow repairs to get him to even be able to walk again. Even though his central wiring system seemed to be in working order, most of his limbs and joints rusted over and eroded, so those also had to be either oiled and cleaned vigorously or unscrewed and completely replaced. Tiny seeds and saplings had taken to start growing in the metallic crevices of his body, so those had to be thoroughly washed out, and his standard blue steel had been tinted green with moss. It certainly was a look, that’s for sure, but not something that a functioning android can rock and still be able to stand on both their feet.

One of the interesting things about his type is that his synthetic skin and hair can change color whenever he feels like it, and while he might need the necessary coding for the color, once he has it, he can switch back and forth. Neon pink hair one day, then a muted, plain brown the next, it gives him an edge for blending in with, say, a rave party or a rock concert at a moment’s notice. Not that he needs to run, no, to both of your knowledge, he’s in no danger of discovery. Still, if it should it come to that, his power of camouflage might come in handy. Maybe it was a little shocking when he blinked that one time and turned his eyes blood-red, but you quickly got used to it.

Besides the fact that he can turn his skin blue the moment he wants, he looks like a regular, run of the mill person, as any signs of being made of machinery have been carefully covered up. But, like with most other androids, there are little, tiny ticks that a well-trained person might see. The way he sometimes focuses on something a little too hard, since he can zoom his eyesight in like a microscope, or the way he stands ridiculously still when at rest. Or even how he might know something about someone that may seem strange since he likes to look over a person’s social media profiles while speaking to them.

Your android likes to multitask and often has a very exact schedule for what he is doing and when. For example, he might get off his overnight charging station at five in the morning sharp, though he really doesn’t need to use it anymore, his battery has been replaced by one of those crazy nuclear fission boxes. After getting dressed in some athletic wear, he will then go for a run, not that he has any muscles to work out with. Still, he likes the feeling of the air on his face, but it helps the whole song and dance of being human, as someone will see him do the action and then internalize it without realizing it.

Then, once he gets back, he’ll make breakfast. He can’t eat, and really entirely depends on your tastebuds to do all the work, but his skill vastly improves with everything he manages to make. Once he is done with your breakfast, he will clean, and then exactly at 7:02 am, he will go off to work. His work isn’t exactly the same as, say, an office job with a guaranteed yearly salary. Your android is, after all, technically a non-citizen, and doesn’t have any of the many documents needed to prove that he’s allowed to work. Everything he does has to be under the table and off the radar.

His work, then, is a rather unorthodox way of making money. Freelance stuff, really, things that he can do quickly without having to become a full-time employee. On one end, he does photography, and since his eyes have the nifty little habit of seeing things that a human might not right off the bat, he tends to get some snapshots of things that others don’t. It also helps that he can climb, hide, dodge, and reach places that humans probably don’t want to risk. Climbing to the very top of a building just to get that photo of the sun rising over the bridge? Done, and his editor has no idea how he even managed to get it. Squeezing through a poorly constructed alley to find a nest of pigeons for a piece on animal life in the city? Good thing he doesn’t actually have to breath. It might not bring in the same kind of money as some fancy executive lawyer, but it’s just about all he can do.

Sometimes he might get frustrated when his schedule doesn’t seem to work out because he likes his life to be easy to sort and simple to categorize. It took a little while for him to be able to loosen up about the strictness of which he holds himself, slowing relaxing and allowing life to show him the wonders that is has to offer without chasing something else insistently. His photography began to improve vastly, mostly because he is now looking beyond just the object and the background, he is now looking for the soul outside of the basic image. Like humans, your android does appreciate beauty for what it is, though in a more mathematical, clinical sense. Things like flowers, shells, moon phases, or even weather patterns all hold a unique appeal to him that tends to lean outside of their traditional aesthetic sense.

Your android is very, very grounded in reality. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t really have a concept of what ‘imagination’ is, but his thoughts, his actions, his hopes are all squarely within the realms of his perceived existence. One of the drawbacks to this is that he doesn’t often allow himself to play along with anyone’s fanciful ‘what if’ scenarios because he will be the first one to let that person know that the idea is bad, and it might get someone killed, or that it’s just not even worth doing. It takes some cajoling to get him to indulge anyone in their fantasies, but he will, if the right pointers are given, and if doing so will help someone get out of their sadness.

One of his favorite activities is to explore the outdoors, whether it be hiking, camping, canoeing, etcetera. As mentioned before, he has a unique appreciation for something organically made, because there is something rather beautiful in the realm of strange frailties. Or, better yet, the impossible perfection that can be reached in something as simple as a snail’s shell. Sometimes he might pause, completely caught up in studying the movement of a bug or the swaying of a leaf in the wind, eyes glued to a single spot in space for however long it takes him to fully comprehend every little detail that he is seeing.

There isn’t really an issue in the bedroom, either, since his brain is basically connected to the internet at all times, any kind of position or move is easy enough for him to search up, comprehend, and then execute with near-flawless precision. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.

[jamiebluewind]

Fantasy High Characters 2.8

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

***

New Characters

Three Elves from Falinel

3 beautiful wizard elves in long flowing robes

Surrounded by motes of silvery white light

At least 1 has a will o whisp in their ear used to communicate

Serene and filled with arcane energy

One used a globe of invulnerability (probably Kear)

Unnamed Conjurer Elf Wizard

Beefer with light mage armor and thick long red braided hair

Summoned a large sized air elemental (size of a small truck) with 90 movement

Unnamed Goth Elf Wizard

Porcelain skin with jet black hair covering left eye and black robes

Uses fesh to stone (6th level spell) on Adaine

Smiles and walks away once they have Adaine back at the tower

Kear

Pronounced key-heir or khear

Name spelling unknown, but Kir was the spelling on closed captioning

Wizard

Most serene

Extremely young child-like elven maiden with long brown braided hair and a white gown

Banished Tracker, but failed to charm Adaine during the battle

"You did a very noble thing. You saved your friends' lives."

Used detect thoughts on Adaine and asked "When was the last time you saw your mother?"

***

Modified Characters (with added facts)

Aelwyn Abernant

Kept in large large beautiful elven chamber with silver and marble with ambiant light glowing from the white stone

Trapped inside a 15 foot diameter orb that's constantly turning so she can't trance

Stuck crawling on her hands and knees, shaking with the effort of it

Severely trance deprived (probably hasn't been allowed to for nearly a year) with thick bags under her eyes

5 levels of exhaustion with some kind of magic the only thing keeping her from death

(more info in 2.9)

James Wicklaw

Fought with his saber in right hand and the crown in left

Brought 8 crew plus himself to menace the party while the rest of his crew went into the row

Injures the crew with him in order to injure the party, stunning all but Cathilda, Sandra Lynn, and Riz.

Has legendary actions (attack and teleport out of initiative order), mind blast, and tried to eat Gorgug's brain

Shot by a pistol square in the stomach. After he goes prone, a horrifying blast of something in his gut goes off as he shutters and goes still. But it was a trick to get Riz close so he could shoot him point blank.

Gorgug got the killing blow on Wicklaw after Fig heavily damaged him. Wicklaw's body fell into the Row.

The other pirates killed Wicklaw's remaining crew after he died

Fabian

Lost champion subclass and lost all fighter class features while keeping proficiency bonus, base stats, and hit points

No coat and 2 levels of exhaustion

Took a single hand crossbow shot which missed and spent the rest of the fight stunned.

Was repeatedly shot by Wicklaw

Gorgug had a private talk with Fabian to try to help. So did Kristen. Then Gilear came up and threatened him Gilear for 250 gold.

Fabian's mother's family have lands near the tower Adaine is being kept.

Cathilda

Dark steal sabers (scimitar type swords)

"Time for talk's over." Then got a nat20 on Wicklaw and sliced off one of his tentacles.

Feels pure determination more powerful than James can feel hatred and protects herself from his stun

Can give allies a reroll as reaction

Kicks just... so much ass.

To Riz "Is almost died the same as having died?"

Van

Was crashed by Gilear

Loaded with provisions by Jamina, Garthy, and Ayda

***

Other Characters

Anguin Abernant

Adaine's father

4th elf in the battle that was hidden in the beginning under greater invisibility

Enchanter subclass wizard

Casts dominate person on Adaine twice (and fails)

"Adaine. This is unbecoming. You are behaving rashly and irrationally."

Adaine

Resisted charms and dominate person while also breaking stun and flesh to stone.

Agreed to go with the elves to Falenel to save her friends.

*Adaine as she is falling through motes of light in elven teleportation, using sending to reach out to Ayda* Help. My friends are being killed in the Row and the Ruction. Please help them. *as Adaine appears in a place that is filled with darkness, she hears Ayda reply* Your friends are my friends.

Tries to escape with Misty Step (dispelled by Angine), Greater Invisibility (dispelled by Kir after Kir used True Sight), and Misty Step (dispelled)

Laid down on the ground on her stomach (magicly manacled by conjurer elf and led to her tower)

Allowed to keep Boggy

Hides under her blankets when Kear and Anguin comes in

Failed on detect thoughts save

Can tell where she is by looking at the stars

Was moved to an orb room (Kear: And do you intend to cooperate or will you be as problematic as we anticipate you might? / Adaine: What possible advantage to me or my friends can helping you give me?)

Kristen

Warding bond with Fabian

Was stunned entire fight and surrounded by icecream sandwiches (which she asked for help)

Gorgug

Relentless endurance

40 movement

Nearly got his brain eaten by Wicklaw.

After killing blow on Wicklaw, "Hey... I'm actually Fabian now."

Fig

Took a level in hex blade warlock

Hex blade cursed Wicklaw

Took enemy to hell with hellish rebuke before she was knocked out. (Fig: Did you see when I dragged that guy to hell with me? / Sandra Lynn: Horrifying. You're wonderful.)

"Adaine I used my everything to try and save you!"

Got 1300 points (with no actual value) for her sick shredding with her skateboard in the Ruction.

Snatched the crown after Wicklaw was killed and skatboarded away. Wanted to take crown away from Leviathan so there will never be a king, but let Fabian put it back on the head in Gibity Square.

Captured Wicklaw's soul

Is suspicious of Cathilda because she is "too good to be true".

"Look, the nightmare king could be anyone but my six friends."

Got Wicklaw's crystal saber which is like touching a live wire, but also filled with hatred

Riz

*while hiding in the rafters* "Fabian no! Don't be a coward!"

Arquebus has 60 foot range and he has 30 speed

He was the perfect person to dodge fists in the Row (while conscious)

"I have such bad athletes. Truly, I have minus two strength."

Failed two death saves (from the pirates stomping him) when he was knocked unconscious (from a slash from Wicklaw) and fell into the Row. Called to Fabian to save him while unconscious.

Riz: Hey Fabian? I think we all saw this going a little bit more epicly, but Adaine is gone. She sacrificed herself to save us and it kninda shows that it's not the end. We gotta keep going. So, we didn't bring our A game this time, but we can still - it keeps going. You'll be the hero next time. / Fabian: Yeah the ball. Next time. Next time. / Riz: Who... Hoot Growl? Is that what we say when we get pumped?/ Fabian: Yes. We say hoot growl.

Riz to Ayda: I think I have a lot of friends sometimes but then everyone's mean to me.

Wanted to talk to Fabian in private after the battle, but didn't get a chance due to Gorgug, Kristen, and Gilear

Sandra Lynn

Battle command: let's an ally attack an enemy on her turn as a bonus action

Can heal

Shouldered Wicklaw away from Gorgug (saving him from having his brain eaten) causing them both to fall into Row.

Knocked unconscious in the Row after stabbed through chest by Wicklaw but then healed by Fig.

Tracker

Was banashed to a maze world for the whole fight

Helped heal the party then "healed" Kristen privately

Ragh

Finished 1 pirate and then stunned for part of the fight before he was able to get up and fight/help again

Gilear

Passed out in the van due to the airbag.

"Very well. I will go into the back of the van. If anyone needs me, I will be surprised."

Threatened Fabian for 250 gold after he was acosted by a man who said he would kill him unless he gave him 250 gold. ("You need to shut the fuck up because I'm a dead man unless I get 250 gold pieces. You're down here with me now all right? Your rich. I'm not. Help me. Please help me.")

Ayda

Joined party temporarily to save her friend Adaine

Offered to teleport everyone and created a firy orange rune to do it.

***

Location Info

Ka'lethriel Tower

Beautiful courtyard

Smooth rounded marble flagstones are set into the garden

Look like a very zen meditative type of place.

There are high walls around the courtyard as well as towers.

"Orb rooms" (to keep prisoners in a constant state of trance deprivation) as well as regular rooms.

Near the Lands of the Lomenelda

***

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[v01d-ch1ld]

Bad Always Becomes Worse in Gotham, and Worse Usually Turns into Dead

Author’s note: Yes. This is an official update. Yes, it did take forever. No, sadly, I am not dead. This chapter is part of an all-nighter writing binge. At this point, I have written this chapter three times and I hope I am satisfied this time. I am using the power of emo music and naps to keep sane right now because my personal life is #rough at the moment so this is going to be that edgy™ chapter where afterward September and some of my real-life friends are going to ask me about my mental health. (If you guys are reading this I’m fine just super sleep-deprived and sore because of work and insomnia and caffeine are taking their toll.) Lean back and enjoy the ride.

Warning! This chapter contains descriptions of violence, rape, mental health disorders, drug use, and death. Do not read if you are squeamish or under the age of 13. (If you are 12 and on Tumblr you have problems anyways.)

 Tonight was becoming a fickle thing. Jason was in desperate need of a plan. Bruce, four-time winner of Father of the Year, just took a victim to a mental asylum, like the warm and compassionate human being that he is. Nothing that had been done that night had really been her fault and it was nearing close to dawn. He was running out of time. If the sun rose and the Red Hood was still active he was toast. Then there was the lovely array of bullet wounds his ex-crush had given him. Jason didn’t know what to do. Becca had shot him and tried to kill him, he tried to kill her, saved her, tied her to a bedframe (ironically enough, the room she was tied up in used to be his when he lived at the manor), and then she broke free, shared a sob story, attacked his ex-employer, and then kissed him. That was a whole clusterfuck of mixed signals to be worked out with Roy, cigarettes, and about three bottles of scotch. Jason shook his head, he could focus on that later, he needed to call Kori so he could get his girl out of Arkham.

He hobbled out of the Batcave having left his hood, jacket, chest plates, one of his boots and his guns in the cave. He still had his own modified comlink on. That was something he never took off, and while he used the one installed in the HUD in his hood he kept one private one for his team on him at all times in case he felt the need to stray from Bruce’s morals and blow some fuck’s brains.

“Kori?” Jason quietly spoke into the com. The walls have ears in Wayne Manor. Those ears are named Timberly Jackass Drake and Damian “Demon Brat” Wayne. If they warn Bruce he’s sicking Kori and Artemis on him before he’s in a safe house then he’s fucked. Last time he deviated it took Red Hood out of commission for three months, he would be taking no such risks this time. He held his breath until he heard her respond.

“Hood, what is it? Are you okay?” Kori’s voice came through his earpiece clear as a bell. He let out his baited breath.

“Yes. I am at the manor. You need to come get me. I got hit a lot tonight.” Jason murmured, walking towards his old room like he is planning on resting.

“What happened? You Bats make dodging bullets look easy.” Kori teased but Jason heard the underlying concern. She was always so caring, even heartbroken. (Dick was a moron. End of story.)

“I was up against a sharpshooter. A familiar face. Remember when I told you about the girl that I lost?”

“Your beloved? But I thought she died.” He had told Kori that he loved her as much as she loved Dick. It wasn’t far off but he was pretty sure he loved his girl more. He smiled at that.

“It seems that she and I have that in common. Listen she’s in bad shape. We all know the kind of damage that the Joker can do. He made her a criminal and Bruce is taking her to Arkham. We need to intercept him and get her out of their hold and hide her so that maybe I can get her help. Crazy as she has been made to be she still listens to me.”

“Jason. Is this really the right call? She is unstable. She could be dangerous. Who knows how the Joker could have brainwashed her? You remember his mind tricks.” Kori’s voice is gentle like she understands the true bite of her words. Jason frowns because, yes, he does remember and she does have a valid point.

“I’m sure. Make sure we keep her in one of our more secure safehouses. Send Artemis and when you drop me off at the house, join her because she will need reinforcements no matter how much she protests.” Jason grunts as he lies down in the bed he had tied his friend to. He can’t get past that. Becca, his babydoll, was turned into the Jester. A shell.

“Okay, I will be there in a few minutes. I had to wrap something up.” She hangs up tersely.  Translation: I was beating the fuck out of the gang lord I have been chasing and had to end it early because of your needy ass. Fuck it. He could deal with spoiling her fun later. He needed Becca safe.

 04:07 GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City

 Batman dragged the fighting and kicking Jester, though gagged and hogtied, into the police station. They had a cell waiting. He had removed her shoes because the wedge heel had been most unpleasant when hitting him in the ribs. Now she was still kicking him but through the Kevlar and titanium plates, he could hardly feel a thing. He had to used cord from his grapple to tie her up because the cuffs had been jimmied, the zip ties bitten off (hence, where the gag came in), and the rope broken with her enhanced strength. The weaved titanium of his grapple line would withstand her strength and tied the way he tied it would not come undone but only get tighter as she struggled.

                 Jim Gordon stood in the lobby of the building staring at the girl with a hard stare. He walks over and removed her gag.

               “I want to know if there is any hope in saving you.” Of course, he did. Becca was friends with Barbra. Like Bruce, he had become a father to her. Jester looked up at him and bared each one of her teeth showing how her canine teeth have been slightly elongated and filed to sharp points, no wonder she had bitten through the zip ties.

               “Men like you are the reason that people like me exist, to show the world that there is no hope.” She grins, “How’s Babs doing lately? Still can’t walk after all that physical therapy?” After that Batman, no Bruce, punched her in the stomach and Jester has the nerve to laugh.

               Looking back on her father’s lessons, she laughs the way she was taught to laugh to inspire fear. Slowly and quietly chuckling, smirking and then picking up the volume gradually until the sound of her insanity bounced off the walls. Sneaking a look around she saw some of the officers look at her in horror. Gordon looked disheartened, Bruce was stoic.

               “Take her to the holding cell and keep her tied up on the floor. And take the cot out,” Gordon barks to his men who respond with a shaky “yes sir” and cautiously approach the Jester, who is still doing her father proud, laughing up a storm. “The transfer truck should be here in an hour, we’ll take it from here.” He said to the Bat, who grunted his response and was gone in the time it took the commissioner to blink.

               Shaking his head, Gordon watched as the drug a still laughing Jester to the area where her mugshot would be taken. He sighed, he never likes watching kids go through the process of being entered into the system.

                 04:47 a holding cell inside of Gotham City Police Headquarters

               Lying on the floor of the cell Jester wanted to kill someone. Her arms were stretched uncomfortably, and her feet were numb, and she was cold. She supposed that she should also be in pain. For once she was glad that she couldn’t feel those sensations anymore. How long were they going to keep her waiting? Did she have to break out of here and WALK to the Asylum? She began to try to twist her wrists only to stop when she felt blood running down her arms. Great, now she was bleeding more than before. Jason may be on the wrong side of the law for her right now, but he was a great shot she had to admit. Almost as good as her teacher. Speaking of which, she still had to thank Floyd for giving her the custom pistols that are now locked up in evidence. Fuck she had to get those back those meant something to her dammit!

               Rolling over, she looked through the tiny ass window that they give the jailbirds to taunt them with their freedom. Arching, her back she grabs the knife that she stole from her charming new boy-toy and prayed that it was the right knife. She began to test the blade against the wire and it cut. She almost screamed in joy but remembered that she was in a police station and it was only so long before one of the officers found out that she had escaped her bonds. Once she did, however, she wasted no time in breaking the lock with a combination of the knife and her doctored strength.

               Near instantly the alarms started going off and the hallway was flooded with officers. I guess now would be the time to garner that plan to get her guns back. She started in on her prey with deadly efficiency. Taking one arm and immediately dislocating his shoulder and grabbing his gun while using him as a human shield from the first volley of bullets. Taking measured shots, she used the six-shot magazine to take out the best shots. Once they were down and she knew that she had better odds of dodging bullets she picked up one of the guns that had skittered across the now blood-stained floor and set to work. She shot the ones on point first as they were getting a little close, dropped a leg on some guy who was trying to grab her, caught his gun as he fell and shot him in the head. A dark-haired female officer cussed in Spanish as she walked into the room grabbing her gun from her shoulder holster. Electric green eyes snapped to her and she was shot in the right shoulder in an instant, the gun falling out of her hand. Turning and shooting three more men who were coming from behind she takes the top off the gun and jams it into another officer’s throat picking up two pistols she shot down another cop who had walked in before he could cock his shotgun. Blood now covered some of the walls in an indiscriminate pattern.

               “IIIIIIIII S-SHOULD HAVE WARNED YOOOOOOOOU!” Jester screams before she begins to cackle like the hellcat she is. Rushing the last few men, she slides through the pooling blood in the hall toward the now open shotgun. Picking it up, crouching, and cocking in a swift move she fires blowing one man about a yard back and scattering his insides all over part of one of the walls and the floor. Loading and spin cocking the gun Terminator-style, she proceeds to dispatch a few more policemen before she strolls out of the hall with five guns strapped to her and 6 more shotgun cartridges. More cops stand in front of her as she starts a bloodbath.

 Meanwhile

05:04 Gotham City Police Headquarters

 Jason Todd didn’t know what to think, but the Red Hood was already unholstering his pistols by the time he got inside the building. Once he got inside though, even the Red Hood froze. His babydoll was straight-up murdering the police. They stood no chance. Granted, he himself is capable of doing what she is doing right now but he had never had the cause. He never simply decided that he was going to murder an entire police station, but here she was doing exactly that. Gordon was returning fire with his revolver from behind an upturned desk, several other officers were taking a page from his book and using desks as shields too. The Jester was also behind a desk, more visible from his angle and using some complicated gun tricks and a mirror to further up her kill count.

               “By the Gods,” gasped Artemis from behind him to his left. She was right. This was almost Ares-level carnage. He almost turned around to alter the plan he set up somewhat when Jester made a move.

               Rushing to the right and into a smaller hallway off the room she shoots two more officers in the head and breaks into the room at the end of the small hallway. The police share a collective curse, still not having noticed the Outlaws in their headquarters. That room was evidence and weapons lock up. Guns from every recent arrest in the city were stored there. Now she had an arsenal.

               Arsenal, Jason’s best friend not thing that Jester was currently drooling over behind the doors of evidence lock-up, spoke up in Jason’s com right then: “Hey buddy? Need some help?” he offers coolly. Jason knows for a fact that this is now being televised and that his time was now super limited.

               “I am so glad to hear from you right now. Yes, I need you to find me the closest and most secure safehouse you can.” Jason was not about to tell his friend to come here. Not when he was still recovering from Slade kicking his bowed behind to Bludhaven and back. Roy lets out a curse, most likely due to not being invited to the fun.

               “Fuck you always know how to dampen my hopes, man. Alright. I’ll give you a location in 15 minutes.”

               “You have five, Hood out.”

 BOOM!

“Oh fuck! What’s happening now?!” one of the officers shouts. That came from evidence. Everybody’s head turns to see grenades coming out of lock-up. Shit. Artemis tackled him behind the desk closest to the Commissioner’s office. Starfire had dived the opposite direction with two other officers behind one of the vending machines that had been flipped sideways. The detonation killed one more officer leaving only the Outlaws, two detectives, Gordon alive. Jester took this opportunity, her pistols, and a machine gun and broke for the exit, spreading the ammo from the gun so that no one could shoot back at her. Once on the street, she booked it.

Jason cursed. Out of his grasp again.

 Batman was going to be pissed.

  19:00 Dock 19 Gotham City Harbor

Jester crawled out of the shadows to a familiar warehouse. One of the many lairs her father had and where she was to report if she ever got caught. Not even Batsy knew about this one. She walked inside with her head held low out of exhaustion. She had been careful not to be seen all day. But now that darkness had fallen she longed for a joint and her bed. Walking in past the lookouts who were very surprised to be seeing her so soon after she got caught by the Bats, she stumbled upon Ivy and Harley having date night on the couch. Gross. Choking down bile, she drags herself into her area she flops down onto a pile of beanbags and begins to grind.

Her head was spinning with adrenaline and stress and her hands shook when she opened her grinder. Taking out her jar of weed that Ivy, one of the secret villain stoners, had grown specifically for her. It was basically really strong Sherbet Indica times about twenty. She is just about done grinding when she finally gets noticed.

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” Harley teased while she was in Ivy’s arms. Ivy looked down on her with disapproval, Harley ignored her as always. She really needed to start learning that being a brat would only get you into trouble with the doms she hung out with. Rolling her eyes Jester decided to ignore her. But that never worked with Harley Quinn the bitch would only try harder. “I’m surprised your new boy-toy doesn’t have you tied up.”

“Oh, he did Harl and guess what? I can defiantly say that it was better than any action you’ve gotten from a guy lately.” Nodding her respect for Pam. That bitch’s tongue could solve world peace if used applicably and almost every female villain knew it. Jester included after one night of a lot of rough flirting. It took a lot of gin, but the look on Harley’s face was worth it.

“Like you would know? You’ve only had sex like what three times? And two of them were MY sloppy seconds!” she squeaked indignantly. Jester had to admit that stung. Joker had raped her twice shortly after her arrival in his custody. While the act had only lasted less than half an hour each time, the pain and the mental scarring had been debilitating for weeks. It was something for which not even Jester could forgive him.

“At least I’ve never had chlamydia!” Jester flung back at her, rolling her joint deceptively calm.

“You little skank! I’ve never had chlamydia!” Harley yelled just a little too loudly for it to be true. Pamela looked at her in a very motherly way. Tired of our shit.

“Yeah that’s why you had to put on that fugly looking brunette wig, so you could go to the free clinic last month. Remember me laughing at you after I drove you there?” Jester said smirking evilly from her rolling tray.

“I-I, you little-“ Harley was cut off by the booming rage of the Joker.

“JESTER COME HERE NOW!” and with that, Harley was sent into fits of glee, laughing so hard she fell off the couch.

“Y-you a-are in so much trouble.” She panted between giggling fits.

Jester rolled her eyes, took her joint, lit it, dragged, and puffed the smoke at Harley and ashed it on her while she was rolling on the floor with tears in her eyes laughing. She yelped when the hot ash burned her stomach. Jester snarled at her as she walked past Harley and Ivy and up the stairs that led to the upstairs part of the warehouse where her father was waiting.

“What happened!?” he yelled, spittle going everywhere.

“First, say it don’t spray it,” that earned her a hard slap, “Second, I ran into some unforeseen circumstances.” She shrugged and dragged her joint. That was all there was to say on the matter. She was not about to tell “I have killed people for looking at my daughter wrong” that she had reconnected with her old crush. Like hell.

“Oh, really? And what exactly were those unforeseen circumstances?” He was pissed now. It was all in the narrowing of his eyes, the intensity of their chemical glow, the twist of his smile. He rested his head on his hands with his eyes half-lidded. That was usually when people started to decorate the walls.

“A rather rambunctious and familiar pain in my ass by the name of Red Hood.” That was a double touch on her part cleverly disguised as a dig on the bat family.

“I see. Make sure our little failed boy blunder doesn’t ruin any other parties we have in the future due to your incompetence. Understand?” he’s sneering at this point.

“Understood.”

 “Just wait until you hear my plan for our next party, Daddy! I promise you will have the time of your life!”

 “I had better.”

 The smoke carried on into the shadows and dissipated.

@schweeeppess @dcuniverse-fanatic @dc-hoe @ravennightingaleandavatempus

[lvkswrites-blog]

Suckerpunch

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: language.

Summary: Reader becomes Steve Rogers mentee.

Foreword: The setting would be pre-CW and I think it fits the scene because this is the time Tony Stark and Peter would meet. Basically, I want to create a Steve Rogers who also have a mentee of sort.

P.S Let me know if you guys like this.

(x)

Third person point of view

The day Y/N found out that she does not want to live a life like everyone else is the day she punched a guy in the cafeteria. The guy looks pretty pissed while laying on the floor. Who wouldn't right? He didn't thought that a girl, a lower year even, could send him to total humiliation. Kids of different years cheered on, hoisting emotions from the two hot heads. Y/N, was about to jump towards the guy and give him another strong punch but her jab was caught by the gym instructor.

"Detention, Y/F/N!"

Every kids who encircled them cram and push one another back to their lunch table. A furious Y/N stood still infront of the instructor and the kid. Deep inside she was muttering things she could've done to the guy, who apparently thought making fun of her friend was nice, if only she was fast enough.

She explained everything to the principal and it made her feel hopeless. The guy would still be abstained, he looked like the lesser evil in this one. Y/N had been to detention more than the kid so she knows that it'll be listed on her record.

A guy brought in a tv and she was again infront of a talking Captain America. That moment, in a detention chair, a not-very-brilliant-self-reflection dawned to her. She did not wasted any moment and grabbed her backpack. She swore that she'll never go back again in the "stupid hell of a place".

Y/N is a person of misfortunes. Her dad died in a mission in Benghazi and her mom died from drug overdose at a young age, taken in by a problematic foster parents, and has identity vs. role confusion. But she was certain that she have a feeling inside her that she can't ignore.

The bus ride is short but enough to drown her with thoughts. Y/N plugged in her headphones and hugged herself.

At an old and rusty steel door, She stood. Her hoodie covering her and her backpack hang off over one shoulder. She knocked and waited for reply, when no one answered. She tried to slide the steel door. It didn't budged. So she tried another way, she went to the alley and search for an entrance. She stopped at her tracks when she found it. Apparently, behind a stink garbage can. "Blehk, eew." With one push she successfully pushed it.

A pick lock is all it takes.

"Now that's more like it."

-----

Steve knows that the owner would be there at the gym he would always go to, but he did not know that there would be someone else aside from him.

Grunts after grunts. Breathy exhales. Beat of trainers hitting the floor. The room felt almost motivational to start his usual workout. He must be careful tho, he do not want attention.

"You are here early? How did you get in?", a voice startled Steve. Steve spun and saw the gym owner.

"I just got here and I- I thought you opened this?"

"I did not." The owner replied. They both shared a look and found a girl in a corner lost in trance while lifting.

Steve approached the girl in a manner that will not scare her. He was gentle even, slowly squeezing information out of the girl. However Y/N can really act well. She said that "I thought it's open, I mean, the lights are on and the door is open so." Steve bought that and talked again to the owner that if anything is missing it might be a break in, if it's not then he must not worry much. The owner trust Steve so he let it be.

A sly smile formed in Y/N lips.

Steve went on his usual routine and let the spirit and sweat fuel him. Like any other fitness junkie, once you start feeling your body fire up it's addicting. He did not realized that per punch he release to the bag, it gets harder. The bag broke from it's chain and it made a loud "thump" as it fell.

*clap clap*

"Captain America," Y/N said while stepping forward. "I thought I might see you here."

Is she a spy? She sound odd. Things came into Steve's head like a computer wiring data.

"You're like a kid on a math test when you think y'know."

"Well, who are you?"

"-I'm just a kid from Brooklyn," Y/N sticked her hand out for a handshake. Steve's eyes trailed the hand infront of him and she waited... She waited until Steve decided to shake her hand. "Steve."

That is when her life officially changed. Y/N and Steve would always meet in the gym and train. They both share this understanding, like telepathy, that shaping up does not just make you feel better but help your head think straight. Days after days of sharing details and small talks. Steve watched her in a distance. Steve learned that she had been struggling with parents, and she have a dream becoming a soldier, and she wants to push her limits.

Steve did not saw a girl trying to impress him. He saw fire in her eyes, powerful motivation, a desire to have a purpose. He saw himself in her. Suddenly, he was back again in 40's. Trying so hard, application after application. He remember... everything.

"Hey, kid. Place is about to close." Steve called, making her pause the treadmill. He gave her time to catch her breath before he dropped the question, "You don't mind chinese takeaways for dinner, don't you?".

Sharon Carter is an agent working for Nick Fury. Lately, she had been assigned to look over Steve Rogers. Steve know and met Sharon knowing she was a friendly neighbor.

Steve and Y/N passed by infront of Sharon's door just in time when she opened it from the inside. Steve acknowledged her with usual greeting. Y/N hung her head as low as possible. Sharon's gaze turned from Steve to Y/N.

Steve racked his brain for an excuse and the best lie he come up with was, "She's my dishwasher." Both Sharon and Y/N's expression is an evident i-knew-it face. They both know Steve is bad at lying. To keep Sharon's act viable, Sharon agreed and excused herself to do the laundry.

Sharon head to the stairs and the two head towards Steve's flat. "You are such a dick, Rogers." Sharon heard. "-language!" Steve warned.

Nick Fury was at his office that time when he received a call from agent Carter. "Agent Carter... What?... Did you manage to take a photo?... Okay I can work that out... Okay... She's a hostile, for now. I'll pay Steve a visit as soon as I can." Nick Fury ended the call with an odd feeling. He tried not to think much about it and truth to be told, he felt that Steve was just trying to catch up in times. After all chivalry is dead, Fury thought.

Nick did paid a visit to Steve's place. He made it really a not-so sneaky one. He was welcomed by a supersoldier pinning him up against the brick wall. "What are you doing here?" Steve whisper-yelled. Nick did not answered and directed his eyes towards the sleeping body in a matress.

Steve released him and said, "Let's not talk here."

"Really? Here?" Fury said in dismay. Steve shrugged. "I ran out of eggs." Fury stopped him by the arms and said, "I told you I'll keep an eye on you."

"-I noticed." Steve retorted and pulled his arm.

"For fuck's sake. If you want a dog, I'll get you one." Fury said and he's furrious. "Rogers. That's a fucking 16 year old, a girl even, and you think- You think you can have someone following you around and listening to your orders-"

"-You don't understand." Steve growled.

"Then make me. Explain it to me..."

"Okay fine. If she fail, she leave. If she pass, she'll stay."

Y/N woke up that day with the sound of clammoring plates amd smell of cooking. She felt a bit concious.

"You don't have to make me breakfast, old man." Steve chuckled at her remark. "Goodmorning, to you too." Both fell silent after that. Both are not used to sharing meals with a person in an intimate space. Y/N chuckled and ate her food in silence.

Steve then explained everything. About fury. About the test. Y/N was not shocked but Steve is. Y/N grabbed her backpack and pulled out her dad's dog tag. Apparently, the dog tag has a shield logo in it. It glistened as the sun light beemed on it.

"I've been low-key researching about S.H.I.E.L.D, I- kinda expected this to happen."

Time skip and a series of extreme running and combat training with Steve. Y/N is ready to face Nick Fury for a test. Although it did not started in a controlled environment, it happened in a laundromat.

Y/N and Sharon are both waiting for their laundry to finish. Y/N started small talks like how's life, what she do, where she came from. "So, you said you're a nurse?"

"Yes," Sharon replied with a smile. That day, Sharon is really in need of laundry service. She have to wash her uniform.

"Do you work during the days?" It's starting to bother Sharon. Personally, she likes her job but when interrogations happen it annoys her.

"Mostly. Life as a nurse is unpredictable, it can change any moment.", Y/N seemed pleased with her response.

Y/N laundry stopped and she started fixing it like any people would. She tried to supress the adrenaline. She breathed in and out in a disciplined manner. She knows that S.H.I.E.L.D trained its agents well that even breathing pattern could be a sign of distress.

She then headed for the door with her laundry, instead of stepping out. She flipped the 'open' sign and slowly locked the door.

"Y/N," Sharon called. "You dropped these." Sharon did not expected the attack. While she was distracted, Y/N grabbed the opportunity to lock Sharon between her arms. Sharon pushed their weights and Y/N hit her back on the laundry machine.

The two started making a mess machine after machine and no one is near from surrendering.

"Why. are you spying on. Steve." Y/N said between attacks. Sharon kept on dodging. She was told that Y/N is a hostile and no harm. Sharon was just dodging every attack Y/N did.

Sharon is lost in her own thoughts while dodging a furious Y/N. Sharon did not expected that Y/N could have much precision and powerful punches. Sharon did not fully understood Y/N mentioned something about Rogers and protection.

Steve and Sharon only shared glances and small talks in the duration of her mission. However, long before she met him she already heard stories from Peggy about a man he worked with. Needless to say, Sharon grew feelings for Steve. Something about Y/N overprotevtiveness aura made her snap. "It's my job, not yours." Sharon thought to her self repeatedly but she kept silent. She then became as assertive as Y/N.

The change of Sharon's body language made Y/N know it's beyond what she wanted to know. Her lunges and attacks felt personal.

"Finally," Y/N announced. They both stared at each others eyes before they started going for one another.

Y/N showed and applied what he learned from Steve, but Sharon showed that she is knowledgeable of MMA moves and aside from personal affairs it became a show-me-what-you-can-do.

Sharon is experienced in combats and her expertise in this really showed. Y/N's arm was about to be locked behind her arm but Y/N grew up catfighting in alleys and she is a nasty and outlaw contender.

Just in time before both girls kill each other, Nick Fury arrived.

-----

Steve and Y/N sat infront of each other silently. No one is trying to make a conversation. Both are tensed to what Fury will say.

From Y/N vision she could see a red haired woman walking towards them. Y/N's excitement tingled as she realized it's Natasha Romanoff. Media created an image that Natasha is a hot and skilled spy who once been in numerous deadly mission. She's Y/N idol. Now she sit there with a freshly bruised face with a stern don't-touch-me Steve Rogers.

Natasha introduced herself and she announced her presence was by Fury's order. Natasha casually joked about bruising Agent Carter's face for her.

Steve looked at Natasha and then at Y/N. He knew that moment that he made a right choice to take her in.

-----

Natasha stirred her coffee as Y/N teared her pack of coffee. "How'd you know that Agent Carter is spying on you?" Natasha asked.

"She keeps on glancing on Steve?" It sounded like a question.

"That's assumption."

"Actually, for a nurse, she looks pretty. I mean if she's being an undercover nurse she should-"

"Are you saying that nurses are ugly?" Natasha wheezed.

"No!" Y/N defended. "I mean, okay, whenever I saw her wearing scrubs I try to smell her. She doesn't smell like antiseptic or hospital scent that usually haunted me. I did not said it at first because you might think I'm a creep."

"Creep." Natasha joked.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 9)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8

Part 10: here

Arthur steps out of the office building’s foyer and is immediately accosted by the uncomfortably bright sunlight. He winces, shading his eyes, taking a moment to adjust and shake off the usual full-body jitters skittering along his limbs and torso. The air is hot, dry, and itchy. After being blasted with the cold air-conditioning for almost three hours, it's especially jarring. He takes a breath and lets the tension go, feeling a whole lot lighter now the hard part of the trip is done and dusted. All it took was a few hours of anxious waiting,-pretty standard considering he had rocked up without an appointment,-and he now has his new prescription and a referral to the specialist he actually wants to see. It had taken him a ridiculously long time to find this woman the first time around, what with having to cycle through an extensive line-up of medical professionals, and he’s glad he can skip the drama this time. Though, he’s not sure how he’s going to manage appointments when he’s road tripping across the country with Vivi and Lewis.

Arthur frowns down at the referral paper, continuing down the steps to the footpath running adjacent to the building. There’s no way he is letting Lewis and Vivi go on a supernatural road trip without him. Not with them being entirely in the dark about how dangerous the whole thing could be. Sure, they had Mystery, but he is beginning to suspect that Mystery didn’t care much for anyone who wasn’t Vivi (and he's not even sure he can trust that anymore). He would just have to manage alone until they returned. If they returned. Arthur forcefully shoves the paper down into the front pocket of his shoulder bag, trying not to think too hard on a topic bound to bring his mood lower than it already was.

As he turns to head back to his van, his gaze travels automatically across the plaza filled with shoppers, past the line of dinners and restaurants, to land on the looming grey, brick, cube-like structure of St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre. It’s the largest building in the block aside from the few office buildings behind it, and even those weren’t very high, causing it to lean almost threateningly over the shorter boutiquey outlets in the street just before it. Dry wind ruffles his hair pulling him its direction, and his steps falter. He stares at the structure wearily. Funnily, in this life, he’s never actually stepped foot in the Emergency Centre.

So entranced is he by the odd sense of dislocation that he walks straight into a thin woman pushing an overladen trolley.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” She snaps, pausing to glare, while he’s busy ricocheting backward and stumbling in his attempt to keep his feet.

“Ah,” Arthur yanks his attention away from the hospital and tries for an apologetic tone, “Sorry?”  It’s not like the woman’s been affected by his mishap. Arthur is the one with sore shins. The lady huffs and continues on, a cloud of irritation following her down the path.

The small commotion has drawn the attention of several strangers who have all turned to give him a brief glance before getting on with their day. Now feeling overexposed and increasingly off balance, Arthur power walks around the building to the parking lot and the safety of his van. The back of his neck is prickling uncomfortably, and there is a disconcerting, foreboding taint, hanging about his shoulders right up until he slams and locks his van door. He takes a deep breath and rests his head against the steering wheel. Then runs a hand through his hair, twisting a strand between two fingers.

Now that’s over with he should focus on the more enjoyable parts of his trip. Mainly, finding equipment and collecting some components to mess around with during those long hours spent alone in his room avoiding people. It’s a good thing he knows exactly where to go. Future knowledge: great for saving friends from certain disaster and navigating unfamiliar towns. He turns the key and pulls out.

A brief wave of melancholic nostalgia has him taking an additional turn around the block, passing several familiar shops. Tomb Tome, a frequent haunt of his high school years and Future Vivi’s old place of employment. He slows so he can stare at the shopfront, which is plastered with familiar colourful posters, pamphlets and info on local gaming and comic events, obscuring most of the shop’s windows. Vivi probably would have enjoyed it there a lot more if not for the circumstanced of their temporary move. It’s weird to think that she might never work there in this timeline. Not if his plans to change the future are successful. He speeds up, facing forward, massaging his right thumb into the steering wheel. The second-hand tech shop is a few streets down, and he pushes forwards, banishing the odd sense of disappointment.

Headphones and some slow music wash out the world until it’s just him and shelves of old computers, spare parts, and various mechanical and technical equipment. Slowly, the last few days of stress and anxiety drain away. He buys a whole lot more than he means to, which, on top of the doctor’s visit, takes a significant bite out of his personal saving. It doesn't bother him as much as it might.

It's towards the end of his shopping trip, or as Lewis would call it his ‘retail therapy,’ that the nagging feeling of apprehension, which he’d been trying to ignore since the running into the woman outside the doctor’s office, comes to bite him on the ass.

He’s back at his van, shuffling around with his overstuffed shopping bags when a shout, loud enough to penetrate through his music, catches his attention.

“Hey!”

Arthur pulls the buds from his ears, glancing over his shoulder to watch a heavy-set man, with an impressive beard and a leather vest, stomp towards him. There is something familiar and disconcerting about him.

“Hey, you! Kid!” The strange man yells again in a gravely southern accent. Arthur glances around, but he’s the only person out in the street. He watches the stranger approach, trepidation beginning to coil in his gut.

“You’re the kid from the diner, the one that made the suggestion about my bike’s engine.”

Oh. It clicks. This is the famed Leather Guy. It’s been almost two years, but Arthur still recognises the perpetually scowly face of a man never more than a few wrong words away from a fist fight.

“Err, yeah?” He answers slowly, hesitating.  

“Name’s Micky,” Newly named Micky introduces, coming to a stop a few paces from Arthur.

“Sorry about taking a swing at you kid. Had a rough day. Went in to apologise but only saw your big purple friend,”

Arthur begins sorting through his key ring as subtly as possible, answering, “No problem. I could probably have been a bit more polite when pointing it out,”

He knows not to judge people based on appearance alone, but this guy’s looking awfully intimidating. His heart rate is increasing, and he can already feel the subtle flush of adrenalin, wiring him up in case he needs to move fast.  

“Hey now, no need to be modest, kid. Not when you know your stuff. It’s good I ran into because I’ve been needing a second opinion on my bike.”

Micky shoves a hand into his jacket pocket and takes another step forward. A step too many in Arthur’s opinion.

“The mechanic I took it too was as clueless as a dim bulb if you catch my meaning.”

“Hehe, where’d you go? Donald and Son’s Repairs?” He laughs half-heartedly. Donald and Son’s is only other mechanic within several miles of the Pepper’s diner. Though, he’s sure there’s a few around this town as well.

“Yeah, actually, went there and they did a piss-poor job. If you could take a look at it, I’d feel a load better. Have a long trip coming, you see. Can’t have my baby breaking down in the middle of nothing now.”

Why does he get the feeling that Micky has never been to Donald and Son’s and that his bike is fine? Arthur, trying to keep his body language as light as possible, locates his key. He’d learnt from many a bad experience to trust his instincts. Right now they’re telling him to get out of dodge.

“Actually, I’m kind of in a rush at the moment,”

It’s not even a lie. He needs to start heading home soon if he wants to beat Lewis and Vivi who would be coming over after Vivi’s shift ended at five.

“But I work at Kingsman Mechanics …you can bring your bike there if you want it fixed,” he suggests, inserting his key into the door, preparing to make a break for it.

Something clicks, and it’s not the sound of his van being unlocked.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid. How about you step back from the van,”

Between looking down at the door and his key, Micky has pulled a gun, pointing it in his direction. Arthur freezes. Micky’s holding it casually so, to anyone looking, it wouldn’t be immediately apparent.

“Come on, then. Promise this’ll only be for a few seconds,” Micky says gruffly, seemingly irritated that Arthur hadn’t just followed him to straight into a back alley like a chump.

“Ah,” Arthur’s replies intelligently while his brain spins its wheels, attempting process this sudden change in circumstance.

He stares at the gun then up at Micky.

“Okay?” He offers when nothing better comes to mind.

It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him. When he had been road tripping with Lewis and Vivi he always seemed to be the one getting held up and chased by the wackos behind whatever ‘haunting’ they investigated. Remain calm. Don’t panic. Don’t antagonise. It’s the same sort of process.

Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as panic-inducing as those previous times. Instead of the fear completely wiping out logical thought like a bulldozer it’s just keeping him nicely tense and ready. How is that fair? Point a gun in his face and he’s not even flinching, but put him in a room with Lewis and he can barely function without throwing up the contents of his stomach. Just add it to the list of failures.

Note: Sorry about the two-week delay between parts, I was off battling the education system. I’m hoping to have a part 10 done in the next 2-3 days so you don’t have to sit on the cliff-hanger for too long. Hope people enjoy the slight shift in pace/tone.  

[catsundercherryblossoms]

|Ch. 14: Save Him, Save Her| Her Forgotten Past // Attack on Titan Fanfiction

Why does life have to be this way. Why does it give you everything, and then take it away? Levi could never understand this concept. But it always, always came around to bite the Survey Corps in the ass.

They were so close. Victory had grazed their fingertips, only to fall out of reach. The female titan called that horde of titans and had herself purposely devoured. At first, it puzzled every soldier who witnessed the sight. And rightly, it was quite the gruesome sight, the kind thats hard to erase from your memory. But Erwin, like always, was one step ahead of everybody.

"They escaped. The operator, the human inside the Titan, got away from us. Right under our noses." He had said as he, Levi, and a team of soldiers rode through the forest. They searched worriedly, desperately, hopelessly for the culprit.

Levi might've appeared fearless and unshakeable on the outside, but on the inside, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. So much effort and so many sacrifices, only for the convict to get away. This whole mission was a giant screw up.

A piercing roar. They all snapped their heads towards the sound. The whole forest shuddered as it reverberated from tree to tree.

There were two Titan shifters in the vicinity: the female titan and Eren. But only one of them was capable of a raging, lunatic scream like that. It was all too hot-tempered, and all too familiar...

Eren.

Levi flew off his horse, not bothering to tell Erwin where he was going. He didn't need to. They were all thinking the same thing: Eren wasn't allowed to transform unless absolutely necessary. Why would it be necessary?

But Levi began to get an inkling why.

Despite these suspicions, nothing could have prepared him for the horrible path ahead as he followed the distant roaring. First was Günther... Hanging upside down, bloody, eyes open but not seeing, Levi instantly knew he was dead. He proceeded. Next was Eld. Well, part of him. The rest was nowhere to be found, most likely swallowed. Levi tried to ignore the red stains on the grass and continued. Oluo wasn't spared either. After ten minutes of more flying around, Levi found him face down in the ground, mouth open with the ghost of his last scream still on his face. Levi did not dwell, although he noticed his heart felt heavier than before. Before all of this. Perhaps there was still hope. Petra was a highly skilled soldier, very independent, and very capable-

She was slumped against a tree. Blood smeared on her cheek. Like Günther, her eyes remained open just a peak, but absolutely lifeless. Dead.

Four beautiful people. A whole squad of the finest soldiers... wiped out.

He no longer heard Eren's monstrous roars. They had stopped. He heard only footsteps now, and far away, if he squinted enough past the trees, he could see a muscled pink figure running away. It was not Eren, but instead the female titan. And she probably had the boy with her.

Levi wanted to chase after her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not until he knew where she was. Jet-black hair and blue eyes duller than the barrel of a gun. Where was she?

Levi's heart was now picking up speed. It thumped in his chest and it physically and emotionally hurt. He looked around frantically. Surely, she's alive. There's no way she can't be.

But then again... that's what he thought about his squad. Now look at them.

His eyes skimmed over the clearing, searching the grass, the rocks, the trees, until finally he spotted something. At first it looked to be an ordinary mossy rock, but a upon second observation he realized it was actually a Survey Corps cloak, camouflaged against a bush. And someone was wearing it, sprawled on the ground.

Levi didn't hesitate. He landed on the ground and ran towards her. "Johanna!" His own voice sounded like another person's. A scared person's. He kneeled and flipped her over to discover blood all on the left side of her face. It was fairly dry. How long had she been unconscious? Or worse... dead?

He took her pulse and felt a wave of relief. No, definitely unconscious. His rapid heart eased comfortably again. God, the universe, whatever higher power up there spared him this one. And although he reeled with grief of the others, he was thankful that she survived.

He shook her shoulders gently, trying to get her to wake up. "Johanna... Come on, dammit. Talk to me!"

She stirred. Her eyelids opened a crack, those dull blue irises peeking out from underneath. She was weak, he could tell. The focus in her gaze was fazing in and out. Inconsistent. "What... Corporal?"

"Yes, brat." He said, but there was a softness in his deep voice. Lines of consternation formed on his forehead. "Your head's bleeding. What happened?"

For a moment, she seemed brainless. Levi wondered if she had heard him. But then her eyes widened in terror, glazed over as she remembered. "We were overwhelmed. The squad, they- they tried their best, but..." She gulped. "She was too strong. Next thing I know they're all dead. Eren turned into a titan and tried to take her on, but he was defeated..." A single crystalline tear rolled down her cheek. She continued, choked. "I tried to stop her from running away with him but I wasn't careful enough- and- and she pulled on my wires and I hit a tree. Now he's gone!" She fisted his collar desperately. "We need to get him back, we have to save him!"

"There's not much we can do. Its too late for him." Levi said grimly.

She tried taking in these words, but they went in one ear and out the other. "No! We cant just let him get taken away, we have to-!"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" He cut her off. "Its too late. My whole squad has been wiped out! Anybody with a brain knows that the best choice is to return to the walls and come up with a plan there."

"He'll be dead by the time we do that! You know what? Forget it." That was enough. She pushed him off and got up, stumbling as she regained her footing. "I'll go by myself. He would do the same for me. Actually, he did once." She said, recalling the time they were on that training corps mission out in the desert and she got kidnapped. "I'll kill that bitch on my own. Who knows? Maybe I'll come back with the Eren and the titan shifter!" She started doing an assessment check on her gear. It was pretty banged up, but everything still functioned.

Levi's patience was running thin. "You're delusional! You can't do it alone!"

"Watch me!"

"Wait!" He stopped her just as she made to fly off. For a few seconds it was quiet, the female titan's footsteps barely audible now. He then sighed. "Fine. But I'm coming with you. And in case you've forgotten," He approached her. They stared at each other frigidly. "I'm the one in charge here. So do everything I tell you, and only what I tell you. Got it?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, but nodded in compliance.

"Alright. Let's go."

It took them about fifteen minutes just to catch up with the female titan. They followed behind her. She had expert stamina, running as though she were in a marathon.

"Is he in her mouth?" Levi asked.

"Yes." Johanna said, glaring daggers at her back. She yearned to just swoop in and get it over and done with. But they had to maintain their distance. Her movements were sudden and almost incalculable.

Levi's brow furrowed. "How do you know he's not dead? If she bit his nape-"

"He's still alive in there. This Titan shifter has a purpose. If she wanted to kill Eren, she could've just crushed him. She needs him for something. But she also needs her hands to fight. So she's been holding him in her tongue. It's common sense."

"Or maybe she just wanted to savor her prey. In which case, he's probably been swallowed already. If so-"

"He's alive." She emphasized. Her expression had never been more fierce.

"Tch." He rolled his eyes. "Someone's optimistic."

Johanna took her eyes off the female titan and glared at him now. "Listen here, buddy. If you had just done your damn job and protected him like you're supposed to, we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place!"

That's when it dawned on him. He cocked his head to look at her. The 'oh' moment was visible on his face. How did he not notice it before? Figures.

He faced her completely. His tone was somewhere between sly and repulsed. "I see what's going on here. Three years of cadet training, little stolen moments during lunch, sneaking out after curfew... It's all making sense now."

Johanna wasn't sure what he was implying. Actually, she did know. She knew all too well. But she hated being ridiculed. Her scowl deepened. She would've blushed if it wasn't for the immense life or death situation they were currently in.

"Right. For the sake of getting shit done, let's narrow down our goals. We forget about killing her." He indicated to the female titan jogging in front of them.

"No way. She's killed way too many soldiers to get away with that. She's dead." Johanna said.

"She's got defenses that none of us have been trained to deal with. Not even me. I'm telling you, it's a lost cause." He raised a blade, his reflection glinting on the shiny surface. "Instead, we act on your assumption that Eren is still alive. We'll focus only on getting him back before she leaves the forest. Thats all we're doing. I'll do all the cutting. You try to distract her."

"Got it."

Johanna didn't hesitate. She didn't even wait for him to say go. She sped off to engage the female titan. She flew in front of her gigantic feet. The female Titan's icy blue eyes peered down at her, surprised. Distracted. Just how they wanted her to be. Levi readied his blades.

The female titan, quickly catching on to what they were planning, took the contrary. She sensed Levi was right behind her and she swerved around, aiming a powerful punch at his body.

Ha. As if that would be successful.

Levi dodged it, and now that her arm was extended, he whirled his way up, slashing and shredding the skin like a tornado. When he finally stopped, his blades were fully covered in Titan blood, which instantly began to steam. He dived in again and cut her up, even going for her eyes. The torture was brutal to the point where she had no other choice than to stop, leaning against a tree for support. Her eyes were blinded. Her shoulders falling from their sockets. The ankles and knees were rendered useless. There was nothing she could do but wait and regenerate now.

Johanna watched in slight awe. The finished product was quite impressive.

That's when she noticed something. She stopped in mid air. Her nape is completely open! She thought, staring at the pink flesh just waiting to be carved into. She itched to find out who the hell was hiding in there. This is it! Now's my chance!

Johanna flew towards the nape at breakneck speed, raising her blades high and mighty. So close... the tips of her fingers, curled around the blades, buzzed with electricity. The anticipation was so unbearable, she-

"NO! DON'T DO IT!"

A shadow loomed over Johanna. She was barely given two seconds. But two seconds was all it took. She looked up and the first thing she registered was the female titan's hand about to swat her. Then, out of nowhere Levi came and shoved her aside and out of danger.

Johanna fell about fifteen feet before she finally pulled herself together. She shot an anchor into a nearby tree to keep her from hitting the ground, but as she hung there, the shock still hadn't left her body. Somewhere deep inside she knew she messed up. Big time.

She watched Levi. He landed improperly on the titan's hand, forcing it back with his feet.

Crack!

'Fuck, was that what I think it was?' Johanna thought.

Yep. It certainly was. Levi's foot had twisted the wrong way. He grimaced in pain, but seemed to ignore the injury and proceeded to slash the female titan's mouth. Her jaw popped open, tongue lolling out, and finally, there was Eren. Levi wasted no time and grabbed him. Together, he and Johanna took off.

"Talk about a screw up. What did I tell you? You shouldn't have tried to kill her!" Levi said. He carried Eren in one arm. He was an unconscious, slimy and disgusting mess. But he seemed okay overall.

Johanna gritted her teeth. She wanted to be angry at Levi, but the truth is, she could only be angry at herself. "I didn't mean to, okay? I just-"

"Look, we get that he's your boyfriend. Just try not to act crazy next time."

"I- ugh, that's not..." Johanna didn't have the energy to explain herself at the moment. She couldn't care less what he thought. Right now, all that mattered was Eren's safety. And until they weren't out of this goddamn forest, she wouldn't be satisfied.

Out of curiosity, Johanna stole one last look behind her. What she saw, however, was beyond shocking...

There lay the female titan, against a tree, body regenerating slowly. And she was...

Crying.

End of Chapter 14