#Oh and let's not forget you said I was suicide-baiting when I had suicide thoughts and wanted to kill myself.

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 7

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

8 Years Ago – Age 17

“Y/N, do you know why you are here?” the shrink asked from across the large desk.  You looked down at the typical uniform of a patient at a psychiatric ward.  Yes you knew why you were in here.  A few months ago you witnessed your father’s dead corpse hanging in your living room.  The next thing you knew you were writing a suicide note of your own and your foster parents found it before you could do anything.  Now, you were stuck in a psych ward, probably until you at least turned 18.

“Yep,” came your short response.  

The shrink glanced down at her papers in front of her, going through all of your notes.  “We want to help you as best we can Y/N.  You’ve been through some very traumatic experiences in your life and you’ve witnessed a great deal.  We are going to get you all the help you need.”

3 Months Later

“Have you heard of Borderline Personality Disorder Y/N?” your psychiatrist, Dr. Wang asked.  

That made your head snap in her direction.  Here you were, still stuck in the psych ward after three months and you weren’t sure why.  “I’ve heard of that, yes.  But I thought I was just depressed,” you mumbled, chewing on your fingernail.  

You were clinically diagnosed with depression shortly after coming here.  

“Well, that’s what we originally thought at first.  But the longer you’ve spent time here, the more I and the rest of the staff have discovered it is BPD.  You’re intense mood swings, combined with your ongoing feelings of emptiness and the intense bouts of anger you have are all signs of BPD. We are going to switch up your medications and that will really help with your mood swings and anger issues.

~~~

 No matter how hard you tried, sleep never came to you that afternoon.  You tossed and turned all afternoon in your bed and nothing seemed to be working.  Not only that, but you were really starting to get more irritable as the day went on and you knew it was time to change the dosing of your medication.  It was like clockwork, every year to year and a half. The only problem was that you couldn’t leave the tower without Steve, Bucky or an anyone else.  How were you supposed to get an appointment with your Psychiatrist if you couldn’t leave the tower alone?  This only increased your anger and frustration as you got out of bed to get ready.    

You brushed your teeth and put on a some jeans and a t-shirt, not really caring what you threw on. All of the specific clothing you wore for work was in the closet of your game room along with your makeup and accessories.  

Upon leaving your room, you saw Steve and Bucky sitting at the island in the kitchen of your shared apartment.  They both looked deep in thought over some paperwork and you assumed it was for work.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you were about to head into the elevator as you didn’t want to disturb them, but Steve spoke up and caught your attention.  “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, umm, I’m heading down to my game room.  I’m going to work tonight,” you mumbled out as you pressed the button for the elevator. You noticed it was on the ground floor and it would take a few minutes to get to your level.  

“What time do you plan on being done?” Steve questioned.  

You huffed in annoyance, already irritated as anger began to creep through your bones.  “I don’t know.  Whenever I get done,” you snapped.  Immediately you felt regret, but sometimes your emotions got the better of you when you were in dire need of a medication change.  

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” Steve commanded as he got up from his seat and stalked over to you, hands on his hips.  You noticed Bucky looking at you from his seat with furrowed brows.  They had never seen you angry like this.  You were always so compliant and easy going.  

“Look, I’m sorry.  I’m just tired is all.”

Steve looked at you sharply, his lips in a thin tight line.  “Alright.  Just make sure you get to bed at a reasonable time tonight.  Promise?”

“I promise,” you answered back.  

~~~

In the comfort of your game room, you quickly got to work.  Digging through your closet, you decided on a light pink tank top that said ‘Gamer Girl’ in black letters with two gamer controls on it.  Since your webcam only showed your top half, you threw on a black pair of cotton shorts to be comfortable.  

Next, you put your hair up in space buns, making sure they were situated just right so they wouldn’t be in the way of your headphones.  You put on your typical game night makeup: bright pink eyeshadow with dark smoked out liner, some mascara and blush and you were good to go.  

Turning on your monitor, you began to power everything up and once that was done, you logged in. Immediately your followers started putting in their messages off to the side and you smiled as you read them. You always tried to read as much of them as you could.  

As the night went on, you knew you should pack it up and listen to what Steve said; getting to bed at a descent time and getting rest.  But you were having way too much fun tonight and so were your followers. It was one of the best nights you’d had in months and not just money wise.  

Ignoring the clock you continued to play and interact with your followers with the microphone that was attached to your headphones.  Every so often you would glance to your messages box and see what some of them had said.  Most of them were cheering you on but of course you always had some haters in there as well.  

It was when you noticed the screen name of one of them that made your blood run cold.  JSmith20. ‘It can’t be’ you thought to yourself, trying to keep as composed as possible as hundreds of people were watching you game in this very moment.  

John’s last name is Smith and he always told you how his favorite number was 20, because that was how old you were when you met him.  No, but he’s still in prison.  He hasn’t gotten out.  He’ll be in there for many more years to come.  It had to be one of his friends right?  The same friend that had been delivering those letters to your old apartment.  ‘Yes, that’s right.  It’s just one of his friends trying to torment you’ you thought to yourself.  

Then, the person behind that screen name typed a message into your message box.  

Hey babe.  Do you miss me yet?  I can’t wait to see you – J

Yep, your composure went out the window reading the message.   Then another message from him popped up.  

I see you are no longer living in that little one bedroom apartment.  Did you really think you could up and move and I wouldn’t be able to find you?  Oh babe, how cute.  I will find you and we will meet again soon.  I promise – J

As you stared at the words on your screen, you heard groans from the other players on your team.  You had just lost the game.  

“Shit,” you swore, anger bubbling up inside of you.  “Fucking damnit!”  You slammed your fist on the desk.  

You rarely lost games. Losing always put you in a foul mood. But because of already being irritable and your emotions on over drive, losing just made everything worse.  

Looking at the clock it was just before five in the morning so you logged off and shut everything down.

You took your hair out of the buns, immediately feeling the tension in your head ease.  Ever so quietly, you opened the door and poked your head out into the hallway.  It was bitch black so you used your phone as a flashlight and tiptoed to the elevator. Before pressing the button on the elevator, you paused.  What if the noise of the elevator woke up Steve or Bucky?  You had promised Steve that you would get to bed at a descent time and seeing as it was just about five in the morning, well, you kind of figured you’d be in trouble.  

Instead, you opened the door to the stairs which was situated right next to the elevator.  At least taking the stairs would be much quieter.

You climbed the stairs up a few levels until you reached your living level and you waited on baited breath for a few moments.  Nothing. Nothing but silence.  As quiet as a mouse, you snuck through the door and dashed to your room, thanking your lucky stars that the palm scanner didn’t make any noise.  

You took a nice hot shower, washing off all of your makeup and the stress of the last few hours.  As much as you wanted to forget John messaging you, it wasn’t going to happen, neither was any sleep.  

Rather than even bothering to get into bed and try to relax, you sent an email to your psychiatrist letting her know that you would more than likely need a dose change on your medications.  Frantically typing away at the email, you explained how you were beginning to get irritated and it was harder for you to control your bouts of anger.  

Luckily for you, Dr. Wang was an early bird and she emailed you right back.  She wanted you to come see her for an appointment and your heart immediately dropped.  That wasn’t going to happen as one of your rules was that you weren’t allowed out of the tower by yourself.  And as much as you liked Darcy, you couldn’t trust her to go with you and not say anything to Steve or Bucky.  

Typing out your reply, you explained that you were unfortunately not able to meet in person and if there was anything else that could be done.  After you hit sent, you began to pace in your apartment, clearly on edge with everything going on.  You just wanted to feel better; you hated feeling this way.  It was as if you weren’t in control of your body and you definitely weren’t in control of your emotions.  

A notification came through your laptop and you rushed towards it, almost tripping over your feet. As you read her words, you could have cried right then and there.  She had agreed to a phone call appointment and she had time right now to discuss things with you.  

Grasping your phone, you dialed her number.

“It’s good to hear from you Y/N,” Dr. Wang stated as she answered the phone.  

“Oh Dr. Wang it is so good to hear your voice.”

She let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, it has been a little over six months since we’ve last spoken.  How are things going with you?”

“Where to begin,” you started off saying.  You let her know that you indeed met your soulmates and had moved in with them. You went over the rules that Steve had given you and she made you feel better as she stated she had seen way worse rules.  Hell, she said your rules were like a walk in the park compared to some she has heard.

“Alright, now, let’s get down to business.  How are you feeling these past few days?” she asked curiously.  

“Ugh, not good. Moving was stressful but I have been feeling really irritated over the last few and I’ve had a few bouts of anger rush through me that makes me want to punch something, but I’ve luckily been able to hold back on that.”

“What about any risky behaviors such as reckless driving, spending sprees, binge eating, drug abuse or sabotaging anything positive in your life?”

“Not yet,” you stated. You knew the routine.  She was going over all the symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder to see what has changed with you.  

“Ok good.  How about any intense fears of abandonment or rejection?”

That question always hit you like a punch to the gut.  The only reason you had stayed with John for so long was because of that right there. He purposely wouldn’t let you see Dr. Wang or he wouldn’t take you to get your medications refilled and because of that, you were starting to feel those feelings; not wanting to be abandoned no matter what.  

“Nope,” you replied.  

“Ok then.  I am going to increase the dosing on your current medications but I want to warn you.  Without you coming in and personally seeing me and without getting some blood work done, I don’t know how well this dosing is going to work, if it will work at all. We might need to discuss changing the medication all together,” she stated.  

“I understand Dr. Wang. And do you think maybe you could prescribe some sort of sleep medication for me too?”

“I can prescribe a one week trial of a sleeping medication for you.  After that, I really need you to try and come see me in the office and we can discuss that further.  Now, did you want me to send these prescriptions into your regular pharmacy?”

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you so much Dr. Wang.”

“No worries at all Y/N. Give the office a call and get an appointment set up.”

“I will.  Thanks again.”

Now that you had your medications all taken care of, you had to figure a way to leave the tower so you could get them.  

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Adjacent Truths

Rating: M Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer, Shane & Jas Tags: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Friendship, Pre-Relationship Word Count: 1900 Summary: Jas overheard something Shane can't take back, and it's eating him alive. The farmer notices. Also on AO3. Notes: Post-4 Heart Event—a direct sequel of it, if you will. Content warning for suicidal ideation.

When Jas had still been just a baby, Charlotte had told Shane that something changes in your brain after you have a kid. Hormones, chemicals, neurons firing, all fine-tuning, honing in on the sound of the baby's cry, making interpretations on an instinctual level. He'd panicked when Jas had started crying apparently unprovoked in his arms, but Charlotte hadn't even twitched. "She's just hungry," she'd said, with her tired-happy smile.

"She seems mad about it," Shane had said, looking down into the scrunched-up, red face, the tiny mouth open in a hiccuping wail.

"She gets that from Patrick."

But Shane wasn't, had never been, Jas's parent. By the time he'd learned to sort her hungry-crying from her tired-crying and everything else, she'd been nearly out of babyhood.

And there was no easy fix, anyway, for the way he'd made her cry this time.

She avoided him after what she'd overheard. He didn't blame her. She was a smart kid; it was a good time to cut her losses, free herself of any emotional attachment she had to him. Marnie would be a better guardian than he was, anyway. Maybe the ranch wasn’t doing all that great, but no one in the valley was, and they all managed to keep limping along somehow. Once he was gone, they'd probably be just fine, lightened by the absence of his dead weight.

But he kept hearing her. That was his brain's special talent: replaying, over and over again, the bad moments, so that he wouldn't forget how terrible he was. The sound of her sobbing echoed around in his head with the hundreds of other unpleasant things that repeated themselves there: the song he’d been using as a ringtone when he got the call about Patrick and Charlotte; the stuffed pig that Jas wouldn’t let go of that first week, the one that made the most obnoxious oinking sound; the disinterested scratch of the social worker’s pen on paper, changing the course of their lives forever.

“You want to talk about it?” Lydia asked.

Jas still went to the farm with him on Saturdays. She just didn't make conversation during the walk. The first words she spoke were to Archimedes, and then she waded into the woods, heading for the treehouse, silent.

He didn’t talk much, either, but that was how it had always been. Lydia would tell him about whatever project she was working on; she would remind him again that he could come back later for Jas instead of helping; and then, inevitably, they would get to work. Because he still wasn't enough of an ass to pawn his goddaughter off entirely on someone who hardly knew her.

It was a low bar, but it was what he could clear.

“Talk about what,” he said, and swung for the tree again. He was glad that the damn sprinkler system hadn’t had another crisis since last weekend. If Lydia had put him to that kind of fiddly work today, maybe he wouldn't have cleared that bar.

“Whatever it is,” Lydia said. She watched the tree, eyes darting between trunk and canopy, waiting for the moment it began to tip so that she could warn him out of the way. “I can’t read your mind, but obviously something’s been eating you the last few days.”

He swung the axe again. She hadn't traced his mood back to The Incident. Maybe she didn't want to bring it up if she didn't have to, or maybe other people just didn't spend as much time thinking about how much of a loser he was as he thought they did.

Sounded fake.

“I don’t know,” he said. Thud. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Lydia was no saint. Sometimes, just like everybody else, she got impatient. Usually it was because of the sprinklers. But those sometimes were rare, and she wasn't taking the bait today, as usual.

“Maybe,” she said amenably, and lapsed into silence again.

After a few more strikes, the tree creaked warningly. “Now,” she said, and they both hustled out of the way of the trunk. It fell slowly at first, then faster, faster, until it hit the ground thunderously right in the space they’d cleared for it.

Lydia was the mastermind, but at least Shane wasn't terrible at brute force labor.

She picked up a second axe; they both positioned themselves along the fallen tree to start chopping. She needed a fair amount of lumber to get that barn built before winter hit. It was hard for him to imagine thinking so far ahead. The farm was just overgrown enough that she could probably collect all the lumber she needed right here, instead of having to buy it. He didn't need to ask if she'd be able to afford it, if it came to that.

“But maybe I’m not,” she said, picking up the conversation after five minutes, like it’d never been dropped. “I mean, you’re cutting up this tree like it’s personally offended you, so there’s a chance. Just saying. I know you think I talk too much, but I’m a good listener.”

Shane took a deep breath. He fully intended to let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, the kind that usually sent anyone who’d dared take an interest scuttling.

But, as happened too often with Lydia, a stream of words came out instead, like he was powerless to stop them. One more thing he couldn't control.

“Take your pick,” he said, and went on dicing up the tree like it deserved the cutting. “Morris is on my ass about saying the catchphrase whenever I spot a customer.” Thwack. “Gus is on my ass about my tab, which is nowhere near as bad as Pam’s, but apparently it’s a problem when you’re not best friends.” Thwack. “Marnie is on my ass about looking for a better job, like there’s a lot of options in Pelican Town.” Thwack. “Jas won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.”

They'd established a pleasant kind of rhythm. Lydia’s axe fell not far behind his, creating a rhythmic one-two-beat, one-two-beat.

“Jas,” Lydia said after a moment.

His axe fell out of rhythm. “What?”

“You told me to take my pick. I say Jas is the item on that list that’s really bothering you. The other stuff happens all the time.”

It was no use telling her it was just a figure of speech. It was, but at the same time, she was right. All that other stuff was background noise, compared to Jas.

He hated when she was right. Except when he didn't mind. It was always hard to tell which it was until much later, which didn't help a lot with in-the-moment reactions.

He settled for hitting the tree again.

“Why do you think she’s not talking to you?�� Lydia asked, taking up the rhythm again behind him.

“You know why.” He said it to warn her off, in case she’d forgotten—but he didn’t think she had. He wasn't that lucky.

“Maybe. But tell me again.”

Lydia didn't believe in hiding things, letting them fester. She was completely fine wearing most of her bruises out in the open, cheerfully admitting that something had gone wrong and she was working on it—again, most of the time. She had a couple secret bruises that he'd poked, accidentally or intentionally.

But he was all secret bruises, or at least, he'd have liked to be. As long as he kept hanging around her, though, she'd keep digging them up to air out. The obvious solution was to stop hanging around her. He wondered, again, why he hadn't done that yet.

“She overheard something she shouldn’t have,” he said, “because someone dumped a canteen of water on me and made a scene.”

Lydia actually laughed, a little breathless, in the middle of her swing. “Oh, I see. It’s my fault.”

She was kind of refreshing, was the thing. Everyone else at The Incident had taken it so damn seriously. Granted, that was exactly two other people—Marnie and Jas—and one of them was seven, so maybe that wasn't surprising. But still. It was nice that someone had heard the thing he said and wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I panicked,” she admitted. “Not my finest moment. I’m sorry.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. They went back to the beat, one-two, one-two. In the distance, Archimedes barked.

“So she knows you meant it,” Lydia said, after a moment.

His axe hit a little crooked, and the rhythm stuttered again. He looked up at her. She realized he'd stopped, and she stopped, too, returning the look.

It wasn't that she didn't look sad, or worried. It was just that those things seemed secondary to a kind of openness, a thoughtfulness, like she was solving some kind of puzzle. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, or whether he liked it or not.

“Haven’t told her otherwise,” he said.

He expected a lecture. He gave one to himself more or less every hour. Put on a good face for Jas, or Just tell her you were having a bad day and didn’t mean it, or Tell her you’re going to be around for a good, long time, even though you don’t know, even though it might be a lie. The kid had already been through hell. He should've figured out some way, any way, to keep her from going through more by now.

He just couldn't. He didn't know why.

But she didn’t lecture. She said, “You don’t want to lie to her.” As if she understood.

He went back to his wood-chopping. “I don’t know how to lie to her.” He wished he did. That would have made this a lot easier.

But then, if he lied, she wouldn’t see the inevitable coming before it hit, which would make it all the harder for her.

Lydia went back to chopping, too. “I don’t think you need to, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah? You got an age-appropriate way to explain wanting to die?”

Finally, she hesitated, but only for a one-two beat of the falling axes. “Not really,” she said. “But Jas has already been through a lot. She knows stuff that most kids don’t at her age. So you can tell her adjacent truths.”

“Lotta syllables.”

Finally, she gave an impatient little sigh. “I mean things like—you’re sorry that she had to hear that. That it has nothing to do with her, and doesn’t mean you don’t love her. That things are just hard for you right now.” She breathed heavily on the next swing, more exasperation than effort. “She gets that you’re grieving, too, Shane.”

Trust a person like Lydia to paint it in such nice strokes. Like his best effort, which fell far short of winning any prizes, would be sufficient to a needy little kid.

But maybe...well, saying something could always make things worse, but the idea hadn't come from him. It was a start.

“I’ll plagiarize,” he said. “Thanks.”

It seemed like she was going to let it lie there, but then she spoke up again. “Like I said, I’m a good listener, so. You need an ear, I’m here. Day or night. I mean it.”

She wasn't wrong. She was a good listener. But she had some kind of future ahead of her, still, and he'd poisoned enough people with his failures. It was out in the open now; it didn't need to be rehashed. Next time, he would keep his mouth shut.

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 4

Trigger warning for suicide and suicide baiting.  Starts and ends at the * asterisks.  

.

There was something wrong with the school.  Other than it being entirely within Midoriya’s head.  It was… ominous.  Foreboding.  The way the walls joined together was wrong.  The colors on the posters clashed.  The incomprehensible background noise made by the bright blurs was jeering, mocking.

It reminded Aizawa too much of his old school, the one he went to before UA.  Of the looks and the hate he got just because his quirk frightened people.

But Midoriya had a straightforward physical quirk.  Correction: he appeared to have a straightforward physical quirk.  Even if he’d had the bone breaking problem, he shouldn’t have experienced anything like that.

Aizawa was shoved, hard, from behind, and that shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but it did.  He tumbled, painfully, to the ground.  There hadn’t been anyone there to push him.

Except the blurs.

He cursed inwardly.  He had been too fast to dismiss them, he realized, as cruel laughter rose up around them.

“They can touch us,” said Aizawa.  “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, sporting a black eye already.  “I apologize for my inattention.”

More laughter.  An older, but still indistinct voice rose above the sound, along with a taller blur.  A teacher.  The condescension in the tone made Aizawa’s teeth hurt.

He caught sight of Suzuki ahead.  “Come on,” he said.

“Let me try something, sensei,” said Todoroki.  He raised his arm, and ice filled the hallway, pushing out to either side.

The blurs ignored it.  The jeering increased in volume.  Aizawa could make out individual words, now, like ‘useless’ and ‘freak.’

“Good thought, Todoroki,” said Aizawa.  He tried not to let his trepidation show.  He had a feeling this was going to be difficult.

The children looked at him in horror.

“Sensei,” said Iida, “you’re being… encouraging?”

“Just follow them,” said Aizawa, pointing.  He wanted hazard pay for this nonsense.

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, zooming off.  He was immediately tripped again.

Luckily, Suzuki didn’t seem to be having much more luck.  The blurs, which Aizawa guessed were somehow Midoriya’s memories of his former classmates, were just as violent with him.  Aizawa couldn’t see Midoriya anymore.

Laughter.  One of the blurs scratched at Aizawa’s side and murmured tauntingly.  They passed a nurse’s office where nothing but cold words and cold winds emerged.  The hallways smelled like smoke and sugar and things that had to be related to quirks.

There was a loud ring overhead, and the blurs abruptly vanished.  Despite the burns Aizawa had suffered (when?) he forced himself to speed up.

He almost caught Suzuki before he entered the classroom.

Iida slipped on the tile floor, hitting him from behind, and all of them skidded into the classroom as a tangled mess.  Aizawa hadn’t been this clumsy since he was in middle school.  What was going on?

Midoriya was sitting at a desk, hunched over and muttering.  The desk was, to put it nicely, ruined.  Even from Aizawa’s current perspective, he could make out some truly hateful things carved into the wood and metal.

Aizawa dearly hoped that this was exaggerated.  Even so, he was going to seriously talk to Midoriya about therapy and taking legal action against this hellhole.

“What are you hiding?” asked Suzuki, roughly.

*

The classroom exploded into sound, blurs at the desks solidifying into outlines, into ghosts.

You’re also applying to UA, aren’t you, Midoriya?

Midoriya froze and buried his head in his arms.  Aizawa, halfway up with the intent to stop whatever this was, felt himself freeze as well.

This mindscape affected him far too much for his peace of mind.

The ghosts laughed, long and hard and cruel, the teacher did nothing to stop it.

Then Bakugou’s shade exploded.  Literally.  The smaller Midoriya barely had time to throw himself back, away from the blast.  Midoriya’s reflexes had much improved since middle school, but, honestly, even this much was impressive for someone of his age.

Come on, Deku!  Forget the crappy quirks, you’re totally quirkless!

… What?

Aizawa missed the next several sentences as his mind whirred, trying to comprehend what he just heard.  But then another explosion brought him back, and Bakugou’s next words were completely unmissable.

If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!

Just like that, whatever was holding them in place broke, the ghosts fading away entirely, leaving the classroom completely empty except for them and Midoriya.

Midoriya who was shaking, fists clenched, tears running down his face.

“Are you happy now?” he demanded.  “Are you happy?  Why couldn’t you just let me-?  Me being quirkless in middle school isn’t hurting anyone!”  He took several deep but uneven breaths, his shoulders trembling.

Uraraka stepped forward, and Midoriya flinched.

“Izuku?” she said, hesitantly.

Midoriya looked up, his expression guarded.

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get out of here is punch Bakugou.”  She said it cheerfully, one hand in a fist.

Midoriya gaped, but some of the oppressive, terrified, atmosphere dissipated.

Aizawa sighed to himself.  Now that the immediate danger seemed to be over, he moved closer to Midoriya.  He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to comfort a memory or a fragment or figment or whatever this was, but he wanted to be between Midoriya and Suzuki.  Especially given that Suzuki seemed to be able to manipulate the environment to some extent.

“Plus ultra,” agreed Todoroki.

“Uraraka!  Todoroki!” gasped Iida, scandalized.  “You can’t just punch a classmate outside of school supervised sparring!”

“I love you Iida, but you’re a bit of a hypocrite sometimes,” said Uraraka.  “Especially considering, uh…”  She gestured vaguely at Iida’s hands and then Midoriya’s face.

Iida turned a very funny color, then looked down at his hands.  “Oh my god, you’re right…”  He whispered, horrified.  “What have I become?”

“Besides,” said Todoroki, “Aizawa is like, right here.”  He gestured at Aizawa.  “We can ask him if we can—”

“No,” interrupted Suzuki, “that can’t be it!  Show me what you’re hiding!”  He started forward only to be jumped by three extremely annoyed hero students.  Just to be safe, Aizawa activated his quirk and kept it trained on the man.

“Mind the gun!” reminded Iida.

Ah, yes.  The gun.  Which the man may or may not have recovered at any point due to the impermanent nature of everything here.  Lovely.

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “he’s after you.  Get out of here.”

“Yes,” said Midoriya.  “Sorry, sensei.”  He bobbed in an incomplete bow and turned to the door.

And there was that stupid gun.

Aizawa wished he had his capture weapon back.

“What are you keeping secret?” demanded Suzuki, his voice echoing somewhat.

Midoriya clutched his head and screamed, falling to his knees.  His body vanished entirely, but the sound remained, somehow.

The classroom fell apart.

.

Very briefly, Tenya recognized Hosu.  The smoke, the alley, the distant, indistinct cries of Manual.  It wasn’t the alley where he’d found Stain standing over Native, however.  This was… this was Midoriya’s perspective.

The scene shifted again, rapidly.  They were now in the entrance tunnel to the sports festival arena.  The air smelled of smoke.  Todoroki startled, but—

It fell away.  A hallway in UA, the smell of coffee.  Then, one of the soundproofed conference rooms, papers on a table, the writing all blacked out.  Suzuki lunged for them, Aizawa punched him in the face.

Another shift, a dilapidated apartment with footprints on the walls and ceilings.  A microwave hummed in the background.  As soon as it dinged, they were elsewhere again.

Back on the beach.  The light was different.  A single car still remained and—

They were on a rooftop.

The wind blew mournfully.

Midoriya was standing at the edge, uniform in disarray, a burnt notebook clutched in one hand.

“Stop it!” he shouted, almost doubled over.  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Tenya took a step forward before he could fully assess the situation.  If he tried to grab Midoriya now…  There was a good chance he’d go right over the edge.

“There it is!  That smile of his is just a mask—”

“Of course, it’s a mask, you idiot!” exclaimed Midoriya, angrily.

Angrily.

Midoriya rarely got angry.

“I am clinically depressed, and I have anxiety!  That doesn’t make me a villain.  Are you stupid?  Are you on drugs?  Is the whole commission on drugs?  All Might’s smile was a mask ninety percent of the time!  And don’t you dare try to tell me that Hawks’ smile isn’t a mask.  Do you do this to him, too, you sicko?”

Suzuki had gone very stiff.  “How do you know about that?”

“Because I have functioning eyes, unlike virtually everyone else, apparently.  What is wrong with you?”

“You,” said Suzuki, “are in no position to ask questions.  What are you hiding here?”

“You really want to know?  Do you?  Do you?  Huh?”

“Midoriya—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, I can’t take this anymore, this is so stupid.”

This Midoriya was… also not quite right, it seemed.  Beyond age.

“You want to know why this place is a secret?  Fine.  Fine!”  He threw his hands on the air.  “This is the first and last place I seriously considered suicide.  Happy?”  The last was said with such an incredible amount of venom that everyone took a step away from Midoriya.

“Suicide?” said Tenya out loud, unable to stop himself.

“I didn’t want to—Hero courses filter stuff like that out!  If they think you’re going to be a liability!”  He was breathing heavily.  “Are you happy now?  You have my- my deep, dark secrets!  You know what- what I was like before, and—”

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, gently, “it’s fine.  UA doesn’t filter for that.  All you would have to do is attend extra counseling.”

“Really?” said Midoriya.

*

“That can’t be it,” said Suzuki.  “You…” He whipped his head around.  “There was someone else here.  Who stopped you?  Was this where All for One recruited you?”

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Tenya, activating his quirk long enough to skid to a halt right in front of Suzuki.

Suzuki looked past him as if he weren’t even there.  “Who was with you?”

A faint breeze picked up.  Without power, can one become a hero?  No, I should think not…

“All Might?” said Uraraka.

“All Might?!” repeated Suzuki incredulously.

The scene changed in a blink.  They were in a pedestrian tunnel.

Midoriya, as disheveled and tiny as he was on the roof, leaned up against the wall, clearly wary of them in general and Suzuki in particular.

First contact… whispered a voice that dragged across Tenya’s mind like the end of a silk curtain.

“First contact?” said Suzuki.  “What is that supposed to-?”

“Hey!”

They turned to see a figure standing beyond the tunnel’s mouth, in the sunlight.  They were tall and slender, perhaps as tall as Tenya, and wearing a hoody and disposable medical mask.  The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Tenya couldn’t place it.  It sounded like the owner was about their age.

“Ha!” said Suzuki.  “This guy definitely isn’t Midoriya!  You have to admit-!”

“Are these guys bothering you?” asked the boy in the hoody.

“Yes,” said Midoriya.

“Well, don’t worry now!  Because I am here!”

“Are you… a vigilante?” guessed Tenya as the unknown boy stepped into the tunnel.  Many of them had an appreciation for All Might.

“Sure!” said the boy, cheerfully.

“Mutation-based speed enhancement,” muttered Izuku, sliding across the wall towards the boy.  “Fire and ice user.  Five-point activation mass alteration.  Quirk negation with secondary minor telekinesis.  Some kind of thought or memory manipulation, possibly a form of telempathy that allows him to alter the local environment as a side effect.  May have a truth-detection component.”

A thread of ice wound down Tenya’s back.  Even if he didn’t believe that Midoriya was a traitor, that he was giving information about them so freely to this stranger, as if they were enemies, was chilling…  Even if it did evolve that this was just a figment of his imagination…

“Ha!  It’ll take more than that to get rid of me!” said the vigilante, pointing a thumb at his chest.

If Tenya wasn’t mistaken, however, there was a bit of a wobble in his voice.

“Mass alteration can act like freefall.  No conscious control of how much mass is altered, can only reduce mass,” continued Midoriya, now hiding behind the taller boy.  “Ceiling of absolute temperature alteration from average is lower for fire than for ice.  Speed enhancement can be used to power kicks.  Mind the capture weapon.  Scarf.”

“Gotcha!”

The vigilante lunged for Suzuki and threw him bodily into Aizawa.  While the adults were recovering, the students moved to flank the stranger.  He attempted to throw Uraraka in the same way, but she got him with her quirk and he floated towards the ceiling, which he kicked off, enough power in the movement to clock Todoroki in the jaw.

Tenya attempted to apply a kick at the vigilante’s exposed but still-floating back, but was nearly stabbed in the eye with a pencil by Midoriya.

“Sorry,” said Midoriya, breathlessly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t do this for real.  I thought about it.  But I didn’t.  Sorry.”

“You thought about stabbing me in the eye?”

“No.  Muscular.  The sludge villain.  I thought—Maybe I should have.”  His muttering rapidly became unintelligible.

Tenya was distracted enough by the muttering that he took a second longer than he should have to react to Midoriya going after his bad shoulder.  The tip of the pencil dug right into it.

“Sorry, sorry, this is a dream, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

“Disengage!” shouted Aizawa.  “There’s no point in fighting these guys!”

“The hell there isn’t!” said Suzuki.

“Dissension among the ranks, eh, villains?” asked the vigilante.

“Hey!” complained Uraraka.  “Don’t lump us in with him!”

The vigilante, somehow, got a hold of Aizawa again.  Despite his young appearance, he had a lot more skill than Iida, or even Midoriya.

Aizawa managed to get a blow across the boy’s face, knuckles knocking his hood and mask askew, and—

He would recognize that smile anywhere.  Even if it wasn’t paired with the floppy bangs they had all come to know.

“All Might?!”

.

Toshinori tried to ignore his growing headache as he laid out supplies.  Izuku was sleeping, and they were safe for now, but it would be foolish of them to assume that the Hero Commission would just let Izuku disappear.  The infinite variety of quirks in the world all but guaranteed someone with a tracking quirk would be after them, and soon.

Thus, it behooved them to disguise themselves.  

In this day and age, the easiest way to do that was to make it look like you had a quirk other than your own.  The bulky coat he had selected included a high collar and an apparatus that covered everything below the eyes, suggesting a disturbing or difficult-to-control mutation.   Of course, he’d also have to wear sunglasses.  His eyes were unfortunately distinctive.  The hair would have to go, too.

For Izuku, though, he couldn’t stand the thought of completely cutting his hair off—it would look strange in someone so young, anyway—so instead he had retrieved the hair bleach.  White hair, combined with a suit and properly worn tie, would make him appear older.  Lifts in his shoes would add to that impression.

The computer pinged.  Toshinori went to it and made a face.  He wasn’t technologically inclined at all, but Six was and had been a different story.  The computer was old, but Six was very good, and large organizations only rarely changed their protocols.

The commission had their tracker, a young rescue hero named Trace.  She was on her way to UA.  The details of her quirk…  Yes.  They could potentially even keep her away from the safehouse, if they took the opportunity to cross their paths…  But they would have to start preparing to leave now.

Izuku woke with a gasp and an anguished cry.  The pain in it was echoed by a spike in Toshinori’s headache.

Toshinori rushed to the room.  “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“They’re not in my head anymore,” said Izuku, knotting his fingers in his hair.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Toshinori, even as he knew it wasn’t.

Izuku shook his head.  “They’re not in my head anymore.  They’re in yours.”

[auroracalisto]

The Soulmate Principle

ALSO POSTED HERE

Summary: Dear Prince Elijah should have just left you alone. But with the Soulmate Principle, he just couldn't help himself. And it just so happened to cost you your life.

Notes: This is a royalty AU where the Mikaelson’s are still vampires.  Humans are more than often peasants.  The reader is a human and therefore a peasant in this.  This is a female reader as well.  Could also be considered a soulmate situation.  

TRIGGER WARNING: Reader is compelled to commit suicide at the end of this one shot.

The Royal Family was beautiful.  Each child of the King and Queen had unparalleled features.  That being said, you must remember that the Royal Family was a family of vampires.  Those with supernatural abilities were always much higher up than the rest.  Peasants like you—you were human.  There was nothing special about you.

Every morning, you woke up to the same thing.  Get out of bed, prepare for your day, go into the market to sell what you could from your father’s handiwork, and then come home and eat the little food you bought with what money you had earned that day.  Then, you could go to sleep and wonder when the same thing was going to start up again.

Today was no different.  Today, you groaned as you heard the birds chirping outside your window.  You threw your arm over your eyes, a huff escaping you.  Your bed was nothing more than a couple of blankets on a dirt floor.  There wasn’t much to do to make it, so you left it, pulling your hair back with a red ribbon.  You looked over at your drunken father, frowning.  Hopefully, by the time you returned, he would be awake and would have made more woodwork that you could sell the next day.  You were running low—you knew that you wouldn’t be able to make much today.  Walking over to the basket filled with wooden knickknacks, wood-encased pocket knives, and tools made out of wood, you made your way out of your little shack of a home and found yourself walking along the dirt path.  Your shoes were wearing out.  The dress that you wore would have to be patched up again, and soon.  Even the ribbon you used to tie your hair back was getting old.  But, you knew your food supply was low.  You also knew that if your father saw the money you brought back, he would take it for his greedy habit.

A huff left you as you lifted the rather heavy basket in a more comfortable position.  You finally made it to your little wooden booth, sending a wave towards the friendly baker that sometimes gave you a discount on his goods.  He smiled and waved in return as you went to put everything into its place.

You turned around and in just a moment, you had collided into a woman with enough force that you staggered back into your stand, knocking into the basket and causing the woodwork to fall onto the ground.  Your eyes widened as you quickly looked behind you, but apologies came out from your lips before you looked at the woman you ran into it.  When you saw her, your breath hitched in your throat.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched you.  She almost said something before her elder brother took ahold of her arm.

“It was an accident, Rebekah,” he softly said.

“Elijah,” she shot him a look, pulling her arm away.  “If you’ll excuse me,” she huffed through her nose and walked off, her bad attitude getting the best of her today.

“I am sorry about her,” he told you, watching as you quickly bowed to the man.

“No, it is my fault, your highness, I am so sorry for the trouble I may have caused—”

“It was an accident,” he chuckled softly.  He kept his eyes on you as you bent down to pick up the wood.  It had to have been bad wood that your father carved with because now, you could see that they were not in good condition.  You wouldn’t be able to sell this at all, even before you knocked them over.  “What is that?” the Prince asked, pulling you out of your daze.

“What I was going to sell,” you softly replied, sitting them back in the basket.  “It’s alright, your highness.  Thank you for… for being there for the Princess,” you bowed your head, unsure why he was still standing there with you.

He smiled at you.  You couldn’t help but blush at his smile.  He was handsome.  “You have sold these before, haven’t you?  Rebekah likes to come and see the market.  I’ve come with her before.”

“I’m afraid I only recall seeing you when there are events in the castle.  Even then, peasants are not allowed inside, your highness.”

He chuckled softly.  “Yes, I am aware of that.  It’s quite an unfair rule, is it not?”

You looked at him in confusion.  Was he baiting you?  Speaking ill of the Royal Family could easily get you killed.  You crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him.

“Your highness, shouldn’t you be with your sister?  Just in case something happens, again.”

He smiled a bit at you.  “Yes, I should, shouldn’t I?” he asked, looking towards his sister who was now arguing with a vendor over the price of a beautiful emerald necklace.  “Perhaps I will see you here again,” he said.  “Perhaps I will see you at the ball we are holding at the end of next week.  Peasants are allowed.  It will be a grand occasion.”

“Yes, very likely, I’ll definitely be there,” you scoffed.  Your cheeks then burned when you realized you were still talking to the Prince and not some other human.  “My apologies,” you mumbled.  “I do not have the means to go to a ball, my Prince.  I did not mean to offend—”

“I am not offended,” he smiled at you.  “I understand.  Perhaps you will be able to come, anyway,” he said, keeping his eyes on you.  He bowed his head to you before he went to his younger sister.  He pulled her away from the stand, glancing back at you.  He saw you kick the wooden stand out of anger, wincing soon after and cradling your foot.  He took notice of your clothing.  He frowned to himself.  “Rebekah, what did you think of the girl who bumped into you?”

Rebekah rolled her eyes.  “I have no opinion.”

“Wasn’t she beautiful?”

“Excuse me?” Rebekah looked at him in confusion.  “Did you just—”

Elijah frowned.  “The Peasant Ball is soon.  She said she wouldn’t be able to come.  But… she would be worthy, would she not?”

“Elijah, if mother and father knew that you thought a peasant girl was attractive, you would not hear the end of it.  They would certainly kill her.”  That was only one of the many reasons Rebekah was so hateful towards the humans she shopped from.  If she were to ever become attached to them, other than the servants in the palace, they could be hurt.

“Mm,” Elijah sighed.  “Perhaps.”

“There is no perhaps.  She would be allowed to come but were you to say anything about her, father would put an end to it.  Maybe mother wouldn’t.  But father wouldn’t have it—”

“Yes, yes.  I know.  But… she was beautiful, was she not?”

“You just met the poor girl, Elijah.  Emphasis on poor, my dear brother.  Do you…” she stopped herself, turning to face Elijah in the middle of the market.  People had to walk around the Royals, careful not to interrupt their conversation.  “Mother once said something about a mate.  A mate that you knew you had as soon as you meet them—one that you knew you would never be the same without them.”

“Yes, Rebekah.  The Soulmate Principle.”

“Yes.  Very well, good you know.  Did you touch her?”

Elijah shook his head.

“Mother said if you touch someone, you would know that they were your soulmate.”

“Rebekah, I said she was beautiful—”

“—and you won’t let it drop.”

Elijah shot Rebekah a glare.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want to see her again?” Rebekah asked the man.

Elijah’s eyes widened a bit.  “What?”

“Do you want to see the poor girl again, or not?  Just tell me.”

Elijah blushed and looked away.

“A part of the legend says that once you first meet, you want to see them again and again.  Brother, this is a dangerous game you’re playing.  What if father—”

“—father will not find out.”

Noticing something in the corner of your eye, you came around the front of the booth and bent down.  It was a pen.  But it was a gorgeous pen.  Worth more than everything within the basket you brought with you.  A frown formed on your lips as you looked it over and seen the initials “E.M.” inscribed on it.  It was the Prince’s.  Your eyes darted around to see if you could spot him from where you stood.  And luck be on your side, you could.

“Your highness,” you softly called after him, weaving through the crowd of peasants to get to the prince and princess.  “Your highness,” you moved to gently tap on his arm but someone was suddenly shoved up against you, causing you to lose your footing and collide with Elijah’s back, your hands gripping onto his clothing so you wouldn’t fall.

But the feeling that ran through you… it wasn’t something you had ever felt before.  You let out a shaky breath, quickly pulling back as Elijah turned to face you.  His eyes were wide.

“Oh dear,” Rebekah said, her eyes filling with worry as she looked between the two of you.  “This is not good.”

“Not good?” you quickly looked at Rebekah.  “What—what do you mean by that?”

“You’re his soulmate.” Rebekah sighed, running a hand through her beautiful blonde hair.

“Soulmate?” your eyes widened as you looked up at a quiet Elijah.  He seemed deep in thought as he kept his eyes on yours.  “What, like the old legend about—about royals having soulmates?” “Unfortunately,” Rebekah said.

Elijah shot her a look.

Rebekah held her hands up in defense.  “The peasant ball.  If you bring her to that, word will get out, brother.  You need to leave her be.  She is but a human—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you quickly asked, trying to defend your race.

Rebekah clenched her jaw.  “Do you forget what happens to peasants who fall in love with the Royals?  Or what happens to peasants who get close to them?”

You fell silent.  Everything seemed like it was rushing towards you.  It was a bit overwhelming.

“This is a lot more trouble than I was anticipating to run into today,” popped up a voice from behind you.  You nearly jumped out of your skin, subconsciously moving closer to Elijah as you turned around to face the voice.

The smirking face of the youngest prince was now in front of you.  “Oh, dear brother, what trouble have you gotten this poor girl into?  Does she truly deserve it?” Kol asked, moving a hand to stroke your cheek.  You flinched back but Elijah grabbed Kol’s wrist.

“Please.  Not now.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, letting his hand drop.  “What’s this talk about the peasant ball?” he then perked up.  “Is she coming?”

“Drop the peasant ball,” Elijah sighed and looked at you.  “I don’t suppose you have a place we can go to quietly talk.  If someone overhears us…”

You pursed your lips but gave a small nod.  “Yes.  Um…” you handed him the pen you still had in your hands.  “Here is this.  You dropped it.”

Elijah took it with a tilted head.  He hadn’t even brought it along with him, today.  He wondered how that happened and, in his daze, he nearly missed seeing you beginning to walk with his siblings following.

[]

You opened the door to the little building that you lived in, noticing that your father was missing—and so were the blankets that you had slept on that night.  You softly sighed to yourself and walked inside, looking back at them.

“Um—I, uh, only have one chair—”

“It’s fine,” Elijah softly said.  “We’re okay with standing,” he gave you a soft smile.

You weakly returned it.

Kol crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, watching you.  Rebekah pursed her lips, thinking of what to say before Elijah spoke up.

“Klaus’ mate was human—”

“Was?”

Kol smirked at you.  “She died.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened a bit.  “Um—”

“Because she killed herself,” Rebekah quickly said.  “She was depressed.  Nothing that we did, I promise.”

You nervously looked between the trio.  You had no idea what was going on, other than the fact that you felt an overwhelming urge to be beside of Elijah.

Just this morning, you had awoken with your normal schedule.  Now, these three royals stood in front of you.  It made you anxious.

“Well, what will we do?  Can we even take her into the palace?” Kol asked.

“We could,” Elijah frowned, “but what would father do?”  He kept his eyes on you, a frown on his lips.  “You…  We will come back, okay?  Stay in the village.  No one will find out until I come back to get you.  Can you do that?”

You frowned and gave a small nod.  “What are you going to do?”

“Find a way to get you into the palace,” Elijah said.  “I know that this is all so sudden.  But I will figure it out, okay?”

You only frowned, unsure of what more to say.  Elijah moved forward and gently took ahold of your hand.  “Until then,” he said, bowing his head and kissing your knuckles.

The three of them left soon after.  In only a day, word had leaked that you were Elijah’s soulmate.  Only a couple days after was there a guard at your door, nearly kicking it down with the King himself in tow.  The King whispered a simple phrase to you: “Kill yourself.”  And you were compelled to do it.  Never once did you spend a day with Elijah—the person who just so happened to believe you were his soulmate.  If only you knew how true that was.  And if only Elijah had just kept his mouth shut and left you alone.  Instead of finding you in the middle of your little hut with cut wrists and a cold body.

[erza155-writes]

Jin Guangyao: If I had a yuan for every time Sect leader Jiang and I ingested truth serum together while protecting Jin Ling, I'd have 5 yuan which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it keeps happening.

Incident #1

So I like to imagine it happens while JGS is still alive and Jiang Cheng is just like hella fucking tired all the time.

Jin Guangyao is a crafty, crazy motherfucker, but Jin Guangshan could wear down the devil without even realizing it. His father being alive is a fucking miracle and frankly Jin Guangyao wishes someone would just snap and kill the man already because at this point, it looks like it's going to have to be him to do it.

(Is this what he fought for? Is this what he bled for? He has kneeled in the dirt for so long, he's not sure he can remove it from himself. It catches under his fingernails, a constant reminder.) 

Ok, hand waved bullshit and now Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao are drugged with a "truth serum" (shit, fuck, shit, gods damn, may your soul never find rest and may you never be at peace, he thinks uncharitably at the assassins. May you be reborn as a fucking dung beetle in you're next life only to be eaten by a cockroach. When I find you, I am going to fucking gut you, and I am going to motherfucking relish in it you thrice accursed fucker.) And now they're playing hide and seek with a bunch of assassins and they have to keep quiet, and Jin Ling is there, and normally Jiang Cheng would have used Zidian and the whole place would be a smoldering wreck, but whatever the fuck they did is affecting his cultivation and he is not risking Jin Ling. And then Jin Guangyao, that useless fucker, starts to fall asleep. Jiang Cheng kicks him. He is not putting up with this shit. 

"Jin Guangyao you'd better wake the fuck up. I will absolutely use you as bait if you keep pulling this shit." 

Meng Yao looks at Jiang Cheng for a moment and is very confused. "Who the fuck is Jin Guangyao?"

Jiang Cheng is about to die.

Jiang cheng is about to become a mass murderer.

What the fuck is wrong with the Jin sect? He thinks that this is maybe what qi deviation feels like and it would just fucking figure that he would experience it in this clusterfuck of a situation. (That Jiang Cheng has never actually suffered a qi deviation is a minor miracle and it befuddled everyone at Lotus Pier until they shrugged and chalked it up to "Sect Leader Jiang is very strong and he wouldn't let a mere qi deviation get in his way." No one knows exactly how right they are. Not even Jiang Cheng.) 

"You," he hisses and it sounds like Zidian is stirring in his throat and Meng Yao looks at him and shuffles closer to the wall in the tiny fucking closet with no space. He's not afraid of death, but he's not exactly going to commit Sect Leader Jiang assisted suicide either. 

"My name is Meng Yao. What the fuck are you talking about? How strong is the drug affecting you?" 

Great. The drug is fucking with Jin Guangyao's sense of self or his memories. It would just absolutely fucking figure. Killing him or using him as bait would really be so much more efficient and it would help his temper a hell of a lot. But he can practically hear A-Jie berate him for his uncharitable thoughts. Fucking Fine. He can do this. He's survived worse. This is nothing. (Jin ling is a baby. A baby. If anything happens to him, Jiang Cheng is going to set the world on fire and he will start with the dumbfuck assassins and then he will move onto the Jin sect because those slippery flickers definitely have something to do with this, he knows it.) 

"Ok, fine. Fuck. Meng Yao, whoever the fuck you are, do you know what's going on? Please don't tell me you lost all your memories or I might actually really use you as bait." 

"Sect leader Jiang, is something wrong?" Meng Yao is worried. Why is he acting so weird. How could he forget about the fucking assassins outside the door hunting them. "Please tell me you haven't forgotten about the assassins outside." 

Jiang Cheng's anger is so strong that makes an aborted strangled growl like an offended cat before he catches himself. Luckily it is somehow very quiet. Jin Ling sleeps on peacefully. 

"Ok Jin-, Meng Yao whoever the fuck you are. Let's just assume that we both have our memories and fucking figure out a way to get out of this." 

"Well, I don't know about you, but my meridians are pretty much fucked ath this point. I'm really looking forward to gutting that thrice damned shit stain that crawled out of a goat's ass." He smiles beatifically. (Oh fuck. Fuck! Truth Serum! Fuck!) 

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath. He counts to ten.

He counts to ten again.

And nothing.

Now he's still mad and his kill list has grown to include whoever the fuck said that counting to ten would help people calm down because they were a godsdamned idiot and Jiang Cheng would be doing the world a favor, removing that type of stupidity from the general population. He bets that it was probably some Jin or Lan fuckhead. 

A/N: Happy New Year, Y'all! It's the first content posting Wednesday of the year and I'm so excited to see what this year will bring! I hope to post more regularly and to have a lot more content output! Thanks for giving me a shot!

[drsilverfish]

The Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of Despair - 15x09 The Trap

Hey everone,

I’m just catching up British time, as usual, and getting down my initial thoughts before I jump in and see what you’ve all been up to.

The much-anticipated Purgatory prayer episode - here we go!

First off - Chuck is a lying liar who lies, and also, how bad was his vamp Winchester bros script?! We know it’s a script, because he asks Sam - “So, what d’ya think?” writer-style, after AU!Bobby executes Vamp!Sam. I thought Bobo did great work here, distinguishing (for us) between his own writing and Chuck’s sucky (ha ha) vamp-Chesters ending. And oh boy, does Bobo torch the “Butch and Sundance going out together in blaze of glory” SPN scenario, because it’s one of Chuck’s shitty versions. I think we can rest assured we’re not gonna get that! 

“All good things must come to an end,” Chuck says, holding up a scalpel in the Lucky (pink) Elephant (in the room, ahem Destiel) Casino. Bobo’s meta way of telling us that yes, of course, there is pain to be endured (by us) along the way, before our heroes get their freedom. Pain, because Supernatural, our favourite show, is ending.

I loved the double-structure of the episode, which balanced Sam and Eileen’s story with Dean and Cas’ story - past, present and future folded into one another; see-sawing between the twin axes of hope and despair. 

The Triffid of Hope:

Isn’t this shot (and its symbolism) great? Dean is framed between the Purgatory-Triffid and the awesome three-eyed skull of a dead Leviathan (the “third eye”, in Indian spiritual traditions, symbolising higher self-knowledge).

Leviathan dude: “There’s a blossom, that grows out of the soil when we die.”

Ah-ha - I knew all the death symbolism in Michael’s God-locking spell had to mean something. It just didn’t happen the way I thought it would (Cas dying in Purgatory).

Instead, the Leviathan blossom is a monster-corpse feeding flower - it grows from death. And so it is a perfect metaphor for hope, linked to all the old vegetation Gods (like Osiris, like the myth of Persephone) as well as to those heroic underworld journeys, of Gilgamesh and Orpheus and Inanna which @prairiedust and I were talking about previously in relation to Purgatory 2.0. Because, from death, springs new life (just as Spring follows Winter) and from an underworld journey comes deeper self-knowledge and psychic growth (a la Jung). 

On a meta level, this is Bobo’s message to us too - yes the show has to “die”, but who knows what new and wondrous things will be born from its “corpse”. 

Dean was previously the one, of the two Winchester brothers, who’d lost hope as result of the “Welcome to the End” revelations about Chuck’s active machinations in their lives. Dean was the one who couldn’t figure out what was real especially his relationship with Cas:

Dean: “I can’t figure out what’s God and what’s real, and it’s driving me crazy” (15x06 Golden Time). 

He was the one who’d said (as emphasised in this week’s re-cap): “It’s God, Sam... How the Hell are we supposed to fight God?” (15x05 Proverbs 17:3). 

But, in Purgatory 2.0, Dean got his hope back. 

Why? 

We already know why, from watching Dean pivot from suicidal in 13x05 Advanced Thanatology, to happy cowboy cosplay in 13x06 Tombstone, as soon as he got Cas back from death. Cas is intimately tied to Dean’s sense of faith and hope.

And in Purgatory 2.0, Dean finally finds (some of) his words and gets his relationship with Cas back on track, and in so doing, he recovers that faith and hope. 

Hence that shot of him lying between death (the Leviathan skull) and the Triffid of Hope. Because Dean’s underworld journey to Purgatory 2.0 brings clarity to hs heart, just as it did last time. In Purgatory 1.0, “It felt pure”; in Purgatory 1.0, Dean’s mission was, “Where’s the angel?” In Purgatory 1.0, Dean let himself love Cas again (as I’ve said before) without guilt, despite the things Godstiel/ Levi!Cas had done, to Sam, and to the world.

In Purgatory 2.0, Dean (just like Sam, in the parallel story) is on the clock. Time is ticking - the rift Michael opened is finite:

 And so, in losing Cas for several frantic hours as the clock runs out, Dean finds clarity, just as he did before, and he prays (on his knees no less):

Dean: “Cas, whereever you are, it’s not too late. I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go...”

And Dean cries as he prays, and there is absolutely no doubt, in those tears, and in that apology, that he loves Cas (although the text continues to embrace ambiguity as to the nature of that love). 

Imagine - Dean must also be reliving the last time they were in Purgatory together, when Cas actively chose to stay behind, which broke Dean’s heart so much he re-wrote his own memory. In the land of monsters once more, Dean is, finally, terrified it’s all going to happen again (because he pushed Cas away this time). 

As a romantic love-story, of course, it’s still subtext. The glass-closet still structures the narrative. We still get the plausible deniability “bromance” of; “Cas, you’re my best friend.”

And you know, it’s totally OK to feel disappointed, heart-sore, stricken or enraged about that. Nothing throws the heteronormativity of our world more into relief than watching Sam have a beautiful and tender kiss with Eileen (and I totally buy and love their relationship) when their love-story has had a tenth of the back-story and build-up that exists between Dean and Cas, whilst Dean and Cas get a hug (albeit a clearly very emotional one):

I think “queerbaiting” is, partly, a receiver-effect. Meaning, it’s partly subjective. So, some people may feel “queer-baited” by the show and others may not. It’s certainly perfectly legitimate to feel the pain of the closet, of almost-but-not-quite representation (and many queer fans have left the show over the years for that reason). The definition of “queerbaiting” however, is complex (and needs its own post). 

For myself, I absolutely do feel the pain of the closet, but I don’t feel a sense of “bad faith” from the writers’ room (and I used to). I certainly trust in Bobo, whose first episode was that paean to break-up angst, 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait, to be telling Dean and Cas’ love-story as truly, madly and deeply as he can, within the constraints imposed by TPTB (the fact that also happens to suit TPTB is another level we won’t get into here). 

Because isn’t this the face of a man who had something else to say, when Cas cut him off with, “You don’t have to say it - I heard your prayer” ????

The Stop-Watch of Despair:

Chucks’ mission in 15x09 is to crush Sam’s hope, even as Dean is re-gaining his own hope in Purgatory. 

Chuck does that in two ways. First, he makes Sam and Eileen doubt how much of their love story is real, as he tells them he nudged Eileen’s resurrection along and then used her (unwittingly) to spy on the Bunker.

When Eileen leaves Sam, at the end of the episode, she says: “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore..” 

Obviously, that is paralleled to Dean’s previous doubt about his relationship with Cas, which Cas answered expllicity in 15x02 Raising Hell (although Dean couldn’t take it in at the time):

Dean: “Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice. I can't.”

Castiel: “Dean. You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.”

Sam plays Cas’ part (but it’s his own part too - I don’t want to reduce Sam and Eileen to mere parallels for Dean and Cas - their story is their own) when he kisses Eileen and says, “I know that was real,” (so, he’s able to hold onto a little hope, after all - go Sam!):

Second, Chuck makes Sam doubt the possibility of a happy ending, for the Winchesters, for the people they love, and, importantly, for the world. If they succeed in locking Chuck away, Chuck claims, Sam and Dean will die as vampires, and monsters will overrun the earth:

We can see here, that Metatron  was right, in 11x20 Don’t Call Me Shurley, when he said to Chuck, of humanity: “They are your greatest creation because they're better than you are.”

Because Chuck manages to get to Sam, psychologically, only because Sam cares, with all his heart, about the fate of the world and all the people in it. 

This is where the time-construction of the episode gets clever. Because, the future-Dean, who Sam sees, has lost hope again. And why? This is the face of a man who has locked Mark-of-Cain crazed Castiel in a Ma’lak box (and don’t forget S14 established the Ma’lak box as a closet metaphor):

And oh damn, we see Cas take on the Mark as part of the God-trapping spell in the “Trifffid of Hope” portion of the story. Does he still have it now, even though Chuck destroyed the spell?

Chuck shows Sam an (apparent) future in which the brother who raised him, has abandoned all hope, which is the true definition of Hell (”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” - Dante’s Inferno) and that is the other psychological lever Chuck uses to get Sam to despair. His faith in Eileen is shaken, and his faith in Dean is shaken.  

Chuck clearly admires Sam. He almost treats him as a worthy antagonist. He refers to him as “Promethean” and “heroic”, and, in a sense, perhaps he genuinely means it. But, of course, it’s also part of his ploy to destroy Sam’s hope. Prometheus, after all, got his liver eaten out by eagles on the regular, sent by the chief God of Olympus himself, Zeus (aka Chuck) for his pains.

Chuck (to Sam): “You still think you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.”

And Chuck succeeds (temporarily) in destroying Sam’s hope, by making him doubt the reality of his love with Eileen, and by making him doubt that his big brother will have the hope necessary to “Carry on my wayward sons,” in the future (all the more believable because Sam has, in fact, seen Dean lose hope before when he’s lost Cas).

But what changes, monumentally, at the end of the episode, is that Dean doesn’t blame Sam. He just says, “That’s good enough for me,” about Sam’s assertion he believed in the Chuck-in-the-Cage future Chuck showed him, and, “We’ll find another way.”

Dean brought the Leviathan blossom of hope back from Purgatory, and with it, deeper self-knowledge about how he has taken his feelings of helplessness out, as anger, against the people he loves best (Sam and Cas). This time, he doesn’t do that. For Team Free Will, once all together again, The Triffid of Hope wins out over The Stopwatch of Doom. 

Just as it’s right, on a psychological level, that locking Chuck in a cage isn’t a viable solution - because external cages are metaphors for the prisons of the mind. Team Free Will’s heroic and metaphysical journey through the realms of the God-machine is also a journey towards emotional wholeness, and freedom from the psychological prisons of their past.  

And so, to conclude, this episode (my favourite of Bobo’s since his first) is filled with love.... and love. 

The Winchester brothers’ love for one another, we see, undoubtedly, in Sam’s narrative. But that’s also interesting, because again, Chuck misses Cas out of the story - and so ends up with a bros-only Butch and Sundance ending. And Bobo emphasises Chuck’s version is stuck in “toxic co-dependency” - because it’s the two of them, as Vampchesters, as monsters, going out together against the world - specifically against even their own friends, Bobby and Jodie. Now there’s a potent metaphor. By contrast, a healthy Sam and Dean relationship allows the loving presence of others.   

And there we have it -  the.. and love (precisely, the loving presence of others) in the love between Sam and Eileen (whose faith in that love, Chuck has deliberately shaken, for now) paralleled to the love between Dean and Cas (whose faith has been restored in Purgatory, for now).

Bobo clearly shows us that hope is the key to defeating Chuck, because it is only when Sam loses hope that Chuck is free of the God-wound. 

And love is hope, because to love is to be hopeful - to be hopeful that you will be loved back, that love will endure, that a future with your loved ones is possible and so, worth fighting for. 

Supernatural has always, always (as we all well know) been about the “power of love” (despite Dean’s doubt in 5x18 Point of No Return). 

In the end both the Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of God-Time will converge, ending God-Time and granting true freedom for Chuck’s “characters”. 

[chaniters]

Reaper and the Fiend- Epilogue.

Epilogue for @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac’s second series.

As usual, looking back id the realization that the more characters and elements you add up, the harder it gets for the plot to keep cohesion. Many times I almost call it quits, but somehow I pulled trough to the end. 

Hope you enjoy it!

Awan and “The Question”, the precognitive surviving member of the Phoenix Rangers, reflect on the aftermath of it all before Ortega joins them. 

Spoilers inside too, for Rebirth.

_______________________________________________________

The first rays of sunlight touch your Sidestep mask, as the cloud begins to recede. Ashfall and Sentinel have been working together to try and ground the toxins into a nearby landfill for hours now.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” The Question comments. 

“I think it’s working,” 

“Me too” He says while checking the air analyzer’s readings. “This is the real miracle”

“You still believe in miracles?”

“Magical miracles? No. But miracles made true by people with flesh, blood, and bone? Of course.”

“Interesting way to put it”

“When you’re like me, it’s the only way to put it”

“Right, I forget you’re supposed to know the future or something?” You didn’t forget. His mind is a maze that rivals yours, but he’s got a truly calm attitude about it that’s making you envious. 

“It depends. Do you believe in fate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you believe our lives have been predetermined from before we were made? That, someone, decided who you’re supposed to be for the rest of your existence and that’s that?”

That’s a very specific question to ask to you… 

“No. I don’t believe in fate”

“Good. Me neither.”

“But you see it. The future, I mean.”

“I like to believe we are masters of our own destiny”

“That doesn’t really answer anything.”

“Well there’s a reason I didn’t call myself ‘The Answer’, you know?”

“Shut the fuck up” you laugh, unwrapping a candy bar. “I just came here to lie down, not to have a philosophical debate”. 

“You really aren’t going to ask me about your future? Everyone does.” Is he baiting you? You get the impression he knows a lot more about you just by looking. He knows too much about... everyone. You are just another speck of dust in a sea of information. 

“No. I won’t ask” you say pulling your mask above your mouth and taking a bite of candy. 

“Huh. That’s probably wise”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Once I tell someone how their future will look like, then it’s set in stone for them and not even I can change it. I really don’t like doing it”

“But you would have.”

“Oh, I would. I do it, more than I probably should, you know for people who need it” 

“Do I look like I need it?”

He gives you a long look.

“No. I think you’ll be just fine without it. I mean, you won’t of course, but you will.”

“That’s both ambiguous and terrifying. How do you know the future’s not set in stone even before you look?”

“I really try not to think too hard about that. I think you didn’t want a debate?”

“Fine. I just want to relax” you say retreating and straightening an overturned sunbathing chair. “It’s been a shitty day”

The door to the staircase leading to the top opens, and Ortega comes in, in full suit. 

“Sidestep. I see you’ve made yourself comfortable up here. You know, Steel could have really used your help with all the angry civs though.” 

“Funny way of showing it. He said I wasn’t part of the team when you asked me to stay.”

“Yes but… well, you know he didn’t think you would actually walk away… he thought you wouldn’t listen and help anyways like you always do.”

“Well I guess we all learned something new from that experience, didn’t we?” 

“You just wanted to piss him off that badly?”

“Ugh… no… well, maybe I did, but you know I don’t do well with crowds with strong emotions, and I had more than my fair share today. I need some peace” 

“Fine. I understand… But just so you know, you did a darn good job in there”

“... a lot of the people who got killed might disagree” you point out.

“And a lot of people who lived will be thanking you. We saved them. You saved them. No one could have predicted how this would go”

“I could. I did” the Question states while looking at the analyzer he’s been fiddling with.

“What? You did? The only thing you did was call us! Why didn’t you say shit? A lot of executives died” Ortega points out.

“If I had told you, you would have saved them, and those are the ones who would have voted not to open the Archology to the civs, and we would be having a civil war right now. Thank me later”

“You let them die!”

“I didn’t do anything. You’re the ones with fighting powers, It was you who couldn’t rescue them, remember?”

“Wow. you really are full of shit” You interject.

“Look I lost my team to that monster ok? Could’ve lost the entire city too. I don’t like it but it’s how my stupid powers work, I’m not a fighter like you two, so give me a fucking break.”

“... fine” you say, too tired to argue with this jerk. 

“Good. Ashfall’s plan is working, pollution levels are coming down… I’ll go coordinate some stuff, If you’re staying here seek me out once it goes below 33% alright?”

“We don’t work for you!” you complain. 

“We’ll do it” Ortega interrupts you.

“Ugh. Whatever”

The Question nods and leaves, letting you two alone up here at the zenith of the Arcology. The monotonous beeps of the analyzer repeat intermittently over the strong winds.

“Funny guy” you comment

“Don’t get me started on that asshole.”

“I was just finished with him anyways.”

“So it’s working?” he says changing the subject and looking down at Sentinel and Ashfall working in the distance. 

“Seems like it” you answer.

“Nice to have some good news, finally,” he says approaching the edge. 

“Join me. Nothing compares to sunbathing under a toxic cloud with your suit on.” you offer.  

“Receding, toxic cloud you mean” he clarifies taking the chair next to you and laying over it. 

“Right. Receding” you snort. 

“Not going to lie. This is the biggest fucking mess I’ve ever been into since I got into the capes business”

“Same here” you agree. Nothing you did for the farm compares to this clusterfuck.

The aftermath wasn’t pretty. Not by a longshot.

Letting Catastrofiend into the core worked, as the beast consumed enough of the gas to allow the scientists to stabilize it somewhat, and turn the lights back on essential systems through the facility. The computers were toast, however, as Charon wiped all data and OS before erasing himself, commiting digital suicide upon it’s master’s death. Everything’s working on manual overrides right now. 

There was a big scare when the Fiend came out of the core’s container, glowing like it had the power of an evil purple sun ready to burn you all, but to everyone’s surprise, it didn’t survive long after saving performing its single heroic feat. The glow became blinding, and then it disappeared, only the echoes of its roars remaining as a reminder of its presence along with a pair of purple footprints. 

You caught a glimpse of your least favorite asshole, The Void, holding some sort of gun and hiding back into it’s cloaking device, walking away. Whatever it is he wanted, you’re sure he got it, and if your scans were to be trusted, he left the arcology immediately after that. 

Your work to convince the remaining executives to let the people in was much easier now that all the surviving scientists were focused on having the building not explode. They couldn’t afford combat on the outside when their tech was unreliable, and Reaper managed to remind them of their own mortality by dusting a couple of them. All it took was a small nudge on the mind of the deciding vote and the gates were reopened. 

“We lost Psychopathor” Ortega says laying down on a chair next to yours. “A lot of the crowd still backs him and he just got lost among them.” 

“We’ll get him next time” you reassure him. “We couldn’t fight him in the middle of this civilian mess anyways or it’ would be Halloween with Catastrofiend all over again”

“... Too soon man. Too soon” he says bending his arms and putting his hands behind his head, relaxing.

“Sorry.”

“You’re right. Not a damn thing we could do about old shitface, so It’s time to lie down and wait”

He stretches, crossing his legs as he looks up, just as you were doing earlier.

“They’re doing a fantastic job” you comment.

“Sentinel I had no doubts about, but Ashfall? He really came through working with those creepy scientists about the sand-whirlpool shenanigan”

“It was a good idea” you say peeking down. As the polluted air comes down into the landfill, it goes trough a series of sand walls of that Ashfall keeps raising, coming clean on the other side. Several trucks come in with sand refills while others take the polluted compounds away. 

“Good for him. His publicity wasn’t very good before this” 

“What about your publicity?” his mask looking your way

“My last publicity stunt with you guys was with Reaper and he turned to be a homicidal maniac so I’m thinking I’ll give that a pass from now on. Please don’t get me into that shit again?” 

“That’s fair” he concedes. 

 “... anyways… they stole a bunch of tec shit from the lower levels and left. Some sort of targeting device and many plasma weapon prototypes”

“We’ll get him” you repeat. 

A news helicopter flies by, taking pictures. It turns to take one of you two. Fuck. That’s tomorrow’s cover right there... 

“I know what you’re thinking… but we’re not going to be the top news tomorrow.” 

“No? Who is?” 

“I talked to my agents… Reaper, and The Fiend it is. Geni-Tech’s minimizing  company’s responsibility for the toxins and making them the focus.”

“They  kind of had a lot to do with it anyways”

“True…”

“That’s not what’s bothering you tough?”

“How do you know?” he asks turning towards you.

“It’s pretty obvious. What happened with Elyise?”

“... mierda. You’re good. You sure you can’t read my mind?”

“I can read Idiot easy enough. It’s my favorite language”

“... she left. I can’t find her. Didn’t want to talk to me”

“Understandable. Her mother just died for real this time”

“I just… I didn’t see another way... “

“That’s because there wasn’t.” 

“And now she’s going to hate me forever for it”

“Yup, pretty much” you add looking into the distance.

“Would you had done the same?”

“You’re asking me of all people?”

“Yeah. I want to know”

“Would I sacrifice a lab monster to save countless human lives…” Shit. That should be the farm’s motto. Would you sacrifice yourself to save lives? That’d be a better question.  “Yeah. I guess I would… Look, just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean people can’t hate you for it”

“Ha. The right thing…. What even is that”

“Good question,” you say closing your eyes. “So fucking tired”

“Me too. You should get those cuts checked...”

“Later. It’s just a scratch really. And you know I don’t like”

“Hospitals, yeah I know” 

“Good”

He doesn’t reply, and you both stay silent for the longest while, just listening to the wind as Sentinel keeps the small inverted tornado pulling the cloud into the landfill with Ashfall grounding the chemicals in it.

When you finally open your eyes again, the sky has shifted and there are large patches of open sky in the cloud. Checking your watch, you realize it’s been almost an hour since you sat down here. 

Ortega’s still next to you, so it was both of you who fell asleep. 

Since when are you so careless? Lowering your guard so much next to the Marshall’s a recipe for disaster. Standing up, you take a final look at the Sentinel’s work, and the deserted streets of the city below. 

“We should get back down” you add tapping Ortega’s shoulder.

“Eh… what’s the rush?” he asks looking up. 

“Air toxicity’s down 30%,” you say pointing at the analyzer the scientists gave you, your main reason for staying up here. “I’d bet GeniTech’s going to kick everyone out in minutes”

“Yeah… at gunpoint probably.”

You open the door, letting him in first and follow up to the elevator. He makes a call with his intercom to let The Question know. 

The floors of the Arcology are packed with people from Phoenix taking refuge from the cloud. Just as you see them, they can see you too inside the glass elevator. Without warning, they explode in a thunderous roar of...cheers?

There are some boos in it as well, possibly Psychopathor’s fans, but overall it’s just deafening hero worship. 

The kind Reaper talked about. The kind that makes more people take hero drugs. Focused on you and Ortega. You’re not sure how to feel about it anymore. 

The next few hours go really quickly, and you barely manage to say goodbye to the Rangers before leaving back for Los Diablos on the first bus you can get.  You need to get back to your place and rest for a couple of days while you heal up. You definitely lied to Ortega, Catastrofiend left a bit more than just a scratch and the wound is itching all over even after you disinfected it.

Being a hero is exhausting and you’re taking a brief small vacation while you consider what to do with the mess that your life’s become since you decided to mingle with the Rangers. 

__________ Somewhere, in a parking lot in Phoenix____________

“I’m sorry Dr. I couldn’t recover your disintegration gun” The Void states while studying the small weapon in his hand. “It wasn’t in their labs by the time I got there, and with all the city going upside down it was just impossible”

“Disappointing, but not unexpected. I thank you four your services anyways and…” 

“Dr. I’ll return my initial fee to you.”

“That’s not really necessary”

“I care about my reputation. I won’t  take  payment on something I failed to deliver.” 

“That is surprisingly refreshing to hear in this line of business. Very well Void.”

“Of course. Once again, I’m sorry”

He hung up, setting the gun back inside the briefcase, before calling another number, with the San Francisco area code upfront.

“Who are you? Who gave you this number?” a female voice asked. 

“They call me, The Void. And I know all the numbers” 

“That’s very unlikely. So you say your name is Void?”

“No, I’m not just ‘Void’.  There’s a THE before it. The. It’s ‘The’ Void, you hear me?!”

“Alright, alright, calm down you freak, I got it the first time.”

“And don’t you forget it”

“Whatever. What do you want THE VOID?” she made a point to pronounce it in a very passive-aggressive way.

“I need to arrange a meeting with Big Fire about a business proposal. I think I have something he could definitely find a use for” Void added looking at the shining red dot on the disintegration gun. 

“Big fire has a use for lots of things, but no time for everything. What am I supposed to say you’re offering that’ll make him call you back?”

“Oh he’ll call me back, you can bet on it.”

“I don’t like betting honey. Now speak or fuck off” 

“Well, you’re no fun. Ok, tell him I have… a fiend in a bottle,”

“A fiend in a … wait what does that mea-… “

Void hung up without answering, a smile on his lips as he closed the briefcase.

____________________________________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[nadziejastar]

The reason Lea and Isa's relationship in KH3 was unsatisfying was the same reason a lot of other things in that game were unsatisfying. Nomura was so focused on sequel baiting the next saga that he didn't bother to try and wrap up the current saga properly. Wrapping up all the plot threads was an obligation, not something he actually wanted to do.

The Sad, Butchered, Unfinished Xehanort Saga: Just Tie It All to Union X and KH4!

“Nomura revealed that the theme of Kingdom Hearts III is “resolution”. It is the final battle against the main series antagonist, Master Xehanort, so his story is finally reaching its resolution. But because it is the theme, there will no doubt be many emotional resolutions to the journey’s we have taken with Sora over the years.”

Without a doubt, one of my biggest issues with KH3 is that the game seemed way more concerned with setting up future games and plots instead of wrapping up the plot threads in the Xehanort Saga. Lea and Isa’s story is just one of the many, MANY issues I had with the game’s story. The main theme of KH3 was supposed to be “resolution”. Resolution, my ass.

Everything is being left for the next game. IF there’s a next game. Nomura never acts too sure if there even will be a next game. It was rather heartbreaking to wait for such a long time, and then realize that THIS was the only “resolution” we were getting. It really pissed me off. Just look how many unresolved plot threads there are, which are now being haphazardly tied to Union χ:

The Seekers of Darkness

—When Marluxia is fading, he says, “I am on the cusp of reclaiming my identity, my purpose for being.” Did he remember that he was from the distant past?

Yes. I think if you play KH Union Cross to the end, you will learn his purpose for being.

—When Larxene said, “I was really just along for the ride,” she must have meant with…

Marluxia. It’s not certain whether Larxene has her old memories, but she was interested in Marluxia to a degree for some reason, and became his partner in his plan to overthrow the old Organization XIII.

Why are the rest of the old Organization members even part of the new Organization? They spend the whole game helping Xehanort, then act confused and grateful after Sora beats them. Why? This seemed so weird in canon. It’s clear from their dialogue after they are defeated and the giant pillar of darkness that exits their body, that Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene were supposed to be completely controlled by Xehanort.

— What happens to the hearts of those who have had Master Xehanort’s heart planted within them?They’ll gradually be swallowed by it. As for Master Xehanort, he plans to control them completely. The planted parts of the heart are captured rather than disappear.

Which is exactly what Nomura said happens to people who become vessels. I’m sure there was another explanation for their presence which probably would have been revealed in BBSV2. It would have showed how they were made vessels against their will and were being controlled. We’d actually be able to sympathize with them finally. But now it’s revealed that Marluxia and Larxene joined willingly because of Union χ stuff. Who knows if we’ll ever find out why Luxord was there.

—We never would have guessed how important Xigbar ended up being when he first appeared in KH2, either.

I hear that a lot, but on the inside I meant for Xigbar to be a character with a special position from early on, which is why I had him do suspicious things. During voice recording for KH2, while listening to Hochu Otsuka’s voice (Xigbar’s voice actor), I felt that there was no way Xigbar was just an ordinary soldier in the system—he definitely had something going on behind the scenes—and midway through production the setup developed into what we have now. That kind of thing does happen sometimes: the setup behind a character transforming as I bounce off a voice actor.

This really pissed me off. Xigbar was such an interesting villain. He always knew so much more than he let on and had his own agenda. I think the weapons in 358/2 Days actually tell the story of the character. They reference important events in chronological order. One of Xigbar’s final weapons is called “Crime and Punishment”, and I believe this was a reference to his role in the final battle. Braig hurt so many innocent people in his quest for the Keyblade. He helped turn Terra into a vessel and participated in mind control experiments. He was haunted by Ven’s glare when he looked at Xion.

He sold his soul to the devil—to Xehanort. I think once Sora beats him, and he finally gains his heart back, he is filled with shame and despair. The end of his arc was to commit suicide. Even though he was a terrible person, there was nothing to celebrate. He committed so many atrocities, yet he gained nothing. Sora and Riku look on with nothing but sadness.

Observations, Excerpt 3

It seems this body, this name will be my last…Until now, I have watched over the course of events from a distance. Perhaps the time has come to intervene. I need only play the role of a fool desirous of the Keyblade’s power. I will don the mask of his ally in order to keep watch over my Keyblade from close by.

But now…he’s Luxu! His suicide now means nothing. It was just a ruse. There’s no emotional impact whatsoever because his Xigbar persona was all just an act. Braig’s entire character arc was sacrificed so he could be a vehicle to bring in Union χ characters for KH4.

The Chamber of Waking

Why is Aqua’s armor in The Chamber of Repose?Because Aqua tried to save Terra.When she tried to retrieve Terra’s heart from Terra-Xehanort, they both fell into the realm of darkness, and she gave him both her armor and keyblade which allowed him to escape. Because of this when Ansem the Wise picked up Xehanort, he still had the armor and keyblade, which Xemnas then put in The Chamber of Repose.Why is Xemnas searching for The Chamber of Awakening?To find Ventus. The Chamber of Awakening is the room where Aqua leaves Ventus sleeping in Last Episode, and is a part of Castle Oblivion. As you can see from Xemnas calling Aqua’s armor “friend”, it seems Xemnas has Terra’s memories and so is searching for Ventus, and is making the other Organization members look for The Chamber of Awakening. The only one who can solve the mysteries of Castle Oblivion is Aqua, so the Organization was never able to find it

— So then, why is Xemnas of Organization XIII searching for Ven?Well, there’s still some time between the ending of ‘Birth by Sleep’ and ‘KHI’, so…

Xemnas was obsessed with finding the Chamber of Waking. It’s why he created the Chamber of Repose. He had Terra’s memories and thought if he could impersonate Terra, she’d tell him where the chamber was. Nomura implied that the reason he became interested in Ven was related to the time period between BBS and KH1. This was undoubtedly a reference to BBSV2.

—Were Marluxia and Larxene also the Keyblade wielders of old that Xemnas was searching for?

It hasn’t been made clear yet, but I believe those who play KH Union Cross can guess. By the way, Xemnas was also looking for the Chamber of Awakening in KH Days because Ventus, who was sleeping there, was a Keyblade wielder of old.

—So that means Xehanort was aware that Ventus was a Keyblade wielder of old?

Regarding that, I think I definitely have to show sometime how Ventus and Xehanort met.

I loved how Nomura just brought this up in such an offhand manner. Oh yeah, by the way…the reason he was looking for that chamber? The one that was hinted at ever since KH2FM+? The one that was a HUGE ass deal in Days? The one Saïx was obsessed with, since it would tell him everything about Xemnas’ secret ambition? The one Axel kept getting sent to Castle Oblivion to look for? Yeaaaah. That was actually all about Union χ.

Xehanort: “Today, all of my selves throughout time were meant to gather here, and to welcome you, Sora, as our thirteenth member.”

Xemnas wasn’t thinking Ven could be used as a vessel. Oh, no. Xehanort tried to turn Sora into a vessel, proving how desperate he was to get a 13th member. But actually he had Xion the whole time. And now he has reserve members, too! The whole time, Xemnas was looking Keyblade wielders of old. The Chamber of Waking actually had nothing to do with Xemnas’ goal in the Dark Seeker Saga or even any of the characters from this story arc. Give me a break…

Ansem’s Research

Ansem: “So many are still waiting for their new beginning, their birth by sleep. Even me…and even you.”

After KH2, Ansem the Wise was cast into the Realm of Darkness, forgetting all of his memories except those regarding Sora. He said he was waiting for a birth by sleep. It was actually pretty sad how nobody seemed to care about him or inquire about his well-being. Even after Aqua is revived, she doesn’t mention him, despite him telling her about Sora. “Ansem" just walks right up to him, and takes him back to the Realm of Light, as the plot so requires. And the reason is connected to a time-traveling mystery girl Ansem is keeping secret. It’s never explained when or how Ansem regained his non-Sora related memories.

Ansem: “Maybe he can set things right. A boy like him who touches so many hearts–he could open the right door, and save all those people whose lives I managed to ruin.”

In Re:Coded, 3D, AND the secret ending of BBSFM+, we are told Ansem felt very guilty about ruining countless people’s lives. As DiZ, he conducted research on the heart and emotions, and put the results of this research inside of Sora’s heart, as a way to clear his conscience. He still hated Nobodies and didn’t believe they had hearts. And he still wanted revenge on his apprentices at the point that Sora was sleeping. Why was he so remorseful? Well, we know that Ansem did experiments on Apprentice Xehanort, allowing him to regain the memories of his past.  

The Heartless appear in groups, and are multiplying rapidly. I’ve provided them both living and nonliving samples. They’ve responded only to the living.

After regaining his memories, Apprentice Xehanort conducted experiments on darkness that resulted in many casualties, according to “Ansem’s Reports”. Xigbar even calls the place where the experiments on darkness were conducted a “graveyard”. Xemnas unsealed the graveyard as soon as Ansem was banished. Yet in KH3, Xehanort’s Heartless is accusing Ansem the Wise of sacrificing children in the name of his research? Um…talk about the pot calling the kettle black. When did Ansem the Wise sacrifice all these children anyways?

We are not meant to interfere in the depths of another’s heart, no matter what our reasons for doing so…And my error plunged me into despair. A visitor from another world soothed my dejected soul.

After finding out about the experiments his apprentices were doing, Ansem blamed himself. He felt horrible. It makes perfect sense that this is what he was referring to when he said he wanted to atone. He feels personally responsible for the lives that Xehanort ruined, because he interfered in the depths of his heart. Xehanort did go around calling himself “Ansem,” after all. This was probably due to the influence Ansem had on his heart. Xehanort’s Heartless has orange eyes, just like Ansem the Wise. Saïx also has orange eyes in all games after the original KH2. This was done in anticipation of a major plot revelation, of course. I’m sure Isa was one of the ruined lives that Ansem felt bad about, especially after he learned that he was in Organization XIII, along with his apprentices.

Xemnas: “Our experiments creating Heartless were attempts to control the mind, and convince it to renounce its sense of self.”

The apprentices conducted experiments in an attempt to control the mind, to get it to renounce its sense of self.  Isa just happened to be trying to sneak into the castle with Lea, during the exact same time period these experiments were being conducted. Now he is a Seeker of Darkness, has a big Recuasnt’s Sigil scar, and his personality turned into Xehanort 2.0. But Isa had NOTHING to do with the mind control experiments. Oh, no. His association with the apprentices is all connected to the mystery girl. She’s Subject X. And despite being named “X”, she doesn’t have anything to do with the mind control experiments, the X-blade, nor the creation of vessels. She has nothing to do with the Xehanort saga at all.

Memoirs, Excerpt 1

The castle was a wonderland to us children. Within its walls, Ansem the Wise conducted his research, and the fruits it bore allowed everyone outside to live in peace and happiness. That alone was enough to stoke our interest, though not all of the rumors that escaped its walls were so benevolent. By night, the muffled sounds of human wails emerged. There was talk of dangerous human experimentation. Lea and I couldn’t help but hatch a plot to steal inside and sate our curiosity…

…But we did not find her inside on that day or the next, or any of our subsequent visits. Had she been moved? Had we simply imagined her? Lea and I knew there was only one way to be certain. And so we stand before the castle gates today, not as trespassing children but in order to become Ansem the Wise’s newest apprentices.

So the screams are so loud, even two random kids are aware that something unsavory is going on in that basement. And Ansem did not know? And how were Lea and Isa able to constantly sneak in and out of the castle to see this girl? Did the apprentices not bother to keep their horrible secret lab secure?

When Ansem the Wise finds out about the horrible experiments his apprentices were conducting, he releases the prisoners and takes “Subject X” away. When two children show up on his doorstep asking to become apprentices, he instantly says yes and allows them to be around Xehanort? How does that make any sense?

Organization XIII

Ansem the Wise had six apprentices, the best of whom called himself Xehanort. The real Ansem abandoned his studies of the heart, but Xehanort could not let it stop there. He and the other apprentices betrayed Ansem and cast their hearts away to continue their master’s research.

—KH3D Glossary

Oh, right. Because Ansem only had SIX apprentices. Lea and Isa were NOT apprentices.

Axel’s Past

— Even though Axel had been eliminated in Kingdom Hearts II, since that time, had you considered having him appear again in his human form Lea?I thought a lot about that. Should I leave him as he was or should I bring him back again? However, when I considered the people that Lea wants to bring back, his existence plays a big role. I think Lea has successively become a key character.

Along with “resolution”, the main theme of KH3 was “healing pain”. Well, Lea’s pain was never healed. KH3 tried its absolute hardest to downplay Lea’s relationship with Isa. KH3 was a much more high-profile game than any of the previous ones. And I cannot help but think the original idea for Lea and Isa’s relationship would have been considered “too intimate” for two guys, in a mainstream high budget game. I suspect this was a major reason it was altered so heavily, along with accommodating Skuld. Because it was really not necessary to alter their story so much.

– On to the Kingdom Hearts III questions, what new worlds can we expect in Kingdom Hearts III?

I’m not allowed to say what will be coming in Kingdom Hearts III, but each time when I select the worlds for the game I choose some stable choices that are accessible for the game and the story, and I try to insert surprising factors. I want everyone to be surprised to see that particular world. For Kingdom Hearts III I want to make sure that there will be a lot of surprises.

I mean, after 3D ended, everything was set up perfectly. It wouldn’t have taken that long to go to Radiant Garden and have Lea learn that his friend was Xehanort’d using a few cutscenes and Secret Reports. Just in general, not being able to explore Radiant Garden is inexcusable. Nomura wanted to have hub worlds in KH3 for story purposes. Well who needs ‘em when there’s hardly any non-Disney story anymore, right?

If Lea went back to Radiant Garden, he could have had more of an emotional connection to the final battle. There was a reason he was always staring into the sunset. There was a reason he awkwardly dodged Kairi’s suggestion to change clothes. Days showed that Lea’s pain was connected to his past. It weighs heavily on his heart. He’s hurting and needs closure. Downplaying Isa and Lea’s relationship just doesn’t work. It robs Lea of his main source of emotional conflict.

— I see… Roxas appears dressed in the black coat in Castle Oblivion among other worlds too. Was that something else that Namine had not added intentionally?Right. Since Roxas and Sora together make up one existence, if there is a Sora made of Kingdom Hearts I data, then data of Roxas must exist too. Roxas says, “It’s my personal duty to check whether or not Sora is ready to take the pain.” However that role was not assigned by Namine, Roxas personally decided that goal and acted upon it accordingly.

I maintain that it was supposed to be Sora’s job to deal with Roxas. That’s his Nobody. That was the entire point of Re:coded and Sora’s ending in KH3D. His job was to confront the painful memories sleeping inside of him, and to find a resolution. KH3D, BBS, and Days set up the idea that lsa was going to be the focal point of Lea’s character arc and his main objective going forward.

BBS showed Lea was really close to Isa. Days showed that Axel was really sad about losing something precious from the past. In KH3D, Lea woke up and couldn’t find Isa. He was revealed to be a vessel in a dramatic fashion at the very end of 3D, and then Lea summons his Keyblade. Like the other Guardians of Light, Lea needed to master the power of light and learn to use the power of waking. He lost out on an entire character arc designed to help him grow as a person. His role in KH3 was just NOT compelling, and his pain was left totally unresolved.

–Many people who have finished KH3 are interested in the “girl” that Lea and Isa were looking for, and the existence of the “NAMELESS STAR” in the Final World. Can you give us any kind of hint about the truth behind these girls? Are they characters who have already appeared in the series?

I think this is also possible to figure out for yourself if you look at all the secret reports, but yes, they are characters who have already appeared in the series. You will find out who “NAMELESS STAR” is if there is a next time.

But on top of that, his personal backstory was not explored. It was heavily implied to be a very tragic backstory, too. He said memories are nothing but baggage, and he didn’t wanna tell Roxas all his “dark secrets”. But he still said that his memories of the past were the one thing he couldn’t bear to lose. There was a time when he was truly happy. Axel was deeply miserable during his time in the Organization. The reveal of his past should have been for the audience to empathize more with him. It should have been the time for Sora and friends to better understand his complex personality—to finally learn why a former Organization member is worthy to be their friend.

In a short span of time, he loses is heart, becomes an unwilling member of Organization XIII, and is forced to follow Xemans’ icky orders or get turned into a Dusk. When his backstory finally is revealed, the focus isn’t even on him as a character. It became all about a sequel-bait mystery girl. The focus is not on Lea’s pain, his experiences dealing with Xehanort, how he lost all semblance of a normal life, or how he felt about the change in his best friend’s personality. There was no emphasis on the personal tragedy of his life: changing from an innocent frisbee-playing kid into a ruthless assassin. His past became simply an excuse to shoehorn Skuld into the timeline. Lea was just a means to an end: Union χ and KH4.

Subject X

— By the way, Braig’s dealings with Master Xehanort in Birth by Sleep make sense now, as he was to become a vessel.

There is a certain reason for Braig to proudly exclaim, “I’m already half Xehanort.” Isa (Saïx) is included too. I think you’ll understand the details about their circumstances eventually.

I have spoken a lot about how Subject X took Isa’s backstory, which I 100% believe to be the case. It really pissed me off. Everything about Isa was intentionally kept a mystery. In Days all we learn is that Saïx is really cold and nasty and he used to know Axel as a human. We don’t know why he cant “see” Xion. We don’t know why he and Axel are plotting to take over the Organization. We don’t know why Xemans has taken such a liking to Saïx, that he ignores Axel and Saïx’s plot against him.

He was mysterious! Look how many times it’s pointed out that Saïx can’t “see” Xion. Just in the Reports, it’s pointed out FOUR separate times by four different characters!

Day 150: Dealing with Xion

As expected, the Duplicate is starting to show its limits. The Program showed promise, but a puppet is just a puppet: something to be toyed with until it breaks. I am utterly at a loss as to what Roxas and Axel see in that thing. How best to dispose of it merits my consideration going forward.

Saïx says he doesn’t know what people see in Xion.

Day 172: Meaning Behind the Words

There has to be something to what Saïx said. Why isn’t Xion qualified to be one of us? He said to just look at her, but at what? The fact that she looks like Naminé? Xion and Naminé must be connected. Whose Nobody is Xion, anyway? What is Saïx hiding?

Axel doesn’t know what Saïx is talking about, but thinks there has to be something more to it.

Day 255: Final Stages

Xion’s appearance should vary based on the relation of the viewer to her. Saïx sees her simply as a puppet. The Program approaches completion. Through Roxas, Xion is assembling a copy of the hero of the Keyblade. As proof, she sometimes appears to take on his form to my eyes.

Xemans is intrigued that Saïx merely sees Xion as a puppet.

Day 256: Who We Each See

Xion’s disappearance is fascinating. If she really is breaking from our control, it’s a sign of her approaching the essence of the hero. It seems Saïx doesn’t truly “see” her. I’m curious to know how she appears to the others. I see her as…him, though I suspect that Xemnas sees entirely something else in her.

And Xigbar is also intrigued that he can’t “see” Xion. This was extremely important!

In BBS, we don’t know why Isa was so…normal compared to his Nobody. And we didn’t know why Lea and Isa were so dead-set on sneaking into the castle, even before Terranort became an apprentice and started human experiments. In KH3D, we don’t know why he wasn’t there when Lea woke up, and we don’t know why he attacked Lea at the end. We don’t know why Young Xehanort chose to retrieve him and not any of the other apprentices. It was a very intentional set up filled with mystery and intrigue, spanning many years and multiple games. And it all amounted to a hill of beans.

When they came up with the idea of Isa being best friends with Lea and sneaking into the castle, OF COURSE they had a whole story in mind. And OF COURSE that story was going to explain his pointy ears, orange eyes, his scar in the shape of a Recusant’s Sigil, and Axel’s constant laments over how much his personality changed. It was SO blatantly obvious. Isa had a very tragic backstory. And Nomura seemed excited for the time when we would get to learn all the details on it.

–There are several Organisation members whose original names are still unknown. Will we have a chance to learn them someday, or to find out about the scar on Isa’s face?

If there is a sequel, then that chance may come. But in my heart right now my desire is a blank page.

BBSV2 and KH3 was supposed to be Isa’s time to shine. We’d finally learn the truth about him, and Lea would finally know that his friend never stopped caring about him. He has a new goal. He has to save Isa, too. Yet Isa’s backstory and tragic past was simply a means to introduce Skuld. At least Lea had a decent amount of development from the other games. He felt adequately fleshed out thanks to his strong personality. People care about him and he’s popular.

Isa was reduced to being a plot device instead of an actual character. And now we are not even going to learn about how he got his scar. He’s just there to obtain some replicas and bring up the new girl in the most awkward and contrived way possible. “Oh yeah, before I clobber you tomorrow, remember that girl we never mentioned? Did you find out where she is yet?”

I arose today and decided to walk out in the square, my first outing in some time. Yet my stroll was interrupted when a surprising visitor appeared with an unexpected offer. Though younger than me, he’d risen to become Xemnas’s right-hand. I accepted his terms and became a Nobody once more—easier to gain access to the old Replica Program that way. Whatever it takes to atone.—Vexen

Saïx was 100 times more villainous than Axel. Lea had to do a lot to get Mickey, Sora, Kairi and the others to view him as a friend.  Axel’s redemption spanned multiple games. Kairi was afraid of him at first and Donald was insistent that Yen Sid shouldn’t allow him to wield a Keyblade. In KH2, Axel is portrayed as sympathetic. He’s lonely and sacrificed himself for Sora. Saïx is not portrayed sympathetically. He spends the whole game hunting Axel, kidnaps Kairi, and dies fighting Sora.

Axel got an entire game focused on his friendship with Roxas and Xion to humanize him to the audience, before he was fit to became one of the good guys. Saïx is never humanized in this way. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s made out to be as nasty and inhumanly cold as possible. He shows no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He’s portrayed worse after he was envisioned as Axel’s friend.

If you get rid of the mind control angle, you destroy whatever sympathy Isa could have gotten. You literally ruin the entire basis of his character. In KH3 Isa’s “redemption” happens entirely off-screen! Yet, as soon as the final battle was over, Isa was immediately treated as one of the good guys; on the same level as everyone else. He was in the epilogue playing on the beach and eating ice cream right alongside all the heroes. None of the characters found this the slightest bit strange or objectionable. And people think Isa’s story was always planned in advance this way? Yeah, right…

OF COURSE they originally had a very good explanation for why Isa is immediately accepted and why he isn’t held responsible for the awful deeds of Saïx . Because Isa in NOT Saïx. He deserved a normal, happy life after everything he went through. But Isa got tossed aside to make room for Skuld. So, instead of people being happy that he got rescued, we see debate about whether he deserved to be forgiven by Roxas and Xion. What a disrespectful way to treat one of your characters. Seriously. If you ask me, Nomura didn’t sound very happy in his response to that question.

The Power of Waking

“Believing light and darkness must remain in balance, Master Xehanort seeks to spark war against the ‘tyranny of light’ to restore equilibrium.

In an effort to undermine Xehanort’s plot, Sora, Donald and Goofy search for seven guardians of light and the “Key to Return Hearts,” while King Mickey and Riku search for previous Keyblade wielders.”

—Kingdom Hearts III press release

This was shortly after the game was announced in 2013. The story obviously changed after this. The Key to Return Hearts. Ansem’s data. This was all about the ability to use the power of waking. It’s supposed to be about restoring a sleeping heart to normal. The key is light. The power of waking was the main goal of KH3. This was the “key” to healing all the characters’ pain. Even the Disney worlds reinforce this theme of restoring a person to life with light and love.

In KH3, pretty much all usage of the power of waking was cut out. Sora was supposed to use it on Aqua. He was supposed to dive into her heart, just like Riku did for him in 3D and wake her up. But he doesn’t. She wasn’t even shown to be asleep. She was with Ansem the Wise and then falls in the water. This power is barely used. I think that’s why there’s countless scenes of the characters getting knocked unconscious. They were supposed to be using the power of waking, but those scenes just got taken out completely. I think everyone was supposed to use it and have character development. They are all the Guardians of Light, after all.  

Mickey and Riku are the only ones to remember the previous Keybade wielders. Riku remembers Terra and Mickey befriended Aqua and Ven. They feel guilty, fall to darkness, and use it on each other. Their friendship comes full-circle. Aqua keeps her promise to Ven to wake him up. Ven keeps his promise to Terra. Lea keeps his promise to always bring his friends back, and he is able to resurrect Isa, which fits with his Phoenix Keyblade. Sora, being the one who Ansem said was special, uses it on everyone. Kairi saves him, and is no longer pegged as a damsel. What was the main purpose of the power of waking in KH3?

—When we leave the Final World, we are back to the point just before Sora and his friends were defeated. Why is that?

The power of awakening is essentially “the power to put sleeping hearts back the way they were.” But the impact of forcing his friends’ fading hearts back the way they were rewrote reality, and created a singularity. The rewrite caused the chronology in which they were destroyed to have “never happened.”

It turned into a time travel gimmick. There probably WAS no Terranort fight at the beginning. Terranort is obviously going to be one of the final fights, along with Saïx. Then Ven and Lea use the power of waking on their friends. The Heartless swarm comes and they all get wiped out. Sora saves them and Kairi saves him. No time travel required. This “singularity” is no doubt gonna be used as an excuse to let Union χ characters come into this timeline.

Where Did It All Go Wrong?

– Mr. Nomura, since you are the one that is writing the scenario this time, how is the progress coming along?

Since we are arriving near the conclusion of Xehanort in KINGDOM HEARTS III, the outline of the story has been solidified but not necessarily the direction where the KINGDOM HEARTS series is continuing to head. We are still trying to decide where to go from several choices.

But why did the story turn out this way? I agree that Nomura’s heart just was NOT in it. But personally, I do not think KH3 turned out the way it did by design. I am not convinced that Nomura was always more concerned with sequel-baiting than offering resolution. I doubt he always felt that wrapping up the plot was an unwanted obligation.

Actually I think it might be the opposite. Nomura wanted to make BBSV2. He wanted to tell the full story and wrap up the plot correctly. After it was cancelled, I believe there were a lot of factors at play during KH3′s development that Nomura simply had no control over. To me, his desire for a “blank page” appears to be motivated by his profound disappointment with how the Xehanort saga ended.

– What is that specifically?

In the KINGDOM HEARTS series, I don’t think there has been an actual happy ending. KINGDOM HEARTS II is close to it. Since most of the titles have ended in cliffhangers, we’re worried about what we should include in KINGDOM HEARTS III.

It sounded like he wanted to keep things open for more games, but he wanted to be careful that KH3 had a happy ending without cliffhangers. I really think that behind the scenes, development must have been a disaster, much like it was with Versus XIII. Square’s console game development has been a disaster since FFXII. The development of FFXIII and FFXIV were disastrous, interfering with FFVsXIII development. XIII took members from the FFVsXIII team.  

Then Square took Nomura off of VsXIII completely to work on KH3. And they completely changed Nomura’s vision. They made FFXV a lot more “mainstream” while VsXIII was more “weird”. They probably also cancelled BBSV2, because they wanted all the focus to be on KH3, the highly anticipated big budget $$ maker. I get the feeling Nomura wasn’t allowed to do what he wanted with KH3. I honestly don’t think he was sequel-baiting because he lost interest. I think he’s sad and bitter and made everything connect to the future to distance himself from the Xehanort Saga.

– What do you say to the segment of Kingdom Hearts fans that believes the increasingly complex storyline of Kingdom Hearts stands at odd with the child-focused Disney element of the franchise?

First of all, this series is not intended to be child-focused, and so the complexity of the story is purposefully made prominent. That being said, with a series being around so long, there are a few items I have in mind so that a wider audience range can enjoy the experience. For the time being Dream Drop Distance, there is a new function called Mementos, and in the section called Chronicles, the player can read a summary on each of the titles from the Kingdom Hearts series. Whether you are just starting out or you have played all the games before and need a refresher, it has all of the key information summarized.

Nomura wrote the story for KH3. He is a smart and creative guy. His desire isn’t to make something simplistic for little kids. Sakaguchi told him unless KH1 had complexity, it would fail. This is why I liked the series. It was complex. It’s supposed to be complex. Nomura wanted to include summaries, to catch people up. Yes, the complexity can be a barrier to many people.  But…it’s a saga. You can’t expect a decade’s worth of story to be something anyone can jump straight into, unless they put in some effort to catch up.

But KH3 seemed to want to do just that. Make it for anyone and everyone. I suspect the game’s story was forced to be massively simplified to make it more accessible to a wider audience. Look how bare-bones the non-Disney world story section of the journal is, compared to the other games. When I actually looked at it, I was marveling at how little there was to summarize. It’s so…empty.

I think this is why the power of waking was cut out. For most people who are not die-hard fans, it’s very complicated. It’s all about altered states of consciousness and Jungian psychology. Different aspects of the psyche acting on their own, all taking place in a world of dreams. “So, there’s Terra’s Lingering Will, and Xemnas is his Nobody, and his heart is the Guardian, and..there’s his shadow self? But none of these are the REAL Terra? He’s asleep, but we have to collect his soul fragments? Wha? ” I think Square and Disney were afraid this would be too much for people.

– So, it’s not that “once Sora’s story is over the story of a new hero will begin”, but that the series will always have Sora as the hero, isn’t it?

Yeah. One of the concepts of the series is that the hero Sora isn’t some special being, but a normal boy. Sure, his heart is connected to Ventus and the others, but other than that, he’s a normal kid that could have come from anywhere, that hasn’t inherited anything from anyone. I want to make Sora a character that will give the player the feeling that “even if I’m not some special being, I have the possibility buried inside of connecting with many others to accomplish things”. In Birth by Sleep, I wish for all the fans to hope to see that Sora reappears. The secret cutscene is what symbolizes this, and so please work your way there, and wait for Sora’s role in the future.

Nomura had a positive attitude circa 2013. He said Noctis and Sora were his favorite characters. He wanted people to look forward to Sora’s return.

“I actually don’t sympathize or empathize with Sora at all,” Nomura says. Instead, he relates to the game’s mysterious villains, Xehanort or likely Ansem, anyone who’s fallen prey to their dark natures. “I think I’m closer to those characters, so Sora is like my enemy,” he says.“How I always think of him is I would unleash my attacks on him, and then I draw him in a way that I think he will be able to make a comeback at me. In that sense, I really think that Sora is just like an opposite personality character to who I am.”

Before KH3 came out, I wondered what caused his change in attitude. Now I think I get it.

Riku: “I just wanted you to see that you always make the right choices. On the road ahead, more than one truth will come to light. You’ll forget things, lose things that you care about, and it won’t always make sense. It may hurt so bad you’ll feel like you’re about to lose yourself. But you won’t. Not you. You’re like a sponge. No matter how much pain they throw at you, you’ll suck it up, squeeze it out, and leave things a little better. Just follow your heart, and you can change lives. You don’t have to do anything special. Just do what you do.” 

Nomura had more interesting things in mind with Sora. He has been kind of a simple character for the most part. I think this is why he wanted Sora to face everyone’s pain. Experience darkness in order to understand his true strength. Dealing with everyone’s painful memories shows the strength of his empathy and love. It allows him to have an actual character arc, and grow as a person. This is why everyone calls out to him in Blank Points, and why Ansem left his research data inside of him.

– Those previous projects as director were the Kingdom Hearts games, which are much lighter than what we know of Versus XIII. Is the darker concept you have outlined a necessary change for you as director?

The world of Versus XIII might be a little closer to my personal taste than Kingdom Hearts, but the entire project owes something to Kingdom Hearts as well. When I first began KH I was part of the FF core team, and tried to bring elements of that into the development. The KH team was always inspired by FF, and I’d like to see that reversed. But as for the differences between KH and FF, KH is a lighter world of magic, fantasy, and people doing good things. I’ve been in that world for a very long time - perhaps too long.

In KH3, Sora is still too Saturday morning cartoonish. He doesn’t develop much. I think he was restricted to keep Sora as more of a simple cartoon hero by outside pressure. And he started to resent him, because that’s just not his taste.

—The story’s endgame where all your friends and foes gather at the Keyblade Graveyard was a masterpiece.

I know each fan has their own different beloved character, so I wanted to give each one an appropriate moment. But in the end there was too much story that had to be told then, and I ended up being restricted to the minimum necessary to move Sora forward. The truth is, the Keyblade Graveyard was the toughest part I faced when writing the scenario. Shining the spotlight on each character one by one allows you to depict the unfolding developments with time and care, but the flow of the game requires the player to control Sora and fight battles. Ideally, I should have had characters with connections fight it out one by one and settle things that way, but that would have required too much exposition. On the other hand, I did think of limiting the number of enemies you actually battle and finishing others with cutscenes, but it didn’t feel right. At the end of deep worry and thought, I narrowed my aim and ended up with the way it is now, which prioritizes rhythm.

Nomura didn’t sound pleased with how the Keyblade Graveyard turned out. Everyone was supposed to fight their own battles. He mentions he was restricted to moving Sora forward because apparently there was “too much story” otherwise. And the end result is that Sora comes across like a black hole Gary Stu who steals everyone’s moment of glory. It made me so annoyed with his presence. He had no business freeing Terra’s heart, for instance. That was Ven and Aqua’s job. I just wanted him to go away. I get the sense that feeling “restricted” was a constant problem Nomura had.

– Will we see any new FF characters? Will we get a chance to play as King Mickey?

The appearance of FF characters is pending. For a while, the previous titles didn’t have any FF characters, and I think it’s time to include some. I know everyone wants to play as King Mickey, so I will take that into consideration. Of course Sora will be the main character to play; it would be nice if other characters are playable as well.

This response was from June 2013. Nomura seemed very interested in adding FF characters. I don’t think he really thought they were unnecessary or just a crutch. I think the production was just so difficult that they weren’t able to be included. He had too much to try and resolve since BBSV2 was cancelled.

—Was there a reason that no FF characters appeared in the game this time?

It was simply that there was no room. There were so many characters appearing in the main story that in the end I wasn’t able to create opportunities to use the FF characters. Although, I did have the team make polygon models of Leon and some others just in case. They also made the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella and a few others, but by the end I just couldn’t find a place to use them. The production staff were mad at me.

I’m sure there was pressure from the Square-Enix side. KH3 was a huge cash cow, and they wanted the game out as soon as possible, since it had taken SUCH a long time already. I think he was rushed and simply incapable of accomplishing everything he wanted.

— Given how long the game has been in development, fan expectations for it are incredibly high. Do you ever worry about not meeting those fan expectations and how does that impact you as you’re developing the game?

I just naturally don’t really feel pressured and that’s always been fortunate for me. That’s been leading me to successes, but at least for Kingdom Hearts 3 the fan excitement was a lot more than I had expected. So for the first time in my life I did feel some kind of pressure from it.

–In the recent E3 footage, there was some interesting dialogue about Roxas and I’m concerned about the development of KINGDOM HEARTS III.

Because there are too many characters that are appearing, the storyline has become complicated. There are quite a number of main characters that have appeared in the series, and every character will appear in some form.

I also think he felt pressured by fan expectations. He actually said this was the first time he felt pressured in this way. To what extent this potentially affected the story is all speculation. But I think since BBSV2 was cancelled, leaving a lot of unresolved issues, Nomura felt very pressured to come up with a story that would not cause a mass fan riot. Whether he was successful or not is…debatable.

“I do have a general storyline in my head,” he tells The Verge. “What is the most confusing is that, because there are so many characters in this storyline now, it’s hard to keep track of who actually met who already,” he says. “I’m always like, ‘Okay, so who knows who in this situation, and who’s meeting this person for the first time?’ And that always gets really confusing.”

“Because most of the original Kingdom Hearts characters are going to appear in Kingdom Hearts III, that’s just already too many characters to begin with. When I was writing the scenarios, I started to be confused with it as well myself. It is kind of complicated in that sense. It’s just been difficult for me to create a storyline that doesn’t involve those characters.”

This is just my opinion, but given how much he complained, it sounds like he didn’t necessarily want to bring everyone back, at least permanently. He speaks like he resents how “complicated” the story has become. I mean, if you can’t even remember who’s met who, is your heart really into writing this story? Doesn’t sound like it.

— You mentioned that Monsters Inc. had many more guidelines than Toy Story. Was that the one that had perhaps the most guidelines or was there one that had even more?

Frozen had the most.

And then there’s Disney. They are so strict with their IP’s, it’s a miracle this game even exists at all. In Arendelle, Sora was essentially spectating from the bleacher seats. Time has to freeze and Sora has to go to a different dimension, whenever the Organization members show up. It was so jarring and contrived, it was actually pretty funny. Sora is never allowed to “interfere” with the story. I highly doubt Nomura wanted it to turn out like that. All the Disney worlds were heavily tied into the power of waking, yet it was really not evident in the writing of the story at all.

— What’s the relationship with Disney like? Disney’s attitude to games has changed in recent years to become focused on mobile and social games. Have you noticed their attitude change much?

The relationship with Disney has remained the same. Actually the contact person at Disney is still the same person from Kingdom Hearts 1, and Disney has given us lots of requests in terms of the Kingdom Hearts franchise and they did mention some smaller titles for other platforms, but our common, most important goal was to complete Kingdom Hearts 3. So it’s the same.

This is also from June 2013.

— Disney has changed tremendously since 2006. Obviously Marvel, Star Wars, Pixar, totally different style of animation. How your relationship with Disney and its properties evolved over the past 10 years or so in the context of Kingdom Hearts?

I can say that it has actually been increasingly difficult to get approvals from Disney. That’s mainly because in the past Kingdom Hearts titles, the creator wasn’t around anymore or the team that used to create those titles wasn’t there anymore. There was just this one person that we would just have to go to and they would approve it and we’d be fine and good to go. But because we’ve been featuring recent titles, they still have existing teams for existing creators that are still working in Disney and still working on a certain title.

That feedback process just has been a little bit more difficult than before. And each team would have a different set of rules and guidelines and they would say different things, or they would look at different things. It’s just been a little different that how it used to be because Kingdom Hearts is a bigger title than it was before. I think that whenever we would bring our previous titles, a lot of people at Disney, and this is my assumption, but I do assume that they probably didn’t know what Kingdom Hearts was. They’d go, “What’s Kingdom Hearts? I have no idea.”

But now that it’s become a bigger title, a lot more people have been involved in than before. In that sense the relationship with Disney has changed quite a bit. Emotional changes I don’t really know if there has been any changes emotionally for me. But at least physically I can say those were the changes that we had with Disney.

Compare that to 2018. A lot had changed. Approvals became much harder and they weren’t dealing with just the one guy anymore. Also, he says he “doesn’t know” if there were emotional changes. But I think it’s clear that he’s trying to hide just how much his feelings have changed. Why do I say that?

— You’ve grown up as a person and as a designer alongside the players and it’s been so long since the last Kingdom Hearts was released. How has your perspective on making the game changed over time? Do you still have that passion for it? Or is it just like you feel more of a responsibility to people to make it and end it?

I’m getting older now, so my body really can’t take all that difficulty anymore. When I was younger I was definitely more aggressive and I was the one pulling everyone forward, but now there’s a lot more energetic staff around me who are more aggressive, so I feel like I’m more like a sage now. Like I’m in the sidelines just telling people what to do. The Kingdom Hearts series has become a huge title nowadays and back then it was more like I was making it secretively in the corner, but now that a lot more people are involved I do feel that it’s not my title anymore, it’s everyone’s title. And just talking about all this … It actually kind of makes me really sad.

Because he says very similar things again in a later interview, and he’s more honest about his feelings. Again, he mentions that he used to think the series was more obscure to Disney and he was just quietly working on it in the corner. But now it’s gotten so big and so many people are involved. Now the title isn’t really his title anymore. It’s everyone’s title. And he admits it makes him really sad. And that is just what he admits to in public. Imagine what he thinks in private. My conclusion:  I really don’t think Nomura had as much creative freedom on KH3 as he did on the others games. And it really shows.

[foxydivaxx]

Bad Blood Chapter 1

Originally, this was meant to be connected to Young Justice: Demigods Arising but I have decided to tweak it a bit and make it the true Demigods Arising story of sorts. This is connected to the Osiris fic and whilst it is kinda Cassie-centric, it also focuses on other characters too. 

"Any news about Cassie?"

"Nah. No one has found her yet."

Tim sighs. It has been a month since Cassie disappeared after her humiliating defeat to Vanessa for the Wonder Girl title. Part of her regrets that decision to have said duel take place. She made that decision not considering what Cassie was going through then. The poor girl lost her then boyfriend Conner Kent and later got dumped by him. Sure, Conner returned but their relationship soon turned toxic to the point where the two engaged in a physical altercation in the School Hall that caused Cassie to get suspended for two weeks. As a result of this, Diana decided to punish her not taking into consideration Cassie’s physical and mental exhaustion at that point. According to Tatiana, Cassie overtrained herself and that led to Cassie’s humiliating defeat.

And now it is too late, Cassie has gone and would never return and if she ever returns, the girl would have joined the Dark Side which should not surprise anyone given her heritage and the negative influence of people like Ares. As if that wasn't bad enough, Cassie's younger twin sister Tatiana also followed suit. 

Adding more to the Cassie mystery is that she immediately deleted all her social media accounts on the same day as her defeat. That alone alarmed everyone as it is a well-known fact that Cassie loved taking selfies and playing around on social media and often talks to fans on there. But now that her presence is no longer felt, many began to panic, feeling that the poor girl might have committed suicide. This naturally led to the #JusticeForCassie campaign and #WonderWomanCancelled movement.

Please let Cassie not be dead.

Meanwhile in her room, Barbara was going through some files that she managed to dig up about HIVE case. So far she had managed to find some leads. Heck she can even say that she is far more competent and smarter than the entire Team as they are all a bunch of little kids. What was Batman thinking of putting little kids on a superhero team? Ok they are young kids, but they still could qualify for a wannabe superhero team since they all wear stupid outlandish costumes and use silly codenames, themselves and the so-called adults that call themselves Justice League. Seriously, what the fuck is that fucked up shit? Worst of the bunch as far as she is concerned is none other than Wonder Woman's little sidekick Cassie Sandsmark better known as Wonder Girl.

That girl is such a tragic trainwreck and a bitch. What did Tim and Conner ever see in her? What really pisses her off about the brat is that the girl reminds her of the stupid alien that Dick dated years ago. What was her name again? Oh yes Starfire. More like Hofire. Both of them are disgustingly beautiful. Starfire is a bit better because at least she can kick some ass. Cassie is completely useless that one forgets that she is supposed to be a fucking demigoddess yet someone like Damian can whoop her ass. She should even be able to go toe to toe with Supergirl and give her a nasty beatdown but nope, she gets her ass handed to her. Plus she dared to steal her Dickie from her.

Where did Diana find this child again? Oh yes, Diana did not find her instead the child fucking inserted herself into the Wonder Woman narrative just like Damian forced his way into the Robin title and never once earned nor deserved a single shit till recently. When will those brats learn? No wonder some people wished for Vanessa to take over as Wonder Girl. Ironically said girl is now Wonder Girl now how hilarious.

And alas, poor Cassie has disappeared and is nowhere to be seen. Well GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE! Barbara cackles evilly as she still plays around on her system.

Meanwhile at Gateway city, Tatiana was in her room with tears in her eyes whilst Donna comforts her. Cassie disappeared immediately after that defeat. One could understand why because that sort of defeat is very humiliating especially when the very girl that caused most of the unneeded drama in your life is responsible for it.

Making matters worse is the fact that many thought that Cassie was an irresponsible person and therefore unworthy to be Wonder Girl. This has been an ongoing debate for the past couple years. Sure Cassie has a temper but she can actually control said temper for the most part. The only reason that said rage has become more pronounced is as a result of Ares’ evil manipulation of his sister; something Diana and Zeus himself warned Cassie about. 

Cassie naturally took the bait since she had lost her powers during that time, not like anyone could blame her. Still the fact that many people bashed her for this, Diana included was horrible. Now after years of hypocrisy on the side of the heroes, no one should be surprised if Cassie suddenly and openly denounces them and exposes all their secrets or even goes all Superboy Prime on them or worse commit suicide.

Donna sighed. Sure Cassie has some shortcomings but Diana herself is a hypocrite, in fact everyone has been hypocritical when it comes to Cassie. A lot of the criticism being leveled upon the girl might as well be applied to other heroes as well like Conner or Tim for instance.

Ironically said hypocrisy has been thrown at Amon aka Osiris several times which is why said boy has distanced himself from the superhero community recently. Black Adam openly lambasted the League and everyone else for that and rightfully so. 

I hope you find happiness and peace Cassie. 

Just then Donna’s phone rings. She checks the phone and discovers that it is Kori calling her. She then answers the call. “Hi Kori.”

“Donna....you have to come down here quick!!”

A couple miles in New York, Cassie is standing on top of a rooftop, preparing to throw herself down and commit suicide. Now one would find it laughable since she is meant to be a demigoddess, until they realize one disturbing detailing: Cassie lost her powers yet again during the duel and has remained powerless ever since.

The rest of the Team bursts through the door. “CASSIE DON’T!!” Conner shouts. Cassie turns around with tears in her eyes. The others begin to feel guilty for making her feel that way.

“There is nothing left for me here. You have all made it clear that I do not belong here. So why waste my time when I can just elsewhere and find peace. Heck even Hell is more peaceful than here. I cannot stay with the gods because of they are going through their own drama and are killing each other anyway.” 

She takes a couple steps back. “Cassie I understand why you are mad at us and you have every right to hate us. But I want you to know that there are people that still love you regardless.” Kori says in the most gentle way possible.

It was at that moment that Cassie literally explodes. “LIES!! PURE UTTER LIES!! IF YOU ALL REALLY CARED, YOU WOULD HAVE ALLOWED ME TO PROPERLY EXPLAINED MYSELF!! YOU WOULD NOT HAVE ENCOURAGED TIM OR ANYONE TO BE ABUSIVE TO ME!!! YOU WOULD HAVE STOPPED BABS WHEN YOU SPREAD HER FILTHY GOSSIP ABOUT ME AND ALL OF YOU JOINED IN TO SLUTSHAME ME FOR YOUR PLEASURE!! YOU ARE AS BAD AS THE MEDIA!! PURE UTTER HYPOCRITES WHO ONLY CARE ABOUT HOOTING THEIR HORNS!! NOW I CAN SEE WHY PEOPLE LIKE JASON TURNED THEIR BACKS ON HUMANITY AND CHOSE TO DO HARDCORE JUSTICE!! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM THE VERY FOOLS WE HAVE BEEN FIGHTING FROM YEARS!!”

Everyone keeps quiet. Cassie clearly had been waiting for this moment and she has now gotten an audience. “Oh and speaking of failures, how many times have we been supposedly, not I used supposedly in quotation marks here because that shows how stupid you all are, were ahead of the bad guys only for them to outsmart us and somehow win?”

Dick and Kaldur exchange looks. “You know, had it not been for my father, I would have rotted in jail. Oh and special shoutout to the Black Adam family, the only family that ever truly cared about me. Plus of course Donna and Tatiana. The rest of you can go fuck yourselves and leave me be!!” She turns her back to them and ignores them as she walks over to the edge.

“Cassie wait...”

She stops and turns around as Vanessa walks in. “Cassie, listen I know you are mad. If you want to lash out. Take it out on me.” she says calmly, hands raised. Before anyone could say anything, Cassie stomps towards her so-called rival and aims a punch at Vanessa who does nothing to stop her.

Fortunately for her, Cassie stops mid-punch and drops to her knees and begins to break down in tears. Vanessa bends down and hugs her predecessor. “Listen Cass. No matter what anyone else says, you will always be Wonder Girl. In fact you are way better than I am. I do not like the great divide that Diana has created. There are other ways this could have been done.” she says. Cassie simply sobs, feeling very bad for lashing out.

“I...I’m so sorry...”

Vanessa smiles softly. “You do not have to apologise. We are both victims in this. Besides, I told Diana that I quit.” Cassie stares at her in disbelief. ”You did not have to.”

“Yet I did.”

Cassie shakes her head. “No. You remain Wonder Girl.” Cassie then smiles. “Besides, you earned it anyways.” Vanessa giggles and hugs her back. Everyone heaves a sigh of relief.

Osiris who had just arrived makes a slow descent next to them. “Cass, I understand you hate everyone and whatnot but if you throw yourself down there, chances are you might end up worse than Todd the moment they choose to bring you back from the dead. Or if you choose down a dark path now, you might end up the way Adam did years ago.”

The girl simply nods. “ I might as well go clear my mind of things for a while.”

He comes closer to her. “You know, you could have simply asked and I would gladly take you home with me so that you can get some breathing space since quite frankly, you need some of that.’ She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.’ She wraps her arms around his neck with him wrapping his arms aorund her securely and together they fly away.

“Wait....that was it?“ says Garfield, earning a smack across the head from Raven. “Oww!!” he grumbles. Tim meanwhile stares up at the sky with jealousy in his eyes which is funny considering his relationship with Stephanie. 

So she has choosen him hm? This whole shit was a setup to make that announcement.

[bi-bi-richie]

buddy holly-weezer, stanverly, getting into a street fight

I’m so sorry this is so long!! I really didn’t mean to go off on Stan’s sexuality but he’s such an interesting character to explore! But thank you for the prompt I had a lot of fun writing it!

Playlist, prompt list, send me an ask!

Derry isn’t exactly well known for good places to eat, but they do have the Tozier Diner. Now, part of the reason any of the losers go there is that Richie’s parents own the place, the other reason is the complete judgment-free safe zone the whole diner is. Every loser has taken their dates there, starting with Bill and Mike, going to Richie and Eddie, Bill, Mike, and Ben.

Richie once told the losers that the diner is the trick to making relationships last forever, now it hasn’t been proven since every couple is still living their relationship, but Richie is engaged to Eddie now so who knows?

With Richie’s, possibly true, proclamation, it was a big step to take your date with you to the diner. So, naturally, Stan is nervous as fuck as he walks towards the door hand in hand with Beverly.

His relationship with Bev, in short, was the least expected out of all the losers. Everyone knows that Bill had a thing for her a few years back, but then Mike stole his heart. Ben was crushing big time on her at the same time, but both Bill and Mike ended up getting all the boy’s love. So, when Stan had a crush on her, everyone expected the same outcome. He wasn’t exactly sure why he liked Bev, he always told himself it was just because she was pretty. After all, that’s what Bill and Ben thought, right? Well, his feelings ran way further than looks.

He would watch her jump off the cliff at the quarry, admiring her fearless, thoughtless action every time she went over. He watched her challenge Richie to a game of wits every time he opened his trash mouth, he admired how she beat him time and time again. She could take care of herself, and Stan didn’t dare get in her way when she was mad. Once again, he admired it, she had guts he feared he’d never muster up.

He thought the crush would pass, honestly, he thought he was being ridiculous. Not to mention his sexuality was all over the floor like a bunch of papers spilled from his homework binder. He had just gotten over his crush on Mike! He was gay right? But now he’s here admiring Bev.

Crushing be damned, he thought, I don’t need this shit. Of course, crushing is like a virus. Once it’s there, it’s hard to remove. So every day for a year he walked around with Bev in the back of his head as well as his nagging sexuality questions.

Eventually, he cracked.

He went to Richie, not the best option but he wasn’t Mike, who he used to like, he wasn’t Ben or Bill, who used to like Bev as well, he wasn’t Eddie, who was probably the gayest kid in Derry, and he wasn’t Bev. He went to Richie because he had multiple not-so-secret crushes on tons of girls, but in the end, he started dating Eddie.

“You want… my help?” Richie asked, mid-bite on his sandwich. They were alone at the quarry waiting for the rest of the losers to arrive, but Stan had asked Richie to show up an hour earlier in advance, he also promised a sandwich.

“Don’t act surprised, it makes this worse.” Stan mumbles. He isn’t ashamed of asking Richie for help, he knows the boy is smart as hell, there’s no doubt about that. It’s just that Stan is usually the person to shut Richie’s stupid jokes down before they can go too far.

“Don’t be embarrassed Staniel!” Richie exclaimed as he threw an arm around Stan. “You know I like helping people! I’d love to play therapist!”

“Richie, please. This is seriously embarrassing for me.”

“Formal as always.” Richie sighed, he tucked his arm back to his side and plopped himself down onto a log. “I’m all ears.”

Stan looked down at the dirt. Nerves welled up in his stomach like a swarm of bees. If he was to go any further with this conversation, he would finally find an answer, even if the answer wasn’t something he’s ready for.

“I like Bev… but I know I like boys.”

Naturally, there was an emotional conversation that followed. In the end, though, Stan learned that he was bisexual, which is Richie’s sexuality as well.

“I guess the only thing left now is either getting over or getting under Bev, eh?” that earned Richie a slap to the head.

But he was right. Either Stan would have to spend another year trying to get over her, or he can man up and just ask her out. But, there’s no way Bev could ever like him.

…

Bev rolled her eyes when Stan told her that he was scared she wouldn’t like him. How blind could this guy really be? Somehow he didn’t notice her longing stares in classes they had together, or lasting touches to his skin when they went swimming.

“Honestly Stan, why else would I reject both Bill and Ben? They’re great guys and awesome friends, but I always had my eyes on someone else.”

“I always thought it was because you just didn’t like them… maybe you didn’t like guys at all…”

“Funny enough, I swing both ways.”

Following Stan’s confession, they did end up going on a date to the Aladdin. One date turned into another, then that turned into another, and another, and another.

Fast forward three years and you’ve got a nervous Stan standing outside the Tozier Diner hand in hand with Beverly. Now, Stan never takes what Richie says seriously, after all, there’s no real proof that the diner can ensure a lasting relationship. But, as mentioned before, Richie and Eddie are engaged, so who knows?

“Y’know everything Richie says is bullshit, right?” Bev whispers. She comfortingly squeezes his hand. Stan looks into her eyes and smiles.

“It’s okay, I think I’d be okay if he wasn’t wrong about this.”

Bev smiles at him with her eyes full of love. He’s seen that look so many times in the past three years but it never fails to make his heartthrob. Stan wonders if she feels the same when he watches her, does she understand how he feels for her?  

Then they walk in.

…

Needless to say, the dinner was pretty fun. Richie took on the role of being their waiter for the night, and he took it very seriously.

“Can I take your order, strangers I’ve never met before?”

“Richie, it’s us.”

“Ah! Read the name tag, did you? Two can play at that game. You look like a Lisa, and you look like an Arthur!”

“I expect nothing, yet I’m still let down.”

Surprisingly enough, Richie paid for half their food. He paid for Stan’s meal, claiming that it should be Stan who pays for Bev because it’s classy. But little did Richie know that Bev already planned to pay for her own meal as part of a mutual agreement the two of them have.

When they go to leave the diner, Richie grabs both of their arms with a warm smile. He pulls Bev into a hug and presses a kiss against her cheek.

“Take care of him, Okay?” He whispers. Bev nods.Then he leans over and does the same to Stan.

“Cherish her, promise?”

“Promise.”

…

Stan feels light as air as he walks out of the diner. He’s in the same position that he was in two hours ago, but now he feels better. More in love than ever before. He looks over at Bev and looks into her eyes. He can see the love that shines behind them clearer than ever, something beautifully comforting about the way she watches him.

He forgets the backlash of their relationship. How people used to tell him that Bev was only using him for sex. He lets go of how angry it made him when people assumed he was only with Bev to hit it and quit it. All of that seems so far away because right now, all he can see is her. All he wants his her eyes on him forever, and in return, he’ll never look away from them.

Who knew the fiery girl inside could be my only warmth?

“Beverly?” He whispers as he gets slowly closer to her face.

“Stan?” She responds leaning into him.

“I love you.” He can feel her warm breath huff out of her mouth in a small chuckle.

“I love you too-”

“When are you gonna give it up!?” A strange voice calls from across the street.

The couple breaks apart immediately in shock. It’s not the first time someone has rudely interrupted them before, but the voice is certainly alarming. Stan strains his eyes trying to identify the figure in the dark. It’s not hard to recognize the voice though. Everyone knows that signature, disgusting voice.

It’s Henry Bowers, and he’s slowly walking up to them.

Stan immediately puts himself in between the approaching man and his girlfriend. Of course, Stan knows Bev can hold her own, in fact, the only reason he’s doing this is so she doesn’t go getting herself hurt in three seconds. But, this does only give Bowers bait.

“Oh, I see, too afraid to let the slut see the other options in town huh?” Henry sneers.

“Still hung up on a little someone you couldn’t get, Bowers?” Bev spits at him, and then literally spits at his feet. Henry whistles low.

“Feisty, but all cheap whores are, aren’t they? It’s one thing that makes them all the fucking same.”

“How would you know?” Stan retorts at the taller man. “Even a prostitute would turn you down, no matter how much money you give them.”

Henry doesn’t even spare a glance to Stan, his eyes are locked on the girl behind him who looks ready to jump the first chance she gets.

“Ah, I see. How much money is he paying to keep your piece of ass around, huh?”

“Say it again motherfucker.” Bev threatens.

“Or what? You won’t fuck me when this is said and done?”

Then there’s a loud smack. Skin on skin, sure to bruise, bone to bone, smack. But it’s not a smack, it’s a punch. Someone threw a punch, and it wasn’t Bev. It was Stan. Stan had Henry on the ground, cradling his jaw and looking up in confusion. But his confusion quickly turned to pure, red rage.

“You’re gonna regret that.”

And with that, he stands back up and starts throwing punches at Stan. The thing about this fight is the people involved. Stan is a few inches smaller than Henry, he’s also not as broad or built. In short, Stan isn’t as physically put together as Henry is, this fight is like suicide to the poor boy.

It feels like hell when it really starts going. Stan can hold his own, kicking Henry in the gut or groin, but Henry still gets back up and keeps going. Henry inflicts more damage on Stan though, his punches are harder and he’s quicker. In short, this fight is over for Stan.

But it’s just beginning for Bev. She leans in and grabs Henry’s hair, yanking his head back as hard as she can. He shouts in pain but his mouth is quickly shut by Bev’s knee colliding with it. He drops onto the floor in pain, for good measure, Bev stomps on his stomach once. When he doesn’t get up she grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him up from the floor. He’s leaking blood from his nose and cuts on his cheeks and lips. His eye is already starting to swell, making it a bit harder for him to see clearly.

“Oh, Stan.” She sighs quietly. “Come on babe, gotta clean you up.”

…

When the swell of Stan’s eye goes down he can clearly see that he’s laying in Bev’s bed. She carried him home it seems. He notices how bad his face really hurts, once fiery cuts and bruises have dulled down into a fierce aching pain. He can’t see Bev though, but her bathroom door is open and light is leaking out of it. As if on queue, she walks out with a couple of cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide.

“You know, you really are a dumbass, babe.” She remarks as she makes her way over to Stan.

“Thanks. Is that for me?” He asks pointing at the bottle in her hands.

“I’m applying it to you, okay? You won’t do it right without a mirror.”

“I can stand up and walk.” He grumbles.

“Oh please, you couldn’t even stand up to get here.” The bed dips with Bev’s weight as she crawls on next to her boyfriend. Stan sighs, of course on the one night he wanted to be romantic, he’s gotta go and get into a fight. He never fights. Why now?

“Stan. I love you babe, but why would you run off and fight Henry like that? You know I can hold my own.” Her gentle hands are running a soaked cotton ball across his injuries, but Stan knows she can easily add a new cut if she wanted too. Of course, he knew Bev could fight for herself, but he couldn’t stand by and just let her get catcalled like that.

“I know. But I’m not gonna stay silent about it. You know I’m yours, and I know you’re mine.”

“Well, you got that right.” Bev hums in agreement. When she’s done, she leans down to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“I love you, hero.”

“I love you too.”

[knightofbalance-13]

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176304695291/more-source-post-kob-let-me-say-this

Kob, let me say this slowly, so that even your brain can understand it.

Hold on, let me get some shit together:

You (You following me?).

You’re racist towards white people as well as sexist towards men?

Yes, yes I am following you.

Nearly (Do I still have your attention?)

You nearly don’t see Miles Luna as a human being, evident by how you refuse to capitialize his name?

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/175819182973/i-feel-awful-for-constantly-ragging-on-miles-and

Caused (I hope this isn’t too fast for you).

Nah, I’ll just show that time you called a troll on your fanfic inhumane.

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/164162441506/dudeblade-can-we-please-acknowledge-the-fact

Someone.

To.

Kill.

Themselves (Do I still have your attention?).

Over.

An.

Opinion.

On.

Pyrrha’s.

Death.

Oh...

Like that time you tried suicide baiting Mage because he called you out on trying to use LGBT suicide rates as a gotcha against RT, despite Mage being Bisexual himself?

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/162639498436/yknow-what-i-take-back-what-i-said-about-kob

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/162639995661/fuck-it-magecunt14-is-a-fucking-cunt

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/162638201666/magecunt-14-is-at-it-again

Oh but you’ll say you apologized right?

Well, if you can call “I want someone to now drink bleach enough to not die but go unconscious so he stops calling out my hypocrisy” an apology.

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/163220742016/i-need-to-say-this

Oh and you only did this AFTER you were called out.

Wait, I seem to be forgetting something....

https://web.archive.org/web/20170608202120/http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/160140162256/sokumotanaka-whenever-kob-makes-a-post

Oh yeah, you suicide baited ME too!

You DID police people. You still ARE. You literally police people on how they can criticize a show. You police people on what they criticize the show for. Seriously. To anyone who doubts this, scroll down to the description of this journal entry, and see how KoB supposedly doesn’t police people’s opinions.

You mean like what you do with your fanfics by calling anyone who doesn’t like them trolls and demand that your TV Tropes page be totally positive?

Oh but Dudeblade...Surely you can do better. I mean...after all...

I have the actual comment thread:

https://comments.deviantart.com/1/619991269/4290345087?offset=0#comments

So now they can see how much of a monster I truly a-

*Sigh* Look, I never meant for you to get this stressed out. Hell, I understand where your coming from. Thinking about killing myself is such a common occurrence now I'm not even fazed by it anymore. So putting aside my feeling towards you and your conduct, I want you to listen to what i have to say: Your life matters. No matter what you think I've said, no matter what other people have said, no matter what you say, your life matters. You have friends and family who love and care about you and if you kill yourself, all it will do is wound those around you. It's painful I know but it's true. The best thing you can do is seek help above all else. Trust me, psychiatrists maybe be expensive by by divinty' sake they are miracle workers. And I know you're sick of hearing about this anime but really, look up Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. That anime is a large part of why I get out of bed in the morning even thought I know there's a very good chance I'll choke to death on my breakfast, lunch or dinner or that my life probably doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It taught me to keep moving forward no matter what I lose or what I suffer because there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The journey is hard and long but it's worth it. I never intended on hurting you. Had I known you were this psychologically fragile or you were this invested in Pyrrha I would have said nothing. I understand where you are coming from and I'm sorry I did so much damage to you. I was wrong and you were right. Good day.

Oh...

Looks like I never intended to do that and actively worked against that.

Almost like the OP was using me to lock out anyone who disagreed with them and you’re nothing but a liar.

He is a literal monster. This is a guy who would take a look at the fucking klan, and far left activists, and say “The people who claim anyone disagreeing with them are nazis are just as bad as the KKK.” Literally all he does is fucking whine and complain that people don’t absolutely love the show that he defends. This is a guy who would probably say that nazis have a right to shout “all Jews should be killed” on the grounds of free speech. 

Oh so now we’re gonna get political huh?

Okay Dudeblade...

Black Lives Matter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xet3BnwLtek

Mind telling me how this is any different than shouting to kill all the black people WITHOUT mentioning they're black or slavery/segregation since that doesn’t excuse this shit?

Or how about Antifa...whose committed multiple crimes and ARE policing what people do and think?

Or how about this list of shit far left has pulled snce Trump’s election?

https://eclipzex77.tumblr.com/post/176309723232/amarretto-cowboy-prcximity4

Because all I see is shit that the KKK pulled in the past.

Oh and how about we take a look in your politics tag hm?

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176309706301/liberalsarecool-republicans-trying-to-judge

Misinformation.

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176304272891/liberalsarecool-where-is-the-tea-party-to

Tribalism

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176230288471/liberalsarecool-republicans-have-no-values-they

Lies

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176146297971/liberalsarecool-trump-has-failed-americas

Fear mongering

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/176091984101/liberalsarecool-the-center-is-a-construct-to

With us or against us/strawmaning

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/175881352716/ultrajchapmanstuff-mikedawwwson-why-did-they

Misrepresenting

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/175699781946/adobsonartworks-adobsonartworks-silence-is

False equivalency/Godwin’s Law

And how can we forget about how you called to not capitilze Donald Trump’s name and to call him an ‘it’ (http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/164274588366/dont-capitalize-donald-trumps-name)

Outright HATRED.

You’re not allowed to talk when it comes to politics Dudeblade.

You sicced the fndm on jswv over an opinion. How is that NOT being aggressive? 

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/5khw9y/my_thoughts_on_pyrrhas_death_rwby_and_rt_by_jswf/dbo3www/

Nope and you can see it on the journal too since I was the last guy to speak out against him. Also this posted is DELETED. Can’t even find it unless you have a link.

But surely Dudeblade, you wouldn’t do the same exact thing, except with the intention to sick people on someone...

http://dudeblade.tumblr.com/post/174350208606/anyone-wanna-join-in-on-this-discourse-or-should

...right?

Get the fuck out of this fndm before your actions actually do get someone killed.

... Heh...

This coming from the guy who suicides people from a group he KNOWS have a higher risk for suicide than normal...

This coming from a guy who suicide baited a sucidial person...

Here’s the thing Dudeblade:

https://twitter.com/kerryshawcross/status/1021571993928265728

Kerry has most likely left twitter because of you people.

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5d54f/

Miles is terrified of you people to the point he doesn’t want to write Jaune anymore.

And none of you care.

None of you CARE that your actions are destroying the lives of innocent people.

None of you, especially YOU Dudeblade, give two shits about your actions.

I quite frankly don’t care what you tell me because, to put this in a way YOU’LL understand:

You

Are 

What

You

Think

I

Am.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Two of a Kind: Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Dark Elf!Reader Summary: You left Svartalfheim before the first victory against your people and avoided the extinction by living in Sakaar, the home of all lost things like yourself. You lived there for a long time and built yourself a sort of home there... until a couple of Asgardians show up and ruin everything for you. The trip to the Grandmaster’s palace goes better than expected, and you catch up with an old frenemy. Warnings: Extraterrestrial slavery, swearing (always) Word Count: ~2,847 A/N: The chapter rotation is ToaK, GoW, TWID. In other words, Ghosts of War is the next chapter I’ll post and then The Way I Do, then back to Two of a Kind. Also, sorry for the slow posting. Life is hard.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You nodded. “Don’t go far. You could run to the Grandmaster if you really wanted to, but he’s not as forgiving as I am.”

Loki frowned. “You’ll kill me if I run. How could he possibly be worse?”

You shrugged. “I may kill you, but it’ll be relatively painless. Grandmaster will melt you from the inside out. It’s gruesome, really.”

Loki looked disgusted by this new revelation. “Waiting outside. Got it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him as he walked out the door, shutting it gently behind him. If you let yourself forget, for a moment, that he would kill you the moment he got the chance, he really would have been pleasurable company.

As promised, Loki waited patiently just outside your door, back to the cold medal and arms crossed casually across his chest. His gaze flicked to you the moment the door to your room slid open and, for the first time since you met him, he seemed at a loss for words. Your bright red and gold dress trailed along the ground, the soft fabric whispering against the rough metal-grated floor of your compound. Although nearly every inch of your body was covered, it hugged you skin-tight, leaving little to the imagination.

“Something the matter, Loki Laufeyson?” you asked playfully, smile dancing behind your mask.

His eyes hardened a measure at your playful jab and he tore his gaze from you with what seemed like a great effort. “Just tired of waiting for you,” Loki said loftily, earning a short breathy chuckle from you.

“I see, then. My apologies. It takes me a great while to squeeze into this dress, but the final presentation is worth it, no?” you asked sweetly, placing yourself directly in front of him.

You could see Loki’s throat bob as he gulped audibly, determinedly looking just right of your face. “Yes, you look quite agreeable. I’m sure you’ll blend in perfectly.”

Your lips tugged up at the corners, devious grin on your face. Was this man not approached by women often? There was no way. He was sex on two legs. Perhaps he was conflicted between being attracted to you and wanting to see you as a rival or worthy leader. Either way, his reaction amused you to no end.

“Thank you, Loki. Shall we be going?” you asked, proffering your arm out for him.

“Yes, I’m eager to meet this Grandmaster,” he said, eyes straight ahead as the two of you began gliding down the hallway. If you weren’t mistaken, his gaze kept flicking to you as you snaked your hand around his elbow and led him to the shuttle bay.

As the door to the hangar slid open to reveal the lines of ships of different shapes and sizes you could see him take in every possible escape option. You could see him eye the small one-person craft in the corner and secretly appreciated his decision. It was easily one of the nicest ships in your collection, capable of traveling off planet.

“We’ll be taking Palesius. She’s small and fast, but not space worthy.” You pointed to the ship in question, a small luxury liner used specifically for visiting the Grandmaster’s palace. It didn’t have any guns so it was fast enough to outrun any possible pursuers with the added benefit of getting you to the other side of the planet in a reasonable amount of time. The bright electric blue and bloody red paint reflected brilliantly even in the dim artificial light.

Loki seemed to walk forward without even realizing it, his feet carrying him to the front of the vessel where his fingers grazed hull of the well-kept ship.

“You approve?” you asked smugly, watching him eye the machine like a kid in a candy shop.

He retracted his hand quickly as though the metal had burned him. “It will do,” he said happily, trying to preserve his persona of feigned affability.

The door opened as you walked over to it and you stepped inside, giving him a single warning as he stepped onto the ship behind you. “Unless you feel like walking back or stealing from the Grandmaster- which is suicide- I suggest you don’t kill me. This ship can only be piloted by myself. Biometric scans and all that, you know how it is,” you said, sliding gracefully into the pilot’s seat. The ship turned on the moment your butt hit the chair and you smiled as you felt the familiar hum of the engines starting.

“Wonderful.”

“Scrapper 23, requesting landing,” you said to the masked man on the large holo screen that took up half of your ship’s front window.

“Permission granted, Scrapper 23. Proceed to spot X-49,” the man told you with the bored efficiency of a man that had spent too much time doing a single monotonous job.

You thanked him before the screen clicked off then you relaxed back into your chair as you let your ship’s computer guide you to the correct spot.

“I’m proud of you,” you said, throwing Loki a grin that he couldn’t see.

He stopped staring out the window (taking everything in with a frightening curiosity and seriousness) and turned a confused stare on you. “I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not,” he said, unsure.

You smiled. “Completely serious. We made it the entire way here without you trying to kill me. Must be a new record. I half expected you to stab me the moment we were in the air.”

He grinned, eyes sharp. “The promise of world domination was just too alluring and I’m afraid I’m too green here to do it by myself just yet.”

You made a dramatic hurt noise. “And here I was thinking you had finally taken a liking to me.”

His response couldn’t have surprised you more. “Well there was that, too,” he said with a playful smile.

“Ah, the Frost Giant’s heart thaws. Such a compelling tale!” you said as you pulled into your spot between two other similarly sized ships. Judging by how full the Grandmaster’s garage was, it was to be a large party. It was better that way, it’d be even easier for Loki to sneak around and gather information.

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic exclamations. “Anything I should know before we enter?”

“Oh, of course, but I don’t have the time to teach you everything. Just try not to offend the Grandmaster, alright? It’ll reflect badly on me if he turns you to goo and I’m already walking on thin ice with him and his people.”

Loki stared flatly at you. “I’m sorry if my being melted makes your life a little more difficult.”

You bit back a smirk but didn’t rise to the bait. “Thank you, I’m so glad you understand.”

Loki opened his mouth to argue but the shuttle door opened and he quickly snapped it shut again. You stood and held your hand out to him and he eyed it warily.

“Shall we, lover?” you asked, shit-eating grin hidden behind your mask.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki asked incredulously.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that’s how I’m sneaking you in? As my lover?” you asked, biting back a laugh at the look on his face. He wasn’t the only one who could cause mischief.

Loki glared at you. “Is that normal behavior for you? Toting lovers to the Grandmaster’s ostentatious parties?” 

“No.”

“Then why? Surely that will come off as suspicious. I’ll attract too much attention,” Loki argued, looking angrier by the second. 

“I’m counting on it, sweetheart. I never bring anyone but Halu to his parties. The Grandmaster won’t be able to take his eyes off you and I can guarantee he’ll try to steal you out from under me. He hates when I have toys he doesn’t have.”

“So I’m to be bait,” Loki deadpanned.

“I suppose that depends on how you play it. I was thinking of you more as a spy or high-value informant, but if you want to be bait, then I won’t stop you,” you said, grin evident in your tone.

Loki scoffed but reached up and clasped his hand around your outstretched one and hauled himself to his feet. “Fine, we do it your way, Dark Elf.”

As you exited the ship hand in hand with him the thought crossed your mind that, perhaps, he hadn’t put up as much of a fuss with your plan as you’d expected him to.

You wandered through the levels of Grandmaster’s palace, mingling and showing Loki off as you went. You knew by the time you arrived in front of the Grandmaster that he would have heard all about you and your mysterious guest.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find some modicum of comfort in the simple act of holding his hand in this pit of vipers.

Sure enough, the moment you set foot in the same room as him on the forty-ninth floor, he spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Topaz followed dutifully behind, glaring murderous daggers at you the whole way.

“23! So good to see you!” Grandmaster said excitedly. You hadn’t seen him this happy to see you in literally thousands of years. “Who’s your fetching little friend?” he asked, saucily-predatory gaze immediately falling to Loki who, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. His hand dropped from yours and he took an objectively graceful (and very dramatic bow) in front of the Grandmaster.

“Your greatness, Grandmaster! I’ve heard so much about you from 23! Her tales of your illustriousness and impeccable taste didn’t do you justice. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Loki simpered. You rolled your eyes, thankful the mask hid your expression from all present.

The Grandmaster tittered happily, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh my! Well aren’t you just a little sweet-talker,” he gushed, already smitten with Loki as you knew he would be. Damned fool was too susceptible to flattery.

“Kiss ass,” Topaz said in disgust, just as charming as ever.

Grandmaster waved her comments away. “Now now, Topaz. They’re our guests. 23 always brings me interesting things.”

You didn’t miss the way Loki bristled a bit at being called a thing. You came to his rescue almost without thinking about it, though you knew your words would only make the Grandmaster want Loki more. “I’m sorry, Grandmaster, but he’s not for sale. I’m afraid I’ve become quite taken with this one and he’s one of a kind,” you said, surprising Loki by reaching up to tuck one of his locks of raven black hair back behind his ear. His eyes flashed warily to you, but his posture was still relaxed enough that neither Topaz nor the Grandmaster picked up on his surprise. “I do, however, see a few other guests I’ve not talked with in some time. Shall I leave the two of you to get to know each other better while I catch up with old friends?” you asked placatingly. You didn’t like the way Topaz was gripping the melt stick.

At this, the Grandmaster surged forward and took Loki around the shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile at the look of abject horror on Loki’s face as he was shepherded away by the Grandmaster.

“I’ll find you later, love! Have fun!” you said cheerfully, biting back a laugh at Loki’s look of betrayal while the Grandmaster chattered his ear off.

Good luck, you thought to yourself. Loki was charming enough that you knew there was no way the Grandmaster would kill him, but getting him back before you left might prove difficult.

Luckily, the Grandmaster’s parties lasted days. You had plenty of time.

You’d been to the Grandmaster’s palace enough times that, even with all the renovations and redesigns, you managed to make it to the nearest bar on the first try. She should be- Sure enough, you spotted the head of brown-black hair sitting at the bar working through what looked like an entire keg of ale.

You crossed the room and sat down beside Scrapper 142. She was so sauced she didn’t even notice you immediately. When she finally looked over at you she did a double-take, then groaned. “Whaddyou want?” she grumped, rewarding herself with another swig of ale for the effort of stringing together an entire two-ish word sentence.

“Am I not allowed to check up on my friends?” you asked kindly, waving the bartender over.

“’M not your friend, Elf. I’m a business rival at best,” 142 griped.

You rested your elbow on the table then cradled your head in your hand. “I’m wounded, 142. And here I was ready to forgive you for poaching on my territory.”

142 rolled her eyes. “You aren’t forgiving shit, both of us know that. Deal was I stop killing your guys and you let me scavenge in your territory once in a while.”

You gave the bartender a grateful nod and began on sipping whatever the hell it was he’d just poured for you. Something fruity and... tasting vaguely of raw meat? You decided not to question it. “I sometimes wonder what I get from that deal,” you said, tone light and teasing with just a hint of business-like threat underneath.

142 turned and leveled a very unfocused glare at you. “Less dead workers, mostly.” 

You tilted your head at her, smile dancing on your lips. You really wished this woman didn’t find her salvation at the bottom of a bottle. She would have been so much fun to fight.

142 only glowered harder. “Stop starin’ at me with that creepy fucking mask. Too drunk for this shit right now, 23.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you quipped.

“I hate you.”

You laughed at this, earning a half-hearted shove from 142 that still managed to make you grab the bar so you wouldn’t go tipping off your seat. 142 was too drunk and lazy to leave (free booze was the best kind of booze, after all) but didn’t feel like initiating conversation with you so she buried herself in the bottom of another tankard of mystery ale.

“I met another one today,” you said finally, fingers running over the condensation on your glass.

Even smashed, 142 didn’t miss a beat. “What, another asshole? Plenty’a those around.”

You let out a short breath of a laugh. “No, you complete arse. An Asgardian.”

142 took a long swig of ale and looked as though someone had crapped in it, though you knew it was only her distaste at your news. “An’ why the hell should I care?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. He’s an interesting one is all. I’m keeping him for a while. He’s fun, likes to keep me on my toes.”

142 turned a surprisingly shrewd eye on you and you suddenly felt like you were being x-rayed. Finally, she took another drink, smug smile on her face. “You like him,” she said as she slammed the tankard down on the sleek counter.

Under your mask your cheeks heated at the sudden accusation. “What? No! He’s just the most interesting person on this stupid rock... besides me, of course!” you sputtered.

142 laughed and you nearly smiled with her. She almost never showed any emotion besides annoyance distaste... occasionally smugness.

“Like I said, you like him! That’s some messed up crap, 23. A Dark Elf falling for an Asgardian. That’s a tragedy in the making if I’ve ever heard it.”

“Oh fuck off, 142,” you said with a groan, covering your mask with your hands. “He’s not even truly Asgardian. He’s Frost Giant.”

142 stopped laughing and looked at you at that revelation. “What are you on about? I thought you said he’s Asgardian. I didn’t think I was that drunk... though I should be.”

“He’s Frost Giant blood, Asgardian raised,” you explained, suddenly wishing you had more details. You knew very little of exactly how that had come to pass.

“Bullshit,” 142 concluded, returning to her drinking.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not fucking with you, 142. You’d know that if you just-”

“I’m not going anywhere near ‘im, 23. Now stop going on about it or I’ll stab you,” 142 threatened, holding out a thin pointed dagger for emphasis.

You rolled your eyes. “You and I both know we’d destroy this place before either of us took a hit.”

142 held the dagger at you for a second or two more before she let out a snort and sheathed it back into her boot. “Yeah, you’re right. You may have a stick up your ass, but they built you Elves tough.”

“And you may have a hard head, but they build you Asgardians like ghilres.”

142 turned and stared at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “What the hell is a ghilre?”

You frowned and tilted your head to the side. “You don’t know about them? Big, strong, four-legged animals with tough hides that not even dark steel could pierce. Very big horns in front. Tiny eyes. Thick skull. Likes ramming things head-on.”

“So... biglesnipes.”

Next Chapter

If you’d like to be tagged in this series, like this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

[unplacedpodcast]

Chapter Eight: Vindication (Transcript)

Sorry for the delayed transcript again! I had houseguests visiting and boy howdy having friends over for six days straight while also constantly doing things is exhausting and will fry your brain! 

Here’s the transcript! We will be returning for season two but I’m not sure when - I would like to think March or April but it’s very likely that that is my characteristic overambitiousness showing through. In the meantime, I’ll keep you posted on progress, and if you have any questions (whether about the story/world or any of our processes behind the scenes), feel free to send them in - Cole, Brendan, and I are gonna do a Q&A episode during the hiatus! 

Anyways okay without further ado here we go, spoilers ahead: 

(CW for self-harm [not suicidal/depressed self-harm, but intentionally cutting a hand] and homophobic slurs)

(audio dings on, narrator sounds tired but wired - think sleep deprived meets way too much espresso)

I think it’s showtime, y’all.

I’ve been up for almost a day straight…I hope I’m not forgetting anything. I just - I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid if I went to sleep…I don’t know what I was afraid of. That I would lose my nerve, or that I’d have more nightmares about that woman, about not being able to help her.

At any rate, as soon as I finished doing my research, I went out and got supplies. I had to go all over town…I tell you, it’s harder finding iron nails than you’d think. (wry chuckle) Apparently there’s some kind of a market for artisanal blacksmithery, though, so I did find some eventually.

After all the research, my supply list wasn’t that long. Two or three things, really. I think it’s more of a matter of…well, just hoping it’ll work, than anything else. If it doesn’t…I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away. But I also don’t think that I’ll wind up a suicidal husk like that other woman. I could be wrong - but I think if they wanted to do that to me, or could do that to me, that probably would have been their game plan from day one. When I sucker-punched that thing with my hematite-knuckles, I feel like that would have been it for me, if sucking me dry was an option. Granted, given the burns still covering my hand, I’m not sure what the alternative is - but at least it’ll probably be quicker than that.

If this is gonna be it for me, then it’s gonna be it, and I…I’m not really fine with that, but it’s better than continuing to exist like this, not knowing what’s going on, not knowing how long it will last, just…having to watch these things eat people from the inside out and being the only one that knows it’s happening. I can’t do that.

(sound of things rustling in background, metal clinking on glass)

Enough of that talk, though. Like I said, I’ve got my supplies, and I’m setting them up as we speak. I’m on the edge of a park, close to downtown…it’s not a huge park, by any means, but I needed a tree, and this was the best way to have one near a populated area. I need to be able to make it back here quickly once I find someone with a leech, after all.

The trap itself…not that hard to set. I did have to do a whole lot of googling on macrame art, which was not where I expected this journey to take me. Also, the blood was a little difficult. Getting more than a drop or two of blood without seriously injuring yourself is a lot harder than they make it look in the movies. Oh, if only I’d listened to my mom and gone to nursing school.

Anyways…I think that’s it. The trap is set. Obviously, I’m the bait. Now, it’s time to find the prey.

(sounds of movement and walking in background, her breathing pattern changes as she’s walking until otherwise noted)

It’s funny, the stuff that comes to you when you’re sleep deprived and possibly on a suicide mission. I remembered this story - I had completely forgotten it, until something reminded me of it earlier - from when I was young…probably like, eleven or twelve. In that awkward early-middle-school just-hitting puberty stage of life, that spot where you feel like you don’t really know what’s going on with you or with anyone else, but you have this sneaking suspicion that everyone else knows, and they’re never going to let you in on the secret…

There was this girl that was my friend. We weren’t close, but we hung out sometimes. She wasn’t super popular, but she wasn’t unpopular, either. Our lockers were right by each other, though, so we said hi on a pretty regular basis.

I had to make a pit stop at my locker between classes, and she was standing there, but something was off - there were three or four girls standing around her, blocking her in. I didn’t like the way they were looking at her — I knew that at least one of the girls wasn’t very nice. As I walked up, I heard the conversation - they were making fun of her for the holes in her jeans.

This girl - Leanne - her family didn’t have a ton of money, and these other girls had decided to remind her of that. I tried to ignore the conversation for a minute - I didn’t want to get into a whole thing, and I wasn’t super close with her, like I said. Also, I had books to get and a class to go to. But after a minute or two of “seriously, how old are those jeans?” and tittering, I couldn’t hold back any more.

“Weren’t you wearing jeans with huge holes in them the other day, Emily?,” I said, poking my face around my locker door.

She turned to look at me. “Yeah, but they were Hollister jeans, okay? That’s different from miss head to toe Goodwill over here.”

“So…it’s cool to spend tons of money on jeans that are already missing half their fabric, but not okay to spend $10 on the same pair of jeans?”

Emily scrunched her nose up, clearly not having thought this through. “Well, when was the last time you saw her wear anything other than store brand, then?,” she said, jerking her thumb at Leanne, who was standing with her back against the lockers, silent and staring at the floor.

“You know that when you buy something with a huge logo on the front, you’re paying the brand to advertise for them, right? That doesn’t make any sense to me. But as my mom always says, money can buy you everything except for common sense.”

I shrugged and turned back around to my locker to finish getting my books. Behind me, Emily, the mean ringleader, kind of stuttured. It was pretty obvious that she hadn’t been expecting a response at all. Trying to save face, she muttered “whatever” and turned around to stomp off, with her friends following her.

I was so proud - I got rid of a bully with logic! I didn’t have to fight, or even raise my voice. But when I looked at Leanne, the pride evaporated. Her face was bright red and she looked ragingly pissed off. She took a step towards me, getting uncomfortably close, and said, loud enough for everyone around me to hear, “Stay out of my business. I don’t need your help, you fucking dyke.”

I didn’t know what that word meant then, but I knew it was something bad and dirty from the way she said it. My face went hot and I got that pricking sensation in my eyes, the one you get when you can feel the tears coming, but you’re trying hard to fight them off. I barely made it to the bathroom before I burst into tears, and when I got to my next class, it was obvious I’d been crying. I got to hear about that later, of course, from the mean girl and her friends, along with some other choice insults - a little birdie must have told them what it was that made me run to the bathroom crying.

(narrator stops moving for a moment, breathing starts to return to normal)

I’m here, I think. No convenient stairs around this time, but I have a decent vantage spot from this bench…I’m not that far from the park, either. Now, I just have to wait however long it takes to find a person with a hitchhiker, and then…goad it into chasing me, I guess.

(brief pause)

I told the story to my mom later that day, after I got home from school. I just wanted to know why, you know? I was so upset, because all I wanted was to do and say the right thing. I wanted to help…and I thought that was what I had been doing. But maybe I didn’t know what doing the right thing meant, or maybe I did it wrong.

I told her all of this, and she hugged me, and she said, “Rashida, you didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes, the world is just a cruel place. And when it’s like that - when people are like that - the best thing we can do is try to help, and try to do what’s right, the best we know how. And that’s what you did. I’m proud of you.”

And then she kissed me on the head, and told me to go work on my homework, and I did.

I haven’t thought of that story in years. It’s funny - the stuff we do when we’re kids, before the world makes us forget who we can be.

I hope she’d be proud of me now.

(pause, deep breath in and slow exhale)

It’s probably…five in the morning now. Five thirty?

(sound of movement - she’s checking her phone)

Five thirty, exactly. The sun isn’t up yet…sunrise should be at 6:02. Can you imagine what people 200 years ago would say, if you told them that we’d be able to carry around tiny devices in our pockets that could tell us exactly what time the sun will rise and set?

The early morning commute crowd is starting to come out. My thinking was that someone here will have to be…yep. I see one. He’s across the road and half a block down.

(sound of movement)

Definitely showtime now. The only thing I need is… (sound of knife clicking) …more blood, because of course that’s what it takes. After all, why would we want to make it easy on me?

(sharp intake of breath, sound of movement)

I’m a few feet behind him now, with a bloody hand. I’ll tell you what’s going on as it happens - I set it up on my phone so that if I don’t edit and upload these files within a few days, they’ll be automatically uploaded and published anyways. Someone will know what happened, assuming people can even find and listen to this, and they’ll be better able to fight these guys in the future. So I gotta keep talking, keep telling you what’s going on, for the good of science and humanity, or something.

I’m right behind him. I’m going to see if I can flick some blood at the - yeah, that got its attention. It’s rearing up…I have to make it follow me.

(talking like you’d talk to a cat or wild animal) C’mere c’mere c’mere, you awful…

(starts running, you can hear the sound of movement/her breathing) Okay, that worked. It’s in pursuit - it’s following the blood I’m dripping on the sidewalk - I just have to make it back to the park - damn these suckers can move!

(sound of panting and running for a second or two, running sound changes from pavement to dirt, she trips and hits the ground)

Fuck, come on, get up, you can do this

(noises of her getting up and running/fast footsteps again)

Whew. I beat it to the tree, just barely. Now, for more blood, have to trick it… (sound of her fumbling with something, glass and metal clinking together again, then moving and brushing up against the tree)

(whispering) Okay, it followed me - it’s fifteen or twenty feet away. I was worried it would lose interest and go back to the host, but I guess fresh blood…these things must track by smell. I don’t think it can hear me, at any rate. I’m hiding behind the tree, and I set the trap.

I did all that reading on spirit bindings, right? You fill a blue bottle with something to throw it off your scent - hair and blood - and iron nails, I think to damage it.

I don’t know if it will work, it’s still following the blood trail - it’s moving a little slower, maybe because the blood isn’t as fresh. (whispering drops even lower) It’s checking out the bottle. It’s - yes, it’s going inside!

(muffled sound of movement, metal clanging on the ground, hissing in background)

(still whispering, but not as quietly) I think - it’s hard to tell, I think that did it? It went into the bottle - it started to come back out but I think it’s really trapped now.

After doing all that reading, I remembered I’d seen some really cheesy home decor made with iron horseshoes, which apparently has magical origins…when I was looking for the other supplies I hit up every tchotchke shop in town until I found one. I just dropped a circle of iron horseshoes on it - it was starting to climb out of the bottle but I think that extra iron did it in. It drove it back inside the bottle and…

(sound of movement again, sound of glass hitting metal and rattling noises)

THAT BITCH IS CORKED! Take that, you slimy asshole!

Okay, it’s still fighting, but I think it’s in there for good. Now for the bad macrame - a bottle holder made with twine, without any knots in it. That might not have been necessary, but seemed like a good extra step. Better safe than sorry, right?

And now, we hang it on the tree and wait for sunrise. It shouldn’t be long.

That wasn’t…I don’t want to say that wasn’t so bad…but once I knew how to do it, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Except that I didn’t know for sure whether it would work and thought I might wind up being evil-leech food.

I’m definitely a little worse for the wear. My hand that was finally healing from the burns has cuts all over it for this stupid blood sacrifice decoy, I bang up my other hand pretty good in that fall, and I’ve got some bruises…but…I’m alive. I didn’t - I honestly didn’t know if I’d get to see this sunrise.

Speaking of, here it comes. The sun is coming up, I can see it peeking over the horizon. It’s hitting the bottle…

(sound in background of rattling/glass on metal, animal shrieking/hissing noise that gets incredibly loud and then dies off after a few seconds)

Well, that definitely worked. The bottle… (sound of movement as she moves closer to the bottle and takes it off the tree) it’s empty now. Completely empty. No blood, no iron, no hair, no monster…in fact, it looks good as new.

I’ll be taking this with me…my lucky spirit trap. And now…now, aside from killing as many of these things as I can, I’m going to get some answers. I’m going to find her - the one who could see me. I’ll let you know how that goes.

(sound of audio clicking off) 

[subasekabang]

Title: Anything To Make you Stay, Chapter 8 Rating: T Word Count: Total: 15,761, chapter: 1,961 Characters: Joshua, Neku, Shiki, Eri, Beat, Rhyme, Hanekoma, Kariya, Uzuki. Pairings: Josh/Neku. Warnings: Suicide, Major Character Death, Depression, semi-detailed depiction of dead bodies, mentions of ableism, one minor allusion to transphobia Summary: Joshua and Neku have been best friends since they were 11, but their friendship starts to fall apart after Joshua goes missing for a week, soon after his 14th birthday. Lies corrode the bond, and Neku’s vivid nightmares of finding someone’s dead body does not help. A year and a half later, they hit the boiling point. Always look before crossing the road, kiddos. Author’s Note: Autistic Josh and Neku! Afab demiboy Josh! Agender Rhyme! Usage of sign language! This was a fun fic to write please enjoy it.

Chapter 8:

They wake up at the Concert Stage, because of course they do. It’s pitch black, and Josh groans. He shouldn’t use his power to light the place up, that would be irresponsible. So when he and Neku get the mission mail, Josh takes the longer time limit as an excuse to drag Neku around and go shopping.

First stop, Lapin Angelique. He insists on paying for everything, it’s only polite, of course. And it lets him dress Neku up in stat-boosting gothic lolita clothes like he’s always wanted to.

“Josh, is this really necessary?” Neku asks, as he tries on the vampire dress.

“Yes, it absolutely is. This is a Game, and the stuff you equip will effect your stats. We’ll be taking what we can get right now.” He grins, paying for the Bunny Parka and throwing it on. “We should also probably be level grinding, fighting more Noise and whatnot, getting the drops.”

“Whoever thought that making this work like a video game was a good idea is out of their mind,” Neku says, and Josh snorts. Neku’s got a point, it’s not something anyone would reasonably expect from the Reaper’s Game.

“That’d be the Composer you’re talking about. Head honcho here in the UG. The Composer is tied intimately to the city, unable to be separated from it. The Composer is the god of the UG in which they are connected to. They’re the one that brings the Players who win back to life.” Josh buys two capes, putting one on and tossing the other to Neku, who frowns, but puts it on.

Josh grabs the lace-up dress, rolling his eyes at Neku’s scrunched up face as he slips into a changing room to put it on.

“We both look ridiculous and this is awful,” Neku says, when he comes back out.

“You’re just annoyed because I can rock it better than you.” Josh smirks, before turning back to Princess K and chatting with her a bit, purchasing at least one of every pin in stock, tossing them to Neku as they leave. “Here, you should have a use for all those. I don’t use pins. I channel the pysch through my phone, and drop shit on the Noise.”

Neku takes the pins tossed at him, and follows Josh out the store. “How in the world did you learn to do that?”

“Just felt natural, I guess. I input commands by tapping some buttons, and the stuff I summon falls out of the sky and hits them. It’s very satisfying to see happen.”

As Josh steps out the door, a girl runs into him, and she steps back and yelps. “Oh gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” It only takes a glance at her to know who she is, Shiki Misaki, and the other girl behind her must be Eri. Joshua had hoped those two would Partner up, it’d let them settle some issues.

He shrugs. “No worries. I’m Josh, that’s Neku, my Partner. I’m assuming you two are Partners as well?” he asks, and hides his laugh as both of them look at him in surprise, jaw dropped and eyebrows raised. It’s bizarre, seeing two people with the same body do that.

“Are you two like, twins, or something?” Neku asks.

Shiki shakes her head. “No, no, we’re not. Just friends. I had some… Jealousy problems, my Fee was my appearance. I’m Shiki, by the way. Eri’s fee was her voice,” she says, and motions to the pad of paper and the pen in her friend’s hand. “We picked that up so she could have some way to say stuff.”

“Useful, if you don’t know sign language, I guess. Neku and I both know sign, which was handy yesterday when I went nonverbal.” Neku rolls his eyes at the repeat of the pun, and Josh just gives him a grin. He slides out of the way of the door, standing to the side with Neku while they speak to the girls.

“Ooh, maybe you could teach us sometime!” Shiki says, and Eri nods.

“I’m not opposed to that. Neku?” he asks, looking over at him.

“Sure, whatever. How about after the mission?” he says, and Josh rolls his eyes.

“Fine with me. Do you ladies know anything about it yet?” Josh asks.

Shiki shakes her head. “Not much. There’s some guys hanging around front of the concert stage, they’re from a band. Their tech is missing, said he went off to get fuses and should’ve been back by now.”

“Makes sense, it’s dark as hell in there,” Neku says. “If the fuses blew, then no wonder we can’t see anything. Maybe if we get the lights working again, we’ll find whatever we need to fight.”

“Let’s split up, we can share any discoveries we make with each other, and do more apart than we could together. There’s another pair of people running around, Beat and Rhyme, if you see them, be sure to fill them in,” Josh says, and with a few quick goodbyes they part ways.

It takes some running around, and they stop by Sunshine and Dragon Couture for some food and threads. It’s here that they also run into Beat and Rhyme again.

They swap notes. Rhyme tells them about memes and Imprinting, Neku tells them about the tech and getting the lights back on.

They’re about to part ways when Josh speaks up. “Hey, Beat, can I have a chat with you?” he asks.

Beat frowns, but nods. “Sure, whatchu want?”

Josh looks over at Neku and Rhyme. “You two wanna go try Imprinting some people? I promise I’m not trying to pull anything, there’s just something I want to talk about, and I’m sure once Beat knows the topic, he’ll agree that the conversation should be private.”

It takes a moment, but both Neku and Rhyme agree to give them a bit of privacy. Once they’ve gone, Beat turns to him. “What’s this about, yo?”

“Rhyme’s your sibling, aren’t they?” he asks, blunt. He’s never understood why people would dance around a subject.

A look of shock crosses Beat’s face, eyes wide. “How’d ya know?”

“Resemblance, matching skull motif,” Josh flashes a grin, but drops it as he moves on. It’s not the time for humor. “The way you reacted when Rhyme said Partner, like you were hoping for a different word to come out of their mouth. Entry Fees can be nasty things. Seeing the most important person in your world forget about you? That’s a special type of pain. A jab to the heart anytime they can’t connect the dots between the missing memories and you.”

Beat flinches. “Shuddup. You got no clue what it’s like yo.”

“I’ve known Neku since we were both 11, he remembers nothing from before the Game,” Joshua deadpans. “Your experiences are not unique, there are others going through the same stuff as you. Take comfort in that, and know that you are not alone in what you feel.”

Before Beat can reply, Josh walks off to go see how Neku and Rhyme are doing. Which is bothering a business man, apparently. They’ve both taken to Imprinting what they have on him. Josh cracks a smile, grabs Neku, and decides that it’s time to visit Dogenzaka.

They find the tech at Ramen Don, and send him on his way to get the fuse. Then it’s just a matter of waiting until the boss appears.

When the bat does, Neku and Josh hop into battle. He has some fun throwing objects, while Neku pummels the big boss with fire and lightning.

They have a bit of time to spare, but the timer hasn’t disappeared yet. It doesn’t, not until Beat and Rhyme appear from their battle with the small, golden bat.

Things go fuzzy after that.

They all wake up at 104, and Josh has a chance to appreciate the fact that he budgeted a lazy day. Get to Towa Records, no time limit.

It’s a bit of a blur. Shiki and Eri rope them all into a ton of shopping, and Josh can’t deny he had a part in that. He’s not being stingy, tossing out yen pins to everyone. It’s not a blur like day 2 was, it’s exciting, he can feel the pulse of the city beneath him as they all take turns between battles. The rhythm vibrates through him, the Music flowing around them all like the wind, and really, how could he ever want to stay on the higher vibes, when the rush, the thrill of the Game had adrenaline coursing through his system.

Throughout the day, Neku and Josh show off some sign language, teaching the others some basics. They aren’t bothering with grammar for now, just showing the signs for what they encounter.

The flow comes to a halting, cacophonous, stop as they arrive at Towa Records.

Instruments tumble over, unsure of whether to continue, as Rhyme pushes Beat out of the way of the shark trap.

Time slows.

Time stops.

Rhyme is halfway static as the world goes grayscale and freezes. Joshua takes measured steps to her side. A simple zap of power to the Swing Shark vaporizes it, the static flowing past them, back into ambient Shibuya, as he presses a hand to Rhyme’s forehead, pulling their Music back into one place, rebinding the body and Soul. He lets Rhyme shift into timeless space with him, and they look around first, panic evident, and then at him.

“What did you just do?”

Josh shrugs. “Erased the Noise, froze time to do it, reassembled you. You were almost shark bait.” He pauses, lets out a short laugh. “This is why Composers shouldn’t Play in their own Game, huh? Getting attached isn’t good when you need to be an impartial judge.”

Rhyme’s eyes widen, mouth dropping. “You? Composer? What?”

He smiles. “For about a year and a half now. I’ve always seen the UG. I’ve been friends with Neku since we were 11, became Composer a few days after my 14th birthday. He died after we got in an argument, he marched off and into the road. I… owe it to him, to keep him safe. Didn’t expect to be doing that for others, but I don’t think I’m gonna regret this.”

“Does he know?” they ask, and Josh shakes his head.

“No. I’m planning on telling him everything after we win the Game, but his Fee was his memories of me. Gotta get him those back, first. So I’d appreciate it if you could keep this secret for me.”

They mime the motion for zipping their lips, and nod. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”

Josh smiles, falling back into place with the others. Their minds will accommodate, Rhyme was a near miss, the shark disappeared when it failed, things happened too fast for everyone’s brain to process. He snaps his fingers, and time resumes.

“RHYME!” Beat shouts, as he lands on the ground. He’s on his feet in seconds, ready to do whatever it takes to protect Rhyme, no doubt, but instead he finds them brushing off their knees, otherwise uninjured.

Shiki and Eri run forward, Eri signing [Are you okay?] as Shiki asks it, hands and voice messy with worry.

Neku hangs back, but an aborted yell hangs heavy on his lips, eyes wide. Josh takes a singular step forward, playing the part of surprised and worried friend.

There’s a lot of hugging and worrying over Rhyme, but Joshua looks beyond, at the Reaper who placed the trap. Uzuki looks annoyed, yes, with an eyebrow twitching and frown set on her face, but she’s eyeing him. She suspects his intervention, no doubt.

Kariya must have informed her of their previous Partnership.

[onemuseleft]

Untitled Voltron fluff, 1/1, PG, Gen

Summary: It may or may not be Lance’s birthday back on Earth, but the paladins need a reason to celebrate.

@kurowrites wanted Voltron fluff, and it was Lance’s birthday last week, so the two combined in my head. 

“Huh,” Hunk said. “We've been here for what? Almost six months?”

Allura leaned forward. “I don't know how long a month is, but you've been here for approximately two hundred quintants."

"Yeah, that's about six months," Pidge said. "Why? Is that significant?"

"Well, if we've been here for six months, that means it's nearly the end of summer back on Earth."

Keith didn't look up from his book, the same battered collection of bound papers the Paladins had been passing back and forth amongst themselves for months. As Allura understood it, it was a fictional tale of a band of supernatural, blood-drinking creatures who masqueraded as human children in order to attend a primary education facility. Hunk had gotten very defensive about why he had been carrying it around in his pocket. "I'm not exactly sweating the back-to-school vibes, man."

"Of course you aren't, drop-out." Lance was lying on the opposite side of the couch with his head in Hunk's lap and his feet in Shiro's, both arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. He was still unusually pale, even after nearly ten hours in the healing tube, and his teammates were coddling him shamelessly.

"Technically we're all drop-outs," Pidge said.

"My mom is going to kill me," Hunk said. "Then she'll kill you," he added, poking Lance gently in one shoulder and ignoring his scowl. "Then she'll ground us both and your mom will just nod with that look she gets and it's not too late to surrender to the Galra, right?"

"If you surrender, I'll ground you," Shiro said.

"Man. Your 'Hunk I am disappointed in you' face is almost as good as my mom's." Hunk sighed. "I can't win for losing."

"We could still die in combat," Lance said without opening his eyes. His words were a little breathy and Allura thought he must be about to fall asleep. She debated whether it was worth trying to bundle him off to his own room before that happened, but neither Hunk nor Shiro seemed particularly alarmed at the prospect of being trapped there while he napped.

"If you die in combat, I'll still ground you," Shiro said. He gripped one of Lance's ankles and shook his leg gently. "Which means the next time you throw yourself headfirst at an exploding warship, you're on KP duty for a month."

Lance cracked one eyelid open just enough to give Shiro an exasperated glance. "It's not a suicide run if I don't die."

"Vote," Shiro said. "Everyone who thought that was a suicide run, raise your hand."

The entire team obediently put a hand up in the air, including Coran and Allura. Pidge raised both. "It was stupid, whatever it was," Keith said, one hand dutifully held up while the other held his book open in his lap.

Hunk rolled his eyes and held Lance down with a hand pressed against his forehead when he would have risen to the bait.

"You're outvoted," Shiro said. "KP duty. Don't pull a stunt like that again."

Lance groaned. "Unappreciated in my own time."

"Awww, we appreciate you." Coran leaned over the back of the couch to give Lance a toothy grin. "We appreciate how hard you'd be to replace if you got yourself blown to smithereens in combat. Blue Paladins don't grow on trees, you know."

"It took ten thousand years to find the five of you," Allura said. "We couldn't afford to wait that long again. You should all appreciate how essential you are to the resistance."

Shiro and Keith both straightened their spines and squared their shoulders, while Hunk ducked his head bashfully, and Pidge gave her a shy, proud smile. Lance turned his head against Hunk's thigh so he could look at her, his mouth carved in a reluctant smile. "I will admit," Lance said, "the lions seem to know what they were about when they picked this motley crew."

Hunk snickered. "Oh my god, dude, can you imagine if it had been Carter Beauregard out there in the desert with us that night? Can you imagine forming Voltron with him?"

"Okay, one: I'd actually surrender to the Galra before I let Beau-be-wrong poke around in my head-hole," Lance said. Pidge made a gagging sound from her place on the floor and even Keith was nodding in agreement. "And two: it never would have happened because if he'd stayed assigned to our team, he'd have just gone to Pizza Shack for the team bonding night and we'd still be on earth. Which would probably be enslaved, or just flat-out destroyed after the Galra made off with Blue."

"See?" Pidge said. "My lack of team spirit saved all our lives. Suck it, pep squad."

"Don't lie to the team man," Hunk said. "We'd have never invited Beau-be-wrong to Pizza Shack."

"Who's Carter Beau-be-wrong?" Shiro asked.

Lance made a terribly rude sound and Hunk made a gesture as if he were attempting to snap a tree trunk in half with his bare hands. Even Keith looked up from his book long enough to roll his eyes.

"He was the comm spec originally assigned to work with Lance and Hunk." Pidge adjusted her glasses, an expression of angelic innocence gracing her features. "Somehow he got reassigned at the last minute and I got placed on the team."

"Somehow," Shiro said dryly.

Keith lowered his book. "Wait, so you deliberately picked those two?"

Lance's eyes narrowed into a glare and Hunk planted his hand back on the Blue Paladin's forehead to hold him in place. The look he shot Keith was not especially affectionate. "Thanks a lot, dude."

Keith flushed pink and fumbled with his book. "I didn't - that's not what I was-"

"I needed a team that wasn't going to be dangerous," Pidge said. "I had zero Garrison training, remember? And I was trying to hide my identity. Hunk and Lance both had a reputation for being pretty easy-going, and neither one of them was a hard-ass who'd come down on me for every little protocol slip-up I made."

"Like saluting with the wrong hand," Lance said.

"Oh shut up," Pidge said.

"It seems to me you made the right call," Shiro said. "We all ended up on the team we were meant to be on." He grinned and shook Lance's ankle again. "Even if it took a little work to get us there at the same time."

Pidge grinned. "We were a pretty good team even then. I mean, we crashed all the time but the blame was pretty evenly spread."

"Vomit," Lance said in a booming, puffed up voice, "is not an approved lubricant."

Hunk shuddered. "I still hear his voice in my dreams."

Lance hummed and rolled onto his side, one arm hooked under Hunk's knee. His eyes were drifting shut again, and he didn't react when Shiro patted one of his legs. "Give it another six months," he said, and his words were definitely slurring a little. "You'll forget all about him." He sighed a little, body going boneless. "You'll forget everyone."

There was a moment of silence as the humans all looked sad and tired. Allura bit her lip, not sure what to say. "Is there a significance to six months?"

Hunk shrugged. He rested one big hand on top of Lance's head, fingers petting his hair. Lance didn't stir in the slightest. "Not really? I mean, it's a long time, obviously, but mostly I just remembered it was going to be Lance’s birthday soon." He tilted his head to the side. "Or, well, maybe? It's within the vicinity of possibly being his birthday soon. I think we missed it, actually."

"I wish we'd known.” Shiro's voice was warm and when Allura glanced over he was smiling in a particularly fond way. “It would have been good to have a reason to celebrate."

Hunk shrugged. "It's hard to keep track of time, honestly. I don't know if Lance has even noticed - he hasn't said anything, anyway."

"Lance miss an opportunity to celebrate his own existence?" Keith asked. "He definitely didn't notice then."

"Yeah, or he misses his family and friends so much he didn't want to think about it." Pidge shrugged. "I know that's how I felt about it. With Dad and Matt gone, and my Mom on Earth alone... It felt wrong to make a big deal out of it."

"What's a birthday?" Coran asked. "I'm assuming no one needs me to break out my old child-birthing equipment?"

"No," Shiro and Pidge said in nearly identical tones. "No," Shiro added, "that is absolutely not necessary. What equipment would you even - you know what, don't tell me."

"Birthdays," Pidge said, "are the yearly anniversary of the day you were born. So, for example, I was born on April third. So April third is my birthday."

"We had a similar tradition on Altea," Allura said. "At certain milestones in our lives we would engage in meditation and contemplation of what we had achieved in our lives and to determine our path to the future."

"Hmm, yeah. We mostly ate cake and exchanged gifts."

"So how old are you guys now?" Shiro asked. "I assume you guys are mostly the same age as Keith?"

"Lance and I are eighteen? Ish?" Hunk said. "Depending on the exact translation of time here versus on Earth, but yeah. I turned eighteen before we left Earth. Safe bet Lance is close, if he isn’t already."

"Pidge Gunderson is also eighteen," Pidge said with a grin. "Katie Holt is sixteen, though."

They both turned to look at Keith, who shrugged. "I was already eighteen when I ran into you guys out in the desert. My next birthday's not till the winter."

"We should do something," Shiro said. "Eighteen's a big occasion. I know Hunk missed out, and I at least missed Keith's birthday last year."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I threw one hell of a party in my shack in the desert. All the cool kids were there."

"That explains why Lance wasn't invited," Hunk said in a heavy whisper. Pidge giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Are we really going to throw ourselves a birthday party?" Keith asked. "I mean... don't get me wrong, Shiro, but that's kind of pathetic."

"So throw it for Lance," Coran suggested. "His is the only one currently occurring. And he's asleep so he won't even be able to argue about it."

Four sets of Paladin eyes settled on their sleeping teammate.

Hunk grinned. "Oh, Lance loves surprise parties."

Pidge grinned. "Shiro, I will pay you every penny I have if you implement birthday spankings."

Shiro smiled at her. "One: You don't have any money. Two: That would be wildly inappropriate for a team leader. Three: Your birthday will come again, young lady. Do you really want to start that precedent?"

Pidge sighed in exasperation. "Kill joy."

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Allura said. "It sounds like a perfect reason to celebrate. We could all use something to cheer us up a little." It could be a good team bonding opportunity as well, but she held that part back. They all tended to roll her eyes when she said the b-word.

"I've got some recipes I've been meaning to whip up," Hunk said. "I could put out a real spread."

Pidge bounced on her knees. "Oh, and I've got something that would make a really good present."

Keith shrugged. "I could decorate?"

Shiro cleared his throat. “All right. If we want this to stay a surprise we should reconvene after we get Lance back to his room. Say, twenty minutes?”

Keith and Pidge disappeared with Coran, and Hunk coaxed Lance awake and dragged him off toward their rooms, one arm slung over his shoulders to steady him. Shiro watched them go with an expression Allura had seen on him a dozen times before when one had had a close call. If she'd ever had any doubt that he was the true leader of Voltron, that look had long since erased it. No one else would care for and protect the paladins as he would.

“Is there anything Coran and I should know?” She stood to stand by his side. “It sounds like the eighteenth birthday is a significant milestone in your culture?”

“It's mostly a legal milestone,” Shiro said. He had one hand on his hip and stretched his prosthetic arm behind him, rolling his shoulder. “EarthGov considers you legally an adult at eighteen.”

She had known they were young, so it didn't come as a great surprise to learn they were only just now coming into their adulthood. “Is there a ceremony? A traditional gift?”

Shiro hummed. “Not really? Different cultures celebrate differently, of course, and some families have their own traditions. Mostly it's like Pidge said. We eat some cake, sing a little song, and the birthday kid blows out some candles.”

“It sounds delightful. I'm looking forward to being able to participate in one of your cultural celebrations.” Allura shook her hair back from her face, nearly dislodging one of the mice as it scurried up her sleeve. She caught it in one palm and lifted it up to her shoulder.

“We’ll have to do the same for you and Coran when your birthdays roll around,” Shiro said. He was smiling easily, arms resting on the back of the couch, legs crossed. She quite liked the easy way his mouth curved up in these moments between battle, when it was just them, just their team. Shiro the Black Paladin was an extraordinary man, of course, but Allura thought privately that she liked this Shiro even better. He was a different man when the Galra were far away and his crew was safe.

“I don’t know that I know when my birthday is, to be honest.” Allura sat down opposite him and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “I know the year, of course, and it was in the winter. But we don’t place much importance on the exact day. As young children we’ll mark the end of the first season, the turn of a calendar year, starting our studies, reaching physical maturity and reaching independence, but those are quietly acknowledged within the family.” She shrugged. “Beyond that, it’s rare to mark regular anniversaries except for large milestones. My father did throw a gala for my tenth anniversary, and again for my fifteenth, but that was a bit extravagant,” she added quickly. “Most people would have a private family celebration, but the royalty often keeps traditions long after the rest of the population has lost interest.” She sighed. “And of course, the war was at its height, so the gala helped distract people and give them something to celebrate.”

“I’m trying to picture little ten-year-old Allura at a gala,” Shiro said. He was smiling widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way she liked. “You must have been cute.”

Allura laughed. “I’m told I was quite charming at that age, but not even the royal family would throw a gala for such a young child. No, if I recall correctly, that anniversary was marked mostly by a sledding expedition down the north slope of the palace gardens.” She smiled, the memory bringing back a swell of fondness. “Coran steered me straight through some ornamental hedges and we ended up hiding in the kitchens while my mother calmed the gardener. One of the cooks brought us spiced cider and finger foods and we all ate dinner sitting on the floor of my father’s study.” It struck her for at least the thousandth time that it was all gone - the palace, her father’s study, the indulgent cook and the elaborate ornamental hedges. Her mother’s sweet voice and her father’s kind eyes. Of all her memories, only Coran remained.

Her chest grew tight and she blinked back the heat from her eyes before she could turn this moment into something bittersweet. “That young, it’s rare to do anything elaborate.”

Shiro was watching her with dark, knowing eyes his mouth twisted with a sympathy she knew contained no trace of pity. “I thought you said for your tenth anniversary there was a gala?” he asked.

“Oh, well, yes. But that wasn’t my tenth year.” His brow furrowed a little and she shrugged. “Remember, we don’t really celebrate the years, just the landmarks, so if we were going to celebrate an age instead of an event, it would be a milestone anniversary.”

“Okay,” Shiro said slowly. “So your tenth anniversary was when you were…”

“One hundred years old,” she finished. “Very few people marked such anniversaries, but as I said, the royal family often kept to old traditions. So every ten years or so there would be a celebration of some sort or another. I believe you call that span of time a decapod?”

Shiro’s eyes crinkled a little more. “Something like that. So you’re more than a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Rather a bit more than that. Of course,” she added. “Why, how old did you think I was?”

Shiro flushed a little, skin turning delightfully pink across his cheeks and nose. It most certainly did not make Allura’s stomach go all fluttery. What a stupid biological reaction. “I had assumed you were about my age, I guess.”

“How old are you?” she asked. She too had assumed they were somewhat of an age, but the way Shiro was acting she’d obviously misjudged.

“Twenty-three,” Shiro said.

“Oh, well that’s not so different as all that,” Allura said.

“Years,” Shiro said. “I’m twenty-three years old. Not decapods.”

Allura blinked at him. “You’re what?”

“Twenty-three years old.” Shiro’s smile shifted, became the tiny little curve of his lips that he wore when one of the paladins had done something foolish that didn’t warrant scolding.

“That’s- You’re-” Allura bit her lip. “But your years are significantly longer than Altean years, surely?”

“Not so much, actually.” Coran had returned from the kitchen at some point and stood leaning against the wall just inside the doorway. He twirled his mustache around one finger. “From what Number Five and I have discussed, I believe the standard Earth year to be approximately five-sixths the length of an Altean year.”

“But that makes you even younger!” Allura stared at Shiro, thoughts whirling in her head. “But that means… The paladins. They are eighteen years old?”

“More or less,” Shiro said. “Except Pidge, of course.”

“They’re children,” she said. “I have-” She sought out Coran’s gaze and found him watching her with a resigned sort of sympathy. Coran had known, she realized. Coran had known exactly how young the new paladins of Voltron were, had understood long before today what they had done. “Coran.”

“Now, Princess, they aren’t as young as all that,” Coran said gently. “Shiro is an adult by their reckoning, and the others as well, or very nearly so. They don’t live quite so long as we do, I’m afraid, so they cram all their childhood into just one or two decapheebs.”

“Yes,” she said, tongue strangely thick in her mouth. “Of course you’re right. Shiro, I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No apology is needed,” Shiro said. “And no offense was taken. I think this is just one of those cultural differences that pops up every now and then.”

Like how the paladins had found it so strange that the Alteans’ did not have a word that meant cousin, or the fact that she’d had to gently explain to Hunk that he was declaring his intentions to court Coran by bringing him breakfast in bed when he was sick, or the time that Shiro had threatened to rip off all four of the Miscketallian ambassador’s hands because Miscketallians had no concept of personal space.

But none of those had involved sending soldiers who hadn’t even seen their second anniversary off to war. On Altea she’d be imprisoned, tried for war crimes, stripped of her rank and titles.

But the paladins were not Alteans and this was hardly the first time she’d met members of a race that lived shorter lifespans than her own. The Olkari lived only a few decades and one of them had been a paladin of Voltron for more than thirty years, so this was hardly an unprecedented situation. It was only new to her, because she had never had to be the one to give the order before.

“Coran’s right, you know.” Shiro’s voice was calm and steady and Allura found herself clinging to it mentally as she tried to adjust her view of the world. “It’s not fair to hold us to your standards. Our species are very different in some ways. But just because an eighteen-year-old Altean would be a child, doesn’t make it true for a human.”

“You call them children all the time,” she said.

“Not where they can hear me,” he said. He grinned, quick and fond. “Well, not unless I’m trying to get them to behave.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been so hard on them.”

“And you’ll continue to be. You’re not a soft-touch, Allura. Not about Voltron, anyway. Or the war. And you shouldn’t be.” He leaned forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees. “This is a war against a madman who would gladly wipe out entire species to get what he wants. Right now the only people who can stop him happen to be very brave, very inexperienced and very young. And it’s hard to send them out there, believe me, I know. But they aren’t children anymore and we can’t take back the trust that we’ve placed on their shoulders. It wouldn’t be fair to them, or to the billions of people who suddenly have hope again now that Voltron’s back.”

She smiled, and it felt tight but honest. “I thought the inspirational speeches were my territory.”

His cheeks went a little pink again. “What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“I apologize for my overreaction. I should not have assumed.” She exhaled heavily and smoother her hands over her skirt again. “I have the utmost faith in each of you, no matter your relative ages.”

Shiro grinned. “And I’ll remind them of that the next time you scold us for being unprofessional or weaker than an Altean toddler.”

“Well you are,” she said loftily, refusing to smile when he laughed. “Alright, enough of this. I’ve embarrassed myself quite enough, I think. Let’s get this party planned, shall we?”

****

It ended up taking three weeks to get the party planned to everyone’s (Hunk’s) satisfaction, though a ten-day long detour to help a Scaradosian mining colony deal with some pirates didn’t exactly speed things along. Lance still had no idea what they were planning and was growing increasingly baffled by the way conversation frequently came to an abrupt halt whenever he walked into a room. He was starting to sulk about it, and Allura was briefly concerned, but Shiro had explained the concept of a surprise party and sworn her to secrecy. He had made sure they did a better job of hiding their plans from Lance, though, which helped avoid additional sulking.

“We’re certain they’re adults on their world?” she asked Coran under her breath and he’d laughed so hard he had to pretend he was coughing to avoid Shiro’s glare.

Meanwhile Pidge was busy creating gifts - Shiro had made her promise nothing explosive, but Allura suspected there was quite a bit too much leeway left in there for someone as creative as their Pidge - and she had overheard Keith in an intense conversation with Shiro and Coran about what color balloons would be considered appropriate and whether they should match the lions. (“Black isn’t very festive,” Shiro said.)

Hunk had taken his responsibility as cake baker quite seriously and had spent days perfecting his secret recipe, though after he forced each of them to sample a dozen different versions of it, Allura wasn’t entirely sure it could be considered a secret any longer. Lance in particular found himself on the receiving end of Hunk’s culinary efforts, presented with various slices of cake and a glowering, flour-covered Hunk. If nothing else, it seemed to distract him from what the others were getting up to.

The kitchen only caught on fire once and if Lance and Keith started a snowball fight out of the fire retardant foam, well, at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves rather than using it as an excuse to fight. They inevitably teamed up against Shiro, who refused to fight back until Pidge ambushed him from behind and shoved an entire armful of the foam down the back of his pants, at which point he promptly annihilated all three of them, sparing only Hunk who was waving around a kitchen towel that was still slightly on fire and bemoaning the fact that his icing was indistinguishable from the foam.

“Leave it for Coran?” Pidge asked and Allura and Shiro had had to march all four of them back into the kitchen to clean up.

Beyond that, the party itself went off quite well, at least as far as Allura was able to judge. Keith’s decorations were colorful, though she couldn’t testify to their appropriateness (there were, at least, no black balloons, so it seemed he and Shiro had reached an agreement on that aspect). Hunk’s cake was the size of a small shuttlecraft and decorated with brightly colored frosting; set on the table around it were three wrapped packages that Pidge had produced, each one labeled with a name. Shiro had enlisted Coran’s help to have the holo display proclaim “Happy Birthday, Hunk, Keith and Lance!” (the order of the names had varied from one day to the next until Allura realized that whoever had tried Shiro’s patience the most recently was reassigned to third place, at which point she insisted it be in alphabetical order. Shiro had appeared sheepish, but unrepentant.)

Lance, dragged in by an enthusiastic Coran, took one look at the room and immediately went all soft-eyed and pink-cheeked. “You sneaky jerks,” he said, and his eyes were starting to get watery but his voice was pleased and he was smiling.

Pidge was jumping up and down on the couch chanting “presents!” over and over again. Hunk had Keith in a hug that looked a little bit like a headlock, but Keith seemed to be fine with it. Shiro clapped Lance on the back and drew him further into the room. “Alright, birthday boys. Let’s open some presents before Pidge ruins the couch.”

Lance got even more teary-eyed over the small music player Pidge had built for him, and Hunk practically vibrated with joy when presented with some sort of miniature gas torch that was somehow involved in food preparation.

“Humans have the strangest appetites,” Allura murmured to Coran, who nodded emphatically.

Shiro confiscated the portable grenade launcher Pidge had made for Keith. “What did I say about explosives? We had a deal.”

“The launcher doesn’t explode, Shiro,” Pidge said in the tones one would use with a  very small child. “I didn’t make him any grenades, he’ll have to go find those himself. In the locked cabinet at the back of my workshop, next to the Rover 3.4 prototype.”

She flashed Keith a thumbs up behind Shiro’s back that the black paladin clearly pretended not to notice, and all four paladins exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Allura sighed and made a mental note to find some extra training or chores for them the following day.

She leaned against Coran’s shoulder, just a bit, the way she used to when she was younger. “What would my father have done with them?”

“He’d trust the lions, I have no doubt of it at all.” Coran smiled down at her. “And he’d worry, and regret the sacrifice of youth, and work twice as hard to see peace in our lifetime.”

“Peace in their lifetime,” Allura said. She felt the pressure in her chest ease somewhat and if her throat was tight, her voice did not shake. “I will not accept otherwise. We will have peace in their lifetime even if I have to throttle Zarkon to death with my own two hands.”

“I’ve not the slightest doubt you will make it happen, Princess.” Coran nudged her with an elbow. “Now come on, I think it’s time to serenade them, and I’ve been rehearsing for quintants!”

“Oh, well, we can’t miss that,” Alllura said weakly.

Across the room Pidge was jumping on the couch again, and Keith and Lance were wrestling, each trying to shove the other’s face into the cake while Hunk stood over them and threatened them with a very large knife. Shiro was sitting on the couch, arms hooked over the back and legs stretched out in front of him, apparently unconcerned about Pidge flinging herself back and forth across him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Coran,” she said loud enough to cut through their nonsense. “But I thought this was an adulthood celebration, not a daycare.”

“Ah, Princess,” Coran said in a dramatic voice. “What could you expect? They are basically infants, after all.”

She caught Shiro’s eye for an instant, just to make sure, and he was smiling at her.

Then Pidge jumped off the couch and shoved a plateful of cake in Allura’s face.

“Food fight!” the green paladin bellowed and her teammates cheered as Coran dragged Allura down behind the couch.

On the far side of the room Shiro was snapping orders for cake cutting and setting up Lance and Keith to initiate a barrage while Pidge and Hunk sliced and plated. Lance and Keith were already bickering over who would score the most hits. Pidge and Hunk were betting on whether Allura or Coran would kick their butts first.

Coran gave her a wicked grin.

“No reason we have to sacrifice all of their youth,” Allura said cheerfully. “This is technically combat practice anyway, if you think about it.”

He huffed. “Well, let’s just hope they don’t remember the grenade launcher.”

From over the back of the couch they could hear Shiro’s exasperated shout. “Pidge, what did I just say about explosives?”

“If we retreat now we might live long enough to see our own birthdays,” Coran said.

“Nonsense.” Allura gave him her best conspiratorial smile. “If we can avoid getting sniped by Lance, I bet we can drop him headfirst into the cake. Keith might not even try to stop us once he realizes.”

“If we surrendered now I bet we could eat that cake.”

“Oh come now, Coran.” Allura reached up, snagged a piece of cake out of the air and pounced up to return fire. “Act your age!”

[endofadream]

fear not the ghosts

~4,500k

warnings for: depression, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, mentions of medication

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bucky’s voice is thick. When Steve turns he sees, in the dim light, that Bucky’s eyes are shining. His cheeks are damp. His next words are impossibly small: “I, um. I’m havin’ a real bad night, Stevie. Please don’t make me be alone.”

Dawn hasn't filtered in through the room yet when Steve is woken by a hand shaking his shoulder. Immediately he’s alert, sitting up and breathing hard, trained still from his years of service and even longer years of serving the Avengers. It’s an unshakable habit, this instinct, this fight-or-flight, and he doesn't relax until a small voice says “It’s just me.”

Steve lets his shoulders relax incrementally first, then lets his heart slow. Right. It’s just Bucky, they’re okay. There isn’t a crisis. It’s the middle of the night in their brownstone in D.C. and there are no monsters or aliens to fight. He says, “Buck? Whassa matter?” a little muzzy still as he wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Bucky’s voice is thick. When Steve turns he sees, in the dim light, that Bucky’s eyes are shining. His cheeks are damp. His next words are impossibly small: “I, um. I’m havin’ a real bad night, Stevie. Please don’t make me be alone.”

Growing up, depression was the state of the economy, not the state of someone’s mind. It’s been difficult adjusting to that, to the fact that shell-shock is just an inaccurate term for PTSD, that people’s brains can be imbalanced. Steve knows that he hasn't been unaffected by it, thanks to Sam’s gentle urging that Steve’s nightmares and lethargy were not normal, but Bucky. Bucky is another story. Most of the time a bad night for him is a lot more than a few flashbacks.

“Oh, baby,” Steve murmurs, stomach sick to think what it could be now. Bucky looks so small, curled up in the blankets with his shoulders tucked in. Almost like he’s trying to keep the world out. Steve turns and reaches for him, pulling him close and pressing kisses to the top of his head, his temple, his cheek, breathing in his sleep-smell. “Baby. I got you, it’s okay.”

Bucky sniffles, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, both his arms wrapping around Steve’s waist. The metal one is warm but still a little jarring as the fingers and joints whir faintly.

“I just…” Bucky mumbles, pressing closer until he’s nearly on Steve’s lap, the comforter tangled around both their legs. Steve runs his hands up and down the broad span of Bucky’s back, over and over, saying nothing. Waiting. Sometimes it takes awhile for Bucky to sort through his thoughts and give voice to them. Sometimes there aren’t words at all, just Bucky’s trembling body and wet tears.

Bucky takes a low, shuddering breath and says, “I can’t stop thinking about ‘em.” He doesn’t clarify, doesn't need to. “And about—about everything. And I just wanna die, Steve. I don’t deserve to be alive after what I did. Why am I alive when they’re not? I took their lives away. I shouldn’t be able to have this.”

Steve shakes off the stab of fear at the easy way Bucky can wish himself dead. He’s got his boilerplate answers, things like it’s not your fault and you’ll be okay, but Steve hates them almost as much as Bucky does. They’re empty, impersonal. Things that anyone can say. Hell, they’re things the therapists and psychiatrists have encouraged him to say as Bucky adjusts to life after HYDRA. But Steve wouldn't be Steve if he didn't rebel just a little bit. No one knows Bucky Barnes like he does.

“I’m right here,” Steve says, carding his fingers through Bucky’s long hair. “Feel my heart, breathe with me.”

“Used’ta do this to you, when you were small,” Bucky mumbles.

Steve laughs softly. “Yeah, pal. All the time. ‘Specially in the summer when the damn air wasn’t circulating.”

“And especially after…” And here Bucky trails off, words diminishing. Lost in a memory, Steve thinks. Wonders if it’s a good one this time. Bucky’s nose brushes the curve of Steve’s neck, right where he’s especially sensitive, and Steve can’t fight back the shiver, the way his arms tighten around Bucky. Bucky presses closer, trailing his nose up with purpose this time, then down. On the next path up he follows it with the wet point of his tongue, and this time Steve groans. This is familiar. This, it isn't hard to guess what memory Bucky is reliving.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, hot and a little low. He adjusts himself so that he’s straddling Steve’s lap, arms around his neck. “Stevie, I need you. I need you, please.”

Steve slides his hands up into Bucky’s hair, biting his lip as he begins to stir in his briefs at the slow rock of Bucky’s hips. “Honey,” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice level. “Are you—oh—sure?” He’s overly cautious when Bucky dips to a low point, but he would never forgive himself if they did something that Bucky would regret.

Bucky nods. “Yeah. I just. Help me forget, okay?”

He clutches to Steve the way that Steve remembers—with a pang—he used to do to Bucky when the pain and sickness became too much. That desperate grab for human contact, for anything.

“I’m gonna make you feel so much better, little angel,” Steve says into Bucky’s hair. He begins to run his hands along Bucky’s sides, curving around his hips before sliding back up. Feeling him up, getting him used to touches that go far beyond casual. “You okay with that, Buck?”

Through a tiny groan, Bucky replies, “Yeah.”

“What do you need?”

A few moments pass in silence, Bucky huffing in frustration as he says, “I don’t—I want—fuck,” he spits. Steve quiets him with a kiss and a gentle hush. He knows what Bucky wants, but the therapist is having Bucky work on verbalizing them; so far it’s been difficult, and most days are a step back rather than forward. But Steve’s always been soft on Bucky anyway. Buck used to say that Steve had the doe eyes, but Steve still swears he’s wrong, ‘cause there’s not a lot Steve won’t do when Bucky looks at him just right.

He thumbs at the waistband of Bucky’s underwear, deciding to give Bucky a pass tonight. He eases the elastic away from Bucky’s skin, feeling the indentations left. “Want me to fuck you, hmm?” he purrs. “Slide my hard cock in you and fill you up ’til you can’t think of nothin’ else?” His hand slides below, palming the curve of Bucky’s ass, then slipping between the warm divide of his cheeks. Bucky’s hips jerk forward at the first press of Steve’s fingers against his hole. Steve hums as he taps it, feels the wrinkled muscle twitch and go lax enough for him to work just the barest tip of his index finger in. He presses his nose to the curve of Bucky’s neck and groans, “Jesus, babe. Got me all ready to blow just from this.”

“Stevie,” Bucky whines, fingers tangled in Steve’s hair to direct him into a slick, lazy kiss, his tongue brushing against Steve’s, teeth sinking into his lower lip. When he rolls his hips forward there’s no answering hardness. Steve kisses Bucky gently back, broad sweeps of his tongue that make Bucky mewl, and gently turns him, rolling Bucky onto his back. Immediately Bucky is tugging Steve down to seal their mouths together when Steve’s hand slides down Bucky’s flat, quivering belly.

Bucky is still soft when Steve eases his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, and Steve takes a minute to cherish it, stroking his fingers along the silky skin of Bucky’s limp cock, the impossibly soft skin of his sac. This is, arguably, better than reaching in and finding Bucky wet and straining with his balls already drawn up tight.

It’s more intimate this way, being able hear every hitch of Bucky’s breath, every whimper; being able to feel him grow stiff, filling and elongating in his hand. Every involuntary movement, every inevitable bodily reaction. Steve’s always been the type of guy to love foreplay as much as the actual act itself, though Bucky’s impatience usually puts a stop to it pretty quick.

It isn’t an easy task anymore, largely due in part to Bucky’s medicine, but Steve is tenacious and patient. Beneath him Bucky is squirming, inhales catching, eyes squeezed shut on what could be pleasure or pain. Steve moves his hand lower to rub his knuckles over Bucky’s perineum, asking, “You okay, sweet thing?”

Bucky swallows first, throat bobbing as he runs his tongue over his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, a little hoarse, “yeah, I’m good. S'just a lot. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?”

Bucky’s cheeks are tinged pink; he nods, opening his eyes and looking up at Steve. It nearly takes his breath away, the raw trust there. “I am,” Bucky says, lifting his flesh hand up to stroke down Steve’s cheek. “You know it just takes me awhile. Sometimes.” His flush deepens.

“Hey.” Steve bends, brushing his nose over Bucky’s, hand working over his cock slowly, steadily, trying to coax the blood to flow and pool. “I don’t mind it. You know that. I love it, in fact.”

The laugh Bucky gives in return is hollow. In the dim, distant light of the city illuminating their room Steve can see the angry tinge to Bucky’s cheeks. The tone in the room quickly shifts. “You love that your fella can’t get it up ‘cause he’s on three different kinds of medicine to keep him from killing himself and everyone around him?”

“No,” Steve says firmly, refusing to rise to the bait. “I love my fella ‘cause that’s exactly it: he’s my fella. My boyfriend, my lover." Steve feels his own breath taken away by those words. Wasn't a time too long ago that they were hiding because their type of love was illegal. And giving it a title like that? Forget it. Steve has to swallow back the swell of emotion to continue. "You're my damn partner in and off the field. No one else’s. You think I’m the type of guy to drop the love of his life just ‘cause gettin’ his dick hard ain’t as easy as it used to be?”

Bucky inhales deeply. “Steve—”

“I said the end of the line,” replies Steve, stubbornness an unrepentant fire inside him. He slides his hand out of Bucky’s underwear and rests it on the bed. “And the end of the line certainly ain’t over a little bedroom trouble.”

The fissures in Bucky’s face begin first as little quakes, the faint and mostly harmless brushing of tectonic plates against each other. As Steve twines his hand with Bucky’s right the ground opens up and Bucky is sobbing, pulling Steve down to him and burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

“I got you,” Steve murmurs, smoothing back Bucky’s hair. The tears are warm against Steve's skin but cool quickly. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I hate this,” sobs Bucky, wet and muffled. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Steve says, kissing the top of Bucky’s head, clutching onto him tight. “I know you do, Buck. That's why I'm here.”

Bucky doesn’t grab onto Steve with his metal hand. He keeps it down at his side, fingers grabbing a handful of sheets. Slowly, carefully, Steve takes it by the metal wrist, directing it up and under his arm to join Bucky’s flesh hand where it clutches onto his shoulder blade. At first Bucky stiffens, hiccuping; then he relaxes, tugging Steve even closer.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Steve props his weight up on one forearm, pulling back enough to wipe at the tears on Bucky’s cheeks with his other hand. “Just hold onto me. Ain’t gonna let you go, not ever again.”

Bucky tugs Steve down and kisses him like the world will end if he doesn’t. It might: Steve doesn’t think he could handle the modern world without Bucky now that he’s back in it.

“Please,” Bucky says, their lips brushing together as he speaks.

“Okay if I take your shorts off?” Steve asks, searching Bucky’s face. It takes a moment, Bucky hesitating and eyes downcast, before he finally nods. He draws his lower lip between his teeth when he lifts his hips for Steve to tug his underwear past the curve of his ass. There’s so much that Steve wants to say. More than the moment has time for, more than he has the words for. Things like how beautiful Bucky looks, nude and reposed in their bed, the sheets a mess underneath him. How it doesn’t matter if he’s hard or not, because that isn’t what Steve is looking at: he’s looking at the shy flush on the tops of Bucky’s cheeks and the flutter of his lashes. How his knees are bent in towards each other, almost like he wants to cover himself but hasn’t. How nothing, not time, not a metal arm, not a body built for murder, could change that moony look in Bucky’s eyes.

“There you are,” Steve murmurs, gently easing Bucky’s legs apart to crawl in between them. “Mother of God, Buck. Every time I think you can’t get any more beautiful.” He starts with his fingertips on Bucky’s ankle, feeling out the strong tendons, the jutting bone. Slides it up, over hard muscle and scratchy-soft hair. Up, up, skin pimpled beneath him, impossibly soft. The sharp curve of a hip, the soft patch of dark, dense pubic hair, wiry coils slipping between Steve’s fingers. Beneath him Bucky sucks in a breath and holds it.

“Relax for me.” The breath is let out in a shuddering gust.  Steve twists and reaches into the nightstand for the lube, sliding the hand already on Bucky’s belly to his hip. “Don’t worry about anything. I got you. I’m gonna take care of you.” He finds the switch on the bedside lamp. “Is it okay if I turn on the light?”

Bucky nods. The cap pops on the lube. The light clicks on and suddenly the room is awash in a soft yellow glow. It highlights all the shadows on Bucky’s body, and there are a lot lately, dips between ribs that weren’t there during the war, puckers of scar tissue and marks from things that Steve doesn’t want to think about.

So he studies Bucky, appraising with an artist’s eye. This is a body—a man—he’s sketched countless times over their lives. It shows the mileage, but it’s never changed; that spot on Bucky’s belly never fails to get him shivering, and biting at the apex of his thigh almost always gets him to go off like a rocket if he’s close. Steve’s point is, though they’re older and a lot worse for wear there isn’t much difference between two scrappy Brooklyn boys who joined the war and the two haunted men who live here now.

Nudging Bucky’s legs a little more open, Steve slicks his fingers, then grips Bucky’s chin with his clean hand. “Hey,” says Steve, quiet, feels his breath punched out of him when Bucky’s gray eyes lock on him. They’re like time in a bottle, Steve swears. He clears his throat and says, “You feel uncomfortable, or overwhelmed, you tell me to stop. Got it?” Bucky nods and Steve kisses him, fingers still on Bucky’s chin, thumbing the dimple before pulling back.

Normally Steve would spend time working Bucky up to it, teasing until Bucky is begging and swearing. But Bucky is glass one crack away from shattering, every muscle tensed even as Steve rubs his hole with a slick finger and begins to press in. Against his thigh Bucky’s cock is still limp. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, turning white with the pressure.

“Focus on me,” Steve says, because he knows what Bucky is concentrating on. He slides his finger in to the last knuckle, swivels and curls it, and eases it back out before repeating. Bucky squirms, breathes “oh” in a surprised way that reminds Steve of the days before, when they were just two young kids fooling around on a single bed in a crappy apartment.

Bucky looks up. “Steve,” he says, a little strained.

“Just you and me, pal.” Steve slides his finger in, out. In, out. The sucking pull of muscle, the way Bucky quivers every time. Steve is aching in his shorts, the soaked fabric dragging over the swollen head of his cock. “No one but me and my gorgeous fella.”

Breathing out shakily, Bucky drops his head to the pillow and groans, “Christ.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Steve says, covering his index finger with his middle and easing them in. Jesus, Bucky’s tight. He keeps clenching, pushing Steve’s fingers out before dragging them back in. Steve doesn’t miss how Bucky looks hungrily down at it. “Second coming of Christ right in front of me. Lookin’ like sin I’d follow to hell and back.”

“Now you’re just—oh, god—runnin’ your dumb trap.” Bucky turns his head and buries his face in the crook of his flesh arm. His breathing is picking up, growing slightly shallower as he adjusts to the stretch, goes soft and yielding around Steve’s fingers. Steve’s gotta squeeze the base of his dick as Bucky’s hips begin to rise instinctively towards the rolling pressure inside him, otherwise he’ll shoot off right here and now.

Steve bends and coxes Bucky into a soft, warm kiss. “Didn’t hear you complaining before,” he teases, rubbing his knuckle over Bucky’s perineum and getting a low, wounded whine out of it. “Thought you liked me using my mouth.”

At this Bucky’s dick gives a half-hearted twitch, though it makes no real attempt to rise. Steve counts it as a victory anyway, grinning and pausing to slick up again before sliding in three fingers. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut, and Steve kisses his metal shoulder, murmurs, “Shh, shh, you’re doing great, babydoll. So great.”

“Steve,” says Bucky. Then again, “Steve,” like it’s all he knows how to say. He’s looking up with his eyes all wide, all blown-black blue. They’re a little glossy, tears pooling at his waterline; when he blinks one spills down his temple, disappearing into the spread of his brown hair on the pillow.

Steve strokes his fingers over that spot inside and Bucky gasps, back arching up off the bed. Again, his cock twitches but doesn’t begin to chub up. Steve scoots back and rubs his thumb over the stretch of Bucky’s hole, feels how it gives, goes a little looser like it’ll take his thumb in, too.

“You ready, baby?” Steve slides out at Bucky’s nod and startles a little when Bucky sits up enough to grab his wrist.

“Don’t get a rubber,” he quietly says.

Steve swallows hard. They’d only ever done it bare a couple times before and loved it, but didn't love the mess. It’s the first time since Bucky’s been back that he’s asked for it. Suddenly Steve’s throat closes up and he has to take a couple deep breaths before he can say, “I won’t, Buck. Whatever you need, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes are still huge and glossy and trusting as Steve slicks himself up, tugging his shorts off and throwing them somewhere off the side of the bed. Bucky spreads his legs before Steve can ask, tops of his cheeks still flushed as he hides his face in the crook of his flesh arm again.

Steve grips Bucky’s thighs, stroking their soft insides. “If you need me to stop, tell me. Promise?”

A nod.

Steadying his cock with one hand Steve lines up and begins pressing in, feeling gut-punched at the first hint of a squeeze around the head of his cock. Bucky tenses at first, body going rigid, and as Steve’s about to ask he finally relaxes, exhaling softly.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, trembling all over as he watches himself sink into Bucky’s body. “Oh, god, baby. Baby, fuck, look at you. Best goddamn thing I ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” He drops one arm to the bed and urges Bucky to wrap his legs around his hips. Bucky lets out a little noise and does, hands moving to grip at the sheets. He's begun rocking his hips, urging Steve in deeper, and Steve wonders if it’s unconscious or not.

When Steve bottoms out Bucky lets out an actual hoarse moan, dragging the sheets in towards his hip. Pressing their foreheads together Steve pants into the humid space between them. “You feel so good, Buck. So fuckin’ good, so tight and hot and wet around me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you? That I wouldn't want this?” He kisses Bucky deep and ravaging, nipping at his lower lip as Bucky moans again, shuddering. Reaches between them, wraps a palm around Bucky’s cock and feels it twitch again, finally firming up in his grip. “Oh, yeah. There you go, beautiful. There’s that  You’re the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. You’re so gorgeous, baby. Prettiest fella I ever laid my eyes on. Only one I ever wanted.”

“Steve,” Bucky whines, voice thick. His flesh hand finally untangles from the sheets and tangles in Steve’s hair instead. His mouth is open, pink tongue wetting his lips when he pants. Back and forth his eyes dart across Steve's face.

Steve starts moving in slow, shallow thrusts that draw tiny mewling whines from Bucky. He works Bucky’s cock at the same pace though it doesn’t grow much harder, peppers each thrust with gentle encouragement before letting go to prop himself up with both hands. Bucky’s eyes grow wet again, shining in the low lamplight. He doesn’t look away from Steve, keeps their eyes locked when Steve’s thrusts grow harder, faster.

“Focus on me,” breathes Steve, unnecessary. Bodies undulating, the faint creak of springs is the only noise besides their labored breathing. It’s raw, more intimate than any sexual encounter Steve has ever had before. With one hand he cups Bucky’s jaw, sliding it back to thread his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s heels on his lower back urge him down until he’s on his elbows and Bucky’s semi-hard cock is rubbing against his stomach. With this angle his thrusts grow deeper, dragging over that spot inside Bucky that still, even now, makes him moan.

“Stevie,” Bucky says, metal arm finally going around the back of Steve’s neck. His body quakes as he begins to cry again, flesh fingers twining more tightly into Steve’s hair.

Steve buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and fucks forward hard once, twice. “I love you,” he groans, biting at the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. “Christ, I love you so fucking much. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He’s close, the warmth building in his belly. Bucky’s clutching at the back of Steve’s neck now, chest shaking with his hitching breaths. Steve struggles back up, kissing the salt from Bucky’s lips. They part just enough to breathe, just enough to remain in their own world. Steve remembers the first time they ever got further than fingers and it felt a lot like this.

Steve thrusts forward, their skin smacking mutedly together, and groans, “I’m gonna come, oh god—”

“On me,” Bucky urges, voice wet. “Come on me.”

Steve pulls out, stripping his cock a handful of times before he doubles over with a gasping moan. The liquid heat rushes up, expands, whites him out in a rush of pleasure as he spills over his fingers and onto Bucky’s belly and half-hard cock, his entire body shaking with it long after his cock has finished drooling come. As higher thought is still coalescing Bucky pulls him down and kisses at his neck, his shoulders, running palms both metal and skin over Steve’s broad, slick chest.

Before Steve has opened his eyes Bucky says, “I don’t think I can tonight.” When Steve looks down he sees that Bucky’s already flagged. The come wet and slick on it makes it look like he has anyway, and his smile is tight and a little rueful.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve starts, but Bucky shakes his head, rubbing the heel of his flesh palm over his damp eyes.

“I don’t care,” Bucky says. Steve knows that’s mostly a lie.

For a few long moments it’s quiet; then Bucky is saying, “Tonight was the first time in awhile that I really wanted to kill myself. Like…just go into the bathroom or something, lock the door and slit my wrist. I tried it once, back before they froze me for the first time. It hurts, but it ain’t the worst hurt I ever experienced.”

A slither of fear and dread crawls up into Steve’s heart, freezing it. Bucky looks down at the come drying on his belly. “And I almost did it again tonight. I laid there for a few hours, debating. Thinking, what do I got to lose? I’m nothing.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but it isn't easy. His throat is cramping from the lump wedged deep in there. Bucky goes through cycles, so it isn't anything new. But Steve can’t stop remembering how Bucky was when he first got here, how he’d hurt himself with anything he could get his hands on. The way he’d scream during nightmares or when they pried a knife away from him. They’re experiences that won’t ever go away, no matter how much Steve wants them to.

“And then,” Bucky says, looking up through red-tinged eyes, “I remembered that I had you. That you were sleeping next to me. And you loved me as much as I love you. As soon as you opened your eyes I knew I’d be okay, at least for now. ‘Cause even when we had nothin’—”

“—I had you,” Steve finishes, voice cracking. He’d said the same thing about Bucky once before. Bucky gives him a crooked smile, one of those ones that used to make Steve weak at the knees—and still does, honestly. That smile chases away the ghosts and lines and haunted shadows and makes Bucky look like he stepped straight out of 1944.

“Yeah, Stevie,” says Bucky. “I can’t leave your punk ass behind again because you’ll probably go and try to enlist for another war.”

Steve laughs, a guffaw that surprises him. One tear slides down his face and then he’s pulling Bucky towards him, framing his face and kissing him. They part with a wet noise and breathe together. Just them against the world, it feels like.

Rubbing his nose against Steve’s, Bucky whispers, “I love you. Jesus, I didn’t know a person was capable of loving someone this much.”

“Me too, Buck.” Steve squeezes him tighter. Fast-forwards to morning, when he’ll fix breakfast and Bucky will make coffee. Both only in their underwear, Steve’s heart humming with the simple domesticity of it all, and it’ll happen, Steve will finally ask—

But for now. Now, Steve gets a warm, damp washcloth and wipes down Bucky’s belly. Kisses his cheekbones where the last of the tears remain; then his lips, because Bucky pouts so adorably. They get under the covers again, curled around each other, and Steve’s grateful for Bucky’s warm breath, the steady beat of his heart, the hand dropped low on Steve’s waist.

He doesn’t drift off until long after Bucky’s breath has evened out.