#'The hero and their followers would lose their physical bodies for eternity' I imagine he meant just the people fighting

[fragmentedblade]

The more I learn about them the more I think the heliobi are in the right

[percabethfeelsfandom]

AU: Percy gets really hurt

AU: Percy gets super duper hurt in some battle. And Annabeth has no idea how to cope with it. Not dating but as close as they were in botl/tlo (they didn’t kiss in botl)

“Annabeth you can’t be in here.” I turned in surprise as Will’s figure appeared in the doorway. I gripped Percy’s hand tighter but he still remained limp as the children of Apollo moved around me, preparing his body for what looked like emergency surgery.

“What the Hades do you mean?” Will held up his hands up, his face apologetic.

“I mean, you can’t be in here while we heal him.”

“Why not?” I stood up, and Percy’s hand slipped through my fingers.

“Because he needs to focus on healing and he’ll be worried about you if you’re in there.”

“Will-“ Someone was touching my back lightly, guiding me to Will, away from Percy. I fought the urge to fight back.

“No. I’m pulling rank. As his doctor and head of Apollo cabin, you can’t be in there.”

“But it’s Percy, and, and it’s me he-“ I stuttered trying to find the right thing to say. My hands clenched at my sides and I puffed out a breath of air.

“I’m sorry Annabeth.” Will said and closed the door in my face once he’d walked me out of the room. I went to bang on the door, to knock it down with my bare hands but as I raised my fist I realised it was still coated in blood. Percy’s blood.

I ran to the lake, thrusting my hands into the water, scrubbing as hard as I could. The water turned pink as I repeated my prayer.

“Mother please. Please don’t let him die. Please. Not Percy. I’ll do anything. Please don’t take him away from me. Not after everything. Mother please.” I raised my eyes to the sky imagining my mother’s stern face looking down on me. She’d never been fond of Percy, or of our friendship, but I hoped she’d put her pride aside and help him.

The water rippled and I held my breath hoping that it meant my mother had heard me.

“It’s a bit odd don’t you think, praying to the goddess of wisdom by a body of water?” A voice said from beside me. I turned in surprised and my mouth dropped open.

“Poseidon?” He smiled at me, and crossed his legs at his ankles, adjusting himself on a chair that had appeared from nowhere. By his side a fishing line stood stuck deep in the sand.

“Hello Miss Chase.” He looked so much like Percy when he smiled. It almost hurt to look at. I pulled my hands from the water and wiped them hastily on my already dirty shirt. I bowed my head in respect before rising unsteadily on my feet.

“I always come here when I want to think- and when I fight with Percy,” I explained, gesturing to the lake and the trees that surrounded it. The spot where he had been claimed, was still a memory fresh n my mind. The way he had healed that day.  “I come here to remind myself why he’s my best friend,” my voice was shaking. I hated that it was shaking. Poseidon smiled again, his eyes crinkling the way they do when you smile a lot. He waved his hand and another seat appeared. He gestured down to it and I took a seat.

“He comes here to think too. I’ve seen him,” Poseidon said, looking out at the lake. “He doesn’t know I’m there obviously. But I see him.” A wistful look came over his features and I realised that Poseidon could very much be as worried as I was about Percy. It was odd seeing such a human emotion on a god.

“My mother isn’t going to answer my prayer is she,” I asked my voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have to be a child of the wisdom goddess to know that.” Hurt and anger made my blood boil. But I hated the fact that I knew why she wouldn’t do it. Why she wouldn’t help a hero of a prophecy and alter the fates plans. I hated that I understood. I blinked back tears and trained my eyes on the horizon, the sun beginning to set.

“So why did you?”

“I didn’t,” Poseidon answered simply. “I’m answering Percy’s.”

I was lost for words.

“He didn’t want you to be alone.” My breath caught in my throat.

“You think he’s going to die,” it physically hurt saying those words. I could feel it tearing my heart into a billion pieces.

“I cannot be sure of what the fates plan is for my son. But I can only hope for the best, however I think he still has much to achieve in this world.” Poseidon glanced at me, and I watched in my peripheral as he reached out hesitantly and lightly patted my arm.

“We can only hope, and after all hope is eternal.” I closed my eyes and felt a tear slowly slide down my face.

“Is it?”

“Mortals have a knack for believing in the impossible. One of the things I admire greatly from them.” I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head. Mortals were stupid for being so naive. But for once I wished I had that hope. Even growing up in this world, with the gods and goddesses and monsters. It was hard to believe in hope. In the magic that created miracles when someone might be on their death bed.

“I should be praying to Apollo.”

“He’s watching over. He’s quite fond of Percy. In his Apollo way.”

“I can’t lose him,” I said again recalling my unanswered prayer to my mother.

“I know.” Poseidon patted my arm again but this time I looked at him, and he smiled sadly. He didn’t look like Percy now. He looked like a father whose son was hurting.

There was a soft pop and a flash of light. I stood up quickly reaching for my knife. But it was Apollo, clad in a doctors uniform and a stethoscope around his neck.

“He’ll make it. In fact I’m already creating a poem about his recovery. Want to hear it?-“

“No.” Poseidon and I answered quickly. I wanted to run, to go back to Percy but even in my haze I knew it was wrong to run from two deities. Even if Poseidon and I had shared a moment over Percy.

“He’s asking for you,” Apollo said. That was all it took. I nodded in response to both of them and sprinted as fast as I could to the Infirmary.

Will was just leaving as I walked up the steps. He pointed the way and I followed not saying a word.

At his door I paused catching me breath before knocking softly, already pushing open the ajar door.

“Percy?”

“Hey wise girl,” his voice was so hoarse I could barely hear him. I almost dropped to my knees in relief. He was okay.

“If you ever do that again I’m gonna kill you.” I grounded out as he watched me from his bed. He was sat up, pillows behind his head, thick bandages around his stomach and abdomen. His beautiful eyes were almost luminous in the darkening room.

“Next time I won’t get impaled by a sword. I’m sorry.” And then he smiled. It felt as if everything in the world was suddenly alright again.

“You scared me,” I didn’t want to say it but the words were already out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Come sit.” He said nodding to his side. He began to shift, wincing as he did so until there was space next to him on the bed.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I approached him slowly not trusting my weak legs.

“You could never hurt me,” Percy said a matter of factly.

“Are you sure?” I asked standing by the bed. He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Just come here wise girl.” I slid onto the bed, trying my best not to stir it. Percy relaxed on his pillows, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“You okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” I peered at his bandages but they looked fine, even some of his other wounds from the battle had been healed. I dragged my eyes from his body back to his face concentrating on his still closed eyes.

“I’m okay, just stay,” he opened his eyes, pleading, and I fought the urge to smile. “Can you stay?” I’d never heard his voice so soft.

“Whatever you want,” I answered just as softly.

“Hey seaweed brain?”

“Hmm.” He’s closed his eyes again, but somehow that made it easier to say these next words.

“You mean a lot to me, you know that right?” I focused on his eyelashes. But then his eyes flew open and i glanced away.

“I know...you mean a lot to me too,” he replied slowly. I looked back at him struggling to find the right words.

“No I mean,” I reached between us and gripped his hand, turning to completely face him. “You mean a lot to me. I don’t know what I’d do if something serious happened.” My face was burning, but I knew I had to say this. Knew that I’d never forgive myself if something ever happened again and he didn’t know this.

“More serious that getting impaled by a sword in my literal gut?” I nearly impaled him right then and there.

“Percy!” He laughed, but then grimaced lightly holding his stomach. I reached out to him wanting to help but he waved me away.

“I’m sorry, laugh will you? I’m okay, I’m gonna be okay,” he said reassuringly and squeezed my hand tightly. I nodded and sat back, the tension in my shoulders beginning to lessen.

“Annabeth.” I turned to Percy again.

“Yeah?”

“I know what I would do if you got seriously hurt.” I frowned at him confused.

“What?”

“Anything and everything to help you get better and hunt down whoever hurt you.” I knew he wasn’t lying. I could see it in his jaw, in the whites of his knuckles, the glow of his eyes.

I leaned close to him, barely a breath from his mouth before pressing a light kiss on his cheek. His skin was still feverish, and I could feel his eyelashes on my skin.

“I know.” I paused, waiting. He opened his eyes staring at me, almost in awe. I heard him swallow as he brought a hand up lightly bringing it to my face. He was shaking, whether from pain or nervousness I wasn’t sure.

“I’d do anything for you.” I whispered.

“I know.” And then he kissed me.

[opheliancano]

    ❝  and there's nothing like a mad woman         what a shame she went mad         no one likes a mad woman         you made her like that ❞

CORINTH TASK: HEADCANONS

Andromeda: Talk about your character’s relationship with their siblings (if they have any).

Ophelia does not have any biological siblings that she knows of. She had adoptive siblings, but never had a particularly close relationship with any of them, as she was treated more like a nanny than a daughter. Once she left her hometown she never had contact with them again. 

Asclepius: Talk about your character’s morality. How do they decide who is morally good and who is not? What does “good” mean to them?

Ohhhhh god. This is... a good question, with kind of a complex answer I’m not sure I can put well into words? Which is kind of funny, because as a fury, Ophelia is all about justice, and she thinks that she has a good moral center. But it’s also unquestionably been warped by her own personal experiences in her human life, like a distrust for authority figures/law enforcement and the belief that following human rules do not automatically equal being a good person. She has very much her own moral code which she holds others to, in whether she deems them a “good” or not. I think it honestly just comes down to vibes, as kind of ridiculous as it sounds. She gets a feel for people and decides off of that? Which... is not the best method probably, consider how easily Ophelia could probably be manipulated. She’s one of those people who subconsciously looks for the good in others, and wants to believe it, even if she herself isn’t aware of that fact. So it’d be more easy to fool her into believing someone is good when they’re not than it would an older fury, probably. 

Atlas: Talk about how your character deals with their “responsibility” to either side of the war for the veil, if they are aware of it.

I think Ophelia sort of views herself as above it all? She’s definitely aware of it happening, has seen the power struggle between the gods in the near-century that she’s been a fury. But the way she sees it is that however it shakes out, it doesn’t really concern her? Her job is to protect the human world against these creatures the gods created to be their soldiers. On one hand, the elimination of the veil and subsequently all the supernatural creatures of the world would make it infinitely safer for humans. On the other hand, would Ophelia be considered one of the creatures that would cease to be? She was created as a sort of checks and balances to keep others from running wild, but still created into something other none the less. The question of what would happen to her should the veil fall is unclear, and while it troubles her at times, since it’s out of her grasp, she’s done a pretty good job at shoving it down and ignoring it. Her job is what matters, ultimately. 

Charon: Talk about your character’s greatest fears.

It depends on what type of fear you’re looking for, honestly. If we’re talking global scale, it’d be that something happens to herself and the other furies, and then there’s nothing left to enact justice in the mortal world. But as of right now, that doesn’t seem like much of a possibility, so it’s more of a worst case scenario type fear. On a personal level, deep down she’s concerned that she’s not particularly good at being a fury. Ophelia is aware of the fact that she has a lot of feelings, sometimes too many, and is concerned it can conflict with her ability to serve her leader properly. As much as she likes to comfort Alexios that he’ll find his footing in this new life he’s stepped into, that it only takes time and practices, there are sometimes when she wonders if that’s true. She has enough righteous fury to cover the planet and then some, sure, and when she acts out her role as a harbinger of justice, there’s no feeling like it. But sometimes the waters can get muddy, where her own emotions get involved and she’s not quite sure what the right decision would be. And she worries that she’s failing in her duty.

Chronos: Talk about how your character deals with their past.

Sad and soft immortal hours baby. That’s basically it, to be honest. She’s very reminiscent, and can get hit with bouts of nostalgia by even the littlest of triggers. It’s not something she tries to run from or even suppress, unless caught at an ill-opportune time. Ophelia probably has the healthiest coping mechanism of any of my characters, because unlike the others, she doesn’t try to pretend like those feelings don’t exist, but embraces them willingly.

Circe: Talk about how your character deals with betrayal.

She’d be heartbroken. And vengeful. Ophelia naively believes that she is a good judge of character, that the people she surrounds herself with are good people at their core. Like mentioned above, her soul wants to believe in the decency of people, even when her head tells her otherwise, which is how she could almost easily find herself falling into the trap of trusting someone she shouldn’t. So long as they don’t have a neon I’M A EVIL PERSON sign over their head, she’s usually open to giving people a fair chance. To have someone betray that trust would absolutely be a crushing experience, and greatly damage Ophelia’s faith in herself and her ability as a fury; that she would become so blind as to be fooled, when she is suppose to be acting as a hand of justice to judge the character of those around her. Depending on the betrayal, and just how deep of a wound it inflicts, it could set forth a chain reaction of her questioning every decision she’s ever made in her life as a fury, and no longer trusting her instincts. And there would absolutely be hell to pay. In the literal sense. Don’t cross someone capable of dragging your ass to the Underworld for eternal torment. 

Eros: Talk about your character’s love life, and how they see “love.”

Ophelia is a romantic at heart. I honestly believe she’s one of those people who could fall in love with anyone, because that’s just the type of heart she has. She’s had two serious relationships, both of which happened in her human life, that she put her heart and soul into in a way that hasn’t happened since. She’s had flings and relationships over the years of her immortality, and I think a part of her has fallen in love with each of them a little bit, all in different ways. But ultimately, none have been to the degree of her second love. As of right now, her girlfriend from her human life was the love of her life, and she still looks back on those memories in fondness and longing. At the same time though, she’s not crippled by it, and it hasn’t keep her from experiencing those emotions again with anyone else unlike Lykaon’s stubborn ass. She’s open to it, basically. Romanticizes it. 

Euryale: Talk about someone’s death that would hit your muse the hardest, or their greatest loss.

I don’t think Ophelia’s been exposed to much death, really. Not at least in terms of physically witnessing it. The one that hit her hardest would be the death of her first love, a soldier boy who died in World War I, but even then it almost seemed... unreal? That because there was never a body to bury that came back, she didn’t really have to acknowledge it. The same thing with her second love, the woman she knew in Chicago. Though rationally Ophelia thinks her to be dead at this point, under the assumption she lived out a normal human life, she never had to witness it firsthand. When or if it actually happens, I imagine it’ll be a sort of a reality shock. I could honestly see her even trying to travel to the Underworld to bargain with the furies for the soul of the person, if it’s someone she particularly cares about, or at least trying to seek permission to walk them through their passage into the afterlife. Losing any of the other furies would absolutely break her, but fortunately, their species is immortal with no known methods of killing them yet. 

Hektor: Talk about how your character deals with something that is out of their control.

There is very little Ophelia feels like she cannot control, in one way or another. Thus, when faced with such a problem, it perturbs her like nothing else. When something is truly, completely out of her hands, her method of dealing with it is to just ignore it. If she chooses not to acknowledge it, then it can’t affect her, right? Right. Excellent logic there.

Lamia: Talk about what other species your character would be/wants to be.

She’s very happy to be a fury, and I don’t think Ophelia would willingly trade it away for anything else. Despite the doubts she might have on whether she’s particularly good at it, she’s very grateful that Megaera gave her this gift, and would not give it up for anything. That being said, if I had to pick something else for her, when I was first playing with her character model I had her as a vampire. I think it would be interesting to mix in her strong sense of justice with a creature that’s less morally-aligned than furies are, especially one that has to feed on others to survive. Ophelia would probably be one of those vampires that’s constantly at war with her own nature, and yet using her compulsion as freely as she uses her mental manipulation currently. In her mind, she’d see herself as the hero of the story, but whether that would align with what others would view as “good” is... an interesting idea. 

Lethe: Talk about if your character would rather forget certain memories or hold on to them.

Ophelia would not give up any of her memories, not even the bad ones. Again, she’s very nostalgic by nature. Her thought process is that without the bad memories, the good ones would not hold so much meaning. You can’t experience true happiness without experiencing true sadness first, and all that type of philosophy. 

Medea: Talk about your characters thoughts on redemption, and if they think they need it or are worthy of it.

She is a big believer in redemption, though with her role as a fury, she does not think herself in need of it as Ophelia already views herself as on the right side. 

Philotes: Talk about your character’s best friends and what friendship means to them.

Again, undoubtedly the furies. @selaxamin and @alexiosflorus, in particular, although that’s easy to say when they’re the only other ones currently in the group right now. But even with others, I think it’d be true. Sela was the one that took Ophelia under her wing when she first became a fury, fulfilling the mentor role that Ophelia now serves as for Alexios. There’s few who she looks up to so reverently as Sela, and almost no one whose opinion she values more. And Alexios she’s almost completely adopted as her son, at this point. Outside of the furies, a few friends that she’s made that she’s already beginning to care a great deal for (or will come to care for) would be @silaskyun, @ajaxgriffin, @leonidaskaratasos, @winterdupont, and maybe @atlasxrose. Ophelia has never had a problem making friends wherever she goes, because the display she puts on most of the time is that of a charming, kind young woman. 

(The) Phonoi: Talk about your character’s view on murder.

Mixed. Unjustified murder is bad, obviously. She doesn’t have to be a follower of Tisiphone to know that. But at the same time, a murder can be justified. Like someone acting in retribution for a wrong. So long as it’s justifiable, or she can reason it, then Ophelia can condone it. There was actually a meme I answered on this scenario, where she walked in on Atlas committing a murder, and honestly it’s pretty accurate to how she would respond, especially if it were someone that she cares about. You can read it here if you want.

Ponos: Talk about what would make your character emotionally break.

Again, I feel like betrayal would be pretty high up there. But also, like previously mentioned as well, witnessing the death of someone she cared about. 

Tartarus: Talk about your character’s view on retribution.

It’s her whole thing, baby. What she’s been put on this earth to do. Retribution is a big part of who Ophelia is, to the point where if she witnesses an injustice happening, she cannot rest until she corrects it. It does not matter whether it happens to her, someone she knows, or even a stranger on the street. She cannot abide by immorality that harms others unnecessarily, and if the person that was wronged is unable to enact justice themselves, then she will be the one to do it. 

[fyeahwonderbat]

Here's just a thought, Bruce who has been awake for days refusing to go to sleep. Diana sick of arguing with him picks him up and carries him to bed, Imagine her walking by Alfred while Bruce squirms and demands to be put down,

The punching bag reacted to Bruce’s punches like it was frightened by every hit, but he refused to stop his assault on the leather-bound bag. Every time his knuckles collided with it, the sound challenged every grunt that came out of his mouth. Teeth gritted and brows knitted, he was nothing more than a wild creature slugging a stationary enemy, channeling all of the anger and pain that was threatening to swallow him whole for the past week and a half. In the comfort of his BatCave, where he didn’t need to wear any kind of mask as a hero or a man, it was the only catharsis he knew.

“Bruce,” he heard a familiar voice hum his name and it rang within his soul. She possessed the dangerous gift of silencing parts of him that he wasn’t always comfortable letting go of, so when Wonder Woman surprised him with a visit at such a late hour, Bruce wasn’t at all amused.

He went so far as to pretend he didn’t hear her over the smacking sound his punches made. So desperate to avoid her, he moved faster, throwing all of his body weight into every hit like the punching bag would dare to hit him back the moment he was distracted. Unfortunately, Diana took his coldness as a challenge and approached him with her warm heart on full display. She grabbed the bottom of the bag when it swung back and refused to release it from her Amazonian grip. Then she stared him down and offered him another chance to address her properly.

Bruce didn’t say a word until she arched her brow at him. Recoiling slightly, he muttered, “It’s late, Diana.”

“Luckily for me, I was given the access codes to the mansion, so I can come and go whenever I want.” she reminded him cooly.

“Thanks for reminding me, I need to change those tomorrow.” Bruce bit back. The flush of heat from his workout had nearly fallen to a simmer and he refused to let that happen. Lifting his fists up to his jawline, he arched his brow at her as an informal invitation to give him back his punching bag. Though she refused to release it, he was shocked to see her lower it enough so that he could resume his training.

She was offering to spot him, but didn’t need to announce it to him. Instead, she sparred with him verbally and said, “I’ll be sure to get them from Alfred in the evening, then.”

Bruce threw an unprofessional punch forward as an immediate reaction of disfavor regarding her words. He felt a jolt of pain in his thumb due to his haste yet he refused to show the discomfort on his face. Instead, he threw out his other hand in a tight first and moved with more caution. Diana’s presence was much too distracting for his liking and he was more than prepared to ask her to leave.

“Can I do something for you?”

“You can,” she admitted calmly, then paused before telling him what it is. “You can tell me what’s bothering you.”

The fact that she would think it was her place to ask him such a personal question motivated him to fire off a few more swings, regardless of how proper his punches were. “You did not come here just to chat.”

“Maybe I did.” Though she didn’t say it, there was a question that sounded like it needed to be tacked on to the end of her sentence: what are you going to do about it?

The urge to swing at her face came to mind, if only to distract her with a sparring match and keep her out of his head. However, he knew how cunning Diana liked to believe that she was, meaning she’d most likely attach a bet to their match and demand he confide in her if she won. It was much too early in the morning to deal with her sentimentality, so Bruce decided he’d move on from the punching bag altogether.

Turning away from her, he shouted over his shoulder without considering his volume whatsoever, “Wonder Woman’s time could be better spent somewhere else, where she’s needed.”

“I decide where I am needed, Bruce.” Diana informed him with a snap in her tone. She made it clear that she was not a fan of his dismissal of her, but she still refused to leave.

Spinning around at his waist, Bruce glowered at her and bellowed, “And it’s not here. Go home, or go find someone else to play charity case with.”

“If you actually tried to have a normal conversation with me, instead of biting my head off without even trying to be civil,” Diana warned him of his missteps as she walked towards him. She stopped herself from reaching him by planting her feet into the floor a few feet away from him, providing them both with some necessary space. “Maybe I would have left by now. But you’re much too proud to let that happen.”

Her boldness matched his own and it dismantled his confidence somewhat. Normally, he had to rile her more for her to pick up the gauntlet of a hostile conversation. Instead, at such a late hour on a rather stormy night, Diana was having none of his backtalk. Whatever the goal was in her mind, it only put him off of speaking to her even more.

“Go home.” He ordered her bluntly, unconcerned with how she’d take it.

Bruce turned away and took a step toward his weights, only to hear her drag her one of her Wonder Woman boots along the cemented floor behind him. Curious, he walked forward again, and the same noise followed him. He didn’t know if it was her own pride that was causing her to stick with him or if she was actually as benevolent as she claimed to be, but he was having none of it.

Not tonight.

Not after what he had been through, the haunting memories keeping him awake until the early hours of the morning, punching the anxiety and regret out of his soul with evident futility.

His fists acted like nothing more than dead weight when he felt his body fly backward suddenly, the years of physical training he’d suffered through rendered useless when he was at the mercy of an impatient Amazon. Bruce knew he had been tugged by the collar of his shirt, but he was caught off guard the moment his boots left the ground. “Diana!?” He screamed, both reprimanding her and demanding an explanation.

She didn’t offer one, though. Instead, she chucked his two hundred and fifty-pound body over her shoulder and left the BatCave’s training space without any type of warning. Furious, erratic, he tossed and squirmed uncontrollably as he fought her clutches to the best of his mortal ability. Nevertheless, nothing he did slowed her down. She carried on with her unannounced trek from his at-home gym, to the staircase that would take them upstairs, through the secret entryway and into his front hall.

Bruce’s could feel the blood that rushed into his face when he roared, “Put me down, NOW!”

“You’re only making my job that much easier when you flail like a child.” Warned Diana. She sounded exhausted from her efforts of transporting him from the basement to the upper level of his house, but he had never asked her to handle him like a brute. It felt like his personal coping mechanism was being scolded, making him believe that she saw him as inferior when stacked against her eternal wisdom. The longer he was in her hold, the angrier he became.

When they reached the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Bruce heard a door open and knew at once that Alfred had been awakened by his wailing. “Alfred!” He called to his butler with a tone so desperate, it embarrassed him. He felt even more foolish than he already did when he blurted out, “Stop her! Do something!”

By the time they passed by Alfred’s door, it was magically closed, and his so-called friend was nowhere in sight. “Traitor!” He condemned his butler, nearly seething by the time they reached his bedroom door.

To his dismay, Diana predicted his attempt at an escape and flattened his wrists against his sides so he couldn’t cling to the doorframe. He had handled villains with more respect than she was showing him at that moment when she went so far as to throw him down onto his bed. If there was one thing he hated, it was losing control of any situation. Glaring at her from his sprawled out position on his own mattress, it took everything he had left in his weary body not to tackle her to the ground and fight her right then and there. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

She couldn’t have looked more repulsed by his behavior in the darkened state of his bedroom, with nothing but the moonlight coming in through his open window highlight the scowl on her face. Still, she pretended that she wasn’t wearing her heart on her sleeve and inquired, “Are you trying to manage your stress or overwork yourself into the grave? Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference with you.”

Those words struck him as if she had sent his punching bag right back at him. It felt like her voice was a can opener and his heart had been forcefully exposed when she dared to mention death around him. There was the typical reason as to why he loathed discussing grief, and then there was his newly founded reason.

Jason.

Bruce felt sober all of a sudden. All of his efforts to expunge the hurt from his heart were revealed as completely fruitless under the careful eye of Diana, Wonder Woman, friend to all and savior to some. Her entire energy was such a shift from those people who lived in his city and were trapped by its demons, she had the force of an earthquake behind her when she tried to move his mind into perspective. He was just so rebellious to any way of doing things that weren’t his own, but the resurrection of his ward was something that he had the skill set to handle.

The way Jason yelled at him as he walked away from the chance to kill the Joker proved that to him.

Shoulders sunken and breathing shallow, Bruce glanced at Diana’s shadowy form and told her the truth. “Neither can I.”

He feared she would let a pause sit between them and emphasize the deplorable authenticity to his words. Instead, she graciously carried on like his admission wasn’t horrifying. “A great midway point is going to sleep.”

“How do you figure that?” Bruce said, stunned.

“Because,” she was humming again, speaking softly to him as she approached the bed. Diana dared to even sit on the edge of it when he had been rejecting her the entire time she’d bee with him that night. Impressed by her bravery, he said nothing when she made herself comfortable. “Sleeping replenishes the energy that stress can steal away, and when you’re asleep, the world doesn’t exist.”

“Sleep doesn’t exist in Gotham.” explained Bruce in a monotone voice.

To his surprise, Diana’s delicate touch grazed his forehead. She had leaned in while he rebutted her and brushed his hair off of his forehead carefully, tenderly. She maintained her gentle composure when she responded, “It will, once you close your eyes.”

“Diana–”

“You’re the most powerful man in the city. You can schedule in sleep if you need to, and I’m saying you do need to.” decreed Wonder Woman. She still managed to appear almighty while speaking to him in the softest tone of voice he’d ever heard. He had witnessed her transform from a domineering dictator to an amicable ally within the time span of mere minutes. Nevertheless, he knew that both sides of Diana were based upon the respect she had for him.

Even when he didn’t deserve it.

A heavy breath escaped him while he summoned the courage to admit his agreement to her, both rising from deep within his gut, “I’ll try to sleep. I won’t make any promises though.”

He didn’t need to see her clearly to know that he had just made her grin. Diana lifted herself off of the bed, bringing herself to stand tall next to the bed as she praised him, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Wait,” Bruce exclaimed rather threateningly when he saw her turn to leave. After everything was said and done, he felt uncomfortable to have her usher him to bed and then depart. “You can stay here, in the manor, for the night. You never even told me why you stopped by but we can discuss it in the morning.”

A beam of moonlight landed on her shoulder when she stopped in her tracks, and it traced the length of her collar bone as she turned back around. When she faced him once again, she explained, “I came here to check on you, Bruce. I was worried about you. So long as I know you’ve rested - even a little bit - I’ll take my leave knowing you’re taking better care of yourself.”

Bruce felt himself becoming unhinged again at the suggestion. “There are more rooms in this house than I know what to do with. Just take one of them for the night. Please, Diana.”

“That’s not necessary–”

Bruce jumped out of bed in an obvious attempt at protesting her rejection of his offer. Before a single word of argument could escape that mouth of hers, he poorly veiled an order as a suggestion, “Either you stay the night, or I’ll just go back downstairs. You know I will.”

“Your stubbornness truly knows no bounds, does it?” It was not a compliment that she was giving him, but he took it was one to know he could get under the skin of a literal goddess so easily.

The idea of getting under something inspired him to find a compromise between both of their motivations. The king-sized bed next to him was so foreign to him at this point in his life that it wasn’t truly his own, so he thought it was fair to divide it between the two of them. “Stay here tonight. I’ll sleep, you’ll sleep. Deal?”

She didn’t even hesitate to add her one clause to their agreement, “I claim the side closest to the door, then.”

Bruce held up his hands as his answer. Then, he crawled over to the side of the bed she hadn’t declared as her own and fell against the headboard in a slumped over position. His back had been facing her for no more than a few moments, but she had already climbed into the bed and laid down flat on her back. Dressed in her armor still, he realized quickly that he should present her with some time of sleepwear as well. Leaping out of bed and seeing her rise from the corner of his eye, he latched onto the handles of his wardrobe and threw it open in order to find her a long shirt of some kind.

The mattress didn’t creak as he searched, proving to him that she was merely observing him as he scavenged through drawers that he hadn’t looked at in months. As he dug for something appropriate, he came across an old t-shirt that was gifted to him years ago. It was a group he never listened to, but they were a favorite of the person who gave it to him. Seeing the red letters sprawled out on the black fabric even reminded him of the colors associated with…

“Jason.”

“What?” Diana asked.

“It’s… It’s Jason,” Bruce fought the lump in his throat and forced the name of the revived Robin out of his body like he wanted to exorcize the evil energy attached to it. He threw the shirt back into the drawer, fuming. Refusing to relive the shock once again, he ground out the words he needed to say in order to supply her with context. “He’s back. From the dead.”

Diana didn’t say anything right away. In fact, she didn’t utter a single word until he decided upon a shirt and turned around to toss it at her. When she caught it, it was almost as if she had grasped the concept of what she wanted to tell him.

“Not in a way that benefits him, though.” Diana implied with her tone of voice that she assumed she was correct but was still open to hearing him divulge his point of view.

Bruce returned to the bed just as she stood up and began to unclasp her Amazonian girdle. In order to give her - and himself - some privacy, he faced the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him and fiddle with the alarm he’d need to set for the morning. “It isn’t how he’s back that’s the problem. It’s what he’s wasting his second chance at life on, and what he wanted me to do, to repent.”

He heard the fabric of his shirt being moved around as she surmised his meaning, “Revenge.”

“Murder.” Bruce clarified.

“One of your villains?”

“Yes.” He grumbled.

The bed dipped next to him and he almost didn’t turn over to face her. He felt absolutely stranded in the uncharted territory of their conversation, even though he had been the one to start it. Opening up about one of his greatest shames wasn’t easy, to the point that his chest tightened like it was compressing his heart to keep him for admitting to anything else he kept locked within his heart. His body was a cage for so many atrocities that his personality, his essence was so easily skewed by everything that was trapped inside.

The moment Diana touched his shoulder and grazed her fingertips against his sternum, Bruce felt a shiver rattle his spine. He threw himself into the middle of the bed to keep her from feeling the way his muscles shook, only to be met with the most understanding and empathetic expression he’d ever seen on her face, the face of Wonder Woman herself. Then, she pressed him further for more information, “But you didn’t do it.”

“No.” Was his instantaneous reply.

She didn’t look relieved or shocked. She looked exactly the same. She never expected anything else from him and that unspoken confidence touched him, even though he felt disassociated from the warmth it provided him with. “Then the only thing you can do” - she inhaled while processing what he had told her, trying to come to grips with what his life was truly like, most likely - “is hope that he sees the meaning behind your choice, and seek you out once again.”

“Right, but he might not–”

“He just might,” Diana said plainly. Bruce heard the finality of her statement and knew that it wasn’t meant to cause an argument. Instead of challenging his pessimism, she unintentionally pointed out an important piece of the puzzle: he no longer knew what this Jason was capable of. Perhaps he could travel down a darker path, becoming an adversary for the Batman rather than a partner in crime. Or, maybe all he needed was to face his inner demons to see what he was capable of when given the chance to live again.

The high risk-high reward lifestyle was nothing new for the Batman. As he grew older though, Bruce secretly wished that he could play the odds less and less. More and more people were coming into his life through the Justice League meaning there was such a greater chance of loss. It wasn’t something Jason had toyed with when he was his partner, however. It was the Batman’s game, not Robin’s. Witnessing the cruelty of Jason’s circumstances after Dick’s desertion prior, it felt like his teammates were nothing but weaknesses to him at times.

Then, there was Diana with all of her godly might. She had stayed with him even when he hadn’t deserved it, which he could easily blame on her immortality and thousands of years of life, where she had been encountering prideful people for centuries in order to prepare herself for his ego in the present. Her fortitude wasn’t always something he admired, a fact that she knew all too well. Tonight, however, it was the only solace he’d had in far too long. Her companionship was the balm he had never even dared to ask for. Still, it was always there to try and minimize the damage done to his soul.

“He might,” Was his whispered response to her after the long pause he introduced into their conversation. Unable to give her anything more for the night, he reached for the bed sheets and tugged them up over their bodies. They had fallen asleep together on missions before in grassy fields, in caves and other uncomfortable places. Sharing his bed with her felt just as intimate as unveiling his grievances. Overwhelmed by the amount of exposure he’d given her in one night, Bruce muttered an incoherent, “Good night.”

For the last time that evening, she hummed to him like she was using his name to sing him a lullaby, and he swore to himself that he’d never tell her the immediate sense of calm it provided him with to hear her serenade him to sleep with nothing more than a few simple words, “Good night, Bruce.”

[5hfanfiction]

Seasons - Chapter 01

“Do you believe in mythology? The kind with gods, heroes and monsters. If you don’t, you’ll start to believe it; if you do, you’ll know that everything is true. Camila Cabello found this out the unusual way possible, dipping into a completely new world, full of dangers, monsters and the worst; she have to deal with Lauren Jauregui, an annoying, arrogant and beautiful Zeus’ daughter. What she didn’t know was that along with Lauren and her new friends from Camp Half-Blood, she would become the center of a plot full of adventures, mysteries and romance.”

Summer: Once upon a time a day that wasn’t normal

Hi, I’m Lina and I hope you’ll like my story. It’s based on Percy Jackson’s books.

Camila’s POV

Early in that morning, I considered myself a normal teenager. Sure, certain things insist on deny this statement, but to the point of my life, I had an idea that I was just a normal girl with a peculiar bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was a 16-year-old girl, who craved everything a teenager could want that age. No, I didn’t think about boyfriends, actually, it was very difficult to think about having a relationship with other people when I was constantly moving. So maybe one of the things I wanted most was that I have friends, that I could spend at least two birthdays with the same people. But that wasn’t possible, and part of it was my fault.

Not that I was a rebellious girl. On the contrary, I always wanted to do the right things so I wouldn’t give my mom any trouble. She was an exhausted and hardworking lady who did a bit of everything, a writer who spent much of her money to cover so many moves. Sinuhe wasn’t my real mother, she married my father when I was one year old. When Papa was still alive, things were much easier, but since he had been found dead in a street, everything had been drastically difficult. I was only seven at the time and all I understood was that I no longer had my hero. In her place was a warrior, with her ups and downs, but at the end of the night she still came to my room to wish me good night and place a kiss on my forehead.

So what went wrong? This was a question that kept repeating in my mind like a bad and scratchy disk.As much as I tried, I couldn’t fight certain things. I had something that the experts called dyslexia and hyperactivity, I used to say it was a pain in the ass. I couldn’t concentrate on studies, as it was almost impossible to sit still for more than half an hour. What made me uneasy in the classroom, doing everything but getting pay attention to what the teacher said. Oh, but these disorders are common and can be controlled, right? In parts, if that was just my problem. Certain things happened. Things that I often couldn’t explain. Many times I felt persecuted or being watched. A psychologist even suggested that I had paranoid schizophrenia, light type. Add to my long list of problems, small facts like being clumsy, curious and stubborn. It definitely put me in trouble too.

This year was being a great year. I had received only three detentions this month, I wasn’t expelled from school yet and summer vacations were about to begin. It was a week that I did not feel that bad feeling I was being chased. That was supposed to be the most normal day of my life. Was.

I met Dinah in the school entrance, as always. Dinah Jane was a tall, expansive girl with an incredible sense of humor. She was as dumb as me, which made her the closest I’ve ever had to a best friend. She was also agitated, and although she didn’t have to say it aloud, she also had difficulty keeping her attention.

“I think a slug can arrive early at school than you,” Dinah teased as soon as her eyes fell on me.

“Don’t start, DJ”, I asked with my usual bad morning mood.

“Woke up the Ms. Delicacy Ever” Polynesian girl laughed and began to follow me through the halls. “Have you told Aunt Sinu that we are going out at night?”

“Yes, I did. She was reluctant, but she let me go” I shrugged my shoulders despondently. “I can’t believe that I’m going to…”

“It’s a teenage party, guess what, you’re one! Even if you look like an old spinster who complaining about life”

“I know you love me, that’s enough for me and I-”

My thoughts were completely cut off. Suddenly my body bumps into something and my lack of body mass was totally in favor of gravity, making me to fall to the ground. I looked up still in shock, but as soon as my brown eyes locked in the green eyes of that girl, my anger rose to my head. Of course, it had to be that stupid Jauregui.

“Don’t you look where you’re going?” I grumbled and getting help from Dinah to get up. “Oh, I forgot you just have no education.”

“If you were as fast as your tongue is to speaking stupidity, you’d avoid many disasters.” she shot back promptly .

Well, up to that point, it was normal. Lauren Jauregui a troublemaker class A. No one really knew much about her, just that it wasn’t good to get in her way. Okay, I’d follow this rule very happy, if she wasn’t Dinah’s friend of Dinah. To this day, I wonder how this was possible because Dinah Jane despite her outgoing and imperative way, she was a great friend. It wasn’t possible to associate someone who is able to get close to Jauregui for more than five minutes.

“Don’t even think about,” Jauregui threatened as soon as I opened my mouth, her eyes changed from blue and green staring at me so intense that I almost stepped back. “DJ, I need to talk to you at lunch”

“I hope it’s important”, Dinah grumbled. “I always end up without lunch right when it happens”

“It is always important!” the Hispanic girl snapped.

Then Lauren leaves tripping over everything before her. No one dared stand in her way, so it was likely that students prefer jumping off her course than be bogged down. I glared at Dinah, raised eyebrows and sharp look.

“No point on do it Mila, I won’t say anything” Dinah shrugged and adjusted her backpack. “Now let’s go, the bell will ring and my first class is physics. Blah, I hate physics”

I grunted and bit my tongue so I wouldn’t argue with my friend. It was always like this. Lauren appeared with her “good” education and practically summoned Dinah. They missed the whole lunchtime, and then Dinah said nothing about what happened. Sometimes she would come back tired, as if she’d been running all the time, or even lightly injured. I believe that they are part of something dangerous, like a school gang and had to face other gangs, skipping from school for this. But I soon dismissed that possibility, it was just my fertile mind seeking reasons to have my only friend stolen from me. And even more for that girl.

While Dinah went to her physics class, I’d have my math torture dose. I hated math, and English, and chemistry, and physics… and every class. I had learning disabilities and instead of God making up for it by giving me a good advantage in sports, I had to be clumsy enough to almost suffer a serious accident every time I stepped on a sports court.

During class, I pretended to pay attention while trying to fool me, telling myself that I wasn’t bothered by Lauren have called Dinah for another secret meeting. I had to pretend I was ignoring that painful twinge of curiosity that always had when it happened. After all, Dinah was probably the only person on Earth who may know something about Lauren Jauregui. This girl was a real mystery, one that I didn’t care so much about finding out.

Prepotent, she didn’t follow orders or rules, violent enough to punch anyone in front of her. If I thought I had the records of going into detention, Lauren overcame me on showing up in that classroom for bad behavior or aggression.

Lunchtime came after a long and boring class in Political Geography. I was extremely discouraged to spend those thirty minutes alone when I saw Dinah and Lauren before they disappeared into a hallway. It was as if a little devil was whispering in my ear to follow them. I wondered where the little angel was saying I shouldn’t go, but he didn’t even bother to show up.

It would be just to know that Dinah was fine. Friends care about each other, right?

At least, that’s what I told myself as I almost ran toward that hallway hoping I wouldn’t lose sight of them. They both headed toward the deserted pool. The heater was broken and the principal never insisted on fix since the swim club trained in a school-affiliated club. I followed them at a safe distance, I didn’t want to imagine the Jauregui’s angry face or Dinah’s disappointment when she realized that I was following them. For a moment, I cursed my impulsivity and curiosity. But it was too late, I couldn’t go back, I had to find out what was going on, or I would be eternally tormented by my imagination.

They entered the empty building, and I waited a few minutes, looking for an alternative to enter without being caught. I went to a rusty window, just catching sight of Dinah sitting at the edge of the empty pool. Lauren remained standing, pacing back and forth, apparently nervous while argued something with I knew they were too distracted to notice my presence, so I managed to – incredibly – enter through the main door making no noise and direct me to some empty crates where it should be an old equipment of maintenance of the swimming pool.

“It may not be, Lauren,” Dinah argued tediously. “You said last week that Mrs. Turner might be a dracaenae, and even though she’s ugly like them, she’s just that, a grumpy old woman.”

“There’s something strange, Dinah!” Lauren huffed and ran a hand through her hair. “Last month there was that attack and I almost died because YOU said it was no big deal. And yet I was suspended for destroying the north courtyard” she stopped and pointed her finger. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run away with a tail between your legs”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get another suspension, I would be expelled!”

What kind of argument was that?! Attack? Dracaenae? I frowned totally lost in what I was hearing. Everyone knew that Lauren had had an attack and broken things in the north courtyard, which luckily was empty for being class time.

“I still think Cabello is involved” Lauren said out of nowhere.

I almost stumbled forward with the scare I took to hear my name. How would I be involved?!

“She may be a sensitive human to the veil of mist.” Dinah let out a long sigh. “I stood beside her as much as I could Lauren, nothing much happened besides her having bad luck and a little persecution mania. You’re forgetting that Mila is 16, she’ll be 17 soon. Something should have already happened, it’s the rule now!”

“You know very well how they don’t follow the rules. Or I wouldn’t even exist, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry princess sparkle and…”

“Shut up!”

“Are you sensitive today?”

“No, shut up, there’s someone here!”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear my heartbeat and find me. I was starting to cringe and preparing an escape route, when everything changed. A strong, hairy and tattooed arms wrapped around me as if I was a rag doll. I screamed in panic more by instinct than actually processing what happened. I was easily lifted from the ground.

“Finally found!” a strong and masculine voice rattled as if he’d found his lost toy.

I looked up, meeting the new school janitor. I knew that just because I saw him and thought him was weird. It might just be my panic-stricken impression, but the man now seemed more than six feet tall, his muscles as strong as iron. But his teeth were so sharp eerily that my blood seemed to run away from my veins.

“Let her go now!”

Lauren ordered. Dinah had jumped from in the spot and now looked at me in pure shock and horror.

“No, I finally found the package Master asked for!” the janitor said and snorted. “My teacher said not to attract attention. But eating demigods isn’t to attract attention, right?” then he threw me against the boxes as if I really were a rag doll. “First the annoying one! Then it will be your turn, girl!”

My whole back ached from the impact, I had fallen awkwardly and my ankle was throbbing in pain. But I barely processed it. The janitor seemed to grow more, getting rougher, wilder. The full-sleeve shirt that made up his uniform ripped with his toned muscles, showing his arms full of tattoos I could barely identify. His hair was even curlier, more hideous, the air that surrounded him was savagery. His eyes weren’t smart, but showed a frightening force..

But Lauren wasn’t intimidated. Instead, her gaze became even more threatening, even sparkling. She took a lighter out of her pocket and pointed it at the janitor as if it were something dangerous, like a pistol or revolver.

“Last chance” Lauren threatened, chin up, higher posture. God, she was crazy!

“Mila, over here” Suddenly Dinah was at my side, speaking quietly. “Lauren will distract the Laistrygonian and we will escape”

“Di-Dinah, what…? Lauren, she… Holy shit!”

I couldn’t formulate a sentence. My mind was like a blind knot unable to untie. Everything seemed to get worse when Lauren, somehow, squeezed the lighter and it unfolded rapidly, growing and turning into a sword. It wasn’t one of those toys, it was an item you saw in epic movies, with warriors wielding and brandishing as if they were knives. My eyes widened refusing to believe the things happening right in front of me. Dinah was trying to pull me, but my body was simply petrified. I stared at her as if she wasn’t real. How could she be?

“Mom always said to play with food!” the janitor said.

Lauren groaned typically. Held firmer the handle of the sword and I could swear that a wisp of electricity went through the blade. The janitor stepped forward, trying to punch her directly. Jauregui just swerved, rolling her body to the side and moving away a little bit. She had everything in control.

“Mila!” Dinah slapped me in the face, finally waking me up. “We need to go!”

The sense of escape was almost suffocating. I knew I was in danger of life, the feeling of persecution almost sank me down. This time when Dinah pulled me, I followed her promptly, allowing myself to be carried away by my friend.I looked back one last time, worried about Lauren. But all I could see was a warrior girl dodging a sequence of blows and hitting the sword in the arm what I believed was our janitor. Her gaze was serious, intent on the task of attacking and dodging. I was sure that this wasn’t her first battle, just as I was even more sure of another factor: my morning started normal, had its end.

Little did I know that was just the beginning.

[airquietworks]

Weightlifting (BNHA one-shot)

Summary: "Those were his eyes. Eyes that could stare up at the sky and say, 'I will punch through you.' Those were the eyes that she tried to summon in the mirror every day. She never was able to." Ochako speaks with All Might about her future because misery loves company

One. Two. Three. Four. The fire in Ochako’s muscles ached as she strained against the barbell, but she pushed herself through the pain with deep, measured breaths. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. She found solace in the cadence of her exercise, revelling in the burning sensation that slowly spread through her arms and lungs. She had learned to appreciate the heat, using it to drive herself forward. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. The burning ache grew more intense, but she resisted her urge to use her quirk and end the routine. She had never lifted this much weight before, but she needed to keep improving. She had to if she wanted to be more like — She stomped down hard on the thought. Not the time. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. “Just...a little...bit...more,” she muttered to herself under her breath, fighting desperately to maintain her rhythm. She was thankful there were few people around the indoor fitness facility this late at night. As much as she enjoyed working out with her friends, she felt an increasing need to keep a more single-minded focus during her routine. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. “Twenty!” she gasped out, tapping the bar with her fingertip and making it weightless. She gently lifted it back onto the rack before bringing her fingers together. “And release,” she managed to pant out, taking large gulps of air to try to cool the heat in her body. Ochako took a large swig from her water bottle laying next to her, savouring the cool refreshment. She set up and scanned her eyes on the room around her. Save for her, the bright facility was empty, the machines and weights deathly quiet. The windows showed only darkness, the sunlight that had guided her inside having long since departed. She sighed out after her long drink, deciding to start her cooldown stretches before calling it a night. She lamented losing track of the time again, and the persistent questions she would probably get from her dorm mates about what exactly she was spending her evenings doing. Training, Ochako said time and time again, but the quirked eyebrows and follow up questions were starting to grate on her nerves. Her friends were sceptical that she would actually spend her evenings training, considering how loaded their days already were with hero practice. Mina, in particular, was unrelenting, finding moments when she was alone to ask her if she was sneaking off because she was in love — A flash of green hair appeared in her mind’s eye and she shook her head in desperation to lose the image, immediately starting her final stretches, focusing on steady breaths. She was still training. She could save such thoughts for later. Or never. Never sounded good to her. Ochako reached down towards her toes, feeling her back muscles stretch out as she held the position. She put all of her thought into each movement, losing herself to the single-minded distraction. But as she winded the routine out, she struggled to keep her mind from going adrift. Her thoughts and feelings were such a chaotic mess these days, rendering her dazed and confused as they zigzagged across each other. She tried spending more time centred on her solitary drive to improve herself and her physical capabilities. She put her all into becoming a stronger hero, which she had largely been successful in achieving. But the other recesses of her mind continue to nag, a lingering discontent and even….resentment?...continuing to trouble her. The quiet ring of the door to the building snapped her out of her reverie and she panicked at the thought of getting caught here this late. She made a quick step towards her gym bag, trying to gather her belongings before turning her eyes to the sudden intruder, some distance away from her corner of the gym, in hopes she had not been spotted. To her surprise, the new presence was no student, but All Might himself in the flesh. The now eternally-thin frame of the man was adorned in a baggy grey tracksuit, his eyes scanning around the room for any sight of anyone. Instinctively, Ochako kneeled down behind the weight rack, trying to hide from the teacher’s scanning. She wasn’t sure what he was doing here, and there was still a few minutes left before the facility closed to students, but she figured it would be best to play it safe. She peeked her eyes over to see All Might, to her surprise, approach one of the heavier weight racks on the other side of the training facility. He started to load weights onto the bar, panting in an effort to lift some of the heavier discs. She watched on in amazement, grimacing slightly as he grit his teeth. Like most everyone, it was still taking her time to get used to seeing the world’s number one hero as frail as he was now. She may not have idolised him the way Deku did, but everyone on Earth could appreciate All Might! Seeing him reduced to this made her feel sick to her stomach. Probably why he hasn’t been teaching classes as much, she thought to herself, recalling the almost dirge-like dread that had befallen the 1A classroom the first time he had stepped in for basic heroics class. He had tried to explain how he was still staying on as a teacher and wanted to continue spreading his wealth of hero knowledge to them, assuring them that he would still guide them, in a desperate effort to recapture his old bravado. But the speech’s impact was limited as his student’s struggled to come to grips with the fact that All Might was actually the wispy and persistently blood-puking man before them. Though she had tried to compliment and thank All Might for his lessons with more vigour than she usually would (and encouraged her fellow classmates to join her in this), anyone could see the newfound uncertainty in their classroom dynamic had disappointed him. Now, he seemed to be doing all he could to avoid the room, with heroics being filled in by other teachers while he disappeared from student view. Nobody could be sure what he was up to most days, but there were plenty of unflattering whispers and rumours flying about. The world’s greatest hero loaded another weight, evenly balanced and looking absurdly heavy for a man of his stature. He panted, standing straight and taking a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Ochako watched on in a mixture of shock and horror; he wasn’t seriously planning to lift that much, was he? Her eyes scanned around the room and in that moment, she realized All Might didn’t have a spotter. She could generally get away without one thanks to her quirk, but she couldn’t imagine he could manage like this. All Might laid himself onto the bench and started to lift the heavy barbell. To Ochako’s surprise, he actually managed a couple of heavily-strained reps. Despite the thin frame, there must be some real muscle beneath it all. But his struggles gradually increased, the bar getting dangerously close to his chest. His arms finally gave out, causing the weight to crush him. She immediately leapt into action to help. “Sensei!” she shouted as the bar caused him to retch and cough up blood. She ran over and put a hand on the bar, grabbing onto it and lifting it off of him with her quirk. He took a deep, mournful breath, eyes widening at seeing her there. “Ura--urKA!” All Might tried to exclaim, interrupted by another spurt of blood. He covered his mouth and sprung up, flailing his arm weakly as if trying to shoo her away. “Sensei, you...you shouldn’t be doing that!” Ochako scolded. Student-teacher etiquette be damned, he was going to kill himself! He was pushing himself to the point of insanity, far too much like Deku. Her eye twitched as his face ran through her mind again and she briefly pondered how much like All Might he was. But she let it sit there, keeping her attention focused on the more immediate problem. “Uraraka, my dear! Your assistance is most appreciated!” He flashed a wide grin and a trembling thumbs up, his face seeming to contort slightly to match his once glorious visage. “But don’t fret, I had the situation well in hand!” Ochako affixed him with a quirked eyebrow and unsure eyes. All Might wavered under her gaze, bringing his shaking thumb back down to his side. “It didn't look like it. Why are you here, anyway?” Her curiosity was as piqued as her concern. It didn’t make any sense for him to be using the student facility, let alone trying to sneak in late at night. His face fell back into its grotesque shape and he eyes flew straight to the floor, refusing to meet her searching gaze. “...The teachers will kick me out if I try this in the staff training room,” All Might muttered. A bolt of shock thrust through him and his eyes suddenly bore into her. “Don’t tell anyone!” he flailed his hands desperately to implore her co-operation. “I don’t want anybody to know I was doing this.” Ochako sighed in response, exasperated by the familiar self-destructive determination. Deku really embodied his hero far too closely. Her eye twitched again in annoyance. “I promise I won’t tell anybody,” Ochako replied, flashing him a weak smile. “But you should really work your way up slowly on the weights, okay?” All Might gave her a mournful look, his sunken eyes etched with a weariness that Ochako had never seen before. But he breathed a deep sigh and nodded his head in submission. Ochako figured he probably couldn’t bear actually admitting the weakness verbally. “Well, good night,” she said quietly, not knowing what else to say and eager to leave the awkward moment behind her. She was drained and her nerves felt frayed at seeing All Might that weak. She sought the peaceful solace of bed, as much as her dreams tended to trouble her these days. With a deep sigh, Ochako plodded off for her abode, her posture unconsciously slouching as she walked through the glass doors of the facility into the darkness beyond. She was glad that another day of putting up her sunny facade was finally over. Unfortunately for her, she did not get very far. “Wait!” the deep voice of All Might exclaimed from behind her. She turned to see her teacher trailing behind, staring fiercely into her, through her. His gaze was unnerving; she did not like the thought of being the subject of his ire. “You seem...you look troubled,” All Might said, voice betraying an uncertainty that did not match his stare. “In class lately, too. You do well, but I can tell that...that you’re distracted.” The words pierced through her skin, getting dangerously close to her fragile young heart. She tried her best to dissuade her teacher with a reassuring smile. “I’ve just been a little exhausted lately, is all,” Ochako filled her response with the bright cheeriness she was known for. “Training has gotten pretty hectic! But I’m doing fine.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond to her face, twisting herself around and moving with quicker steps to escape the conversation. All Might didn’t see her mouth fall into a deep grimace. “It’s about Midoriya, isn’t it?" The question sliced right through her, gripping onto her legs and rendering her motionless. All of her carefully managed efforts to deny, to evade, to hide the tempest raging within her from the outside world were so close to being rendered for nought. She trembled slightly as she breathed in, trying to regain her composure and stop herself from spilling her guts out on the cool pavement. Not him. Not now. Another day. The short, quick justifications spun rapidly through her mind as she lifted her expression back into the gentle smile that masked her turmoil. “Like I said, I’m…” her excuse crashed into the wall of All-Might’s presence, looming over her with ferocious eyes, the once beastly man having snuck up during her self-distraction. “Uh…” Ochako sputtered, at a loss for words as her voice fell into the abyss in the eyes of her mentor. “You...you can...trust me, Uraraka. You don’t have to lie to me.” His voice was raw and open, lacking the usual facade he tried to maintain in classes to imitate his old, powered vocal chords. She stared at him blankly, lips quivering, searching desperately within herself to find the steel to rebuke his question. “Why don’t we just talk? Just to discuss hero work, of course.” His hand gestured to a nearby, plain-looking metal bench just ahead of them, innocent under the overhanging lights of the walkway. But she knew the unoffending bench would spell her untimely emotional demise. Yet despite much of her mind screaming in protest, her feet slowly walked toward the bench, taking a seat and placing her hands on her lap. Her heart had seized her movements and she did not have the strength or energy to evade the inquiry of her teacher. And something...something in those eyes made her feel like she could trust him. She didn’t know All Might well personally, but maybe he could help her sort out her hero problems. There was also kindness in his eyes, that reminded her of...of Deku. The one that made her hero’s journey so fraught. All Might deposited himself on the bench next to her, his eyes never leaving his young student. A stretch of terrible silence extended between them as Ochako struggled to figure out what exactly she should say. She hardly had a firm grasp on her heart herself. She had been struggling to keep it locked in chains, not wanting it to get in her — or anyone else’s — way. It tore her up inside and continued to rattle in its confinement on a daily basis.The thought of unlocking it and baring it before anybody made her stomach churn unpleasantly, fear and embarrassment shrinking her lungs whenever she considered talking about those feelings with someone. But the demanding beat of her chest had grown increasingly frustrating, making the already difficult path she was setting herself on all the more so. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was realizing she had to talk to somebody, especially if all of her painstaking efforts to disguise her turmoil were not working. That she was taking All Might of all people intimidated her, but her mind gripped onto a single thread of justification. She could just tell him she was anxious about hero work. Keep the talk focused. Who better than him to help her with that?. It was the best compromise she could think of. She wouldn’t have to tell him that she loved — “Have you ever…” she used the sound of her own voice to roughly shove the track of her mind in a different direction. “Wanted to be like someone so much, but terrified you could never measure up? As a hero, I mean.” Ochako kept her glance glued to her track pants, unwilling to pull her eyes up and see his reaction. She ran through the words in her mind, praying that they were ambiguous enough to disguise some of the more embarrassing aspects of her internal dispute. A surge of anxiety rushed inside her as she considered her own question and the silence stretched between them. She chided herself on her own stupidity. Of course All Might, the greatest hero ever, would have no such — “...Every day of my life.” Her head flipped towards him, mouth agape at the reply. But he did not meet her glance in return, his face solemn and downcast, shadowed by the top of his hair. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking about. “...And every day now, I look at all of you kids, and think that.” His voice was tinged with a misery that made Ochako’s eyes mist as she recalled his latest classes. “But that is just part of being a hero.” His dark eyes, prominent on his emaciated face, shifted back towards her. Within them was a blazing fire that made Ochako gasp. Those were his eyes. Eyes that could stare up at the sky and say, “I will punch through you.” Those were the eyes that she tried to summon in the mirror every day. She never was able to. “But you know what you do?” His voice grew deeper, the fire igniting it. He almost sounded like his old self. But the tremor in his limbs as he spoke conflicted with that. “You use that to drive yourself forward. You keep on reaching out for the very top, to live up to the ideal that you value. Every hero needs that — the camaraderie of competitiveness, the burning pursuit of doing the person next to you one better, plus ultra!” He stood up from his seat, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised a shaking fist up into the unmoving sky. In that moment, she could see the silhouette of the man he used to be. No, the man he still was, deep inside. The greatest hero ever. If only. If only her heart wasn’t bruised from trying to do just as he said. “But what if…” her voice felt soft and weak. Like she was. “What if it’s not possible, no matter what you do?” She lifted her gaze up to All Might and the fire she just saw was swiftly extinguished. A tear leaked out from the corner of her eye as she saw the harsh impact of her words deflate the mighty man before her. The silhouette evaporated as he eyed the dark ground, the thin, broken, echo of a man returning to the world. He sat back down, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him. The impossibility choked both of them into quiet. Ochako breathed in deeply, fighting back against the sadness that overflowed within her. She looked up at the sky and the stars she could never reach. There was a comfort to them, even as her own limits frustrated her. She could still admire them from afar. “I know he is going to be the greatest hero ever, someday." Those particular words felt as natural as breathing. "I...how...how could I possibly compare to that? To even get remotely close, I know I have to put everything into it. And I am. But for every step I take, it feels like he takes a leap. I can’t keep up.” She closed her eyes, head throbbing as she let her doubt pound against her skull. She didn’t let on the other part of her conundrum; how this all mixed in with her affection for him. If she couldn’t keep pace with him as a hero, as a rival, she certainly couldn’t as a...whatever it was she wanted to be to him. She didn’t know. “You keep pushing, just like you have.” His voice was soft, but the embers of his passion burned within it. Ochako weakly turned her head and her looked back to her teacher. His eyes bore into her once more, his brow creased in concern. "I know you’ve already been through a lot, but you’re really only just starting your journey. You haven’t realized your full potential yet. And I see a lot of it in you.” Her face flushed at the compliment as she tried to mull over the words. It may be true. Everyone in their class had a lot of growing to do and the future was uncertain. But there was little comfort in that. Already, the best of the best were clearly evident. She knew she wasn’t one of them. “I’m not going to lie. Your quirk is far from the most powerful out there. Other quirks can just do things you’re not capable of, enabling some to excel in ways you never will. There are those that will likely be able to do things impossible to you, simply by virtue of their quirk.” The truth of his analysis stung Ochako’s core, the faces of Bakuko, Todoroki and Deku flashing swiftly through her mind. “But you have to use that to drive yourself forward,” All Might broke through her inadequacy-fuelled fugue as his voice rose in tempo. “There are so many things even I couldn’t do. But making yourself drive through those limits is what being a hero is all about.” Her fingers gripped tightly into her pants as the words pushed against her like a mighty current, but she held against it, unmoving as stone. She had already been doing all of that! How could she possibly make up the gap, when her quirk would not let her?! “If you think you can’t do anything, look at me and say so.” Ice. Solid, creeping and biting into all of her insides as the words rang through her ears and filled her with guilt. As if under mind control, she meekly obeyed, looking up towards the frail man sitting next to her. The greatest hero ever. His quirk somehow extinguished, his body eerily thin, no more than an ordinary, but once extraordinary, human being. A man compelled to save everyone he could, now powerless to do so. He may as well have punched her in the gut. Ochako realized then she was focusing far too much on the rattling of her envious heart. She was so wrapped up in what she wasn’t that she was losing sight of who she was. What she was capable of. She had the power that could achieve her dreams. That could save lives. That could make her a hero. That could give her parents the life they deserved. She had power, unlike the man before her. Who was she to besmirch her own capabilities, when she could do so much? “Now that my hero days are over, the world needs the next generation of heroes. The world needs you, Uravity.” The sparks of his earlier fire were still there, deep in the abyss of his gaze. A fire he was entrusting to others, she knew. Ochako felt the first honest smile she had offered in some time rise above her rosy cheeks.   “Thank you, sensei. You really helped me.” A part of her wished she was more comfortable with him to offer more affection, but she settled for beaming up at him with her trademark grin. “Don’t mention it. Now, it’s getting late. Off to bed with you.” All Might looked very pleased with himself, a pleasant change of pace from the misery he had been carrying around of late. She hoped this talk might have made him feel a little lighter, too. Ochako needed no further prompting. She sprung up, feeling as if her quirk had finally managed to lift a huge weight off of her chest. There turmoil was still there, but she would channel it to reach higher. She wouldn’t let anyone hold her back, not Deku and certainly not herself. Ultimately, she needed to count her blessings that those pesky feelings were the only thing impeding her way forward at this point. She could push through them. Compared to what All Might was going through, virtually helpless without a quirk, this was nothing. Compared to the hardships Deku had been going through, she could handle this. She turned to walk back to her room, eager again for the comforting warmth of her bed. But she stopped, as a blazing thought streaked across her mind, demanding her attention. She turned her face back towards All Might, flashing him a toothy grin. “You’re still his hero, you know,” she said with a quiet confidence. She got a great deal of enjoyment from his shocked expression. “And you’re mine, too.” Ochako turned swiftly, catching his jaw trembling out of the corner of her eye. She giggled as she ran away, feeling lighter than air.

[withoutcomedy]

"No, no, no, don’t die on me!"

SEND ME “NO, NO, NO, DON’T DIE ON ME!” FOR A SCENARIO IN WHICH MY MUSE DIES PROTECTING YOURS. [CLOSED]

[ @sansoftimeandspace Alright, for this drabble please imagine the following background scenario: Frisk has done a no mercy run, but never reset. So, all of the main cast but Sans is dead, and there is no king to rule the Underground. Thus, the Underground fell into anarchy, where only the strongest are allowed to survive. Imagine an Underground similar to the one in Underfell (without the edge) and Horrortale (without the body-horror and mutations). I was thinking maybe your Sans got his transceiver stolen, or maybe, even my Sans took it in a desperate attempt to escape the timeline, but then had a change of heart later on because he realized he was turning into a really bad person and because he noticed that even if he jumped into another universe he’d never see any of the original people again, and seeing how this was already the case with Gaster he realizes how he doesn’t even want that either. 

But maybe, he only comes to that conclusion when he another monster notices the potential of your Sans’ abilities, and who then wants to take advantage of him not much unlike my Sans himself (maybe an Alphys that somehow didn’t commit suicide as it was implied, but just vanished and got reaaally dark and desperate) So, while your Sans was actually on really bad terms with mine in the beginning, trying to get his transceiver back and all,  in the end, instead of being a selfish ahole, my Sans actually steps in to protect your’s from that other monster’s attack, returning the transceiver to him with his dying breath. Honestly, I don’t know. I just had something similar in my mind when writing my drabble so I thought I should let you know. ]

The skeleton was on his knees. He wasn’t a hero. Or at least, he had never perceived himself as one. Hero work was better left to the less cowardly, the less level-headed characters that thought it was worth to throw away your life for the next best thing that they believed in. Yet that didn’t change the fact that he was on his knees right here and right now, with crimson ribbons sprawling their deadly wings across his chest and running into a lake below his feet. What a pitiful way to go, slain by another monster, not even an enemy he’d been willing to fight. At least, he’d bite the dust without regrets, since he had nothing left to lose anymore. 

His consciousness fading by the seconds, it took him a moment to realize that he was being talked to. Once he did, however, his set of dull eye lights flickered up as they sought to focus on the voice that had yanked him out of his train of thoughts. Was it begging him not to die? An impossible request, too hilarious to be taken seriously. And what better way to shatter the other’s illusions than through blatant realism, through cynical laughter emphasized by words of truth that came out as heavy panting instead of the full bass he’d usually speak in: 

“heh. looks like plans are already set for today’s activities. sorry, pal.“ 

But even if he couldn’t escape death’s door this time, there was something, someone else that his sacrifice would help to do just that. With that eternal grin still sticking to his skull, he stretched out his determination stained left, skeletal hands clasping one another, as he slid the transceiver into his alternate’s palm. “hey, don’t make such a face, buddy. it’s worth it, trust me. you’ll get to escape like you wanted and, uh, find yourself a better timeline to stay in.” He winked at his other self, attempting to give off a comical vibe, before he dropped that act as well, and bluntly revealed the true depths of the despair that his metaphorical heart was filled with in the face of this universe’s dire outlooks; the entirety of his breakdown being mirrored by nothing but that eerie expression that was working its way across his face and that proceeded to mercilessly eradicate the mask of nonchalance he usually hid behind, when he was not busy dying. 

“personally, i’ve got nothing left to lose. everyone’s dead or crazy, the kiddo won’t reset and the underground’s gone to hell. so, uh, do yourself a favor and take the bone i’m throwing ya.” Even as Sans voice cracked, as his body began to crumble, crushed by his own weight, emotionally and physically, it felt great to state the facts with nothing but painful honesty for once. After all, there was no denial, that he was becoming too much for his fractured soul to bear. Still, in a twisted way, this was the most at peace that he had felt in a long, long time. He was dying, yes. But to him, death had grown into a promise of reunion, instead of a monument to fear. 

Only through his death, he’d be able to meet his friends again. Only through his death, he’d be allowed to spend time with his beloved brother once more. Thus, a genuine smile adorned his face as he turned to dust, as his physical shape decomposed and faded away into thousands upon thousands of tiny particles. Eventually, his alternate was left with nothing but those worn-out, crimson soaked clothes, that lay on the ground in an untidy mess, and the echo of Sans’ splintering soul, there to haunt him for all eternity.