#and were now feeling as failures and disappointments to our parents on top of everything else

[black-rose-writings]

My mom, after spending an extended weekend with my dad's old college classmates and their families: It's so weird that all of these very weird, intelligent and structured men who got their masters in engineering in the late 1980s have sons that are all autistic and daughters who all have mood disorders.

Me: Yeah, very weird. Why could that be?

[joy-in-opera]

Hh... can't sleep. Anxiety is being dumb. But also existential shit, and I kinda need to put it somewhere.

Many worst-case scenarios have run through my head. Losing family members being among the worse ones, etc... but of all things, I wonder if I could face speaking with old friends I use to talk to back in HS... my choir directors included.

They were both kind and helped push me toward music, a life-long passion of mine, and one that still burns bright. They gave me opportunities to develop my musical talents and I'm forever grateful for everything they did... but they don't know a lot of what has happened since I left HS. They don't know about my Ehler's Danlos Syndrome, and the various issues that it entails. They don't know that I'm in constant pain, and will be for the rest of my life... they don't know the extent of my anxiety, and how it has prevented me from seeking better jobs out there, or trying to push toward performance. ... and now that I'm trying to push toward being a music teacher myself, even with the help of a vocational rehabilitation program, I still find it very difficult to take the small steps toward sending in applications...

Would they understand that I fell short of my aspirations? Would they be disappointed? Would they feel like the effort they put in was wasted on me? I genuinely don't know, but I also understand that I'm thinking the worst of the what-ifs. I genuinely feel like a failure, like I'm floundering in whatever life wants to throw at me and my family next.

I'm the 2nd child, the eldest daughter, in a family of 7 kids and 2 parents. All of us have health problems in some way or another: my mother's EDS is worse than mine is, among a myriad of health issues, and she already owns a wheelchair she uses. My older brother has an autoimmune disease where he needs to be on medication for the rest of his life, and suffers from rheumatoid arthritis. My 1st younger brother was hit on his motorcycle back in 2020, royally fucking up his knee to the point he needed cadaver tendons; he is still dealing with the aftermath and all that entails physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially. My sisters have varying degrees of physical health problems and mental illnesses: depression, anxiety, one hit puberty too early, another needed surgery to fix her bowed legs, and all us sisters and my mother have Gastroparesis. My 2nd younger brother suffered with anxiety for so long that he went catatonic at one point and needs to be on medication for it, ontop of dealing with scoliosis developing that we need to keep an eye on. My father is among the luckier ones in this merry group of ours, but he's still been beat up in his own way. He's broken so many bones in his body and spine, that a medical professional was surprised he is still walking and working... not to mention having a heart issue as the cherry on top.

I want nothing more than to take care of my family... I want to take care of the people around me that I care about most. I don't want myself or them to have to want for anything, or cry in the middle of the night wondering how to pay for medication or procedures that will help improve their quality of life or just keep them alive. ... but I feel helpless. I can barely scrape by with the little I can do myself, and late at night like this, I want to give up. ... But I can't do that. I shouldn't do that. I have to keep pushing and going because there has to be better days ahead. There has to be days where the pain is more bearable, where the anxiety doesn't have a chokehold on my ability to move forward, where I can help my family and friends through their hardest times like they've helped me through mine.

... and yet, with all this being said, the thing that I'm most scared of in this moment in time, is confessing everything to people I know IRL? It's funny... you're crawling through the fire and the flames only to be scared by a little jumping spider in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't make sense, but y'know... anxiety doesn't make sense sometimes; or, most of the time. I've cracked jokes during traumatic experiences and kept a calm and level head, but then turn around to have a mental crisis over how the people I know/knew IRL would respond in light of... all of the everything. Maybe it's an easier thing to fret over, instead of everything else? I don't know.

I know the steps I want to take from here to keep moving forward. ... I'm scared, I have doubts and insecurities, at times I feel stuck or frozen... And goddammit I gotta figure out how to put away how much I care about what folks think.

But for now I'm still here, and I'm content with that. I don't plan on going anywhere, and I count that as a win.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Embrace (Request)

*Not my gif*

Paring: Dean X Reader 

Pov: Reader 

Warnings: comfort from dean, hunt gone wrong, reader crying, LOTS OF HUGS, mentions of Sam (Briefly) 

Summary: The reader come back from a hunt gone very wrong, and all she want is to be in Dean’s arms tonight. Once she makes it to the bunker, she falls into dean’s arms, not being able to keep it together anymore. 

Word Count: 2k 

Masterlist 

Tag list: @akshi8278​, @deanswaywardgirl​

This was supposed to be an easy hunt. One and done type of thing, but that ended shortly after I got to the motel. Dean and Sam already out on a hunt, I decide that it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I went out on my own.  

Shooting Dean, a quick message. “Dean, there’s a hunt about an hour away from the bunker. It involves kids, so I’m packed up and leaving in 5. Love Ya.” I sent the message stuffing my phone in my back pocket.  

Buzzing I pulled it out seeing a message from Dean “Ugh, I wish you weren’t going by yourself, but I understand it involves kids. Be safe and text me when you get to the motel. Love Ya sweetheart.” Well, that had gone by much easier than previously thought.  

So, throwing my bag in the passenger seat of on the many cars I drove off to the motel. According to the article children were going missing in the local town. The thought of so many parents being scared and missing their children was eating at me, so I thought I’d at least try to help.  

Quickly I learned that kids were disappearing, most disappeared near an old shut down mental asylum. Something about kids and wanting to search places that clearly had “DO NOT ENTER” signs on them.  

It was still early in the afternoon so I made my way over to the parents of the latest missing child. They wore worried expression on their faces as they say the quick flip of the F.B.I badge.  

In short, they had said that their son had gone out with a few of his friends. Riding bikes and being a destructive teenage boy. For a few moments the image of Dean being that way crossed my mind, internal smiling at the thought.

I had figured that it was probably a ghost based on the rather odd story the parents retold me. Saying that their son had told them about how the light were flickering and, all the sudden it was really cold in the asylum. It’s the middle of summer, so cold spots are definitely more prominent.  

When I made it back to the motel, I made quick work of trying to figure out where the old mental asylum was, grabbing way to cups of coffee, and junk food from the vending machines I worked until at least twelve in the morning.  

I hadn’t ever realized how much the Sam and Dean’s help was. It was nice to have a tech nerd at your disposal, and a heater next to you in bed every night. Once I had fallen asleep at the dirty small kitchen table in the motel, I thought it best to move to the bed and text Dean.  

“Hey baby, I made to the motel a while ago. You know me got caught up in trying to help. Fell asleep trying to research going to sleep now. Good night baby, Love Ya.” I sent before plugging it in to its charger and falling into a deep sleep.  

When I awake the next morning, I looked over to my phone seeing a new message from Dean. “Sleep well sweetheart. We will be home today, keep me in the loop. Can’t wait to see you.” He messaged with a winky face at the end.  

Rolling my eyes, I got out of the crappy, not memory foam bed. Hearing the slightly creaks and cracks of my bones. Thinking that it would probably useless if i grabbed a shower before going on a hunt, so I opted to grab one of deans stolen flannels, my pants, and my boots.  

Once I was officially ready for the day, I went right back into researching. Finally, hours later I had found an old document that just so happened to have to the address of the mental asylum.  

It was a picture of a few nurses, a doctor standing proud in the back, and a gaggle of children in front of the nurses. Around the doctors' neck hung a stethoscope. It read at the bottom of the picture  

‘Doctor Ethan Zingler, Nurse Betty, Nurse Lewis, Nurse Andrea, with the many mentally insane children. Doctor Zingler holding his prized possession his stethoscope.’ “Fuck yes” I screamed. Damn that was dumb luck.  

Quickly grabbing the car keys, I slammed the motel door, making my way over to the car. Again, I shot him another text, “Alright, found the address for this place. Should be an easy fix. Be home soon, Love Ya.” Sending it before starting to pull out of the parking lot.  

When I made it to the mental asylum, the gates lock was broken making it much easier for me. Making my way into the mental asylum it was quiet, giving me an uneasy feeling. A scream grabbing my attention, but when I made it their nothing, nothing was there.  

As I walked around more, trying to find these lost kids. Turning around at one point, I saw a figure of a decomposed older women. Her white nurses outfit torn at her heart, all the sudden instead of staring at me she was full speed running.  

Cutting into one room I lost her, standing there for a minute. Re thinking everything that I looked up, and the parents had told me. It clicked it was ghosts, they were ghouls. This means that everything I had on me wasn’t going to work.  

Hearing the should of many children screaming at once, I ran towards it. I saw the Doctor his stethoscope wrapped around the necks of one of the children, I ran in trying to get a shot in, but before I could I had they two other nurses hold me down, one trying to stick me with a needle. The other had her very decade hand around my neck.  

I watched every single missing child be killed in front of my eyes, once the doctor was done, he turned looking at the two nurses. They let me go and he slow staked over to me, his hand covering my mouth. I reached down in a quick and swift motion grabbing a long machete knife I had attached to the loops of my pants. In two swift movements I sliced the heads of the nurses off. Looking over at the once respected doctor I chopped his head, it landing on the ground.  

Swiping the blade over my thigh, I slipped it back into its case. I walked out of the asylum flipping it the finger. Getting into the car, it was starting to hit me, that I had watched at least 3 kids murdered in front of me. I was here to fix this, to bring them home safely.  

I drove, no music, no running thoughts in my mind. I just drove, when I finally made it back to the motel, I grabbed a quick shower, trying to wipe away the images of them dying, trying not to cry. “Y/n you’re a big girl. You’re a hunter, fuck you’re with a Winchester get it together.”  I said to myself.  

“Hey baby, how is everything? I haven't heard anything in a while. Sam says that I should stop worrying, but you’re my girl. Text me back please.” Dean messaged me.  

Climbing out of the bathroom, I grabbed my phone, my arms barely keeping the towel wrapped around my chest. “Everything is fine. I’m okay honey. I will be home tops 2 hours, Love Ya.” I sent him back.  

If I broke down now, here, I’d never be able to leave. I need to get dress, I need to get home, I need Dean, now. Wrapping another stolen Dean flannel around me, I could just barely smell his leather, and whiskey cologne on his shirt, I pulled up my sweats.  

Grabbing the rest of my stuff, and throw it into the passenger seat. I walked down to the front desk; I gave to women her keys back. Starting the engine to the car this time I turned the radio on, finding a station that reminded me of Dean. “80′s rock coming your way. Now playing ‘AC/DC Back in black” Taking a deep inhale I back out and drove down the street, radio blasting and windows down.  

“Can’t wait to see you sweetheart!” Dean sent a message as I inched closer and closer to the bunker. Finally, I slowed down and drove down the darkly lite drive way that led to the bunkers garage. As I inched closer, I started to break down, I didn’t want to be a disappointment. I didn’t want Dean, or Sam to see me as a failure.  

I could feel the prickle of tears wanting to escape from my eyes, but shook my head and pushed them back in. As I parked the car, I only grabbed my phone, not really in the mood to look or see anything hunting wise.  

Slowly I made my way to the garage door. Stopping as my hand made contact with the cold handle. I reached for a deep breathe, and opened the door. Conversation still going on, I walked past the library hearing both Sam and Dean call my name.

But the idea of facing them, after everything was too much. I heard the scratch of the wooden chair against the floor. I walked into Deans and I shared room, plopping onto the memory foam bed.  

I heard the bedroom door, slowly open “Y/n?” Dean’s voice bounced off the cinder block room. “Y/n? Are you okay?” He said shutting our bedroom door. “Y/n? Are you hurt? If you’re hurt, I can fix you up, but... but you’ve got to tell me.” He said coming closer to me.  

My breathing becoming harder for me to control. Deans hand landing on my hips first. “Y/n please look at me. You’re scaring me.” I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved quickly making Dean lose a bit of balance before his hand wrapped around my mid-section.  

A breath that I didn’t realize I was holding came out, “It’s okay, you can just cry. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dean said rubbing circles into my back. “You’ve got me Y/n. You just tell me what happened okay, let me known that us Winchester deal making didn’t rub off on you.” He said a little chuckle at the end.  

“De... Dean I’m so stupid. I let 5 kids die because I di... didn’t know what I was hunting. I watched the gho..uls kill them. De... Dean Please just hold me. Please don’t thi.. think of me any different.” I said, a few hiccups interrupting me from finishing my sentences.  

I felt Dean take a deep inhale, before speaking, “Damn, Y/n why.. You know what you’re so resilient, so brave, you’re no where to being stupid. Me and Sam got the covered for you. It’s okay, I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t with you, I’m sorry, but I’m tell you’  

He said pulling me away from his shoulder. Lightly touching my chin, bring my attention to him. Our eye making contact. ‘Y/n I’m telling you that you couldn’t have done anything more then you did. You’re an amazing hunter, an amazing person, you’re prefect Y/n. I don’t to ever hear you say that you’re stupid, or that you think me or Sam will think of you differently because we just won’t. I love you baby” Dean said.  

I reached up to kiss lips, a small, sparked filled kissed. It was as if that kiss was an okay for me. The okay that Dean was being true with me. “Dean, can.. can we just lay together please? I don’t want to let you go just yet” I asked.  

He gave me short smile, and shook his head ‘yes’. “I love you, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He said kissing my temple, “Love Ya too De.”  I said before the tiredness of crying and the beat of Dean’s heart lulled me into a deep and warm sleep.

Completed 02/27/2021 

[baticorngirl]

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week​ Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

______________________________________________________

Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 7: A Brewing Storm

A/N: So, with Season 4 of Miraculous Ladybug officially starting, this is a reminder that this fanfic is non-compliant with any events after Season 3, even with the added lore in canon. I know this is also a crossover so that’s to be expected, but because this fic is also dealing with Miraculous lore, I feel the need to put this up. Please don’t comment about canon disproving any of the material here, because I am already fully aware of the fact. I don’t really care for the show anymore, and the only thing keeping me in the fandom are the fanworks. Like many in the Maribat fandom, I discovered the more vast lore of DC through this, so there is a mix-up of canon from different worlds/universes (e.g. Young Justice, New 52, and Prime Earth), I just don’t care enough to discern which wiki I’m getting my info from.

That said, thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this fic, and I hope that you like it. An extra thank you to everyone who has given this a kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented. I appreciate you all so much.

Also, shout out to jackmand1, Sp8cefluff and BenRG who commented on ways to open the box (getting Bunnyx to get the tablet before Hawkmoth, and asking the box to open), which is all mentioned in Marinette’s diary entry.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @iloontjeboontje

First Previous Next Fanfic

Dear Diary,

There’s still no luck with the Miracle Box. After we tried Chat’s idea of dropping it from the Louvre using the chew toy as a pressure point, we tried hitting it with our weapons (didn’t even make a dent!), Chat asked the box to “please open don’t close up on us like my dad did” (we had a talk about that but he didn’t want to delve too much into it, and it didn’t work), the kwami tried phasing through it (thank god kwami don’t get concussions), and we even tried contacting Bunnyx, but goodness knows where she is and after Chat Blanc, I didn’t really want to see her anyway. We gave up sometime in the early morning, and now it’s shoved in one of my luggage carts, ready to bring to Gotham tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t trigger any of the airport security.

In better news, it’s been a few days since Chat and I officially introduced our new Ladybug and Bee to the scene. For the most part, I think they’re doing well- better than I did when I first started, anyway. It took a bit of time for Luka and Kagami to get used to the new set up, but Chat and I were there to help them, so it wasn’t too bad. Luka, or Bleu Acier, took a while to get used to the yoyo (who knew Luka had a fear of heights?), but he’s gotten used to it...after we had to convince him he wasn’t going to splat into the pavement or anything like that. Kagami, who decided on the name Shūyō, had to adjust to short-range fighting and not using Venom too soon, but she managed to navigate the top and cause a lot of damage to the akumas that we dealt with in the last few days. I think Hawkmoth has some idea that Bustier’s class is on the move because we’ve had an akuma attack every day so far. I’m hoping it’s just Hawkmoth becoming more desperate, although hopefully Bleu Acier and Shūyō threw him off a little bit. As of right now, I’m using the Snake Miraculous as Couleuvre, so it’ll be easier to-

One moment, Marinette had been settled comfortably in her chaise, and the next, a large crash through her bedroom walls threw her across the room, her back hitting the wall hard enough that she felt pain upon impact. When the world around her gained focus, she spotted a large woman-like figure in front of the hole in her wall cackling. The woman’s glassy skin that was translucent, yet she could also see a muddled reflection of her own face. Upon her head she wore a heavy silver crown adorned with gems that was reminiscent of her skin and a white, flowy dress that trailed behind her from the waist. In her hand was an open contact mirror that contained no reflection except for her own blue-bell eyes.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! I am Mistress Mirage! Soon, I will show you the darkest parts of yourself, the secrets you hide behind your so-called truths!” she bellowed, her voice echoing in Marinette’s ears. In the background, she could barely hear her parents’ muffled screams and bangs against her bedroom door.

“Who-” she hissed, trying to balance herself and stand up. “What did I do to you?”

As far as she knew, she hadn’t angered anyone in the last hour she had been home for lunch.

Mistress Mirage zoomed towards her, her face shoved near into hers, her burning cold fingers choked her. Marinette backed into the wall, grabbing onto Mirage’s marble wrists, a pain shooting up her spine. Marinette could only struggle in place, her legs kicking listlessly, as the glassy, bright green emeralds Mistress Mirage had for eyes stared into her very being. The longer she stared into the empty gems, trying .

“Your weaknesses, your darkest secrets will be mine, Dupain-Cheng.”

Her voice, tinkled within Marinette’s mind, and she watched as the woman’s glassy skin shifted and soon she was faced with a kaleidoscope version of herself, blue sapphires glinting harshly, her breaths now ragged and shallow.

“Wha-” Marinette tried taking a deep breath, but Mirage’s fingers tightened their hold. “Why?” she managed to weakly choke out.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Mirage’s voice, no longer bellowing nor echoing, but now a whisper right in her ears, sounding eerily like her own. “That you aren’t enough? That you will never be enough?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to ignore the voice as it taunted her endlessly.

“What are you hiding, Marinette?”

“Why do you hide from the world?”

“How pathetic. You claim to hate liars,” Marinette felt Mirage’s fingers tighten around her. “But aren’t you a liar too?”

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on- Mistress Mirage wasn’t saying anything incriminating. If it were any other situation, she could brush off these accusations, but as Mirage continued to taunt her in her voice, doubts and fears, both new and old, she usually ignored were brought to the forefront of her mind.

‘I’ll fail as a Guardian- I’m not enough.

I’m abandoning my city to find a man who might not even be alive.

Chat Noir will never trust me again.

My parents want to send me away.

Why doesn’t Alya believe me?

Alya would’ve made a better Ladybug.

If Tikki could see me now she’d be disappointed.

What a failure I turned out to be.

“What a failure you turned out to be.”

Mistress Mirage’s emerald eyes glinted gleefully, a wide smile cracking into the glassy expanse of her skin. Her voice echoed Marinette’s thoughts and Marinette repeated her words as much as she could, her breathing becoming more shallow. Mistress Mirage couldn’t actually read any of Marinette’s secrets, however, she could read her psyche, a doubtful, anxious little thing, and she only said out loud what Marinette had already been telling herself to make her putty into Mirage’s hands. A neon violet butterfly appeared over her face, reminding her of her duty to get the Miraculous.

But for now, she had Marinette in her grasp. Once Marinette was in her trance, shaking slightly and mumbling nonsense as tears streaked down her cheeks, Mirage grabbed her and headed to the Trocadero, when three figures- black, steel blue and honey yellow- surrounded her in the middle of the street. The two new heroes stiffened at the sight of the girl in her arms. Chat snarled at Mistress Mirage.

“Marinette!” Chat yelled, rushing forward with his baton at Mistress Mirage. “What are you doing with her?!”

Mistress Mirage smirked. “If you want her, you’ll have to give me your Miraculous.”

She leapt out of the way only to stumble beside Shūyō who held her yellow top- flatter than Queen Bee’s with a long, black handle- the tip poised to the side of Mirage’s ribcage.

Before Shūyō could enact Venom however, Mirage turned and kicked the bee heroine away from her, holding out her compact mirror, creating a wall of mirrors that trapped Shūyō on the other side. She rearranged Marinette in her arms, ignoring the silent struggles of the bee thumping against the mirrored walls and swearing at her.

Chat Noir extended his baton towards Mistress Mirage. However, she jumped and landed on top of the baton, sending Chat sprawling through the air. Bleu Acier attacked at the same time. Mirage was quick and held out her compact to the two heroes, entrapping them in their own mirror dimension. The butterfly outline appeared again, and Mirage set off. She had special plans for Marinette.

Within the mirror dimension, Bleu and Chat were trying to navigate their way around crystallized walls which reflected everything around them. They had tried to find Shūyō, only to realize she was a reflection, then had almost been driven over by a car that had then disappeared.

“What is all this?” Chat muttered, nudging his surroundings. “It’s like, some of it are just reflections, but some of it is real.”

Bleu Acier nodded. “The reflections have to come from somewhere, so the real objects and people are in here somewhere.” He looked up and pointed a little ways forward. “Look, you can see our reflections.”

“Hope they’re getting my good side,” Chat quipped. “We have to get Shūyō and Marinette soon.”

Bleu Acier blinked, as he caught his yoyo when it hadn’t rebounded against a wall. “Do you know her personally?” He asked. He hadn’t been aware of Marinette’s close relationship with the Parisian heroes.

Chat gave a stiff nod. “She’s worked with Ladybug and I a few times. I met her when we fought Evillustrator.”

“So, do you and Ladybug often have civilians fight for you?” Bleu frowned. He scanned the area, and turned left.

“Only when we really need to,” Chat scoffed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just me and m’Lady and sometimes we need help.”

Bleu could sense a resonating low, flat tone emanating from Chat. “That’s horrible. You guys look like you’re still kids.” Chat shrugged in response. As they walked onwards, investigating every inch of the way, Bleu noticed a figure dressed in a black and yellow-patterned fencing uniform, wearing a striped domino mask, thumping against a transparent wall. “Chat, look.”

Cat’s eyes widened at the sight. “Shūyō!” he yelled and rushed forward, only to be trapped in a corner with several reflections of the bug-themed heroine. Chat’s breath quickened. “Shūyō! Can you hear us?!”

Shūyō’ perked up and looked around. “I can! But where are you?” She shouted, her voice vibrating through the air.

“Shit.” Chat stared at his hand, before clenching it and turning towards Bleu. “I think we might need that Lucky Charm now.”

He nodded. “Lucky Charm!”

A bright red object with black spots dropped from the sky followed a series of chimes. Bleu Acier’s eyes widened as he held up the wind chime, eight hollow tubes ringing against the slapper in between, the clear, steady ringing piercing all around them. The wind chime was half the size of his torso, so fortunately, it was lighter than it looked.

It was a curious thing Ladybug had noted, that most of Bleu Acier’s Lucky Charms were sound or music-related.

“Well, this blows. You going to chime a pretty tune there, Bleu?”

He held back a chuckle. In the week he and Shūyō had been working with Chat and Ladybug, he had grown to appreciate Chat’s humour and the jaunty tune he associated with them.

“Maybe,” he said. Raising his voice, he addressed Shūyō. “Can you hear this?!” He asked, shaking the wind chime from its hanger.

They could see Shūyō’s reflection moving around, her eyes closed in concentration. “Sort of!” she answered, echoing slightly. “Are we able to use Chat Noir’s Cataclysm?!”

Bleu stared at Chat who was staring at his hand in deep thought. “Probably! We just need to make sure I’m not using Cataclysm on something real!”

“Maybe it is not my place to say as your junior, but this is not the time for hesitation!” Shūyō yelled back.

A beep echoed in Bleu’s ears. “We should hurry. I only have four minutes.”

Chat nodded. “Alright!” He looked around, scanning nearby walls until he found a reflection of himself- a sure way to make sure he hit the mirror. “Cataclysm!”

The walls around them crumbled in seconds, revealing the world around them. Chat smirked, and they scouted for Shūyō who met them in the middle.

“Why did you not use Cataclysm in the first place?” Shūyō asked, when they reconvened.

“I didn’t want to accidentally use it on the wrong thing,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Come on, we have less than five minutes. Don’t use Venom until you receive my signal.”

Shūyō nodded.

Chat turned to Bleu Acier and pointed to the wind chime. “Keep that on you and look out for opportunities.” He turned around and headed off. “Let’s go!”

In the end, Mistress Mirage was defeated quickly. In their absence, she had grown arrogant, and the three heroes found several clones of Mistress Mirage atop the Palais de Chaillot, a crowd having gathered at the bottom. Each clone had a Marinette bound in front of them, at the edge of the roof, standing listlessly. Despite this, Mistress Mirage was not prepared for the ambush of the three heroes. Bleu’s wind chimes were used as a distraction for the real Mistress Mirage while Chat and Shūyō attacked from behind.

“Shūyō! Use it now!” Chat yelled, as he grabbed Marinette and set her down on the ground below, and allowed the paramedics to deal with her.

“Venom,” Shūyō muttered. She dropped beneath Mirage and her top, stabbing her opponent beneath her ribcage. “Gotcha.”

Mistress Mirage froze mid-air, one leg in the air and both hands outstretched. Chat’s eyes widened when he didn’t see her holding the akumatized object. Chat pounced back onto the roof, ignoring the second beep from his ring. He noticed the satin sash that was wrapped around her waist.

“Shūyō, the akumatized object is the mirror she carries around. It should be in her sash,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “Can you- uh-?”

Shūyō nodded. “I do not understand your need for modesty at such a time, but it is commended.”

Chat’s cheeks reddened further. “It’s just polite! I don’t want to be touching anyone without their consent!”

Shūyō took out the compact mirror that had been tucked into the sash just above her left hip. She tossed it to Bleu Acier who quickly broke it and captured the akuma.

“It’s just the principle of it!” Chat squawked as the trail of tiny red ladybugs flowed throughout Parisian skies.

She snorted. “I understand. I was just teasing.” She turned to nod at Bleu then at Chat. “You two are close to de-transforming. I will bring both victims home.” Shūyō then grabbed Lila, who had been the akuma and was now disoriented, and jumped down to retrieve Marinette.

When Marinette had woken up from the akuma attack, she had been escorted home by Shūyō, who had fussed over any injuries she may have gotten before eventually leaving with a pack of honey macarons. Marinette smiled. Chat had made a good choice with Kagami. After, she had endured cuddles and hugs from her parents who were now even more determined to get her out of Paris.

Later that evening, after reassuring her parents and making sure the kwami were okay. She headed off to patrol where she had to answer for her absence, and where Chat had regaled how they did. Marinette smiled, knowing she made the right choice. After the patrol, which had been less of a patrol and more of a small goodbye ceremony, she returned home and recorded the events in her diary, slowly anticipating the trip.

The next day, she had just made it to the airport an hour before boarding. Everyone had gone through the usual airport processes and she was the last to arrive with her passport and airplane tickets in her carry-on shoulder bag. When she arrived to the waiting area where her friends were (with Adrien’s bodyguard nearby playing on his phone), she was met with a lot of mixed reactions.

Alya had rushed over and hugged her, frantically asking if she was okay. Several classmates had joined her, like Rose, Juleka and Mylene. She hugged them back and reassured them that she was alright, and wasn’t going to jump off roofs anytime soon (though she didn’t remember that from yesterday anyway). They then moved on and Alya asked her a question that stopped her in her tracks.

“Why were you arguing with Lila yesterday, anyway?” Alya asked, leading the two of them to sit down.

Marinetter furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. “What are you on about? I’m not talking to Lila at all.”

Alya frowned. “She told us that’s why she was akumatized yesterday. Apparently you called the mirror she got from Bruce Wayne as a birthday gift, fake.”

Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. “What? Why would I care about anything like that? She’s lying!”

Alya frowned even more. “Lila said you’d probably say that. Why can’t you two just get along?”

“Alya, you’re the one that believes Lila has a lying illness. Why don’t you believe me when I say she’s lying and that I didn’t even see her at all yesterday outside of class?” Marinette tensed. How petty did Lila think she was? How petty was Lila?

“She did get akumatized yesterday. Her story matches the events,” Alya said. “Marinette, you’re my best friend. That’s why I want to know why you did what you did.”

Marinette snorted. “And I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. Is this what the whole class believes? That I’m so shallow that I would akumatize Lila over something as trivial as a mirror?”

Alya blanched. “No, of course not. We’re just saying you two had an argument and Lila got upset enough to turn into an akuma. We’re not saying it was intentional on your part or anything.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Look, my version of events is that I went home for lunch, was in my bedroom, got attacked by the akuma, and was out for it until that Bee hero Shūyō brought me home. Believe what you want, but don’t expect me to apologize to Lila for something I didn’t do.”

Marinette stood up and was about to go before she was stopped by Alya grabbing her wrist. She looked back and watched as Alya looked down at her clenched fist, biting her lip.

“I,” Alya sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’m not saying I don’t believe Lila either. Either way, both of you were the victims yesterday. I’m sorry I was asking you stuff like that.”

Marinette frowned and sat back down. She wasn’t sure what was happening between her and Alya. Alya had been spending more time with Lila, even ending up as her seatmate on the plane and her roommate for the hotel. It made Marinette uncomfortable that they were becoming so close, considering who Lila was. But, Alya was a good person- she just wanted her friends to get along, and it’s not like she could force Alya to cut off her other friendships, even if it was to manipulative lying rats like Lila. That had to be on Alya’s terms. All Marinette could do was be there for her and hope she’d return the sentiment.

She forced a smile. “You’re forgiven.” Alya looked up and smiled, reaching out to hug her. “Now, let’s hang out for a bit before we’re stuck in a plane for twelve hours.”

Alya smiled back. “Yeah! By the way, did you hear that Jagged Stone knows Bruce Wayne?”

And just like that, they had spent the rest of the hour waiting to board the place. The plane that would take them to whatever was awaiting them in Gotham City.

A/N: So that's the end to the first arc I guess, if I intentionally have arcs lol. The rest of this fanfic will be in Gotham. Thank you again for joining me this far and I hope you continue to read it!

Other notes: Bleu Acier is based on the Steelblue Ladybird, with Bleu Acier meaning Steel Blue. Shūyō has three meanings in Japanese, but here, it’s used to mean self-discipline (because that’s something I associate with bees and hard workers). Couleuvre is just another way to say snake in French because Marinette sucks at names.

P.S. I don't hate Alya. In fact, I think we often brush over the fact that Alya is fiercely loyal and in the show, doesn't have all the facts so she's not too suspicious of Lila.

[maine-writes]

Vonvon's Space Adventure, Part 3

"You're not serious." Vonvon said.

Spinel had brought the child to White Diamond, who was checking on the progress of Vonvon's room. The pair were standing at the base of a titanic, crystalline ziggurat. At the very top of it was a room with four massive glass doors that led to balconies that allowed for a full, unobstructed view of the surrounding area.

They took a floating platform up to the top of the structure where White Diamond was supervising a team of Gems. In fact, Vonvon recognized these Gems as the small army gifted to them for Christmas.

"Oh, Vonvon!" said the former galactic ruler, "You'll be happy to know that your room is nearly ready."

One thing Vonvon noticed is that the room was too small for White Diamond to enter. At least they knew that she wouldn't be barging in.

"Spinel, be a dear and show them the interior."

Inside, a grand bed sat in the middle of the room. The bedposts were made of pink crystal, alien branches wrapped around them, leading to a veiled canopy. The veil itself was mostly transparent, save for mildly opaque decorations that depicted what appeared to be different kinds of Gems. At the foot of the bed was a pink crystalline computer console.

"What's this for?" Vonvon asked as they examined the console.

"Oh! This is the coolest part of the room!"

Spinel tapped on the screen of the console, illuminating a white button that generated a gentle tone. The overhead lights dimmed and several circular beams of light shone from the floor near the wall opposite of the console.

From these lights appears several outfits on Pearl-shaped mannequins. To Vonvon, these seemed like holographic versions of Yellow and Blue Pearl.

"This computer controls everything in the room." Spinel explained. "Temperature, lights, storage, room service, and entertainment!"

"And the clothes?"

"White Diamond thought you'd like to try out some Gem fashion."

The giant woman peeked in through one of the large windows, visibly eager to hear the child's opinion on the selection of clothes. If she was trying to be inconspicuous, her brilliant, star-white glow made it difficult.

Each article of clothing was unique, some had a grand and futuristic feel, others were elegant and flowing, and a couple appeared rigid and uncompromisingly utilitarian.

But then there were two that stood out. One had an antiquated feel to it, a decorated, two-colored tunic, the other was a modern hoodie with flowing lines of light.

"That one is popular with the guys from the old Zoo. A modern take on a classic outfit." Spinel explained, donning a monocle for some reason. "The other is a design by our Lapis Lazuli. She calls it, Hoo-man Chic."

"I think they'd look grand in my third design." White Diamond suggested, only her mouth visible from the window.

The design in question was predominantly silvery white in color. The pants flared at the ankles, seemingly sparkling with the light of stars. The top half was a black shirt that featured subtle streaks of indigo and blue, and over that was a glowing white blazer with silver, metallic trim.

"If I may suggest." Blue Diamond added, appearing in the window opposite of White Diamond. "My second outfit might be more to their liking."

Blue Diamond's suggested outfit was a pair of baggy, indigo pants, the colors gradually growing darker closer to the ankle, a white button-up shirt with a blue gem on the collar, an indigo vest with gold trim, and a large, dark, hooded cloak with billowing sleeves, and a lighter blue interior.

"Blue, your outfit is too much." Yellow Diamond interjected as she approached the structure. "Spinel, would you show them my first creation?"

Yellow Diamond's outfit was a pair of plain yellow slacks, a black roll-neck shirt, and a yellow overshirt with padded, black shoulders. On the left breast, there were black gem glyphs that apparently spelled "Vonvon Maheswaran-Universe". The child noted that the outfit felt more like a sci-fi military uniform.

"Y-You know, I think I'll keep my normal clothes for now." Vonvon said, much to the Diamond's disappointment. However, they did like the look of the hoodie.

The child then noticed Yellow Pearl standing next to Yellow Diamond, holding a plate with a crystalline cloche over it.

"I guess you guys caught the chickens?" They said as the Pearl entered the room.

"Correct." said Yellow Pearl. "After quite a lengthy, and somewhat destructive, struggle, my Diamond's forces were able to quell their rebellion."

But when the Pearl removed the cloche, Vonvon was surprised to find that instead of the chicken salad sandwich they were expecting, there were chicken nuggets in the shape of Yellow Pearl's face.

"Um." The child muttered.

"My apologies." Yellow Diamond explained, ashamed of her failure. "I couldn't get the bread necessary for a sandwich right. However, Pearl informed me of a much simpler dish that is apparently popular with small humans. She recommended that the pieces be prepared in a shape that is both cute and familiar."

"So you chose her face?"

"Is her face not cute and familiar?"

Vonvon was starting to notice that the Diamonds, despite being giant alien crystals, were a lot more human than they give themselves credit for. It was rather endearing, actually.

But as they prepared to take a bite of a Pearl-shaped nugget, Vonvon glanced up at the unblinking eyes of the Diamonds, who were seemingly content with watching them eat.

In some ways, they were not entirely human.

Then they remembered a story their father told them.

"Uh, guys?" They began. "You aren't going to watch me sleep all weekend, are you?"

"Oh." Said White Diamond. "Would you rather we didn't?"

Vonvon was somewhat disturbed by the fact that they were going to, and wondered if the large windows were there not for giving them a great view of Homeworld, but so that the Diamonds could watch them. They now understood why Mayor Hammie, their old pet hamster, ran away. It was probably because they kept watching the poor thing eat and sleep. On the other hand, Amethyst might've actually eaten him as she claimed.

"It's, uh, just that you guys are a bit obvious?" The child tried to explain in the least hurtful way.

"We understand." Blue Diamond said with a bow. "We wouldn't want to interrupt your sleep."

Unfortunately, Vonvon couldn't sleep a wink that night. Although the many plush pillows and silky sheets were comfortable, Spinel was loudly snoring, her rubbery arms wrapped around the child, a Green Pearl stood beside the bed, watching them closely, two Quartz soldier guards stood at the foot of the bed, a small army stood guard right outside, and Vonvon could still see the Diamonds peering over the edge of the ziggurat.

"Is there anything you need?" Inquired the attending Pearl as she noticed the child's open, bloodshot eyes.

"No." Vonvon flatly stated. "Nothing at all."

Meanwhile, outside of the room, the Diamonds whispered amongst themselves whilst discreetly watching the child, unaware of the fact White Diamond's star-like glow made it impossible for them to be even remotely discreet. In fact, it was as if someone was shining a flashlight directly into Vonvon's room.

"They must be nervous." Blue worried. "It must be hard for them to be separated from their parents."

"What should we do?" Yellow wondered. "What can we do? It's not like we had parents ourselves."

"Steven warned us about this." White Diamond said. "But he chose to trust us with his child. We're Diamonds, we ruled entire planets, we cannot fail."

The platform the Diamonds stood on then began to descend. It was confusing to them that establishing and ruling colonies was easy compared to taking care of a child. As the platform reached the crystalline path at the base of the ziggurat, White Diamond was struck with inspiration.

"Yellow. Blue." She began, adamant that her idea will work. "Prepare your vessels."

@artsycooky13

[inscribed-in-asteroids]

AN: WHAT’S UP? Got chapter five ready to go! More info is always on AO3, as well as better formatting.

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Odessa and OCs, feat Entrapta and Hordak

Pairing: Entrapdak

Read on AO3.

                                                         Inicos

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 1

Today marks the start of our journey! I have brought the essentials for potential excavation of bodies or relics, as well as the brain from the Prime clone aboard the Velvet Glove. It may be needed to see if there are differences in the formation, even if they’re genetically similar. But, admittedly, it’s more to keep it someplace out of the way. I am not sure what we may uncover, but this is bound to be illuminating.

                                                              -

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 7

I’ve been informed by my father that Mermista was none too pleased to hear that Tristan had come along on this expedition. He and my mother assured her that he was perfectly safe. Seahawk made the error of agreeing with them, however, which led to Tristan having a long, long argument with his mother over it. I don’t find any problem in him wanting to explore space, but not every parent is the same. I suppose she merely wants to look after him. But if she really wanted to, a week is a significant amount of time before deciding to check if he was at his father’s.

                                                             -

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 36

There hasn’t been much occurring outside of the ship. As we have been supplied with enough rations and crystals to charge Celeste, we have no need to dock onto any planet to replenish. However, Hydrangea asked if we could stop on occasion to see some planets. I told her that she could ask me any time if she felt a desire to explore nearby galaxies. We have opted to land on— Whoafuckshit! Asteroids… Oh! Maybe I can document it as it happens—

Annnnnd one made a large dent. Never mind. Guess we’re landing for sure.

                                                            -

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 273

I contacted my parents earlier today. They asked how everyone was faring, and I informed them that it’s been rather standard. No fits of madness or lucidity. My mother sighed with disappointment, but I told her that if it changed, she’d be the first to know. My father told me that Adora wishes me well, again. She’s a sweet woman—has been since my infancy. How she got four terrors for children, I’ll never understand. Well, that’s from Catra, but that’s neither here nor there. She and my father share equal blame for the damage to Etheria, and she has made an effort to right her wrongs. Yet she’s more… forgiven is not the proper word. Perhaps, excused? I don’t resent her for this. It’s easier to blame what continues to be unfamiliar. However, it’s an interesting observation, isn’t it?

                                                            -

Time in space is a bizarre thing. It ceases to be linear. It curves. Warps. Molds around one’s cells—living, breathing matter and energy, and it performs relative to that.

Odessa feels like it’s no time at all to be traveling through space with her friends.

But she was used to this since she was born. Tristan and Hydrangea experienced a little bit of an odd hiccup when it came to living without the concept of time as it was on Etheria. Hydrangea took to meditating quite often to keep a semblance of consistency, while Tristan took to exercising in an unorthodox training room. Hordak was thorough in ensuring that physical prowess was kept up while traveling through space, so it was one of the first things she pointed out.

Tristan could sleep as often as he wanted, and he never put up a fuss, but Hydrangea became rather irritable when she realized the lack of sunlight meant her circadian rhythm would be thrown off. Odessa decided to create a fake sun in Hydrangea’s sleep quarters that gave the feeling of waking up to gentle sunlight, replacing the atomic clock with one marked by Etherian time. It helped a bit for her to feel normal, and, she knew, Hydrangea was missing her parents.

“It’s too late to take you back,” Odessa said during breakfast. “But I hope you’re not disappointed with the direction of this mission so far.”

Hydrangea smiled gently, brushing haggard feelings aside, “Don’t worry. I’ll eventually get used to it. You know I’m here for you!”

Odessa is glad to have company that didn’t mind a little change. She and her family revel in constant traveling, but it can be hard for people who don’t go through it as much.

Walking through the halls, Odessa knocks on Tristan’s door, “Hey, are you up?”

A tired groan reaches her ears.

“When you’re ready, come to the dining hall. We should go over some things.”

A grunt of understanding is given, so Odessa takes her leave. She can’t help but shake her hands in excitement, tempted to skip down the hall.

She looks down at her communicator when it beeps. Turning it on, she answers, “Hey, Mom!”

“Hi, cupcake! How are you?”

“Doing fine. We’ve been making good time. We should be arriving soon.”

Hordak pops into view, “Are all your vitals still in excellent condition?”

“Yes, I’ve been monitoring all of us.”

“Good work, Odessa,” he praises.

“You know me, I’m not into screwing around,” Odessa replies, tossing her hair.

Entrapta grins wide, “We know you’re not, my little brownie bite!”

“Yeesh, Mom,” Odessa says, blushing, though she can’t help but smile.

“Okay, honey, we’ll let you go,” Entrapta tells her. “Tell your friends we said hi! Message us when you’re set!”

“You bet,” she tells them, giving a thumbs up.

“Byyyyeee!” Entrapta sing-songs, as Hordak waves.

“Byyyyeee!” Odessa mimics, waving back.

With a beep, the communicator goes quiet. She wants this mission to come to fruition. Odessa knows their journey has just barely begun—it has so much potential for failure as much as it does for success. If she could find enough information about her people, she might be able to learn more about them as a species. It’s a longshot, but she needs to make an attempt.

She is relieved that her father hasn’t asked her anything deeper than the common query of wellness. He is attentive to health above all else. And she wants to know if that’s intrinsic to their nature, or if it has to do with his… former debilitation. It has to be on some level, or it could be due to personality. If she could learn the true ways of their race, she might be able to find out how to give them their best opportunity to live.

Her hair wraps around her recorder, bringing it to her face. She clicks it on:

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 550

It’s been a long time since we left Etheria, but we’re finally near our destination! I have informed my uncle, Kreed, of our imminent arrival. He told me that everything has long been prepared for us, and he’s looking forward to seeing me again. I’ve been jotting down, as you know, what I hope to ask and, perhaps, what he may answer.

Odessa turns when she hears footfalls. Clicking off her recorder, she looks up at her friend, “Hi, sleepyhead! I didn’t think you’d ever get up.”

Yawning, Tristan stretches toward the ceiling, fingers spreading out. “Hey, the universe doesn’t chastise the well-rested. Were those your parents?”

“Yes, they say hello.”

“Aw, I would’ve liked to say hi back,” Tristan says.

“Should’ve woken up sooner,” Odessa teases. She pats his arm. “But we’re not too far from Inicos—so you’ll be talking to them eventually again.”

“How far?”

“About several hours,” she explains. “It has changed a little since I’ve been there, so I’m excited how it looks now!”

Tristan gives another stretch of his arms, swiping them up then down as he yawns once more. Trying to get something to pop. “Glad we’ll be landing soon. I know it’s been a while, but I worry about Gea going a little stir-crazy again.”

“I adjusted everything in her room, but I don’t disagree,” Odessa admits. “Although, she’s been fine since then and she hasn’t come to me for it.”

Tristan shrugs, not bothering to say he thinks otherwise. Odessa understands the needs for physical accommodation, but Hydrangea’s emotional and spiritual needs are depleted in the never-ending darkness of space. Hydrangea always acts like she’s put together, and much of the time it’s true; but she refrains from voicing her negative opinions when she’s trying to be a team-player.

Hydrangea is already in the dining hall when they arrived, drinking tea. She smiles at them, “Hey, you two!”

“Hey,” Tristan says. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, why?” she asks.

“No reason,” Tristan replies. Best not to pursue the issue. If she’s faking ease, let her.

Hydrangea simply smiles at him, appreciating the question. She turns to Odessa, “So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is that we’re going to be entering Inicos’ orbit in the next few hours, that’s our plan!”

Hydrangea claps her hands, “How exciting!”

Tristan shakes his head, putting a hand over his face, “It just occurred to me you could’ve woken me up when we’re closer.”

Odessa pulls him to her side, giving him a light shake, “I’m pumped! Aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Tristan says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “But that can’t be it, right?”

“No,” she replies, releasing him to look between her friends. “Celeste has lasted this long on fuel, but when we land, we’re going to have to use signals to find where they are, and wait for them to get us.”

“Why?”

Odessa’s grin widens, thrilled.

                                                             -

Water stretches far out beyond their sight. A dark, vast blue that envelops the entire planet. Celeste skims the top, spraying brilliant white foam against its shining surface. Slowly, Odessa commands the ship to lower until it has settled onto the ocean.

Hydrangea stares out the window. The sunlight from above is a welcome vision. Pressing up against the window, her claws clicking gently on the glass, she takes it all in. Turning to Tristan, she says, “You should feel right at home here.”

“Eh, you see one ocean, you’ve seen them all,” Tristan shrugs, inspecting his fingernails.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss this one,” Odessa tells him. She touches her communicator, and the screen begins to beep. Within minutes, they watch water churning away from them, the waves causing the ship to move in rhythm with the slight push. Breaking the surface is a large glass dome, rising high in the air. Celeste bobs back and forth, and the distant hemisphere reveals equally tall buildings within its spacious grounds, supplanted deep within mortar and bedrock.

Tristan and Hydrangea gape up. Tristan laughs in disbelief, “Okay, well, you never mentioned this.”

Odessa smiles, “And ruin the fun if you ever came here with me?”

Beneath the glass is the foundation of metal, holding it aloft; from which, a slab slides away from the bottom of the dome. From this opening, a bridge elongates towards them. Odessa steadies Celeste as the spaceship is jostled carefully onto its ramp, pulling them back into the entrance. As it approaches, they note the flashing lights within.

Moments after coming inside, a siren blares a monotone tune. Celeste gives a slight shake, and they feel gravity tug them upward.

The sun gleams brightly above, before that same pull of gravity shifts the dome downward, water sloshing beside the glass until it is submerged in a torrent of bubbles.

Hydrangea sighs. It was nice while it lasted.

Once the dome settles, Celeste opens up. The trio walk down the bridge, and Odessa smiles at the people waiting in front of them, “Hi everyone!”

“Odessa!” comes the barrage of greetings.

Odessa waves to the clone standing directly in front of her. Eyes a remarkable amber, Kreed waits with his arms held behind him. Bedecked in gentle beige, his tunic ends an inch above the floor, a golden sash with cerulean trimming at the edges tied around his waist. His feet are sandaled, which they found to be better suited for an environment that’s nothing but water outside. An older clone than the rest, he shows signs of aging that aren't too commonplace among the rest of her relatives. She long surmised that the majority of them were young by contrast. She attributes part of that to his firm but mellower personality, a patriarchal figure where there are none. “Hey, Kreed!”

Her uncle holds her tight to her chest, pulling back to look at her, “Was your trip uneventful?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

He laughs, before addressing the rest of the trio, “Hydrangea! Tristan! So good to finally meet you both! Physically, I mean.”

Hydrangea shakes his hand, “Hi, Kreed! It’s nice to be here at last.”

“Come, come, we have prepared a feast for your arrival!”

“Nice,” Tristan says, eager to get settled in.

Hydrangea looks around, morose.

Tristan touches her shoulder, “How are you, Gea?”

“I’m alright,” Hydrangea says, giving a reassuring smile.

Tristan stares at her, slowing his strides.

Hydrangea glances at his feet, and mimics his pace, allowing their friend and her family to continue forward on their own. She looks up at Tristan, “I really am okay.”

“Yeah, now,” Tristan tells her.

“Odessa did so much for me already, I don’t want to disappoint her,” she replies.

“Odessa doesn’t get offended over crap like that,” Tristan reminds her.

“I know but still…”

“Gea, if you have problems, Des is here to help out,” he says.

Hydrangea knows that he’s right. The last year and a half have been hard on her, being away from her mothers, her people, her home. She is here to aid Odessa in anything that she needs. She wants to be a good friend, and she figured that this wouldn’t be much to handle. She’ll admit, she didn’t prepare herself very well for it, even with Odessa’s assistance.

“I understand that she’s meant to help out—and she did do a lot for me already,” Hydrangea answers. “But it felt a little redundant to even bring it up time after time.”

“I think it would offend her more if you didn’t inform her that she was unable to give you what you needed.”

Hydrangea gives a soft chuckle, “That’s true.”

“Look,” Tristan says, touching her shoulder, fingers moving around the spikes. “It’s not like it matters anymore right now, because we’re here. But if she asks us to go on a trip again, you should think about being more open about what you need to be comfortable.”

“I know,” she sighs. Then she pats his hand with hers, a small, gracious smile on her lips. “Thank you. I’ll do better.”

Tristan returns the smile, and affectionately pats her shoulder.

Resuming their walk, they note that Odessa and Kreed had halted their own steps to wait for them. Their apologies are dismissed, as Kreed and Odessa didn’t mind the two conversing amongst themselves.

The dome continues to descend, and Odessa looks to the left, watching a school of fish swim by the glass, “You’ve expanded.”

Kreed smiles, “Yes, we did! It took a couple of years, but the results have been magnificent. We’re creating more habitable spaces throughout the planet.”

“That’s exciting to hear. Has the alternative plant source been beneficial?”

“Most certainly, my dear niece,” Kreed replies. “We have been able to move forward with our latest projects using the natural resources of this planet as fuel to power everything.”

Odessa listens in rapt attention as Kreed explains each aspect of their home in impressive detail. From the large dome that blocks out harmful UV rays, to the plumbing system, sewage plant, recreational and education centers, they have made this place their home without interfering with the natives of the planet.

Arriving at their destination, opulent doors, wreathed with marine imagery, akin to Salineas, open for them. But there’s a monstrous look to it—with towering statues made of silver metal, the Delphican people’s greatest warriors of legend and history are highlighted the best way they know how: long, powerful arms ending with webbed hands, clawing the air. Their naked bodies are streamlined and muscular, hairless scalps gleaming when light shines on them. Their eyes are black, forward-facing but protruding ever so slightly enough to make it noticeable they’re different from the other humanoids that occupy their world. Their mouths are open in preparation for battle, ferocious teeth bared at their enemies.

Tristan stands to admire the artwork, giving a nod of approval. “Damn, that’s pretty hot.”

Hydrangea turns to him, narrowing her eyes and pursing her mouth, “You do know they’re attacking something, right?”

“Yes,” Tristan answers, forefinger pointed up. “And that’s what makes it hot. Oooh, do you think they do commissions?”

Hydrangea lets out a short, breathy laugh, “And what would they do for you?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious, Gea,” Tristan says. “I want them to make a statue of me . Just as naked and just as cool.”

Hydrangea laughs as he poses, and Tristan gives an inward sigh of relief.

A large table stretches out across the room, a sea-green and white carpet laid beneath its legs. Marbled walls rise high above them, ending with a cathedral ceiling, painted with creatures that remind Odessa of what Tristan would show her on deep-sea cameras on Etheria, none of them friendly, which is how she enjoys it. On the wall itself, oval windows take up half of its height, revealing a trimmed yard behind it, showing off a scape laden with roses, daffodils and several prospering fruit trees.

Hydrangea perks up, “Oh, a garden!”

Kreed smiles at her, “We make it a priority to have plants here. It helps the air.”

Hydrangea stares out the window, with Tristan joining her. She remarks, “There are a couple species I don’t recognize.”

“Yes,” Kreed says. “We have acquired new types from either Odessa or some of my brothers from different planets.”

“Amazing! I’d love to see more of your collection. Is all the soil the same?”

“In this area, yes,” Kreed replies, ears twitching up with interest, walking toward her. “For the time you’re here, you’re welcome to explore our gardens.”

Hydrangea, pleased, launches into a discussion about the caretaking, which Kreed entertains with aplomb. Odessa is suddenly tackled from behind, and she reaches around to grab the offender with both arms, raising up a young boy of 14, grinning down at her.

“Hi, Dessie!”

Her annoyed expression fades, beaming, “Nano! You’re lucky I didn’t break you in two.”

Placing him down, Nano jumps at her waist, excited, “I couldn’t help myself! I missed you!”

Odessa hugs the boy close, patting his head, “It’s good to see you again. I brought my friends this time.”

Nano, eyes an unusual bright shade of orange, turns to Tristan and Hydrangea with equal enthusiasm, “Hey! Welcome to my home! It’s about time you two came by.”

Hydrangea smiles at him, “Thank you, we’re happy to be here.”

Nano turns to Tristan, sizing him up. Then he grins, “I’m going to have so much fun kicking your butt!”

Tristan laughs, arms akimbo and smirking, “Are you?”

“You bet! I’ve wanted to race you foreeeever! Can we do it now?”

“You may have your contest after dinner,” Kreed interrupts.

“‘Kaaaaay,” Nano replies, though his grin doesn’t leave, giggling.

Various seafood has been placed on the table a few moments later, arranged to show the best of freshly caught fish and crustacean. Odessa and Tristan, used to being adventurous eaters, have no qualm with any part of the meal. Hydrangea, though she can eat it, looks for plant-based dishes, which, thankfully, they accommodated for her.

Nano plops next to Odessa, kicking his legs, scales reaching down to his feet. He’s one of the more interesting cousins in terms of appearance, having the agility, speed and strength of a clone, but the exterior switches from skin to scales, with webbed fingers and toes at the ends of his limbs, all bluish-green; his face has paler shades of color compared to the rest of his body, and his gills are closed on his neck for now. He hums to himself as he piles food onto his plate. She had checked on him last time she was here, monitoring his vitals for irregularities in either his gills or lungs. The main difference seems to be that he has to moisturize more than the average cousin, and he doesn’t seem capable of growing hair on his scalp or face like his clone half, but he doesn’t seem to have any new problems.

Opening his mouth, revealing sharp canines lined along the gums, Nano chews a large chunk of meat. He turns to Odessa, cheeks puffed out from food, smiling with his lips and eyes closed.

A surge of sisterly affection tugs at her heartstrings, and she chuckles, “Be careful there, don’t choke.”

Swallowing, Nano wipes his mouth, giving a wide grin, “I don’t choke!”

“You did earlier this week,” Kreed says, cutting his food with a knife and fork. “Mindfulness is important.”

Nano gives a quick nod, before turning to Tristan, “Hey, hey, hey, are we going to race?”

“After dinner, sure,” Tristan says, then yawns. “Or, you know, maybe after sleep.”

“Aaaww, you said after dinner,” Nano whines.

“If our guests are exhausted, they’re free to sleep,” Kreed chastises.

Odessa smiles at her uncle, “Don’t worry about it. Tris slept all day, he can go for it!”

Tristan gives her a mild glare, “Of course, Des. Why wouldn’t I?”

She sticks out her tongue, satisfied.

                                                             -

Nano was more than excited to race. He was jumping up and down along the dome, feet light in the ground. Tristan, despite genuinely feeling like he could sleep more, wasn’t going to crush his expectations, nor did he have the intention to.

Hydrangea stares up at the artificial sunlight coming from above, “Do you think it could be warmer?”

“I feel fine,” Odessa says, glancing up. “But I could ask Kreed for you later.”

“I don’t want to impose on anyone—”

Odessa waves her hand, “Oh, Gea! They don’t mind, really! And if you didn’t dislike it, you wouldn’t say anything.”

Hydrangea sighs, “You’re right, I know.”

“‘Course I know!”

Approaching a smoothed pearl-colored tower, Nano yells at the people located at its top, “Hi!”

A clone peers down at them, waving, then pointing to the dome’s glass.

Nano gives a thumbs-up from the ground, and he turns to the trio, “Alright, they’ll open it for us!”

Hydrangea holds up her hand to her face, “Are we rising to the surface or…?”

“Nope! There’s a tube that runs through the bottom that launches people out. We needed to bring you guys the other way because of your ship.”

“Ah, so we’re racing underwater,” Tristan remarks.

“Yeah! Is that okay?”

“Fine by me,” Tristan answers, beginning his stretches.

Nano copies his stretches, wanting to be professional.

An opening in the ground forms, and the faint sound of suction movements comes from below. Nano beams at the three of them before jumping in feet first, form perfectly straight. Tristan salutes his friends before hopping in as well. Hydrangea and Odessa jog over to the glass, and a burst of bubbles shoot out when they emerge somewhere below them.

Nano swims up to the glass, tapping it then his wrist.

Odessa nods, then signs to Tristan: Are you going to keep that form?

Tristan doesn’t often have a smug appearance, but at the question, a smirk tilts the corner of his mouth. Behind his lips, his teeth sharpen, as well as his skin, darkening to ashen grey, reaching up toward the sides of his neck, where the flesh opens, water gushing out. His legs morph together as water circulates around them, dissipating with a flourished motion, revealing a long shark tail.

Hair floating away from his face, Tristan’s eyes are wholly black, and he grins at Nano’s shocked expression.

Nano turns to Odessa, signing with excited movements: You never told me your friend could do this!

It’s not something Tristan makes known to everyone, his penchant for taking a shark shape as he swims. It’s a trait inherited only by royals, should they so choose, and the last to use this disposition was his grandfather, the former King Selachus.

Hydrangea signs to them all: Alright everyone, play fair!

Or don’t, Odessa chimes in.

Flicking Odessa on the shoulder, Hydrangea signs: Who is going to signal?

Nano signs back: The guards know what we’re doing. They’ll be watching.

As Odessa beckons Hydrangea to follow her up to the towers, where they can get a better view, Nano and Tristan line up against the dome, staring ahead. Nano raises his arm up, waving before placing it back to his side.

Odessa takes in the tower, simple and clean walls, with weapons stacked in a corner, near a chest and a small writing desk for messages. Its purpose is clearly to observe anything from below, and she and Hydrangea can see both Nano and Tristan. The guards standing inside don’t do much but give nods in regard to their being here, and continue to stand.

Suddenly, there’s a loud noise resonating out of the dome. An object shoots out above them, a fair-sized dart torpedoing ten kilometers away. Nano holds out his hand to keep Tristan in place, signing: We have to wait for it to stop. Then they’ll let us know to go.

The object, which flashes a slow red in the distance, finally stops. A split second after there’s a blast—

The boys shoot off, even faster than the measuring pod, a blur of white froth and dark shapes. Odessa and Hydrangea peer closely at their retreating forms. The water is clear, so they don’t lose sight of them, and the height helps keep track of their movements underwater. They could’ve swam on the surface, but Nano prefers being under the waves, and Tristan is flexible about location. However, from the look of it, despite Nano being smaller and more spry, Tristan’s strength is also an advantage, keeping an impressive pace.

Hydrangea turns to a guard, “You don’t happen to have binoculars, do you?”

He raises a brow before opening a chest nearby and handing her a pair.

She smiles, “Oh, thank you!”

Odessa doesn’t ask for any herself, as she has no trouble following their forms. Tristan’s frame is notable, even intimidating, much of the time, and in this form, he stands out. Nano continues to be faster, and she has to commend that he isn’t wavering.

They notice that the pod is moving, darting toward the surface. Tristan and Nano don’t break their speed, immediately changing to chase after it. They crash through the surface—a whirlwind of bubbles torrenting from the intensity, and again as they return. Hydrangea gives an excited ‘ooh!’ and Odessa grins, enjoying the competition. If the boys were holding back, they certainly weren’t anymore. The pod keeps up with them, continuing its languid red flashing. Tristan and Nano tear through the water, fast approaching the dome’s end. Nano kicks in rapid succession, gaining some momentum.

Then Tristan jets further out, having saved some energy to push at the last possible moment.

Tristan touches the glass first, faster by 60 seconds. He grins with pride, turning to Nano with a thumbs-up.

Nano, pouting, crosses his arms.

Tristan gives the boy a gentle pat on the back, causing Nano to crack a smile.

The pod settles slowly between them, and Nano takes it with him as he swims back to the entrance.

Odessa and Hydrangea watch the two pop up from the ground, landing on their feet. Hydrangea thanks the guard for lending the binoculars, and walks down the stairs with Odessa.

“You both did amazing!” Hydrangea cheers, applauding.

“Thanks, Gea,” Tristan replies, blushing a little. “But I don’t know if it’s really that big of a deal when my opponent is a little kid.”

“Actually, it is,” Odessa clarifies. “Nano is really fast, even for his age. Delphicans, even young, are quicker than even the fastest Salinean, so consider it a true win!”

“Really?” Tristan asks, surprised.

“Yep!” Nano exclaims.

Odessa waved a hand, “I didn’t mention it before because I wanted to see what would happen.” Tristan tends to hold himself back, especially if he feels there’s no point in giving it a chance. To see him go all out was a treat.

Nano is full on smiling now, shaking his head, “Well, I thought I could beat you but you really got me! I’ve never lost before.”

Odessa smirks, “You had to learn to lose someday.”

Nano places his hands on his elbows, “Yeah, I guess…”

Was he not as good as he thought? He’s been used to being the fastest, especially among his peers. It’s a little odd...

Tristan flips his hair back, slicking it away. With an encouraging smile, he replies, “You did great too! Give yourself credit.”

A spark of admiration takes over Nano’s eyes. Hero worship at its finest.

                                                             -

“Hey, Mom!” Odessa says.

“Odessa! There you are! Did you make it to Inicos okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was meeting up with Kreed, had dinner, and then Nano wanted to race Tristan.”

“Ooohh, you were already so busy!” Entrapta says. She turns to her right, “Hordak! Say hi to our baby!”

Hordak sits beside Entrapta, smiling at her, “Hello, Odessa.”

“Hi, Dad,” Odessa replies. “How’re things at Etheria?”

“Work has been progressing smoothly,” Hordak says. “We’ve begun new construction on both Beast Island and New Chelicerata.”

“That’s awesome,” she tells them. She glances to her left, motioning her friends over. “Gea, you hear that?”

“I did!” Hydrangea answers, looking at Hordak and Entrapta. “How are my moms? Is everything okay at Plumeria too?”

“Never better!” Entrapta shouts. “We’ve been keeping occupied since you all left. Scorpia has been helping us a lot! She says she loves and misses you!”

“And Perfuma,” Hordak adds.

“Right! And Perfuma too!”

At that, Hydrangea smiles, more than happy.

Hordak looks at Odessa, “Has your uncle shown you the portal yet?”

“I’m sure he will soon,” Odessa replies. “There’s a lot to see!”

“That is good to hear,” Hordak says. He turns to his right, “Imp, don’t play with that!”

He leaves to go handle whatever her brother is doing, and Entrapta leans in to the communicator, “Your father misses you.”

Odessa gives a warm smile, “I miss him too. Both of you.”

“Have you asked Kreed anything about the clones?”

“No, that hasn’t occurred yet either. I intend to do it very soon.”

Hordak returns, holding Imp in his arms, “What else has transpired on your journey?”

They regale them with details of the rest of the day, finding that they’ve needed to talk to each other more than they believed. Hydrangea interjects during appropriate moments to inquire about her parents further, where Tristan does not.

Eventually, they bid goodbye, and head to bed after a tiring day, excited for tomorrow’s venture, and everything afterward.

                                                              -

Hydrangea and Tristan were impressed with the ingenuity of the dome. Their rooms have been modified for their needs and wants, giving them individual freedom as guests of Inicos. Everything was incredible: from the water systems that converted salt water to fresh through advanced hydraulics, the use of the planet’s natural gifts to aid in creating everything they saw from their furniture to their food to landscapes and buildings, and occasionally being sent what they could not make here through a portal.

But what they couldn’t help except be amazed by were Nano’s aquatic brethren.

Standing at nine feet tall, his mother, Esynad, greets them this morning outside of the dome, swimming lazily past the glass, before hopping inside from the tube. She is misted with a special chemical concoction of the clones’ design, allowing natives of Inicos to partake of the dome’s atmosphere without trouble.

Possessing scales that glisten in the sun, highlighting flashes of purple when she moves, she is considered to be a stunner among even her kind. Though, to Hydrangea and Tristan, she was beautiful to them as well and could see why anyone would’ve considered being her partner. But here, on Inicos, the ‘women’ choose who to mate with. All begin life with total androgyny, with no true way to separate them outwardly. Yet at maturity, a select group of Delphicans become large enough to be considered the females of their kind, and use the female reproductive organs each one holds. Afterward, they were asked to choose who to mate with by overlooking battles of strength and cunning between those who are ‘male’. It couldn’t be simply anyone—the males had to be near equal to the stature and power of the females and granted permission by whomever they pursue.

Esynad had received hundreds of suitors, all which failed her expectations. Fickle with her hand and undeterred by their pleas, she ignored them. Years had gone by and she continued to reject everyone who attempted to court her. Those who dared to fight one another in her presence, without her blessing, were punished swiftly. Esynad had no qualm being ruthless with those who displeased her.

When the clones arrived, the Delphicans were reluctant to share their space, but once they proved they had no interest in doing much of anything except stay above the surface, and remained neutral in territory disputes between separate pods, the Delphicans were accepting of their occupancy.

Eventually, they realized there was a higher benefit to working together and coexisting harmoniously. Esynad, being a de facto leader, made it her business to cooperate with their newfound friends. This led to her meeting Kreed, who took it upon himself to help his brethren and the people of Inicos. Not a few months later, she announced that he would be her permanent husband.

Kreed had been an unorthodox decision, both from being another species and that she refused to have him battle with anyone, saying that it was unnecessary, for she would have him alone. However, being customary, Kreed abided by their rules and triumphed over every single challenger. With that completed, they were given freedom to be together, and it eventually became part of their culture that clones could participate in the rituals of Delphican folk.

In time, due to the existence of hybrid children, it became apparent that it was important to adopt aspects of the clones as well. As they had no way of going about it on their own, they called on Hordak to inform them of his own child-rearing process. There was less fighting amongst each other for mates, and it became a community for raising offspring, however they were born. If bloodlust suited anyone, on either side, they were allowed to do battle; but the parents of said hybrid children were off limits for coupling, forming into monogamous pairs.

Esynad was still no one to trifle with, but being part of a partnership mellowed her a fair degree. She turns to the trio, a gentle smile on her features, dark eyes reflecting the kindness.

Odessa comes up to her, “Esynad! You’re looking spectacular as usual.”

Esynad lightly taps Odessa’s shoulder, “You’re so sweet, young one.”

Nano rushes to his mother, hugging her leg, “Are we showing them to the portal?”

“Yes,” Esynad replies, giving a slow wave of her hand. “Please, follow us.”

Kreed and Esynad both decided to take the liberty of escorting them, the six of them walking through the halls.

Kreed looks over his shoulder, “Odessa, I understand that you arrived in Inicos with some intended purpose. Is it too early to ask you to illuminate the subject?”

“No, it is not,” Odessa begins, glancing between her relatives. “I wanted to ask about Horde Prime.”

This gives her aunt and uncle pause, turning to appraise her, mildly bewildered.

Understanding her niece prefers forthright conversation, Esynad asks first, “Why would you want to know about that?”

“I’ve asked my father and have gotten no answer. I’m simply curious about what we are.”

“We…” Kreed trails off, thinking. He resumes his pace toward the portal. “We are clones of Horde Prime. No longer soldiers or invaders. But we continue to be—and always will be—clones of Horde Prime.”

Odessa walks alongside him, “But there must have been something before Prime? A way of life and culture that he may have passed onto you all?”

Kreed frowns, keeping silent. Giving him time to think on it, Odessa opts to glance around at the vicinity. The hallways have narrowed down to a singular direction, and the doors slide open, showcasing a portal in the center of the room. Wires, pipes and insulated cables align themselves upon the walls, or on the floor out of the way of roaming bodies. But they all hook up to the portal, or are connected to machines that deal with energy.

Eyes slightly wide, Hydrangea remarks, “That is a larger portal than the rest of them.”

Esynad looks at her, “Yes, we receive gifts from our family throughout the galaxies. Oftentimes, they are normal-sized, but on occasion, we do receive something that is larger or numerous in number. To accommodate, we’ve made a portal bigger than the normal scale. It’s why we couldn’t bring you three right away, but this will allow you all to traverse back easier.”

Kreed nods, “Indeed. We have made necessary preparations for when that time comes, whenever it may be. Until then, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.” He looks at Odessa. “Did you really travel all the way here to ask about our once-leader?”

“No one on Etheria could provide an answer,” explains Odessa, readying her recorder in her hair. “They suggested here to start.”

Exhaling through his nose, Kreed motions for her to come with him, as her friends discuss other things with her relations.

“Your determination is not without merit, Odessa,” Kreed says. “However, this is not a question that is worth exploring.”

Odessa comes right up to him, unafraid to be invasive, “Is it because you have no information to offer me, or that you are unwilling to divulge it?”

“Judging by the sound of your tone, my niece, you would be wise to consider the ramifications of your query,” Kreed replies, hands behind his back.

Odessa turns lightly on her heel, holding out her hands, “I have considered it. I’ve considered that this is something that we need to understand.” She spins on her foot, meeting his eyes. “There’s so much about us that we don’t know, even with all the technology and magic in the universe, there is no viable method out there that can explore deep memories.”

Kreed is one of the oldest clones that she is aware of. Talon’s age is astonishing as is when compared to other lifeforms, but Kreed is a grand total of 150. And still going.

There are slight changes in his appearance to the rest of the clones, where he is beginning to show signs of age. But the differences are so minute, the wrinkles visible when one strains the eyes to catch them, as they are fine lines, that they matter very little. His strength and agility is not remotely impaired by the fact. His physicality, unmarred by time, continues to put him above many species she’s encountered, as well as Inicosans, and especially Etherians. How old can their species become? If there were hundreds of him hanging above her head on the flagship, how long had he terrorized the universe? If he could conceivably live over a century, what else could he do?

“I conducted a study back on Etheria about your brothers,” Odessa tells him. “Everything about it suggests promising brain activity, and I want to test my hypothesis further. But to do so, I must have more information about us.”

Kreed glances at Esynad as she approaches, holding Nano in her arms, “This information… if given, what do you intend to do with it?”

Everything.

She wants to do everything with it.

She has to know what they are capable of, beyond a past of destruction and a present of rectifying mistakes. There’s a future for them that is complete. Hopeful.

“I simply want to learn more about us.”

Kreed closes his eyes, inhaling. Slow and easy. He is more than aware that Odessa is a personality that pushes toward the truth. A scientist and inventor like her parents both, she inherited their tenacity, and, for better or worse, their tunnel vision. She has shown incredible potential. What she lacks in social tact, she more than makes up for with her ability to observe and act on those observations.

Since she was young, he has been keeping track of her as well. The moment she asked for blood samples of her relatives at the age of five, he knew that she was different. She has spent countless hours of her youth being encompassed by superior science and keen minds. Trained and nurtured to ask questions, find answers, and adapt based on the result. Being a hybrid had nothing to do with it. What set her apart from all the children of clones was Odessa’s desire. A desire for what, he may never know. But she yearns for more. She longs. Until it’s found.

He has lived a long time, and he doesn’t know a clone similar to him. But he knows age isn’t the thing to contest. What the wise seek in peace, the eager seek in tumults, and how long someone has been alive doesn’t matter there. It’s all about who a person is. However, if anyone can withstand such a journey, it would be her.

Tristan and Hydrangea come together to stand at either side of Odessa. Friends that he has seen grown up over communicators, and their loyalty to her is impressive. Hordak wouldn’t allow anyone to be around his child that may be a threat to her safety, physically or emotionally. He wouldn’t either. So he looks at each one for a moment, exhaling.

“I, like your father, and my brothers, know nothing else except Prime.” Kreed says, voice measured. “He is part of us, forever, even as we build our lives on things besides him. You know that.”

Odessa nods, eye contact not wavering.

“There is… space…”

“Space?”

“Space. In our heads.” Kreed explains. He puts a gently closed fist against his chin. “Did you note that in your study?”

“No. My experiment involved photographic memory,” Odessa says, intrigued. She leans in, “What do you mean by ‘space?’”

“It’s… an expanse,” Kreed draws another breath, then out. “I’m unsure of whether it is due to being connected to the hivemind for so long, or if this is an aspect of ourselves as a species… but in my head, there’s a void. A void that contains the knowledge we possess, but it can be filled further. The mind cannot grasp all information in the universe. It would drive a person mad. However, my mind feels similar to a larger space—perhaps a deep cavern or pit, where it stretches outward past what individuals may expect it to end.”

“The brain is a powerful organ, though,” Odessa adds. “It can store a lot more data than we can ever hope to calculate.”

“That may be,” Kreed tells her. “And I do not doubt your research. We learn new information every day. But everything has its limits, including the mind and what it can withstand. What it can hold. All three of you can keep receiving new facts until the day you die, but learning new things weakens as you age. It stands to reason that the brain, then, is finite.”

“So, this void inside your mind, does it end?” Hydrangea asks.

“I believe it does,” Kreed replies. “You see, eventually, there’s a point where everything must stop. You can be a savant on many subjects at once, or dedicate your senses to partaking of a single subject and becoming an expert on that. The mind can learn and learn and learn all it wants, but once you hit that proverbial wall, you cannot go past it. It’d be too intense of a breakthrough. Yet, for us, I can only guess that we all have the similar proclivity to recollecting more information than most could even conceive because it’s a bigger space.”

Odessa breathes out. A mind that could hold more knowledge than ever thought possible… “Talon informed me that when you are all ‘born’ there’s a wall there, too. That you cannot remember anything before that point, and everything after that is what you keep. Is that a fair assessment?”

Kreed nods, “Yes, that’s correct. I cannot remember anything before being released. That is our starting point. Afterward, it's an endless space.”

“Although, as someone that’s been alive longer than the others, is it possible you have knowledge that they don’t?” Odessa says, tone a little more enthusiastic. “Can you remember anything else from your time with the Horde?”

“Aside from what you’d expect? No.”

“I see,” she says, glancing at her companions.

Esynad touches her husband’s shoulder, looking down at him, “Perhaps our niece would benefit from visiting Rulvam.”

Odessa’s eyes widen slightly, “Rulvam?”

Tristan raises a brow, “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned that before, Des.”

“I haven’t!” she says, louder from excitement. Turning back to Kreed, she asks, “What’s there? We have other family members living somewhere we didn’t know of?”

“Several of your uncles have gone on to other planets after settling on Inicos for a time,” Esynad explains to them, voice low and soothing. “Rulvam is a planet a fair distance from us, about the length that it took you to arrive here without a portal.”

Kreed adds, “The only difference between Rulvam and other planets we’ve made home, is that there is no portal in place.”

Hydrangea’s brows furrow together, “They don’t own a portal, or theirs isn’t working? Like yours had been?”

“The reason is unclear,” Kreed admits, glancing up at his wife. “Some time ago, we stopped receiving all communication from them. We sent out signals, to no avail; the last transmission we obtained was a positive one, telling us on Inicos that the planet was being changed for the better, and new projects were underway to bring out the best of Rulvam. Aside from Etheria, we don’t come into contact with any of our sister planets too often.”

Nano, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, speaks, “That had been four years ago now, right?”

“That’s correct,” Kreed says, smiling at his child.

Odessa is bewildered. A planet with relatives that she’s never been to before. That’s amazing! It’s another lead that, hopefully, will uncover more about their kind.

Tristan shifts his gaze at Odessa. She’s already thinking of something new. But if there’s anything that stays consistent, it’s her inquiring mind.

Hydrangea looks at her friends, aware that they’re all pondering the same question.

Why did Rulvam stop communication?

                                                              -

LINEAGE LOG: DAY 730

I spoke with my aunt and uncle today about the concept of memory! It proved to be an exciting trip. In a few days, we will be taking the portal back to Etheria, as it’s now completed, and save ourselves a healthy amount of time. They didn’t mind us being here, but I believe it’s time to return to Etheria. I never mind the constant travel through space, however, it will be profitable and convenient to visit my parents sooner than later. Then, we can begin planning our next journey!

[plainsight6578]

aftersome.

Pairing: Mista x Giorno

Genre: fluff to angst to a tiny bit of smut and fluff

Summary: Mista and Giorno had been there for each other since that fateful day that they met.

Word count: 3,422

A/N: I don’t really remember the time-line of the anime very well, so forgive me if I made any mistake xoxo. Characters may be a little OOC but i tried my best.

aftersome

adj. astonished to think back on the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought you to where you are today—as if you’d spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decision points, any one of which might’ve changed everything—which makes your long and winding path feel fated from the start, yet so unlikely as to be virtually impossible.

(via The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

Since Giorno was little, he’d been repeatedly told he was a failure, a disappointment, and an eyesore by his loving parents. And, as little children do, he believed every word. So, he never made any friends. In his mind, he was better off alone. Other people would be better off without him. Consequently, he never had anyone to tell him that he wasn’t all those things that he and his parents believed he was.

Giorno never had any, nor thought that he needed any friends. They were useless and would only serve as a distraction from his dream. When he was feeling down, he never had anyone to talk to; since talking was also useless. He just needed to pick himself up, work harder, do better. He didn’t need someone to tell him how proud they were of him, or that he’s been working too hard and that he deserved a break. Those were all useless.

He didn’t need anyone and no one needed him. Giorno never considered himself anything other than what he was told, he never had any reason to. The words that scarred him as a child would haunt him for the rest of his life. He’d always been alone. As far as he knew, he only ever hurt those that were close to him.

So, when Mista called him his “lucky boy”, he was so shocked he could barely process what that implied. That nickname given to him by this strange man he’d just met would mean that everything he’d known about himself - everything he’d been taught about who he was - was a lie. That couldn’t be true. 15 years of bringing misfortune to everyone around him couldn’t be wrong (although, admittedly, he never had many experiences with any other people that weren’t his abusive parents).

‘What a weird guy...’ was Giorno’s first impression of Mista. That was the only way to describe him: weird, not necessarily in a bad or good way. Mista was just weird; he’d contradicted everything Giorno had stood for. 

Mista was a simple man, simply following orders from his higher-ups, doing what he had to in order to survive. He was honest and upfront. Everything you needed to know about him, you could see. Giorno was far more mysterious, hiding his years of trauma underneath a calm and collected façade. He had his underlying intentions, and never fully exposed himself around anyone.

Giorno could never understand the strange man. He certainly wasn’t a lucky boy. It wasn’t luck that allowed him to survive, it was his own intuition, taking things he’d learnt and putting them to good use. It was his own skills that had lead him to where he was, and would take him to even higher lengths. He knew he was capable of achieving that with his skills, not luck.

Giorno stopped in his tracks. This was a first for him; how did this single interaction with this man he barely knew got him to reconsider everything he’d done? It was true, though, Giorno had faith that his plan could work because he had faith in himself. He just never previously realized it. And it felt like all the work he’d put in to get himself this far was paying off, like he was starting to reap the rewards of perseverance. In an instant, he could clearly see where he was going when it had previously felt like a daze. He supposed that he wasn’t entirely a failure, if he’d made it this far. How is he suddenly coming to question everything that he thought he was?

As far as Giorno knew, he was the most unlucky boy on earth. Mista didn’t seem to see him that way. Even though they just met? What did he know? Mista was a simpleton who didn’t know anything about Giorno or his life.

Still, he’d appreciated the nickname. It felt nice to have someone call him something that wasn’t an insult.

________________________________________________________________

After Giorno had saved Abbaccio and Fugo from the Man in the Mirror and had returned safely to the gang, Mista had pestered Giorno for more detail because neither Abbaccio nor Fugo were much of the bragging-about-our-super-cool-epic-win type (and neither was Giorno, really).

“Gimme all the juicy stuff! This dude was tough to beat right?! So, why’re ya leavin’ all the cool parts out?!” He’d yelled.

Giorno had no idea what classified as “juicy”, so he’d simply given Mista a quick summary of the fight: how he’d turned that brick into a snake to find the enery stand user, and how they eventually defeated him. Giorno only realized after he’d finished that he’d been talking for quite sometime. Mista was enthusiastically nodding his head throughout the story, adding in some “wooooah!!” sound effects of his own here and there. Giorno blushed, he got too carried away.

“Man! You’re so cool, Giorno!! I’d never think to do that!” Mista said, with an almost glimmer in his gaze, he was looking at Giorno in a way that hecouldn’t recognize. Rather than hostility, he was feeling...admiration coming from the other man. He remembered a similar look coming from Bucciarati, but that was when he had beat him in a fight then. What did Giorno do to deserve this from Mista? He could almost believe that Mista actually meant what he said.

‘I’m not cool...’ Giorno thought, but when Mista was staring at him like that... Who was he to say no. He didn’t know how to respond, so he blushed and looked away. Maybe he could allow himself to think he was slightly cool in that moment, he certainly did feel... cool, if only just a little.

________________________________________________________________

The long road trip to retrieve their boss’s order from the statue that Giorno and Mista had gone into meant more time alone with Mista. For some reason, Giorno’s heart couldn’t seem to slow down. He decided it was from the paranoia of being attacked by another stand user. Since they’d started this mission, they’ve been relentlessly attacked by stand user after stand user, with barely any time to relax. That’s why his palms won’t stop sweating, and why there was a strange, tingling sensation in his stomach, and why his heart skipped a beat when Mista had called his name... Yeah, he’s just nervous about being attacked again.

Wait. Mista had called his name. He was talking to him.

“Right, Giorno?” He’d asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening, Mista,” Giorno replied.

“What are you overthinking now? There isnt another stand user for miles, we’ll be fine.” Mista kicked his legs up onto the dashboard, emphasizing his complete lack of anxiety. Giorno almost envied his ability to be so relaxed (although, he knew Mista was always prepared for an attack, he never really let his guard down). 

Considering how they’d had lots of time to kill in one cramped car, the pair had talked quite a bit, well, it was mostly Mista talking at Giorno. He liked it that way, though, Mista’s voice helped him unwind, and something about the way Mista’s lips moved as they talked made his stomach clench and his mouth dry.

Being with Mista, just the two of them, like this, it could almost convince Giorno to take a break and enjoy the little things in life, all things that Giorno had deemed ‘useless’. And yet, this philosophy that Giorno had held close to him as a protection mechanism was slowly falling apart. Rather, it was being undone. And Giorno didn’t know why, but he felt like a part of him was letting it happen, like, deep down, this is what he wanted: to sit back and be able to enjoy.

“Useless...” He muttered, under his breath he was getting influenced by Mista. He couldn’t afford to relax. But Mista brought that side out in him and he didn’t know why. Giorno couldn’t help but feel slightly at ease with Mista beside him, and it felt nice not to have to keep his guard up around someone all the time. It felt nice to be able to rely on someone else.

________________________________________________________________

Mista somehow always found a way to get himself horribly injured during their stand fights. After the battle with Ghiaccio and his stupidly powerful White Album stand, and after he’d made sure Mista was fully healed, Giorno made sure to give the older man a thorough lecture about his actions during the battle.

“Getting yourself injured like that is useless, Mista. You shouldn’t do useless things like that. What would the team do if we didn’t have you? You should think about that too!” Giorno rambled, “your actions were dangerous, Mista, don’t do useless things like that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he replied, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks, “I had the amazing Giorno to cover for me though, so I wasn’t that worried!” He finished with a wink towards the younger boy. And something in that made Giorno’s heart beat faster. Mista is alive, he’s still with him. A feeling of relief washed over Giorno, and he released the breath that he’d been holding in. 

Giorno sighed, he could almost cry. Remembering the sight of Mista’s body filled with bullets and then seeing him here, laughing and joking like everything was fine. Giorno’s heart clenched. Without saying anything, Giorno layed his head on Mista’s shoulder, close to his heart, and listened to the sound of the blood flowing through his body. Mista was left wide-eyed, but laid his hand on top of Giorno’s, who was clenching his fists. Soon as he did, Mista felt him relax against him. 

They sat like that in silence for a few minutes, just breathing in each other’s presence. Mista was caught completely off guard by this, he didn’t know that his actions would affect Giorno like this. Perhaps they’d gotten closer than he’d thought in the short time span that they’d known each other.

“I meant what I said, though,” Mista whispered, “as long as I have you with me, I know everything will be just fine...”

________________________________________________________________

Staring at Abbaccio’s corpse, Mista waited for some sign of life from his comrade. Giorno couldn’t heal him... He was just... Gone. There was nothing they could do. Mista’s head was racing at a million miles an hour but none of his thoughts formed anything coherent.

How did this even happen? They were gone for a minute. Why did this happen? With every blink Mista expected to see Abbaccio in a different position than he was. But Abbaccio never moved. He didn’t even blink. 

“WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA LEAVE HIM HERE, RIGHT?!” Narancia yelled. Mista wanted to agree with him. Watching Bucciarati walking away from their teammate - no, their friend - he understood Narancia’s anger. But he knew there was nothing they could do. Bucciarati was probably hurting more than any of them were.

Clenching his fists, he ripped his eyes off of Abbaccio’s corpse and followed Bucciarati. They all knew the risks of this mission. They had no choice but to continue.

Back inside the turtle, the gang continued on with their mission. It would take some time to get to Rome, so Bucciarati volunteered to keep watch outside the turtle while the rest of them got some rest. Inside, Narancia had passed out on in an uncomfortable position on the couch and Trish had curled up on the floor, eventually drifting to sleep.

Mista couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. After seeing Abbaccio like that, he was wondering about his other comrades, he didn’t think he could keep his sanity if he had to see that again.

Mista was so lost in his thoughts he failed to notice that Giorno had placed himself next to him, “you shouldn’t think about useless things, Mista,” he said.

Slightly startled, his first instinct was to go on the defensive, “I’m not thinking about anything...!”

Giorno just stared at him blankly, although, Mista detected a faint hint of sympathy.

“Uh, well, I guess I am just overthinking...” He admitted. “I mean, Abbaccio died without anyone even noticing... So, I can’t help but think... That could have been any of us. If our enemy is that powerful... How many more of us are gonna die? Are we even... gonna be able to defeat him at all-”

“That’s useless, Mista,” Giorno stated firmly, “what you’re thinking about is useless. It’ll only distract you when we’re in battle.”

“Y-you’re right...” There was a slight twinge of shame inside Mista for having to be told off by someone younger than him for the second time now, “still, after everything we’ve been through, we all could have died so many times...” He adjusted his position slightly to face Giorno and then cupped both his hand inside his palms, “you amputated your own arms, for God’s sake, and... I almost died too! I just...” His tone was all over the place. Even now, he hadn’t fully grasped the concept of what it means to die. “I really don’t want to lose anyone else...” He said. 

Giorno knew how hard this must be for the him, he’d just lost one of his closest friends, they must’ve been like family, and with barely any time to properly grieve, they were going head-first into a much more dangerous battle. He didn’t know what to do or say. This is the first time he’d gotten this close to someone to consider them a friend and, frankly, he didn’t want to lose anyone either. After everything they’ve been through, Giorno felt a sense of fondness towards the gang members. 

“We’re right here, Mista,” he decided was appropriate, and leaned in to touch his forehead to Mista, “I’m not going anywhere, either.”

Mista’s hold on Giorno’s hands tightened. The look in Giorno’s eyes was so tender and soft, something Mista hadn’t seen in such a long time. Something snapped inside Mista, and he could no longer hold back his tears. Giorno didn’t know what to do as Mista sobbed into his shoulder. He just let Mista let all his grief out, if he could help Mista in any way, he would. This is his way of showing Mista just how thankful he was for him. Thanks to Mista, Giorno felt so much less of a burden to himself and others, he realized that everything he’d thought he knew as a child about himself was so much farther than the truth. 

Giorno’s chest ached seeing Mista like this. He wished he could take his pain away, just as Mista had freed him from his. He let Mista cry into him as long as he needed.

Even after Mista had calmed down, he didn’t move from his position. The way Giorno was leaning forward had exposed his star-shaped birthmark. Mista stared at it for a while, admiring how it seemed to glimmer despite the darkness in the room. He wondered where they would be without Giorno. He would certainly be dead, they probably all would be; with how many fatal wounds he’d healed for them.

Mista couldn’t really face Giorno right now. He liked the position they were in particularly because Giorno couldn’t see Mista’s puffy nose or blood-shot eyes, nor the snot that threatened to drip out of his nose. He’d always showed himself as this strong and care-fee guy; so breaking down in his teammates arms like that felt almost humiliating - or at least, it would be if this was anyone else but Giorno. Still, he didn’t want Giorno to see him in this state. So, as a thank you, Mista had placed the lightest peck right onto Giorno’s star-shaped birthmark. Giorno physically tensed up, and he blushed all the way to his ears. Giorno, being who he was and having absolutely no social skills, he couldn’t understand why.

“M-Mista-” He’d began to protest. “This is how I’m saying thank you, dumbass,” Mista answered, and intertwined their fingers, just for emphasis. “Why...” Giorno asked, what was there to thank him for? 

“Because you’re here.”

________________________________________________________________

Mista was the first one kiss Giorno’s hand after he’d taken over the organization. He experienced Giorno’s skill first-hand, there was no one better he could think to take over the organization. He was a simple man, he followed orders and was stupidly honest. That’s why he swore his loyalty to Giorno.

When the pair had finally gained some privacy, Mista immediately slumped his shoulders, no longer needing to impress his higher-ups or assert dominance to his subordinates. Though, he was still restless. He’d been like that all day, in fact. Being around all the other gang members, meeting new ones, and receiving hunderds of condolences from them, he, naturally, couldn’t stop thinking about finding his comrade’s corpses, the sight and smell of their blood...

Giorno merely stared at Mista as he paced around the room. No doubt he was stressed right now. Everything that he was used to was changing. Nothing was simple anymore. 

But everything was over now. Things would get better... Right? Giorno wasn’t sure- No! He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Abbaccio, Narancia, and Bucciarati had sacrificed their lives for this. ‘Thinking like that is useless.’ He told himself.

He had no idea what was going through Mista’s head right now, and he wasn’t sure how to ask. Giorno had inhaled, preparing to say something before Mista approached him and grabbed both his hands, “Giorno!” He yelled, “you’re still here!”

Their faces were mere centimeters apart, Mista was blinking at him, like he was waiting a response, “that’s right...”

“And you’re not going anywhere!”

“No, I’m not.”

Mista touched their foreheads together, just like they did back inside the turtle, and he smiled, “and as long as you’re with me... Everything’s gonna be alright!”

Giorno blinked. That’s what he said back then, too, and he didn’t exactly classify what had happened as ‘alright’. But, as he was being held by Mista, and seeing Mista’s unwavering smile, he just couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

“As long as I’m here,” Giorno started, lifting his hands from Mista’s grip to cup his face, “everything will be alright,” he whispered into the taller man’s mouth. Giorno also wanted to protect Mista with everything he had.

They were so close to each other... It seemed like they were slowly inching closer until the gap between them finally closed. All of their pent-up desire for each other, the feelings that Giorno had absolutely refused to acknowledge, they were all reaching their climax. They pulled away after a few seconds, before Mista swiftly closed the space between them again, and then proceeding to pull at Giorno’s bottom lip with his teeth, and placed his hands on Giorno’s hips to hold him closer.

Giorno gasped and grabbed onto Mista’s collar for support. His head seemed to be completely taken over by Mista. His scent, the way he tasted, the way his hands felt on his hips, Mista, Mista, Mista. All these new emotions he was feeling made his head spin in the most euphoric way.

Mista took advantage of Giorno’s open mouth and shoved his tounge inside his it. Giorno definitely wasn’t expecting this to heat up so quickly, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to feel Mista’s tongue inside his mouth. Giorno was losing control of himself, he moaned into Mista’s mouth, completely overwhelmed by just making out with him.

Giorno was almost completely leaning on Mista for support, his legs were about to give way any second . When they pulled away for oxygen, Giorno let out a desperate, “M-Mis...ta..” His face was entirely coated with a glowing shade of red, his eyes heavy-lidded, with Mista’s name on his lips. Mista’s lower half twitched at the sight, already addicted to it.

He did have to admit, he felt slightly weird doing this so soon after his friends’ deaths, but with Giorno being the most important thing to him right now, he wanted to feel him in every way to convince himself he was still here. He needed to feel his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his breath, feel the movement of his tongue inside his mouth, feel him moaning into his mouth... He needed to be able to feel that Giorno was alive.

Mista hugged him tight, just taking in Giorno’s presence, “you’re still here...” He whispered into Giorno’s neck, who barely had it in him to point out how, of course he’s still here, where else would he be? So, instead, he simply whispered a quiet, “I’m not going anywhere.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: ASDKJSFHLSK OMG OMG OKAY IK THIS IS KINDA ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT I WROTE THIS OVER THE SPAN OF LIKE THREE DAYS AND I HAD THIS HUGE ESSAY DUE SO I WAS LIKE WRITING THIS AND MY ESSAY AT THE SAME TIME IT WAS SO CHAOTIC AND MY EMOTIONS WERE ALL OVER THE PLACE

ANYWAY IF YOU READ THIS FAR I RLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED TY FOR READING PLEASE LEAVE ANY FEEDBACK YOU HAVE!!!! I proofread it like six million times but if there are any mistakes I’m sorry!!! Pls lmk so I can fix them :3.

[chorusnihili]

what is wd gasters past

"A rather broad and invasive question, I'd say, but I suppose I can give you the rundown."

"I was born on the surface while tensions were already high, enough that my parents, assuming that I had them, were gone before I had a chance to remember them. I was mostly raised by a mismatch village of monsters; well-cared for, not the only one that didn't have a specific home."

"I didn't miss living on the surface and never wished to return there, quite frankly. The only thing that made it worth living there is that in my final few years there, I did have something close to an adoptive parent. Who, unfortunately, chose death over leaving their home."

"A lot of monsters like to paint the underground as this hellish, soul-sucking fate worth than death. Personally I never found it that bad. I suppose I never was the type to feel wanderlust or anything of the sort. I was happy merely knowing we were safe and humanity likely had no interest in pursuing us."

"So I dedicated most of my life to making the Underground as good a place as possible. Anything that could make life more bearable. Try to cheer up those affected the worst by the change. During this time, a lot of monsters took up psychology; you can find a lot of studies on stress, despair, and trauma written during this time; techniques for coping and helping loved ones, many of which still hold up to this day."

"Unfortunately given the fact that communication has always been a hassle to me, it ultimately wasn't a field of study that suited me well, although I've been told I'm a good listener."

"So my attention broke from such studies to poking around the world about me. Much of the underground was new and needed to be explored and understood, and, what can I say, I was young and ready to believe that magic could do anything. Except, maybe, restore my eyesight. Heh."

"The migration through the underground was relatively linear. The forests of Home, the snowy landscapes of Snowdin, the rainy marsh of Waterfall, the deep caves of Hotland, and finally, the empty caves of New Home. But New Home was the end. The final stop. Assuming a vaguely dome-shaped barrier forming to the shape of the mountain, we had found it on all sides; the entrance at Home, the exit at New Home, the presumably small entries in Waterfall that human trash falls through, the tunnels in Hotland that the lava flows through. We reached the end; there was nowhere else to go."

"Monsters began to fan out, build permanent civilizations. Asgore and Toriel chose to build their castle and kingdom right on the cusp of the barrier; why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it was meaningful, to them. A sign of having conquered the humans, something to put them at ease. I never asked, it never seemed appropriate."

"Although many monsters seemed disappointed that there was nowhere else to go, I found a sense of satisfaction from it. We had discovered everything; there was nothing else that might creep out from the shadows. We had an understanding of the world we now lived in, a map from top to bottom, left to right. And now, all we had to do was reshape it into the world we wanted it to be."

"Much of my early life was uneventful. I spent a lot of time in theoretical research, interested in the topics of how and why magic worked, but specifically, the interaction of two magical forces. Why some attacks seemed to be so devastating and others seemed to do no damage at all.  A spent a fair amount of years analyzing magic, categorizing it, writing formulae for the so called Stats, for LOVE, EXP, HP, ATK, DEF, INV, et cetera, et cetera.  Frankly, the field is incomplete; close enough for most situations, I think, but not perfect.  I found it wasteful to continue efforts on it.  I believe that the main goal of science is to improve life; if the science cannot be applied to do so, then I do not see the point in continuing it.”

“My studies were broad and varied.  Sometimes I’d dip into the health sciences, sometimes I’d dip into architecture.  I’d do odd favors for people, look into anything that caught my interest, sometimes even take up tasks for the King himself; ones of minor interest that he didn’t want to bother the Royal Scientist with.”

“But, the focal point of my studies always came back to energy.  What could we do with it?  How can we harness it?  All monsters are made up of energy, of magic, it’s inherent to our souls, the way we express ourselves, even our body is made of magic, turns into magical dust due to a complicated chemical reaction when HP is depleted.”

“This, of course, lead to my most famous accomplishment.  The idea of using magic to power things had been around forever, before recorded history.  But there was always a mage or monster involved, directly or indirectly powering the thing in question.  I sought to cut out the intentional casting of a spell to induce power.  After all, this entire Underground was full of ambient magic; from previous spells, simply from Monsters existing; recycled, reused, breathed in and out, baked into food and released again:  Why couldn’t the world itself power things?” 

“It turned out to be more complicated than expected; failure after failure taught me that it simply wasn’t feasible to use magic without a soul casting it.  But, we found another way--and to be fair, it wasn’t exactly an idea so much as exploratory research, but research with very promising results.  Promising enough to earn me another scar on my face, heh.  Had one of the other scientists not pulled me out of the way, I might have been destroyed by the CORE before the CORE was even a thing.”

“Nonetheless I was far from discouraged.  I was actually very ecstatic.  Enough so that Asgore had a very hard time calming me down and getting me to explain what had happened and why I had a new crack down my face.”

“I started work on the CORE immediately.  Sketching out blueprints and gathering people to start building the skeletal structure of the building while I put together the intricacies of the mechanism that would create and convert pure energy that could be harnessed and used for whatever purposes we desired.  It took a very long time, but it’s no doubt one of my greatest creations.  Asgore asked me to take up the position of Royal Scientist not long after.  I accepted, of course, I wouldn’t think of declining, but it was a very strange thing to me.”

“It wasn’t long after that when the human child arrived.  I remember hearing about it, one of the other scientists telling me that Asriel had chosen to keep the child.  Keep the child, I had thought, like a pet, like a person would choose to keep a dog or a cat.  I thought it frankly ridiculous, but having the human child around brought a new era of hope to the kingdom and, I, ... couldn’t resist being pulled along.  I personally thought that the idea of peace between humans and monsters was ridiculous, but it was such a pleasant idea and the people were so happy...”

“Of course, it didn’t last.  In a single night, both the human child and Asriel had passed away.  The duo had broken through the barrier, only to seal their own deaths.  It was a travesty.  A whirlwind of horrors, one after another.  The devastation, the despair--it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even when humanity had first sealed us underground.  At least then, we had the relief of peace.  Now, we had nothing.”

“The King declared war on humanity.”

“It was a dark time.”

“The peaceful life I had was replaced by one of fear and anxiety.  I knew what humans were capable of.  I lived through it, I wore the mark of their hostility on my skull--and Asgore wanted to willingly throw us back into that over revenge?  We wouldn’t survive.  There was no way we’d survive.  But if there was any chance of giving us any sort of fighting chance, I was going to find it.” 

“My research turned from finding ways to make the underground better to combat.  Once again, energy proved to be my friend.  I revisited old research about LOVE and EXP and ATK and DEF--and wrote up a hypothesis about another state.  ITK.  Intent to Kill.  Unlike LOVE and EXP, which are slowly, solely increasing values, ITK rapidly fluctuates and acts as a modifier on attack.  Even a soul with a LOVE of 1 can do an extreme amount of damage if they, in a particular moment, are filled with the desire to kill the one they are striking.”

“Monsters aren’t made for war.  In general, monsters aren’t made for hurting each other.   It’s one of the many reasons we were slaughtered so mercilessly.  So I created a ... weapon.  That could circumvent that weakness.  The ITK Blasters, as I called them, could take even the smallest ITK and multiply it to do horrific damage.”

“I did other research on the topic as well.  How to convert HP into a temporary boost of ATK.  With these two advancements...even a monster as relatively weak as I am could be incredibly strong.”

“I wanted to perfect the techniques before I tried teaching them to anyone.  But, such things never came to pass.  Asgore lost his will to continue seeking war.  He knew that he had only declared war in a fit of rage and to give his people hope.  So rather than continue killing, he wanted to find a different way to bring everyone hope.  He wanted to find a way to break the barrier without anymore bloodshed.  He asked me to research the human souls.”

“...”

“I wanted no parts of it.  We got into a ... rather nasty fight.  I said a lot of things I regret.  I called him a coward for bending to the will of his people instead of doing what was right.  I told him that any attempt to breach the barrier would result in the complete extinction of our species.  I told him that it was his job as king to protect us, not lead us to our death.”

“I was angry and afraid, and I took it out on the wrong monster.”

“It’s about at this point that you really cannot understand my history without a basic understanding of how time flows.  I’ll spare you the lecture of multiple timelines and parallel realities, but at the very least, you must understand that the flow of time is... well, it is inherently linear, but, consider it like a... I want to say a Turing Machine.  Or perhaps, a VHS Tape.  The same segments can be replayed again and again, can be overwritten, can change from iteration to iteration.”

“So the fact that Asgore died in this timeline...and is still alive in the current timeline...it may at first seem contradictory, but it is not, I assure you.”

“Asgore’s death hit the Underground hard.  Undyne took over as Queen, but the knowledge that the last remaining member of the Royal Family was gone still loomed over everyone’s heads.  Undyne was more determined than Asgore ever was to free the monsters and I felt like there was nothing I could do.”

“So...There was little I did.  I was overwhelmed with grief and hatred.  I kept at the research.  I honed the abilities, again and again and again.  I drove myself to exhaustion, I isolated myself.  I barely slept and ate.  I neglected my duties and while the others understood I was grieving, it eventually got to the point that Queen Undyne delivered the ultimatum that I had to either get my act together or surrender my position as Royal Scientist.  I resigned without any argument.”

“Much of the time is a blur.  Most of my studies and research done with poor practices and hardly documented.  The research that lead to me creating Sans falls into this. I wished to know if...  

“Of course, two monsters can create another soul.  This much is obvious, monsters reproduce on a regular basis, enough that in the modern day, there’s an ongoing population crisis for monsters that need certain environments.  But I wanted to know if ... a monster, could theoretically, singularly donate a portion of their soul and create another living monster out of it.”

“This is probably a piece of research that very much fits the criteria of not stopping to think whether or not I should try to do so.”

“It required extracting part of my soul.  Which, to do so without killing the monster, requires a massive power source...luckily, or unluckily, I had the entire CORE at my disposal.  So I constructed a machine that could, indeed, extract part of my soul.  What resulted was the most painful experience of my life and left me comatose for six months.  It’s also the cause of the circular scars in my palms.”

“I hadn’t intended to extract two pieces of my soul, but, it happened, whether through oversight or simply as a matter of how the procedure was carried out.  I used the smaller piece to create Sans; intending to keep the larger piece for further study.  I destroyed everything used in the experiment afterwards.  I felt it was something that no monster should have the power to do.”

“That’s not to say I regret creating them.  I don’t, and nothing will ever change that opinion, even knowing some of the terrible things they’ve done in other timelines.  But I do regret the methods that lead to their creation.”

“I don’t know why Sans is so weak.  And I resisted the urge to try to figure it out.  There’s a fine line between a healthy interest in your child’s health and treating them as a science experiment, and I ... wanted to stay as far away as possible from that line.  He’s fine the way he is.  He doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“That didn’t stop me from using the second piece of my soul to create Papyrus to look after him, though.  Or teaching him magic to the best of my ability, even teaching him how to use the Gaster Blasters.”

“Having them...helped.  A lot.  I won’t say whether I was very good at it, but I enjoyed being a father very much.  The grief was still heavy, but I was able to start returning to a somewhat normal life, and even start following what was going on in the Underground again.  I learned of Doctor Alphys’s research on the human souls, and though I personally disagreed with it... decided to look into it in Asgore’s honor.”

“My immediate thought was that her ideas about Determination could mesh well with my previous research about soul extraction, albeit with a few modifications--although I had destroyed the equipment I used for the process, I remembered it well enough.  So I got to work on a theoretical DT Extractor; but the further I got with it, the more horrified I became.”

“I simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of it.  Humans or not, already dead or not--the mere idea of extracting the literal lifeforce out of a soul...  No.  It was not a process I would condone.”

“I had just finalized my decision to destroy the blueprints when I fell.”

“It was... a laughably simple mistake, really.  The CORE is designed to rearrange itself to prevent the wear from the heat from causing too much damage in any one area.  The doors pneumatically seal themselves to prevent egress during this time but...  I was simply too distracted by the blueprints and I opened the door, and walked through anyways.”

“There were no further safeguards.  There was nothing I could do to save myself.  It was over before I had a chance.”

“...”

“I don’t regularly talk about my time in the void.  Not because doing so bothers me, but because it’s simply... indescribable.  When I awoke, I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t speak.  There was no me, but my consciousness existed.  I could see and hear thousands of timelines at once, as if I was standing in an arena, with each and every seat filled with a television playing a different movie.  A jumbling mess of information.”

“I have no idea how long I was there for.  It was like learning to exist all over again.  Step by step.  Learning how to move closer to visions of interest.  Learning how to seep into those visions.  Learning how to block out the immense noise.  Learning how to speak without a body.  Learning how to see the void.  Learning how to construct a body out of it.  Learning how to hunt down my timeline.”

“In many ways, it was a rebirth, and with each and every step, I lost more of myself.  I lost myself to the aching hole of my soul being missing.  I lost my conscience, I lost my heart.  I dedicated everything to the endless goal of stitching myself back together again.”

“I learned so much about the reality I live in.  How malleable it and time is.  I evolved into something grotesque, something that shouldn’t be alive.  I gained power that no monster or human should have.  Things, and even souls, could be changed at my whim.  And yet the one thing I truly wanted seemed to be impossible.”

“I did a lot of terrible things while I was stuck like that.  Some were intentional, some less so.  Many were reset thanks to Flowey, others will never be fixed.”

“I have Sans to thank for finally helping me to achieve the goal, even if not fully.  He built a machine that gathered enough of my soul that... I’m able to manifest my original form and can think clearly once again.”

“Even so...  It didn’t change the fact that my soul is still shattered, somehow held together by the tug-of-war between Determination and Void, and that my fall into the Void reset the timeline into a state where I never existed.”

“And that leads us to now.  The Gaster you currently speak to exists in a timeline that has made it to the surface, though I’m not particularly fond of being up there and generally hide in my lab in the CORE.”

“Well, I certainly hope you didn’t expect even a rundown of over a thousand years to be short.”

“...Or, were you posing the question to someone other than myself...?”

[bird-in-a-cage]

You know exactly what this is about bby 😍🌹 This is an official request for you to write about the rosy lotion, Steve and his immaculate skincare routine, his loving relationship with his mother, and the goddamn hunt for the exact brand she uses 🌹💕 -CockAsInTheBird

My sweet muse. I hope you’re ready for this. I didn’t go so much into his whole routine, because we all know it would be long and involve many, many products. Either way, I hope this will surfice.

Routine

Steve was six, at least he remembers being that young, when it first happened. He would always take a bath and sit on his parents’ bed in clean pajamas, watching his mother apply this stuff to her face. It was thick and white and came in a deep blue tub, about the size of her hand. It looked like a plastic gemstone. It wasn’t the only tub, but it was the one that stood out of the most on her vanity table. The one Steve wanted to touch the most and see what was inside. This particular night he rolled off his spot at the foot of the bed and walked over to for a closer look, a young mind inquisitive and wanting to know everything it could about all kinds of things in the world.

His mother smiled at his face in the mirror, fingers on her cheeks, rubbing in this white stuff that smelt of fresh cut roses she would sometimes bring home and place in big vases in the hall. Steve loved that smell.

“Everything okay my piccolo girasole?” She asked, her native accent coming forward with Steve’s pet name that made him blush slightly. She only used it when it was just them, made it more special. His father, for some reason, didn’t like to hear all the Italian words she knew, but Steve loved it. Loved being called his special name that no one else in the world was called.

He didn’t answer and reached straight for the tub, which was quickly moved away with a light chuckle.

“Ah ah, we ask before we touch Stevie,” she said kindly. “Remember?”

“Sorry mamma,” he apologised, but still kept wide eyes on the tub and what it contained. Like it held a million secrets. Or gold and diamonds. Or ghosts. A set of matching eyes followed his gaze and a warm smile followed.

“You want to try some?”

Steve couldn’t stop his head nodding vigorously even if he wanted it to.

He watched his mother put a small amount on her fingers, manicured and perfect, and gently it was rubbed into his cheek. Immediately his whole head was enveloped in the wonderful smell of roses, but he couldn’t help but giggle because it was cold. Almost shockingly so. He always giggled at a little shock. As if he couldn’t be scared if it was funny.

“It’s mamma’s special cream. Makes her skin all nice and smooth,” his mother explained, talking soft but smiling at her son’s happiness. Steve stayed still and let her rub the cream into the rest of his face, closed his eyes and just focused on how nice it smelled.

“Will it make me pretty like you?” He opened his eyes when he felt her fingers leave his chin.

At the time he didn’t register it, he was far too young to know what to look for, but remembering it there was a strange sad look in her eye. Almost as if she could see the future somehow. 

“Of course it will girasole, but you must never tell your father. It can be our little secret. You can come here every night and you’ll grow up to be the most handsome ragazzo.”

Steve put his finger over his mouth and nodded. Their little secret. 

---

The first time his parents left Steve alone, his mother gave him his own tub of face cream. He was old enough to read it now, in truth he’d been old enough to read it for years. It felt like the most precious gift, silver lettering embossed in the lid that just said Night Cream. He sat cross legged on his floor, back up against the edge of his bed, and followed the same trail his mother made across his face. Cheek, forehead, cheek, under eyes, nose, chin. It was calming. He let the smell of roses fill his head and for a small moment he wasn’t alone. His mother was still around, not following his father across the world in her wifely obligations because they were both too stubborn and old fashioned to get a divorce. She was still at home to call him pet names even though he was almost twelve now, someone to talk to after school who would want to help him with homework instead of his father’s constant cold shoulder.

He didn’t feel like a failure in his mother’s loving eyes. Never.

The first time became many, many more. To the point where Steve just expected to come home and be alone. He had tonnes of friends and people to hang out with, but they all had curfews, parents who loved them enough to want them home at sensible times. Steve tried not to let it bother him, at least on the outside. Inside it cut like a knife. A once daily phone call becoming weekly at best. Disappointment after disappointment. Sorry, we won’t be back next week, your father has a client in Washington he has to have a meeting with. It’s quite important. Good luck in your game. Remember you’ll always be my piccolo girasole. 

Every night Steve would sit in the exact same spot, go through the exact same routine. Let his room and head be filled with the smell of roses and remind himself that he was loved. He wasn’t alone, even though he was. His mamma still loved him. She was out there somewhere. It wasn’t her fault.

The night cream was a lifeline before Steve even realised it. When he ran out, the tub completely dry of any small amount even in the rim of the lid, he went to the only place in town that would possibly sell more. He could easily say it was for his mom. He knew this place sold it, he’d bought some here before. But the spot where it should have been on the shelf was empty. All the way to the wall. Totally empty. Steve stared at his own hand shaking, didn’t register he was breathing faster until the world shrunk to that single empty spot on a shelf full of other night creams that probably had all the same properties. They weren’t the same though. He’d tried that trick before in a tight spot, probably looked completely insane uncapping each individual pot of cream and just smelling them. Nothing was like the deep blue gemstone. Everything else smelt too chemically, too dewy, not rosy enough, was the wrong colour, didn’t feel right on his fingers. 

It had to be the same. It had to be. 

Before he’d been lucky, they had a bit more out back just waiting to be put out. But not this time. And there wouldn’t be a delivery until Friday. He was welcome to come back then. Steve nodded shakily and left the store, sat silently in his car behind the wheel and tried not to feel overwhelmed. His parents had been gone almost five months at this point. They’d never been gone that long before. It was nearly the holidays and everyone at school was talking about what they’d be doing, where they’d be going. Oh my third cousins are coming over, it's gonna be a total drag.

Steve never wanted to admit he missed his parents. He was a teenager, he could drive, he smoked sometimes and drank a lot at house parties. He didn’t ever want to say that sometimes all he wanted was a hug from his mom. For her to pet his head, call him dolce bambino and ask how his day was, how was basketball practice, is he doing okay for finals.

But he missed her. He missed her so much it made him crazy. She was a good mother growing up, she’d tried to be there as much as she could. That night cream was all that was stringing them together across the world. And Steve had run out and there was no more in the store until Friday. 

He felt like crying. He did. Silently. Just let tears fall at the thought of being even more alone than he already was. It was nearly the holidays and he had no idea when they would be back. He didn’t have third cousins. So he drove to the next town over. And then the next. Didn’t stop until it was dark and he was two hours away from home, tired and sore all over from driving and so desperate it was pathetic. But he needed this. It made him feel good, it made him feel not so alone. It made him feel that somewhere out there he was still loved and thought after, even if it was just sometimes. That he wasn’t just forgotten because he wasn’t the best at school.

Steve already knew he was a disappointment to his father, he was never shy in saying so over another subpar report card. A Harrington does better than C- Steven.

The last store he tried had one last tub. Sat alone on the shelf like a miracle. Like it was waiting just for him. He snatched it up, paid, didn’t bother collecting the change and locked himself in his car, trying to contain shakes as he ripped the top open and let himself be instantly calmed by the smell alone. Roses in the hall. Bright summer days by their pool. Listening to his mother speak Italian in a big floppy hat as he splashed around in water wings. Called him her felice delfino. Sitting at her vanity table. Playing with bottles of perfume, and colourful nail polish, and a big white puff that made him sneeze when he dabbed it over his nose to see what it was. Hearing his mother laugh somewhere behind him from the closet.

Hearing her voice say ti amo piccolo girasole.

He put a blob of cream on his cheek, way too much than what he would normally use, but the coolness of it was soothing more than his skin. He wasn’t shaking anymore. He at least felt good enough after a little breathing to drive home.

Ti amo mamma. Wherever you are...

[arcadianstuff]

School rivals p.t 2

Thought I’d make a part two. Also I’m sort of making up as I go plot-wise but it kinda ties into the show. Hope u don’t mind.

After (y/n) plays a soccer match at Arcadia Oaks Academy, her schools rival, gumm-gumms attack and she gets caught in the crossfire. The person who come how her aid is the one she’d least expect.

——————

“Give me an A ! Give me an R give me a C....give me and adia !” Attempting time rouse you supper from the crowd watching your soccer team, Cosch Lawrence yelled into a speakerphone. To say his cheering was sub par would be an understatement.

The students, parents and teachers spectating gave up on following along with his chanting and instead turned their attention on the match.

Up in the top row, Jim, Claire and Toby were cheering you on, shouting supportive messages and jumping up to celebrate when you scored a goal.

On the field you were panting and sweating with exhaustion at the effort of playing. To say you were trying your best would be an understatement. This match had you fired up for multiple reasons. For one you hated Arcadia Okas Academy; there was war between your two schools and you were determined to win. Secondly, you could quite clearly see a certain punk rock kid sitting in the bleachers, who had been staring at you for the entire game.

It gave you a weird feeling in your stomach which you mistook for anger. You weren’t entirely wrong, it did make you angry but also something else. Unbeknownst to you, Douxie wasn’t just staring at you to annoy you, although that was definitely part of the reason. He was also captivated by the way you played, the determination on your face and the way you encourage your teammates. It reminded him a lot of King Arthur before Gwenwviere had passed away.

“Half time !” Loudly and with a blow of her whistle the referee announced it was half time.

You looked up at the scoreboard and weren’t too pleased to see it was a tie. You had twenty minutes of the match left. Only twenty minutes left to win.

“Okay guys weve only got twenty minutes left to break this tie. I know we can do this. It’s our first game this season against Arcadia Oaks Academy. We’ve gotta our then in their place !” Your encouraging speech did it’s job, hyping up your teammates and boosting their confidence.

The girls yelled and whooped before dispensing and running back onto the field. Aja, a new foreign exchange student hung back and tapped you on the shoulder.

“I wanted to say thanks (y/n) for suggesting I join the team. The game of soccer is very lively !” She thanked you excitedly before rushing into the field to join the other girls.

You smiled at her excitement and the way she’d started to bond with the other girls on the team. When you’d wondered pass the gymnasium one day and saw her doing gym you knew she would make a great addition to the team. Maybe she’d even become team captain after you left. She was a natural leader.

The other team were staring daggers at you, as they joined you on the field. Just before you left to rejoin them you noticed that the seat you’d saved for your mum was empty; it wasn’t unexpected but still disappointing. She was busy, her job as a docotor basically consumed her life. It was noble, and you were so proud of her, but sometimes you wished she had more time for you - especially Jim. However you knew she was doing her best.

At least Jim was there and Toby and Claire, Toby was basically family; you’d known him since he was five and he felt like a younger brother to you. Whilst Claire was a new addition, you saw how happy she made Jim and you found that you and the pretty girl had a lot in common. For one Mama Skull. The three of them waved down to you, which you returned quickly before running back onto the field.

Your eyes flared with something fierce as adrenaline flooded your veins.

‘Let’s do this.’

—————————————

You won.

With only a minute left Aja had passed the ball to you which you’d just managed to scrape into the goal. And with the final goal scored the crowd had roared, your school cheering with such vigor you were pretty sure the bleachers had shook.

Whilst high fiving your teammates and exchanging hugs Toby, Claire and Jim had rushed down to congratulate you, forming a group hug as Toby and Jim attempted to lift you up on their shoulders. It didn’t go well but they tried.

As people chattered excitedly around you on the soccer field, you watched as the team from Arcadia Oaks Academy sulked off the field, heads down in defeat. A small smirk made its way across your features. Winning was sort of your thing and you didn’t take failure well.

Douxie, who’d secretly cheered when you’d scored the winning goal, hung around beside the bleachers. For some reason he didn’t want to leave just yet. Sure he wasn’t really into sports, and had never watched a school soccer match before, but when he found out you were playing he felt compelled to watch. Maybe he wanted another chance to annoy you or maybe he just wanted to see you again.

Although you were excited, riding on the high of your recent victory, something felt off. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach again, and as you turned around your saw the cause of it. Douxie Casperan watched as your eyes focused on him, bewilderment filling them. For a second you just stared at each other, no hostility, no glares, just mutual curiosity.

Then something that had never happened before occurred. You smiled at each other. Douxie mouthed ‘well done’ and you actually mouthed ‘thank you’ in return, before he turned around and retreated into his school.

Was it the end of the world ? Quite probably. Or you could just have been really happy about your win, especially as team captain....also a little bit because Douxie had been watching you the entire time.

——————————

Darkness started to creep across Arcadia as the sun descended over the horizon, casting a navy blue light over everything. The lamp posts surrounding the field had turned on to provide some light, by the time you had come out of the changing room. As the other girls left, saying goodbyes and a few last congratulations you hung around looking for Jim, who you were supposed to be giving a lift back home.

Whilst he may have a Vespa, your motorcycle was definitely envied by your younger brother - who had been officially banned from ever owning one. Your mum said she couldn’t handle it if both her children had one. And you were a much better driver.

“Jim ?” You called out into the seemingly empty field, your voice echoing across the darkness.

Although the pitch did look creepy at this hour you were far too annoyed at your younger brother, for not waiting where you told him to, to notice. After a long gruelling game you just wanted to go home, shower and snuggle into your bed and drift off thinking about Dou-

Hold up. No. No. You practically smacked your head as you nearly finished that thought. A feeling of disgust overcame you at the prospect of daydreaming about Douxie. Again your stomach started feeling weird and you blamed it on how gross you found Douxie.

‘Annoying, sarcastic, snarky, irritating, did you mention annoying, Douxie. Punk emo kid who thinks he’s so cool with his skull necklace and look at me Im so mysterious’ caught up in your angry thoughts you didn’t notice the way the ground had started to shake ever so slightly, foretelling of the advancing army of gumm- gums that were approaching you.

The gumm- gums had strict orders: capture the human troll hunter’s older sister and take her as a hostage. They planned to use you as a ransom, your life spared in return for Jim’s.

Then under the bright white light of the lamp posts surrounding the pitch, they appeared. A quiet gasp left your mouth as you froze at the sight of five massive hulking creatures emerging from the shadows. A scream tried to leave your mouth, your legs ached to run but your fear froze you to the spot.

‘W-what are those ?’ You thought as you stared petrified at the stony bulky monsters, who’s skin appeared as black as the night, outlined with glowing green lines like veins. But it was their eyes, or what you guessed were their eyes, that chilled you. They flowed with a green fire that seemed to burn you on the spot, empty of remorse or emotion.

You were going to die if you didn’t move and yet you couldn’t do it.

Without warning they charged, bounding across the field and reaching you within seconds, not giving you a chance to try and dodge the axe of one of them that quickly descended upon you.

You caught the eye of your reflection in the dulled metal; you looked terrified, for the first time in your life you were truly terrified and it would be your last.

“I don’t think so.”

The next thing you knew you were hurtling to the side, falling and rolling across the grass. A groan left you form the pain of the impact. Wait you felt pain. You weren’t dead. Somehow you weren’t dead.

And the answer to why you weren’t happened to be standing in front of you, panting heavily. Douxie Casperan had saved your life.

“Doux-“ you started only to be quickly interrupted as the boy started pushing you away, eyes glancing feverishly behind him at the oncoming monsters.

“No. (Y/n) you need to get out of here. Run as fast as you can back home, and get Jim.” It scared you to see the serious look in his eye, so foreign compared to the sarcastic and snarky Douxie you knew.

“What ? No Im not going to leave you ! And why would I get him ?! Also what are those !!!” You started screaming and rambling, fear setting in as you started to hyperventilate and shake. It felt like the ground was spinning.

Terrified now for your safety, Douxie gave you one last shove, growling at you when he spoke:

“For once (Y/n) listen to somebody else ! Go ! Now !” His voice was like ice, a sharp knife that stabbed you with it’s force.

Before you knew it you were running, sprinting for your life as you leapt across the field, away from the monsters you couldn’t explain and the boy who’d saved you.

Tears were welling in the corners of your eyes from fear and stress. Terrified of what you’d see, you hesitantly turned around while you were running, just to have a quick peak.

What you saw next was somehow weirder than anything else you’d seen so far this evening.

Blue currents of energy were swirling around Douxie as he started yelling a strange incarnation and drawing symbols out of thin air. The monsters went flying back and Douxie advanced on them. He was fighting them. And it looked like he knew how to.

‘What is going on ?....’

Your thoughts raced as you sprinted across town, shops and houses passing you in a blur as you neared your house.

Thank god for all that soccer and training because you were fast.

With a crash you battled through your door screaming.

“Jim ! Jim !! Help.” Your screechs were met with worried yells from your brother, who rushed into the hallway followed by Claire and Toby.

‘Why were they here ? Why was Jim here ? You were suposed to have given him a lift home...’ your thoughts were pushed aside as worry for Douxie overcame you.

“It’s Douxie... h-he said to come get you..he’s in trouble t-there’s m-monsters...soccer field...hurrry !!” Your screams and crying drew the attention of two it her house guests in the kitchen, who decided it would be a good idea to come check it out.

Blinky and Aaaargh were surprised to see master Jim’s sister in such a state, but not surprised when she saw them, froze, screeched and then fainted. It was quite similar to how your mum had reacted upon fist meeting them. Humans were very dramatic creatures.

“Well I think that could have gone worse.” Trying to keep things positive Blinky pointed out, not reading the tension in the room.

“Okay guys we need to go to the soccer pitch now. Aaarrghh, Blinky Douxie needs our help.” Now serious Jim addressed the his friends, eyeing you with worry.

With nods of understanding the troll hunters suited up, weapons at the ready.

“For the glory of Merlín daylight is mine to command!” With Jim now ready they sped out of the door, Claire already having portales to the field using her Shadow Staff.

“What about your sister Master Jim ?” Blink year last second question caused the young troll hunter to stop.

He eyed your form with worry but knew you’d wake up soon and it would all be fine.

“She’s not part of this. She’ll be safe here, nobody’s after her.” Jim’s answer was logical enough for Blinky. Without turning around they rushed out of the house after Arrrgh and Toby.

If only they’d turned around, because if they had they’d have seen that you’d disappeared.

——————

Part 3 ??? Hope u liked it !

[cheekblush]

if you dont mind me asking, (if you do mind, you don't have to answer!) how do you deal or cope with not being sure about yourself especially with the pressure of being in an immigrant family and ending up having to take an unconventional route of life compared to the one they wanted for you/want to live through you sort of ?.... i've been feeling my family's projection of their insecurities which i understand but it's so emotionally exhausting for me i'm having a weird time mannnn sometimes i feel like i should just give in to their requests of career routes they want me to take but it makes me want to kermit soupcider lolll

oh boy... where do i even begin.. this is a topic that is very personal to me and triggers a lot of emotions but i'll try to reply to the best of my abilities. i already know this will get way too long so i'll put it under a read more..

firstly of course - hello dear! 🌸  i'm sorry to hear that your family is projecting their insecurities on you and is pressuring you to choose a career path that is not to your liking (smth very common in immigrant families i believe unfortunately 🙃) right off the bet my advice is to not just give in to their requests in order to please them! you should really take some time for yourself to think what it is you're genuinely interested in and passionate about and try to pursue a career that you can actually imagine yourself working in for the majority of your life - much easier said than done i know. but if the mere thought of taking on the career paths your family is suggesting brings you so much discomfort then imagine how much more miserable you'll be actually pursuing those careers just to make them happy! as difficult as it is, sometimes your own wellbeing and happiness should be your priority bc at the end of the day this is YOUR life and you have to be content with it. and sadly we live in a society where a job makes out a huge portion of our lives, so it only makes sense to pursue one that actually brings you some kind of joy or at least doesn't make you want to "kermit soupcider" (i should start using this shahajka) as you pointed out yourself. so please take your own interests into consideration and what you want out of life in general - maybe a prestigious career is just not what you desire and that's okay! and don't neglect or compromise your own happiness for your family's sake! your decision will most likely not be met with excitement or support but again this is your life and you are responsible for your own happiness 💛

as to how i deal with my family's projections on and expectations of me... i honestly don't even know.. i think i've just gotten used to being a disappointment to them at this point (sorry if this is not what you wanted to hear.. i don't really have good coping mechanisms to offer 😔) there is just so much guilt and shame in letting them down and not living up to their expectations. in my case it's even worse bc on top of not pursuing the career they wanted me to, i am no longer pursuing the career path i chose myself either bc it impaired both my mental and physical health severely. and i'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that something i worked so hard and long for and that my parents invested a lot of money in essentially didn't work out.. and that's a huge burden i carry around all of the time (tbh i need therapy just for this issue 🤡) so on top of going against their wishes, i failed to successfully pursue my chosen career and ultimately am left with nothing.. no respectable job, no income and i have to restart at square 0. so you can probably imagine the guilt, shame, embarrassment and humiliation i feel constantly... and i think with immigrant families especially there is even more guilt bc your parents made so many sacrifices in order to provide you with a better life so it always feels like you owe them something.. like you need to earn your right to simply live and be... like you need to prove your worthiness bc you need to pay them back for all the sacrifices they've made. like you need to show them it wasn't in vain and that you can provide for them. this actually reminds me of this screenshot from this post :

(i go more in depth about my personal situation in the tags of that post in case you're interested or might relate)

i think that's what hurts me the most bc i so desperately wanted to prove that i'm worth it. i so desperately wanted to be able to provide for them, to take care of them, to give them everything they deserve and need and it's so heartbreaking to realize and accept that i won't be able to do that... and if i would've pursued my career further, worked myself to the ground, neglected my own wellbeing and health even further i might've been able to do that. i probably would've gotten a well paid job at some point but at the cost of my own health and wellbeing. and would that be worth it? as guilty as i feel for letting them down and as disappointed as i am in myself, ultimately i did what was best for my own wellbeing. and that's what i suggest you should do as well. as selfish as thay may sound, we do not need to own our right to live even if our parents did make a lot of sacrifices for us (this reminds me of another great post ) obviously i do not know what relationship you have with your family or your dynamics and i don't want to discuss mine further as i've already overshared waaaaay too much 🙃 but we need to put our own needs and wishes first sometimes without beating ourselves up and blaming ourselves - again easier said than done bc i still frequently blame myself and just feel crushing guilt but we have to forgive ourselves very, very, very frequently! and i realize that our situations aren't entirely similar as you are still in the midst of choosing a career path and i already did and unfortunately it didn't work out as planned (but that's life.. also smth i'm trying to come to terms with) but i hope that this (way too lengthy) reply is at least a little helpful or reassuring for you. this probably isn't the reply you were hoping for... i'm sorry i can't provide you with any concrete suggestions or advice on how to cope with your family's demands while being insecure about yourself and your life bc i pretty much still deal with the exact same thing and it's still affecting me very much and causing me a lot of distress. but i do believe the key is to unapologetically create the life you want despite your family's objections, discard all guilt and shame, forgive yourself often and accept things for what they are, especially if you can't change/control them. once again much easier said than done (i know i keep repeating myself please bear with me 😭) but that's what i'm trying to live by as of now and i hope it helps you somehow 💌

finally, i wish you the very best for all your future endeavors and sincerely hope that you receive your family's support even if you choose a path that they are not thrilled with. i hope you have the strength to forgive yourself when faced with failure and that you'll be able to abandon any shame or guilt that might arise. most of all i wish you an abundance of happiness, serenity, prosperity, love, health and peace of mind 🤍🕊🎐 take care of yourself and don't be afraid to put yourself first! may the remaining year treat you gently and bring many blessings your way 💗🌟🦋🍀🥠🧿🏮

[satorilovebot]

a little help? [ atsumu x reader ]

pair : miya atsumu x reader

words count : 1650

warning : none

You are curled in your bed, clutching your pillow and biting it hard enough so your sob wouldn’t be heard by others. Honestly, you don’t like crying, but your sibling’s words echoed into your brain, and it weighs you down, making your sob harder as time goes by.

*

“I don’t know what I want to do in the future … ” you said softly, looking at the paper on your hand with a frown on your forehead.

“What do you think you are good at?” your sibling replied, eyes still glued to their smartphone. You stare at them, tilting your head slightly before answering.

“… nothing?”

With voice flat as ever, eyes doesn’t leave the screen either, your sibling replied coldly, “Then don’t ask people to help you, you don’t even want to help yourself.”

Your heart drops at their answer, yet you managed to let out a soft chuckle and whisper, “Ahaha, you are right.”

*                

You are the first born of your family. It is only natural that your parents expect a lot from you.  At first it wasn’t a problem. You are doing fine in your study, not always on top of the class, yes, but still not bad either. You won some competitions too. But as you get older, the burden starts to weigh you. Especially when you see that your sibling is doing lots better than you. Better grades, better achievements, even better manner, if that make sense.                 

To be honest, you were satisfied with how you live your life until now. A moment ago, at least. You are always the type that goes with the flow; it is easier to blend in, to face problems with ‘present’ mindset rather than planning for the future. But maybe it wasn’t a wise choice. Maybe you should’ve thought about your future more seriously. Finding things that you can be good at, or working hard on things you like so you can master it. But no. You had choose to live in the present, enjoying things too much and never really master anything. Just jumping into one hobby to another before you can master it.                

“y/n.”                

You chocked on your own spit, you didn’t expect anyone, especially this person to come into your dorm room and find you in the most pitiful state, “N-no.. hik.. ‘Tsu.. ‘Tsumu please leave.” You managed to say between your sobbing.

Atsumu Miya decided to ignore your words, closing the door, and sit on the edge of the bed instead. You can hear him sigh, “Is it about that stupid ‘future plan’ shit again?” golden orbs catches on the paper that laying on the floor. It was a form from school, every student obliged to fill it with their plan for the future, like do they want to continue to college or working. It supposed to be harmless, but apparently, not for everyone.                

“Look, y/n, I said it yesterday, that it’s okay to not know what do you want. Just take your time, you would know, as always.” He tried, rough palm softly reaching for [h/c] locks and stroking it as gentle as he could. But it didn’t stop your sobbing or trembling.

“But apparently our teacher think the otherwise. They want it tomorrow,” Breathed, you try to calm yourself “And then someone said I don’t deserve any help from other people cause I don’t want to help myself.” voice laced with anger, and heavy disappointment. It was addressed to yourself though.

His eyebrows furrow together, “Who said such thing?” and your sibling name slipping through your lips. Atsumu only clicked his tongue and pinching your ear, practically pulling you to face him, “You know that they meant no harm right?”

“IT HUUUURTSSS!” you whine, both hands now holding your boyfriend’s wrist, trying to get his hand away from your ear. “Of course I know. It just makes me hate myself more… like, why I can’t be a decent human being, and know what I want to do in the future. Like you with volleyball… I… don’t master anything.”

He gently cups your cheeks, wiping the tears with his calloused thumbs and looks straight into your puffy eyes. His skin felt rough against your soft one, but it calms you down somehow. “They are right though. You always chickened out when you doesn’t do well in something, trying other things right away. It’s a vicious cycle. Y/n, when we start things we are not obliged to be perfect. No one does … ” 

“My sibling did, they manage-” 

“SHUSH! Let me, would you?” he frowns, practically pinching your lips so you would shut up. You only whine and pouts even more, letting him continue his words. “Okay maybe they did things perfect in one try, so what? Most people don’t. I didn’t. Do you think I able to set that perfect in one try? Receive those balls? Serve? No. But what makes me different from you is I don’t give up and I give my fucking everything to volleyball.”

“It’s because you like it,” this time, it is you that sighed. Slowly pulling yourself up to sit in front of him, who now already crossed his legs on your bed. “I don’t particularly like anything…” you whisper, avoiding his stares and looking at your own fingers while you fiddle on your shirt.

“You and your commitment issue are really scary. You need to fix it ASAP or I feel like I am getting dumped after three months, like you and those clubs you constantly in and out. ” he roll his eyes and you huff.

“That was because I don’t like those that much!!” you try to argue and he only raised his eyebrows.

“You said you liked taekwondo before tap out three months later saying you can’t remember their moves,”

“That wa--”

“You quit swimming club because you said it makes your skin darker and you don’t like getting tanner, even when you won second place in prefecture,”

“Swimming was tir-”

“I wonder who said that they like baking but quit three months after started and saying that, ’I can’t do frosting. I shouldn’t even start’?”

At this you only raise your both hands in defeat, your shoulder slumped and you rest your head on Atsumu’s broad shoulder. Nuzzling onto his hoodie, filling your lungs with this masculine scent before breathe out, “Fine, I’m at fault. Sorry for being so pathetic.”

“I never said you are pathetic, honey,” he pulls you closer. Resting his chin against your head and caressing your back, “I just said maybe, if you are not chickened out and try harder you might achieve something big. You said it yourself; failure is just a postponed victory. But you need patience, and work hard to achieve it.”

You hug him tightly, letting his warmth gives you the comfort you’ve been seeking. “Just kiss me and I might find what I want to do in the future right now.”  

“Have you seen yourself? Kiss those tears and snot covered face? Ew never!” he said jokingly, making a disgusted face. You can only laugh, hit him on the chest and look up.

“You mean!” but you smiled anyway. “Thanks ‘Tsumu, I still need to short my thoughts but maybe, just maybe, I can come up with something tomorrow.” His gaze was tender when you stare into those golden orbs, his thumb stroking your cheek lovingly.

“That’s better. You don’t suit gloomy mood anyway. So, dinner? You must be hungry after cry your eyeballs out.” 

“Yeaaah! Can we get pizza? With pineapple on it!” you jump down your bed, run toward bathroom to clean your messy face.

“Ew, I still don’t get it. Your taste in food is awful.” He winched at the thought of pineapple on his pizza. Only psychopath does that, he thoughts.

“At least my taste in man isn’t,” you step out of the bathroom with freshly washed face, putting on your hoodie and untangling your hair, you hug his arm “Let’s get some pizza!!!”

Atsumu smiles, he kiss the top of your head and give you a quick hug. “Now, this is the girl I am dating. I love you, y/n.”

Atsumu may not the sweetest boyfriend in the world, definitely not the softest, nor the kindest. He is just a boyfriend that y/n needs. Know when to praise, when to scolds, and when to slap some sense into them. After all we need to stand with our feet, we can’t always rely on the others. Because the one who can help us, is us. 

Hello! this is a mere test post? like, i’m giving you a quick look about how i write stuff ashdashda. honestly i’m not really satisfied with how this turn out but, I wrote it like just in an hour so please bear with me. however if you have critics and (please) request do send me some message! thank you!

[atomicblasphemy]

Chamomile {Part III}

Eda and Amity share a cup of tea.

In front of her, her chin resting upon sharp and well kept nails, her eyes that had seen so much so intense, the Owl Lady, Edalyn Clawthorne, watched in expectancy, hardened eyes. Her posture relaxed still, no overt animosity. At least none directed towards the girl, the woman seemed to simply try to convey the weight behind the question, to tell the young Blight that all sincerity was needed now. She was face to face with the still most powerful witch in the whole of the Boiling Isles. No loss of magic, no curse, no cheap tricks her enemies pulled off would ever change that. Magic was not the cause for her overwhelming power, curses were no impediment, tricks were no obstacles for a woman such as this. The surrogate mother of the one who changed Amity in so short a period sat in front of her. The queen, sat upon her throne, undisputed with her crown above her head, awaited for Amity, the Blight,’s answer.

Amity took a long sip of her cup of chamomile, still hot enough, but not scalding anymore. There was no right nor wrong answer to a question like that. Emboldened by the warm drink, her Blight composure, her heritage, restored. Amity chose to take yet another leap of faith, a firm unwavering voice offered.

“I am Amity Blight. A student at Hexside, top of the class in the abomination track. Sister to Edric and Emira Blight. Daughter to Alador and Odalia. Used to be captain of the Banshees. I used to dream about joining the Emperor’s coven. I used to have light brown hair, but that’s green now. And a witch in love with a human.”

Eda’s eyes still studied the young witch. Her unchanged posture not giving away whether Amity’s answer had had any results. Still, the girl couldn’t help but to pride on her own composure. Taking a sip of her own, Eda finally answered.

“You know that none of that answers my question, don’t you? But it sounds like we’re getting there. We have time. Maybe we should keep with the theme instead. Why don’t you tell me about Willow? You messed her head real good that day of the photo class incident, you know?”

Looking off to the side, a different kind of blush coloring her pale features, Amity shrunk slightly.

“Yeah... I learned my lesson though. I won’t be messing with anyone’s memories again, I promise.”

Eda let out a chuckle.

“That’s not what I mean, kid. I mean how you messed her head after that, when you went there with Luz to fix things. I had a little chat about it with plant girl. She’s got no idea what to make of you, but, honestly, I don’t think she needs to. It should come from you, your initiative. You left the work unfinished, that’s what trying to get at. Still, I’m curious as to how the two of you got to that point. She told me what she saw there, inside her head. So did Luz. I know how it all started. That doesn’t explain how it went so far. How you, Amity Blight, allowed things to get so out of hand. And look, I’m not a cop, and in case you  didn’t know I’m not in that bastard’s coven either. This is not an interrogation, if you don’t want to answer we can just finish our tea and that’ll be it. But…”

“No, I do need to answer that though. Don’t I?” Amity blurted out, cutting Eda’s words short. “Did they tell you what my parents told me that day? About what they’d do to Willow if I didn’t cut ties with her?”

“They did. It explains a lot, but not everything.”

“I know. She was my best friend, my parents were a threat to her. I wanted to protect her.”

“By pushing her away? That hard?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was like 9 when that all happened. So I figured that if I made her not want to be around she’d eventually just go away. But… I don’t know. You’ll probably think I’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me. I’m used to crazy.”

“I… I know you have no reason to like me, I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation. It just feels so weird, and I think you’ll end up hating me by the end of it.”

“I won’t hate you kid. I promise you. That ship sailed away long ago. Look, Amity, I’ve been in your shoes before, kinda. I know where you’re coming from and I don’t plan on hating you, nor do I have the right to.”

Amity wanted to believe Eda’s words, but, in the end, whether she did so or not was entirely irrelevant and she knew it. The conversation needed to continue regardless. Even  if she couldn’t tell if it was due to fear of failure, the woman’s intimidating figure, or something else. Lifting her hands she drinks of her teacup, Luz’s human folksy wisdom, as Eda put it, seeming to be right. The tea and the image of her paramour helped her gather some much needed courage, even if the conversation clearly didn’t relate to her anymore, that still helped. Tucking a strand of green behind her ear, she continued.

“Okay then. Well… She insisted, for a while at least. A long while. Couple of years at least. Everyday she came to me during recess and I pushed her away and made her cry. And I would go back home after class, lock myself in my room and do the same until I fall asleep. And that would keep repeating, at least once every week, a cycle. I hated when that happened. And she would always approach me with this shy smile, calling me Ami as she used to. But… I was trying to bury this Ami girl, I thought I didn’t need her, worse yet, I thought this Ami girl was a danger to Willow herself. And Willow insisted on bringing her back… I…”

“You had to up the game, right?”

Eda’s motivations were still a mystery to Amity, she couldn’t fathom where this barrage of question was coming from. The did seem to come from a place of genuine interest however, way beyond idle curiosity. Whatever it was, it imbued Amity with a sense of being compelled to answer Eda’s questions. For an inscrutable reason, Amity wanted to answer. She didn’t owe Eda anything, she had no obligation to, but she wanted to answer. It was as though this nearly perfect stranger cared enough to want to hear what she had to say. Such generosity shouldn’t go unpaid.  

“No, not myself at least… I had to find others and let them do it instead. I couldn’t bring myself to actually be as cruel with her as I needed, or as I thought I needed to be. But I knew people who could be just that. I tried to nudge her in the right direction, I knew her grades were slipping. Help her in a brutal way, in short that was the idea. All while surrounding myself with the people who were actually capable of hurting her. A buffer, I guess… Mother had already started dyeing my hair by that point. I tried to convince her not to, she told me tantrums were unbecoming.”

“So, that’s it? You were trying to help Willow. A twisted kind of tough love? Why can’t you bring yourself to look at me while you’re telling me all this if that’s the case?”

“No… That’s not all. I think... I lost sight of things in the mean time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t see Willow anymore. Like, literally. I wouldn’t see her face when we’d come across each other at school or in her last few attempts to approach me. Her hair was green, sometimes brown, her voice was older. And I tried to see her as her younger self sometimes. To see the girl I was trying to protect, the girl I took swimming lessons with, my best friend. My old friend. But I couldn’t anymore. She stopped calling me Ami, just Amity, or even Blight sometimes. That last one stung the first time I heard it. Anyway. I couldn’t see my friend in her anymore, I’d gotten used to pushing her away as hard as I could. It became second nature. I think the scariest part was this one day, when I suddenly realized I was at the school halls looking for her. Actively looking for her. No one in between us, just me and her. I wanted to be the one to hurt her this time. I don’t even remember what caused it, it doesn’t matter now. I was actively looking for her as a target. I think a part of me felt entitled to do all that, maybe even liked it. Yeah… I see your face, there’s no denying I liked that though. Up to a point at least. Once I realized what was happening, what I was doing, I managed to turn around and make my way back to class. But, just when I turned the very last corner. There she was, green hair and all. You can imagine how that played out. At least it wasn’t that long before Luz arrived, just a couple of months, I think.”

“What do you make of her nowadays?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about her so often, I try not to.”

“You should. You should try to think about her as much as you can. he believed it, you know? That half-a-witch thing, she bought into it hook, line, and sinker. And then someday you just show up and turn everything upside down. You show her that she herself was not the reason for anything that happened, that she was not the reason why called herself half-a-witch for so long. I think you’ll be friends again, eventually. That, what you did when you fixed the mess you made in photo class, when you showed her what your parents did to you, that was a firm first step. But the journey before all restorations are made is much longer than just one firm first step. You need to think about her, Amity. You need to talk to her, really try and patch things up. Not just for her sake, really.”

Eda sighed, Amity couldn’t voice her cowardice, not again, especially when it came to someone who had offered this so rare courtesy. She didn’t want to disappoint Eda. Amity felt like a baby or toddler must feel when held by their parent, not that this is how she’d describe it. She couldn’t show her shame to someone like that, not with words at least, and that seemed to be a sentiment the woman was familiar with. After a long moment of pregnant silence, Eda continued.

“I get it. I really do. For what it counts I wouldn’t paint you as a monster for what happened, it wasn’t just your fault alone, you were powerless for the most part. But at the end of the day, shared guilt is guilt all the same. Whether you threw the stones, whether you threw the first one, whether you were just supplying stones for someone else to throw. At the end of the day you had a crucial part in it, and you can’t do anything about that. Those stones flew because you either let them or made them do so. Asking Willow to just forgive you, with nothing in return, that’s the same as just throwing yet another stone, straight at her face. Probably that’d be the heaviest stone yet. Let me put it this way, when you were going after Willow, or pushing her away as you put it, she wasn’t seeing anyone other that you, Amity. Not your mother, not your father, no Blights. Just you. Worse yet she probably was seeing that Ami girl you mentioned. She isn’t any older than you, after all. She may know now that that wasn’t entirely the case, but you made your choices. Wrong ones maybe, you were a child too after all. A child put into a very bad spot. But you did those mistakes, and you kept on making them for years, and she had to pay the price as much as you. But then again, Luz told me something weird about you the other day. How she caught you at the library reading to kids, putting up a whole performance. Otabin, wasn’t it? You told her it was for extra credits, right? Yeah, I don’t really buy that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you also made a choice there and I don’t buy that extra credits bullshit. Those kids will probably remember you as the nice and weird girl that read wholesome stories to them. You chose to let them remember you that way the same way you chose to make Willow see you as more and more of a monster.”

“I don’t… I never really put a lot of thought on that to be honest.”

“You also chose to go and play grudgby against that girl, Luz told me the two of you are, or were, friends with. Boscha, isn’t it? And you did it to defend both Luz and Willow, despite knowing full well there was likely to be some kind of backlash. And you chose to go back screaming bloody murder, jumping from nine feet up in the air – seriously, how did you even get up there? - all to help Luz fight Grom. You chose those things the same way you chose to push Willow away or to duel Luz at the covention.”

“That note, the one Grom shredded. It was meant for Luz, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I told you that, didn’t I? Why does that matters here?”

“It matters because you also chose not to give her that note, the knowledge of your feelings for her. You chose to hide yourself from her, and then you chose to come here for this sleepover.”

Amity finally made eye contact with Eda again. Her image of the woman, from the stories she heard of the dangerous criminal, from Luz’s motherly mentor, from their few interactions before that night, was of a youthful, energetic, and powerful witch. The gray in her hair but a footnote. Now, however, the difference of age between the two of them couldn’t be ignored. She saw the wrinkles, the gray eye, matching her hair. She briefly wondered if this was how Luz saw Eda as well. For the first time Eda looked tired.

“I… didn’t want her to reject me.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious. But why did you think she would do that?”

“I just told you didn’t I? All of that, all I did to Willow. Isn’t that enough.”

“She did invite you over today, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but...”

Amity couldn’t continue with her answer.

“But...?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know why she decided to invite me, why she wanted to be my friend despite everything I did to Willow, and even to her. I know that I can’t have left the best first impression.”

“She still invited you though. She chose to. Why would she reject you?”

“Its not… Its not like that, I guess. You’re right, she’s not the type to just turn her back. I love that about her. But I can’t help the feeling that if she knew me, really knew me, she’d do just that. Just turn around and leave me behind. And we were still just starting to become friends then, so there’s that.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear once more. If Eda had tried to keep track of how many times Amity had done that she’d sure have lost count by now. But seeing the older witch leaning towards her with a kind smile, placing her hand in her shoulder, squeezing it lightly but firmly, she doubt she had made such attempt.

“Kid, I gotta tell you. That’s by far the dumbest thing you’ve said all night.”

[calamity-callie]

New Beginnings ~ Wiztober Day 1

Edited by @spiralcompendium

“So.” The single, stern word broke a heavy silence that had been present since their private airship left the port in Hamamitsu. “How was your first year at the Imperial City Dragon Academy?” Alia flinched. They had been hoping and praying that this question would never come but knew it was inevitable. ‘Why did it have to be this soon though?’ they cried internally, cursing themself for not already having a full speech prepared for this. “Well?” their mother snipped impatiently, interrupting Alia’s thought process. Under pressure to deliver positive results, they opened their mouth to reply and a flood of words poured out.

“Dragon Academy? Oh, it was great!!! The Imperial City is such a cool place, and I loved seeing the inside of the Imperial Palace - did you know it contains 75 bedrooms?! 75!!! Also -”

“Alia,” came the first interruption.

“Also it turns out I have a natural talent for gardening! See I joined the gardening club and I was the only first year in the history of the school to actually raise a maelstrom snap dragon to elder! A Maelstrom! Snap! Dragon! That’s senior level stuff!!! Oh oh also -”

“Alia…” their mother interrupted again, this time with slightly more insistence.

“- alsoalsoalso it turns out I’m real good at alchemy, too! So much so that a potions vendor in the city took me as an apprentice! My first job, and something I love too! Can you believe it?!?!? Also also oh oh also also also -”

“ALIA!” The third interruption came as a full on yell. They gasped, taken aback by the intensity. “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t care about your extracurricular activities, your clubs, or how many bedrooms the palace has. Your grades. Let me see them.”

“Well, I got one A, uhhhh...” Alia trailed off, panicking. Their off-the-cuff plan hadn’t turned out quite how they hoped. As they desperately tried to brainstorm ways to stall for more time though, their mother, growing ever more impatient, demanded yet again, “Show me your grades. Now.”

Defeated, a crestfallen Alia opened up their bag, pulled out an official looking envelope, and handed it off without a word. The seconds felt like hours as their mother peeled off the wax seal, opened the top flap, and pulled out the parchment inside. Her face morphed from concentration, to confusion, to rage. She opened her mouth as if to yell, but at the last second changed her mind. Putting the sheet back into the envelope, she simply said, “We will discuss this with your father when we get home.” Not a single word was uttered for the rest of the flight.

Some hours later, the two arrived at their home in Kembaalung. Their father initially greeted them with a smile and open arms, but their mother quickly trotted over to him and they began talking in hushed tones. After a moment their father turned with a grim face and said, “Alia. Go to your room. We will call you when we are ready to talk.” 

“Talk. Great. They want to Talk.” Alia laid on their bed, speaking their thoughts aloud, thankful for the magical soundproofing their parents tended to use during their private conversations. Looking over at the bookshelf on the opposite wall, they contemplated how things ever got to this point. The shelf was full of thick tomes on dragon magic: grimoires they could remember being forced to read and memorize for hours at a time, beginning as soon as they learned to read. They had every word of every thick volume on that shelf memorized, but not a single line made any sense. This collection of facts served them well enough to pass the entrance exam though, and they held out hope that maybe actual teaching would be the missing link; maybe seeing these incomprehensible concepts in action would be all it took to help them finally understand this strange breed of magic. Unfortunately as the school year wore on, they only found themself falling farther and farther behind, and though they aced every written test, they never managed to cast a single spell.

“I really just am a failure aren’t I,” they muttered, burying their face in a pillow. Their mind began to race with all sorts of possibilities. “I’m going to get lectured, I’m gonna be confined to the indoors for the whole season reading these awful books again and again, I’m gonna be kicked out, they’re never going to want to talk to me again, I’m a disappointment to the whole family…” Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock. Jolted out of their downward spiral, Alia slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door. Their parents, stiff and stern as ever, marched in as Alia sat back down on their bed. The silence was thick with tension when their father opened his mouth to speak.

“We are… disappointed in you, Alia. You failed every class.” The lecture began in a smooth yet stern tone, but Alia wasn’t fooled. The escalation was imminent. “I just… I just can’t believe you failed every class!” A thick lump began to form in their throat as his speech heated up. “You studied those books every day! You had everything memorized and aced the entrance exam! All of our hopes were riding ON YOU, ALIA!” As the lecture finally escalated to full on yelling, they felt tears begin to well up but tried their best to force them down as the lecture continued. “Have you forgotten that we are the oldest clan of warrior monks in all of Mooshu??? And now thanks to THIS-” he held up the parchment, displaying all seven failing marks, and the single passing grade “- OUR TRADITION IS OVER!! OVER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU HAVE FAILED US??? WHERE DID WE GO WRONG!?!?!?!”

Alia stood up and burst into tears. “I don’t know what more you want from me okay??? I read your stupid books, I memorized your stupid facts, I did everything you wanted me to do, but you never even cared about what I WANT!” Her father prepared to yell in response, but before he could Alia shouted again, “I never wanted to be a STUPID FUCKING WARRIOR MONK ANYWAY! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!” With that, they stormed out of the house, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Dusk began to fall as Alia sat on a bench next to a frozen lake. Though it was the middle of summer, Kembaalung was always cold and snowy, and this night was no exception. They huddled in a blanket and began to sob uncontrollably. How had their life come to this? Through the frozen tears their mind began to wander into dark places again. “Where will I spend the night? Nobody here will take me in, they’re all monks… I don’t even have any friends… Does anyone even really care? I could just sit here on the bench and freeze…” 

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a splash of green in their peripheral vision. They turned to look and, despite the freezing temperatures, a single young plant had sprouted out of the snow. Alia got up, walked over to it, then kneeled down, cupping their hands around the base. “You understand what it’s like, don’t you?” they muttered. With a pang of empathy, they cupped their hands closer and started softly singing. The snow around the plant began to melt as a single sunbeam materialized, piercing the night seemingly from nowhere. Alia sang louder and closed their eyes, truly becoming engulfed in their song, letting the melody flow through their entire body. As if channeling power from old Bartleby himself, the sprout grew, slowly at first but then quite rapidly. When the song came to an end, Alia, feeling calm and peaceful for the first time all day, opened their eyes. Before them was a now tall, proud sunflower towering in defiance over the whole cold landscape. They stared in awe for a short time, but were again snapped out of it upon hearing footsteps in the snow from behind.

“So it seems you do have a knack for gardening then.” The sharp voice instantly brought Alia back to reality. They turned their head and saw their mother standing there, arms folded. “I’ve come to collect you. Now, come.” Alia began to protest but realized that they didn’t have much choice. They grudgingly began following her back to the family home. 

The next morning, Alia trudged downstairs, awaiting the fallout of yesterday’s scene. As expected, both parents were seated and silently gestured for Alia to join them. As they sat down, their father began speaking. “Your mother told me of everything that happened at the lake last night. You channeled the Song of Creation, didn’t you?” Alia gasped, but before they could speak, their father continued. “We have decided you will enroll in Ravenwood, effective immediately. You are free to choose your own path from there.” Alia’s face lightened up for a moment as her father continued. “But there will be conditions. You may no longer associate yourself with our family. You no longer share our last name, you no longer share our lineage. You will be welcome here for short visits until you come of age, at which point you will be expected to find your own way. Do you accept this arrangement?”

 Alia sat, dumbstruck at what had just laid out before them. Leaving their home forever was a terrifying proposition, but after only a single minute of thought, they confidently said, “Yes. I accept.”

For the first time in their life, Alia saw shock on their parent’s faces. It was soon wiped off and replaced by the typical stony looks, but it was unmistakable. “V-very well,” their father stammered as the shock wore off. “We depart immediately. Your first day is tomorrow.”

------ One Week Later ------

Alia sat alone at a table in one of the many Wizard City student dining facilities, again deep in thought. “Was it even worth coming here?” they asked themself. “Classes are fine I guess, but I haven’t met any friends here, I don’t know anyone who lives here at all, my parents will probably never want to see me again… Oh, what have I gotten myself into this time… Maybe they’ll take me back if I ask -” 

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice snapped them out of their spiral of thoughts as a girl who looked to be about the same age as them sat down. “First week’s rough, huh? I struggled to adjust at first too, but don’t worry, it’s gonna be great! Heyyyy, now that I think of it, I’ve seen you in some of my classes, haven’t I? You’re Alia, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alia responded somewhat hesitantly, holding out their hand to shake.

“My name’s Keira,” she said as she ignored the hand and went in for a full hug. “And I can already tell we’re gonna be best friends!”

[crashingmeteorz]

we will share the weight

a little jetsong freedom fighters au. 

title from ezra bell’s “they think we’re stupid”.  word count: 1.6k. read on ao3.

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The first time Jet sees her, she’s crying.

It happens so quickly he has to do a double-take. One second the girl is openly crying in a steady stream, and the next she looks like she had never been crying at all.

He’d think she was faking, but when she turns her head just the right way, he can see the shine of freshly-shed tears streaking down her cheeks. He watches from a distance as she wipes casually at her face, trying her best to look like everything’s fine, like her whole world isn’t crumbling, and goes about her day.

Jet can recognize a fellow survivor anywhere. She’s pretty young to be out alone, and clearly used to putting on a mask. He doesn’t know if she can fight, but it doesn’t matter. There’s a few young kids in their group, just because they had nowhere else to go. The Freedom Fighters, as he’s recently settled on calling them, take in anyone who needs their help

She disappears in the crowd of the town, and he lets her. He’ll find her the next day.

Sure enough, she’s at the market the following morning, speaking with the vendors. He watches from the shadows as she gets turned away again and again, sometimes with an accompanying shove. But the sellers themselves aren’t the interesting part. What fascinates Jet is the way she changes her face before each stall. This time she’s charming, personable, a wide smile and a tittering laugh. Now she’s a weepy child, begging for a meager handout. He knows it’s tiring, constantly changing faces like that. After all, he does it himself. And despite the rejection she keeps at it, rearranging her features and pushing on.

After what has to be at least a dozen failures, the girl finally receives some scraps. She bows her head, and the exhausted gratitude in her eyes carries all the way over to his thundering heart.

I have to take care of her, he thinks, and he follows her through the crowd of the market.

She moves quickly, but that’s nothing new. Young girls don’t tend to disappear in small villages like this, but you can never be too cautious. And homeless young girls are very rarely missed.

She ducks into an alleyway, and he waits, making certain they’re not being followed, before rounding the corner and -

And she’s got a needle to his neck.

“I don’t want to kill you,” she hisses furiously, but her voice is shaking. “So don’t make me.”

He raises his hands slowly. She’s got the needle held firm, and her hand is still, but he can see how afraid she is, how her free hand trembles. She may not want to kill him, but it’s certainly a possibility if she doesn’t calm down.

Okay. So maybe she doesn’t need to be taken care of. But he’s still going to try to help her.

“I brought you something,” Jet says, nice and slow, trying very hard to channel the calmness he usually has when talking to new kids, but the situation doesn’t really make it easy.

“I don’t want anything from you,” the girl says bitterly, “except for you to stop following me.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Jet snaps. Her eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath.

“Look,” he tries again, “I have food, better than that crap I bet. It’s in my bag, why don’t you take it and I’ll leave you alone?”

The tension stretches between them, a thin cord growing thinner by the second. He notices for the first time, in the silence, how kind her eyes are. Even in her suspicion, even in her anger, they’re warm and welcoming. It knocks him a little off-balance.

“I don’t want you to kill me either,” he says at last, and, embarrassingly, his voice breaks a little.

The girl’s expression softens. She chews at her lip for a few seconds, and finally relents to inspect what’s inside his bag, keeping the needle near his neck. With her left hand, she produces a dumpling, and her face lights up.

“Stole it this morning,” Jet says smirking. “They’re a little cold, but they’re good.”

“You shouldn’t steal,” she says seriously, and then promptly removes her hand from his neck to hold the dumpling to her mouth and chomp down on it. Jet retrieves one for himself and mimics her, sitting down agains the ally wall. She joins him.

Wordlessly, they agree to split the third and final dumpling, and they both pretend very hard not to watch each other.

“I’m sorry,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’m so used to looking over my shoulder all the time, I just assumed -“

“I get it, believe me,” Jet says with a wave of his hand. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

She smiles at him, a real, genuine smile.

“No,” she agrees, eyes crinkling. “You shouldn’t have.”

A witty retort dances on the edge of his tongue, but he feels something like a blush work its way to his cheeks, so he pushes himself off the wall and up to a standing position. He offers her a hand.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her to her feet. “I’m willing to bet you need a place to stay tonight?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” she says cautiously.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her, nodding back towards the market. “It’s not that kind of place.”

“If you say so,” she says, still unsure but following him anyway.

“What do I call you, anyway?” Jet asks her. She’ll be given a new nickname soon enough, but he needs something in the meantime.

“Song. My name is Song.”

-

-

-

She opens up to him quickly, telling him about how the Fire Nation took her father away during a raid, but how the battle was so hard-fought the firebenders suffered greatly.

“They needed healers,” Song says sadly. “My mother’s the best you’ll find, outside of the Water Tribe. She agreed to go, but only if she could heal our people as well.”

“What happened to you?” They’re nearly to the camp, and she has her long dress gathered up around the ankles so as not to trip in the footfalls of the forest.

“She didn’t want me to be a prisoner. A few healers were left behind. They...looked after me for a while,” Song tells him sadly. “But we weren’t safe for long. We got separated a few years later.”

“How long has it been since you saw your parents?” he asks, stopping abruptly. She nearly crashes into him, but manages to stop short as well.

“Seven years,” she answers, and when he turns to look at her, she makes no effort to hide her grief.

“Eight for me,” says Jet, meeting her eyes. “They killed my parents in front of me.” Song gasps.

“I’m so sorry,” Song reaches out to touch his arm. “That’s - oh, Jet, that’s horrible.”

“Dead, imprisoned,” Jet says bitterly. “What difference does it make? The Fire Nation treats them all the same.”

Song looks away.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “but I still hope I’ll see them again. I have to.”

A thousand speeches about the savagery of the Fire Nation die on his tongue. He knows Song’s parents are dead, as sure as he knows his own are, but telling her as much won’t do anything to help her.

“I understand,” he says, even though he doesn’t. She smiles brightly at him.

“So where’s this camp?” Song asks, looking around. “It’d be really disappointing if you brought me all the way out her just to kill me.”

He grins at her.

“Hang on,” he says smugly, moving to hook an arm around her waist. She jumps back.

“M-my leg,” Song stutters. “It’s - it’s sore.” She moves around to Jet’s other side.

Jet raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He grabs a rope, hidden cleverly among the vines, and then they’re soaring into the treetops.

When they make it up top, Jet is polite enough not to comment on Song’s dazzled expression.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says huffily, but her eyes are alight with excitement. “You knew that would be impressive.”

So he can’t keep the smug look off his face, big deal. At this point, it’s just his face.

He’d already informed the others he planned to bring in a new recruit, though he hadn’t mentioned anything about a girl. For the most part, they seem fine with it. Pipsqueak and the Duke welcome her heartily, and Longshot bows his head politely.

Sneers, however, makes his reservations known.

“We can’t spend all our time protecting a girl,” he says roughly.

“We protect the kids all the time,” says Pipsqueak, gesturing to the shelters behind them. “What’s the difference?”

“I don’t need protection!” the Duke yells indignantly.

Seeing as you’re six, you do, actually, Jet thinks.

“Neither does Song,” is what he says instead. “She can handle herself.” He looks pointedly at Sneers.

“But I’m not much of a fighter,” Song admits. Sneers raises his eyebrows.

“It’s not because I’m a girl,” she says quickly, moving to undo the ribbon around her dress. A second ribbon lies beneath it, and sewn onto the silk are several vials.

“I know medicine,” she explains. “I can help, but I’m probably better here at the camp.”

Sneers opens his mouth again, but Song cuts him off.

“And I won’t be doing all the cooking and cleaning, so don’t expect me to,” she adds with a note of finality. Pipsqueak chuckles.

“Don’t worry,” he says in his booming voice, throwing an arm around her shoulder, “I’m the cook around here.”

“Yeah, because no one else can feed your appetite,” Sneers comments. Everyone laughs - even the stoic Longshot cracks a smile.

And just like that, Song’s a Freedom Fighter.