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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

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Batboys Getting Betrayed By Their S/O HC

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello! I'd like to make a Batboys reaction request if I may! If writing for all of them is too much please pick whoever you'd like! Have fun with it! Batboys finally catch the villain they've been after for a disgusting amount of time, they grab their mask/helmet, rip it off and BAM!! It's their S/O. How do they react? Thank you for your time!!”

THIS HC TURNED INTO AN EPIC COLLAB BETWEEN @birdy-bat-riya AND WE POPPED OFF!!! Riya really said “lets break the boys heart then give them the best fluff in the world” and I agreed then BAM this beauty. I hope you enjoy and I’m super excited to collab w my tumblr soulmate more!!!

ALSO GO CHECKOUT STAY WITH ME A TIM DRAKE FIC THAT IS KINDA LIKE THIS IF YOU WANT STORYLINE IT’S ONE OF MY FAVES!!!

Damian Wayne

- Damian would not see it coming

- after a painful bout of hand to hand combat, Robin had you stuck to a wall with Batarangs, and he stalked forward

- hoping he would get pulled away by Batman so wouldn’t notice your similarity to the love of his life, you sucked in a deep breath as you realized there was no escape

- “The great villainous sidekick defeated by Robin. Sounds good doesn’t it? But I want to know just who I bested” he quipped, reaching for your mask

- as he pulled it off he froze, your mask dropped to the ground as you began begging for forgiveness

- “Baby it’s not what it looks like! I’m sorry you know I couldn’t tell you! I love you Damian please understand!” you cried, pulling against the batarangs you felt your suit rip as you jumped to the ground reaching for Damian

- Damian looked beyond stunned, trying to process the idea that the one person he trusted above all had betrayed him. He’d spent months hunting, fighting, deeply wound you, then calling you beloved just a couple days later

- pulling yourself forward you flung your arms around him, trying to love him into submission

- instinctively his arms began to wrap around you and you could feel the material of his gloves grace over the exposed parts of your side from where your suit ripped, but he drew them back, pushing you off of him

- “belov- Y/N” his tone was harsh, and broken, “is this really you? You knew I was Robin, and yet you lied to me every day? Learned my weaknesses and my truths all just to use it against me?” you could see him shaking, his domino mask hid his glassy eyes but not his heart broken expression

- you realized he thought you’d only befriended him to use him and you jumped to explain “No! Babe never! I keep this life and our life completely separate! I never used anything and would never tell your secrets to anyone! This, this life [ you gestured to your suit ] is out of necessity, for my survival I have to be strong. But with you, Damian, with you life is worth living, you make my battles worth fighting, everything I do is for us!” you realized how good it felt to let everything go, tears streaming down your face

- Damian looked conflicted, broken because of your betrayal, but you could tell he still loved you

- “Y/N you know I can keep you safe, why? Why live this life when you know of the one we could’ve had together?” Damian

- “I didn’t think of it that way” you whispered, thoughts flying through your head

- “Then let me help you” was all Damian said, and he reached out a hand

- Batman and your boss appeared behind you and Robin, both confused with what was happening

- Bruce looked shocked to see who the villain’s sidekick was, but he was trying to keep his Batman level confidence

- “C’mon kid lets go” you felt a tug on your shoulder, trying to lead you back to your base, but the look Damian was giving you stopped you, unable to turn your shoulder on him

- this was Damian asking you to pick a new life with him. And you knew he was the only thing that truly made him happy, but this would be the end of your reputation, and your safety

- you began to reach for Damian but stopped, needing his reassurance

- “you promise you’ll protect me?”

- “always.” you took his hand, falling into his arms, and decided a future with Damian was better than anything else

Dick Grayson

- Dick didn’t know you were Slade’s protege after Dick told him no all those years ago

- you knew he thought of your villain persona as his greatest opponent and you couldn’t break his heart

- you’d both been in the good guy vs bad guy business since you were kids so you couldn’t expect him to understand, so you hid it.

- he told you he was Nightwing a couple months before and your heart dropped realizing you’d been fighting the love of your life for years, and were trained by one of his greatest tormentors

- in a terrible turn of events you, Nightwing, and Slade all ended up fighting each other, Nightwing and you after Slade for seperate reasons just before his escape he noticed how you couldn’t hurt Dick like you used to

- in an act of revenge for you leaving his side all those years ago, he shouted “catch you later sweet Y/N!” before jumping out a window out of your sight

- Dick’s head whipped to you, a look of confusion at Slade knowing your identity

- hoping he’d missed it you tried to run out of the building and take off

- angy Dick is basically super powered so he caught you (yes i said angy)

- when he rips off your mask and the face he’d adored for years looks up at him he physically can’t stand

- watching the love of your life crumple to the ground is the hardest thing you’ve endured

- frantically trying to explain you keep trying to cup his face in your hand but he pulls away, refusing to look you in the eyes, eventually finding the strength to get up and grapple away

- the entire batfam goes after you. Damian especially, because he trusted you, glad Dick had someone that loved him the way he secretly did. There is no way you’re gonna get away from an angry Batfam especially when their mutual favorite brother has been broken

- I honestly don’t think Dick would let it go back to normal. His family would never approve and knowing you lied for months was too much, he knows what is good and bad for him and is surrounded by family.

- One day the two of you would team up and apologize, continuing forward as mutuals that come when the other needs you, but Dick wouldn’t be able to look at you the same, and Damian would never leave his side, refusing to let Dick get hurt again

Jason Todd

- Jason was used to coming home to you bruised and cut. He never liked to see you battered and bleeding, but he understood it was part of your job as a Criminal Investigator.

- at least that’s what he thought

- you were used to seeing him beat up too. The only difference was that you knew the real reason he came home beaten and injured.

- it was because he would spend his nights fighting you.

- you truly loved Jason, but you couldn't bear to break his heart by telling him the truth. That the woman he loved was his sworn enemy and was lying about it.

- little did you know, he was beginning to get suspicious of your injuries. They seemed a little extreme for an investigative agent, and dare he say, they seemed to match the injuries his enemy walked away with last night.

- then one night, it happened. You were being chased by Red Hood. You thought you were in the clear. And knowing jason would be home any minute, you headed back home, hopping from rooftop-to-rooftop.

- you stopped in the parking lot of your building, about to take off your mask when you heard a voice. Red Hood was leaning on your car, looking more tense than usual. “Go on. Take off the mask.”

- you were mortified. You tried to run but he caught you and you were cornered. He took off the mask and you looked down, afraid to meet his eyes.

- he wasn’t startled or shocked. You heard the seams of his gloves rip as he clenched his fist. You looked up and saw him scowling, but behind the anger, there was so much disappointment. You could see his heart breaking.

- he stepped back and began to walk away. You tried so hard to explain and apologize but he only turned you down, unwilling to see your face.

- realizing everything was ruined, you gave one final apology. “Jason, I know you can’t forgive me. But I truly am sorry. I'm sorry for lying, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for everything. But I promise, I really do love you. And I know you might not believe me, but I mean every word.” Tears were streaming down your face, and he wouldn’t let you see it, but they were brimming in his.

- you left and didn’t come back. You kept your distance from Jason but made sure you knew was still alright. He was frequenting bars, skipping patrols. You began to worry when he was nowhere to be found, so you donned the mask once more, only without your usual uniform.

- that night, to your disbelief, you found the Red Hood fighting some petty cat burglars outside of a museum. You noticed how his punches held more force than they used to and felt a little pained, seeing his hurt in his movements.

- while he was taking care of the robbers, you saw one of them run off to a car with a jade vase and instinctively charged in. You hopped in the car roof and swung into the passenger seat, knocked out the driver, and safely drove the car back.

- you put the vase back where it belonged and left the scene of the crime without anyone’s attention.

- Red Hood turned the burglars over to the cops. There was something about a tripped alarm and missing vase but the item was kept exactly where it was meant to be when they checked.

- he was about to trudge away when he heard something. “This masked broad, she jumped into the car! From the bloody window!” His mind wandered. It couldn’t be…

- that night, you returned to one of your old safehouses and headed to your closet to put away your mask, but the first thing you saw was your suit. You looked at the domino mask in your hand and all you could remember was Jason’s face when he found out. Right then and there, you threw it all away.

- months passed. You hadn’t heard from or seen Jason Todd. You revamped your suit and donned a new mask. You went by your old name still. You couldn’t change who you were, and you didn't want to either.

- the only difference now was that you didn’t kill. something tilted the needle on your moral compass, and as much you wanted to deny it, Jason rubbed off on you.

- you took your burglary jobs, and got into your own type of trouble, but you could almost always handle it. Emphasis on the ‘almost’

- once or twice you bit off more than you could chew, for example the time when you needed to collect some money from a Bludhaven gang. you were outnumbered and unarmed. just when you thought it was all over for you, you heard two gunshots and violent cursing.

- you found yourself standing before two gangsters with bloody hands and one Red Hood. “You’re welcome.”, he said with his usual snarky tone, muffled by his helmet.

- this was the first of many times he would save you. You would drop in on his gigs sometimes as well, just to lend a helping gun.

- bad blood aside, you were always there for eachother. He meant it as a silent acceptance of your apology and that’s exactly how you took it.

- soon enough the tension faded, you both went down your own roads but found comfort in knowing that you were never alone. It was an unspoken pact that when one of you needed the other, you’d never be far.

Tim Drake

- Tim would notice something, maybe you stuffing your suit in your trunk, you using a phrase his enemy always used, something that gave him the wrong feeling

- he’d push it away, always wanting to believe the best of you

- but eventually it wouldn’t add up

- Tim came over one night and made a beeline to the back of your closet, a drawer he never saw you open during all the years of knowing you

- you heard a small gasp when he pulled out the suit of his rival, the strangled sound of disbelief was the last noise he made before he threw your suit on the floor and stormed out, and it was the last you saw of him for months

- watching the news seeing “RED ROBIN GONE BAD?” or “IS THIS IS THE SAME HERO?” as you watched Tim become more and more reckless and cruel. Tim rarely got so physical the medics came instead of the police but watching him through your screen you saw a new person

- seeing Tim (and Red Robin) break down on television gave you the realization of the necessity behind Tim’s heroics

- almost as an homage to his heart break he began using the moves you’re villainous alter ego used on him on his new targets, showing you the hurt and the damage you’d done to your victims

- after weeks of watching the torture you knew villainy wasn’t worth it if it meant Tim was broken like this

- knowing he’d be on patrol like always you waited on the top of the building he’d brought you to the night you started dating, hoping he’d miss the memory as much as you did

- rushing up to him, begging for him to listen, even after the heart break Tim couldn’t say no to you, and he needed to know why, this was a mystery he really couldn’t piece together

- frantically explaining everything from your childhood forward, you couldn’t stop, the honestly was refreshing, and Tim listened the whole time

- after admitting everything you brought your suit out, and in front of Tim you began to rip it to shreds, hoping he’d see the meaning behind your words

- this was a lot for Tim, and he asked for a week to settle his feelings

- Red Robin was inactive for a week, 168 hours you spent praying to anything that he’d take you back

- and exactly one week later, you were holding your head in your hands sobbing, wishing you could’ve changed earlier and hoping Tim would go back to his heroism - when you heard your apartment window carefully opening

- Tim came back, suited up, holding a new suit for you that he’d had created

- Tim explained that he wanted you back, and he intended on helping you fix all your past mistakes, one life saved at a time

- you often looked back on the news from that week, the headlines showed a new chapter of your life

“RED ROBIN AND NIGHTINGALE Y CRIME FIGHTING DUO!” “RED ROBIN IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER WITH A NEW HERO AT HIS SIDE!”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS IS A REMINDER TO GO FOLLOW @birdy-bat-riyaBECAUSE SHE IS THE REASON THIS IS SO AMAZING ILY GIRLY

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stuckonstarker · 4 years

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only a kiss

Months of brewing feelings bubble up to the surface as Peter and Tony share a kiss on movie night.

Tony didn’t think much of it when he invited Peter over for a movie night. It was a simple break from their respective responsibilities as Spider-Man and Iron Man. He figured they both deserved it; an hour or so of mindless entertainment with each other’s company.

Maybe he should’ve been more privy to it, though. The way the air shifts when they’re together. He might’ve been able to avoid the inevitable for a little longer, then.

Peter has grown into Tony’s equal. No longer is he the nerve-wracked kid being mentored by Tony. No, now he’s an adult with a certain ease to him that wasn’t there merely a year prior.

They both acknowledge this development in a silent agreement.

Tony notices that Peter’s once soft features have sharpened. His jawline is much more defined, his eyes less reserved and more emboldened, and his lips often upturned in a subtle smile that brims with confident mischief.

He has an elegant way about him now as he walks with his head held high and he says things with steadfast conviction.

As Peter changed with the seasons so too did Tony’s opinion of him. From a young boy, shy and anxious, to a man, self-assured and sensible.

The shift in Tony’s opinions was inconsequential at first. Nothing more than a mere whisper, the tiniest spark of something wholly imperceivable at the time.

But, as the whisper got louder and the flame grew, Tony came to realize the pleasant warmth in his chest was something else entirely. Something much darker, much more depraved, than the mentorly affection he had previously mistaken it for.

It seemed harmless enough, though, to briefly indulge in the sensual pleasure Peter provides. Only a quick kiss to the forehead or a hug that goes on a second too long.

Tony continued to fan the flames, unaware of how truly bad his passionate need for Peter was getting. But there was something in Tony, almost primal, that demanded he get closer with Peter. To carve an irreplaceable slot for himself in Peter’s life.

Peter seemed to have no objections to that; for no matter how much Tony wanted to take, Peter was willing to give.

Tony seemed to have found a balance. As he restricted himself just enough to avoid hurting his protege while also having enough connection to satisfy that cruel whisper within him.

It was working quite well for a while.

And then Peter began reciprocating Tony’s subtle affections.

Thus began months of them sharing lingering stares full of longing; quiet giggles and inside jokes they never bothered to include others in; compliments that edge just on the border of inappropriate. Nothing ever explicit, but the implications clear enough.

It was always a fine line, Tony realizes, they were always a step away from disaster. So, he should’ve expected this - he really should’ve - but denial is such an intoxicating drug.

The mood around them both is often infected with their want for one another; poorly concealed and hard to resist. Even with something as simple as a movie night, there’s an unmistakable longing in the air.

So, it truly didn’t take much.

They laughed together. Tony held Peter close; so close you’d think they were trying to merge into one. Peter shifted so he was in Tony’s lap - to which Tony had no complaints - and the laughter continued.

The air of ease allowed them to forget the act. As they laid in one another’s arms the rest of the world began to melt away, allowing for their inhibitions to leave them.

So now, after months of impatient buildup, Peter’s straddling Tony and their faces are mere inches apart. Tony’s hands rest on Peter’s hips as he relishes in the sweetness of their bond. He doesn’t allow his hands to drift, however - a futile, last ditch attempt to convince himself that their relationship is just platonic.

The darkness of the room makes it easy for Tony’s resolve to crack, though, as he feels himself being drawn to Peter. A magnetic force that overtakes both of them. There’s a sensual warmth that floods their minds, washing out any rational thought.

Peter’s nose touches Tony’s.

A brief panicked thought of ‘This isn’t right!’ flashes through Tony’s mind before it’s aborted just as suddenly.

Any logical thought Tony might have is dashed by the alluring nature of Peter’s plush, pink lips that whisper his name so delicately:

“Tony.”

He finds himself swallowing around his nervousness. He quite honestly can’t remember the last time someone made him feel such a way, he must’ve been a teenager; much like Peter is currently, his brain supplies quite unhelpfully.

He asks, “Yes?”

“Will you do me a favor?” Peter asks.

Tony nods.

Peter whispers, “Kiss me. Just once.”

Tony feels his grip on Peter tighten ever so slightly. This desperate yearning inside him screaming to do as Peter says, but still, he has a smidge of morality left. While Peter is technically legal, Tony can’t imagine a world where this relationship would ever be right.

Peter notices this hesitation with a small smile, “It’s only a kiss, Tony, just one. That’s all I ask from you right now.”

They’re so close, Tony realizes suddenly, but he doesn’t make a move to change it. He doesn’t want to. And he’s still a selfish, selfish man, so he allows himself this contact.

His heart lurches, stutters to what feels like a stop, before picking up pace and battering against his ribcage.

All at once, Tony is forced to admit that he wants and he wants badly. And that Peter wants just as badly as well. That there is not a feeling on Earth that could ever compare to being within Peter’s comforting embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” Tony says, “I… don’t deserve it.”

Peter says, “Oh, but you do.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by the TV playing a long-forgotten movie. It’s silent, save for their breathing. They’re shrouded in an aura of years of pining and want and need. And, maybe at this moment, Peter can convince Tony to take what he wants so desperately.

Tony moves a hand cautiously to Peter’s beautiful curls and it feels like silk to the touch. Peter smiles at the contact, making a noise of contentment.

And then, in a move that’s just as slow as it is swift, Tony guides Peter’s lips toward his and, before those pesky thoughts of right and wrong can object, they are locked in a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, much like Peter himself. It feels like they’re lips are dancing, they move together in perfect sync and harmony. It’s bliss, Tony must admit, to finally claim the reward he’s been refusing himself for so long. To finally indulge in Peter’s sinfully sweet taste.

The pace is slow as they both take their time basking in the electrifying pleasure that comes with such love. Everything about their movements is gentle, testing the waters and pushing their preconceived boundaries.

Tony’s hands move to Peter’s thighs and Peter holds the sides of Tony’s face as their lips glide together. And, much braver now, Tony tenderly nips Peter’s bottom lip as if asking permission for more. Permission which Peter grants as his lips part like a delicate flower blooming.

Tony’s light-headed from want as his tongue swipes along Peter’s; the action so overwhelmingly intimate that it sends shockwaves through him. Peter moans desperately into the kiss and Tony hums back, acknowledging his sweetheart's want.

They’re clinging to each other, becoming one and whole together. It’s perfect, it’s everything they’ve ever wanted and more. But, like all good things, it must come to an end.

They pull from each other slowly. It’s like time itself has come to a stop as they look into each other's eyes, foreheads touching.

They, shrouded in darkness and overflowing with warmth and want, stare longingly into one another’s eyes for what seems like an eternity. Everything melts away and the only thing that matters now is them and only them.

They’re both panting and overheating.

Peter, out of breath, scoffs a laugh and - before he can stop himself - whispers: “I love you.”

The words are raw with real want and emotion. His body so filled to the brim with joy it needed to be expressed somehow. And what way better than such a pure confession?

The silence that fills the room is deafening, as if even the universe itself is watching with bated breath waiting to see what will happen next.

Everything moves in slow motion as they both come to their separate realizations.

Peter; who’s just realized how much those words weigh, how much he truly means them as well, how his heart - for so long - has ached to be close to Tony, and how he would do anything if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life held in Tony's tight embrace.

He feels like he could fly.

Tony; who realizes how far gone he truly is, how selfish he is, how even when he tries he can’t help but mess everything up, how this was all a mistake from the very start, and how he should’ve never recruited Peter - should’ve never taken such a bright flame in just to snuff it out.

He feels like he could die.

“I think you should go,” his voice strangled as the words are ripped from his throat by force.

In an instant, Peter pulls back - his eyes wide in disbelief.

He hesitates for a moment before asking, “what?” because he surely must’ve heard wrong, because surely Tony didn’t say what Peter fears he said.

Tony sighs, the words even harder to say the second time, but he resolves himself, “You should go, Pete.”

Peter scoffs, for real this time, and says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

He’s straddling Tony’s legs, still dizzy from the kiss and, yet, Tony has the gall to say:

“I’m not, Peter, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Peter asks, keeping his voice steady and hardening his stare. He refuses to be sent away so simply without even an explanation.

Tony huffs in frustration; telling Peter to leave was already so difficult enough and now, like usual, he has to deal with the boy’s stubborn attitude.

Tony's not quite sure what to say to express his dilemma. There are millions of thoughts racing through his head - millions of things he wants to say.

Instead, he settles on, “Because I said so.”

He then goes to remove Peter from his lap; a rapid series of bad decisions he will soon realize as Peter - who’s finally reached his breaking point - uses the tiniest fraction of his super strength to keep Tony’s legs and arms pinned.

“No,” Peter says, jaw clenched, “I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

A tiny flame of lust flickers within Tony at this predicament, but he stomps it out with his indignation.

Tony says, “Because this isn’t what we are.”

Peter laughs humorlessly, “Well, then, what are we?”

“Coworkers,” Tony says plainly.

Peter says, “Oh, yeah, I forgot coworkers have makeout sessions all the time.”

“It was just a kiss,” Tony says, “it didn’t mean anything.”

He didn’t mean it; regrets it the second the words leave his lips. But he’s said it, released those words into the air and they hang there for a moment. And a much thicker, tenser silence fills the room. They stare at each other as time seems to stretch out endlessly. And, then, something in the air snaps.

Peter releases his hold Tony and he breathes deeply.

“...Is that really how you feel?” He asks quietly.

Tony can feel every ounce of his body screaming ��No!’ but he can’t keep Peter trapped here. It’s wrong, immoral, and selfish.

He’s caught between his aching for Peter’s soft, loving touch and his need to keep Peter protected. Protected from himself, it seems.

It’s not fair how he has to be the one to send Peter away, Tony thinks, but then again when has anything in his life ever been fair?

So, resigning himself to a desolate fate, he sighs, “Yes, Peter.”

It’s silent, again, for a moment as Peter turns away from Tony’s gaze. Clear as day, the expression of hurt seeps into his beautiful honey eyes. His lips quiver ever so slightly and he nods with the same forlorn acceptance of someone who’s in mourning. And Tony wants nothing more than to wrap Peter up in a comforting hold - to tell him that everything will be alright - but he’s perceptive enough to know that would only hurt Peter more.

“If that's what you want,” Peter says, voice shaking.

All of Peter’s certainty evaporates. He can feel himself crumbling, helpless to do anything about it. He’s not quite sure what to do next except for leave like Tony had said.

So, he removes himself from Tony’s lap robotically; his body moving on its own as if he’s been possessed.

The edges of his vision blur and darken as the world around him begins to fall apart.

He spares one last glance at Tony - who, on the outside, looks quite unbothered by this whole situation while Peter’s quite obviously unraveling at the seams - before getting in the elevator and shakily pressing the button for the main lobby.

The elevator doors close and the sorrowful darkness attacks Peter. He can feel himself drowning in an endless ocean of grief; being pulled around by the tides and completely helpless to do anything about it.

Every part of him is aching, the pain almost choking him, and it fills him until he’s overflowing in the form of tears spilling from his eyes.

He holds himself and sits in a corner of the lift as tears stream down his face.

Anguish builds in Peter’s throat and comes out a broken sob, “Why?”

There’s no answer for him. There never is. Not with his parents’ death nor his uncle’s and he doesn’t see why life would spare him this one either. All this grief always placed on him and - for a moment, brief and fleeting but wonderful nonetheless - he thought he had finally found happiness within the darkness.

He’s so caught in his heartache and can’t bring himself to think about anything besides Tony despite that only hurting him more.

It’s almost comical when the elevator chimes a friendly tune to alert Peter he’s at the main lobby.

When Peter steps off he can feel everyone’s eyes crawling all over him, but he doesn’t care what they think of him.

He speedwalks through the lobby, just wanting to get home as soon as possible. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor. His heart is heavy and weighed down by rejection, but - even if his dignity is long gone at this point - he still tries to calm his crying to no avail. The tears continue to fall with little regard of how he feels about it, which makes him cry harder.

He stumbles his way to his apartment and stops in front of the apartment door. He can hear his breath, shaky from his endless sobbing and from the walk back. He half-heartedly tries to calm himself to no avail.

The first thing his blurry, teary-eyed vision sees when he opens the door is Aunt May sitting on the sofa. She looks at him for only a second before rushing to him and bombarding him with questions.

It’s all in good faith, Peter’s sure, but it just makes him sink even further into his sorrow.

He’s too vacant to truly process any of her questions at the moment, so he just accepts her warm embrace and sobs helplessly into her arms. She pets his hair and coos to him, but it doesn’t help. He’s honestly not sure anything will.

Through the fog of his grief he hears Aunt May say, “This is the second time you’ve come home crying because of that man, Peter, I will go down there myself if I have to.”

“No,” he says, voice wrecked from crying, “no, it’s fine, Aunt May, I’ll handle it.”

Her voice is sharp as she asks, “What needs to be handled?”

Peter hesitates.

The situation is complicated and he struggles to find the right words to properly explain it. Even if he could, May’s done so much for him already and the thought of bothering her with relationship troubles seems useless at best - burdening at worst. And - whether either of them like it or not - Peter’s an adult now which means he has to start handling certain things on his own.

“I just messed something up,” Peter lies, already feeling guilt joining the cocktail of emotions that is his eternal suffering, “it was pretty important, but I’ll fix it later… it’s just been a pretty tough day.”

He sniffles, his tears finally drying out. He rubs the wetness off his face and looks up at her with a smile dampened by sadness.

He forces a reassuring tone as he says, “It’ll be fine.”

May looks at him for a moment, her eyes stern and studying behind her glasses, before sighing, “Okay, but tell me if you need anything.”

Peter nods, “Of course, Aunt May.”

He winces at the sound of his voice which is still cracked and uneven from his crying. But, for the time being at least, May seems convinced that Peter isn’t falling apart which - in his opinion - is a job well done.

Peter slumps off to his room and then flops into his desk chair. He forces himself to breathe deeply to calm his nerves. He’s somewhat able to get his bearings despite still being knee deep in the waters of misery.

His mind’s brimming with questions; all of which are, unsurprisingly, unanswered.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It felt like so much more… or that’s how Peter felt, anyway, and he was almost positive that Tony felt the same way.

For a long while, Peter’s noticed the way Tony’s eyes linger on him; the way Tony watches him with an unreadable stare. And the things that Tony says to him - while always subtle - present very clear implications.

And, sure it took some convincing, but Tony kissed him back and seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Peter struggles for a moment as he considers maybe…

Maybe he has been reading too much into things? Even though that provokes a nigh unbearable ache in his heart it’s really the only thing that makes sense.

Those longing stares, just figments of Peter’s hopeful imagination, those subtle comments just jokes, even the kiss - so meaningful to Peter - just another kiss to Tony.

While it all meant the world to him it was just another day for Tony, he realizes.

He stares at his desk, that’s all he really can bring himself to do. There’s an emptiness in Peter’s heart suddenly and he feels dizzy from it.

Everything’s just falling and falling and - like always - he can’t do anything to stop it. He feels tremors wrack through his body as the overwhelming tides of grief make their unwelcome return.

A sob forces its way through his throat.

It’s like being buried alive, he thinks, alone and helpless; resigned to your grim fate.

He allows himself to cry this time, though, feeling just a little safer in the confines of his room.

He trods over to his bed and plants himself between the covers as his crying continues. He turns and comes face-to-face with an Iron Man Build-a-Bear.

He nearly screams.

He throws the stupid bear out of sight, not really caring where it lands, and pulls the covers close.

He tries so desperately to force himself into a fitful sleep but he can’t. Tony’s laugh, his jokes, his compliments all play on repeat inside of his head. And, try as might, the only image his brain can conjure is Tony’s stern eyes and sweet smile.

Back at Stark Tower, Tony is going through a similar dilemma.

He wants so badly - almost needs - but it’s his job to do right by Peter. And he knows, even if it kills them both, Peter will be better because of this.

Tony tries to keep his resolve, but it continues slipping. He loves Peter so much and now that they’ve been separated Tony feels like he’s dying.

Peter’s an angel. His curls are soft, silky and brown; his eyes are vibrant - shining like pools of liquid gold; his lips pulled into an almost perpetual smile and flushed carnation.

Tony knows he’s let heaven slip through his fingers, but hell is a comfort few understand like he does.

He continues fighting with himself as the voice in his head, once an inconsequential whisper, screams at him to return to Peter’s side. The moral part of him reminds him why he’s done this and why, despite all the pain it’s caused, it’ll be good for him and Peter in the end.

Tony feels a familiar, frightening itch under his skin to grab a bottle of whiskey.

He considers, for a moment, that maybe this is hell. That he might’ve died and this is his torture for his lustful attachment to his ward.

He’s quite uncertain how to move forward now.

He wants nothing more than to embrace Peter, kiss him, love him to the ends of the world and back. It eats away at him and rolls through his body. He starves for Peter’s affection; it makes him feel like an insatiable monster.

But, despite it all, Tony forces himself to ignore it. Ignore the way his heart chases after Peter, ignore the forlorn expression Peter wore when he was sent away. Ignore it all, push it down and suppress it until it disappears.

He gets up from the couch. No use wallowing in sadness, he supposes, as he begins stalking off to the lab.

The elevator door chimes, though, stopping him in his tracks. A bright forest fire of hope ignites in his chest. His secret, guilty desire that Peter will come back and demand more. It shocks him how quick and turns and-

It’s Pepper. The lights flicker on as she steps through the elevator (thanks, FRIDAY).

Tony can feel the disappointment tug at his features and he can’t be bothered trying to hide it.

“A couple people saw Peter walking through the lobby crying his eyes out,” Pepper says.

Pepper has an ice cold stare while her lips are held in a stern, straight line. She stands there; her heels firmly planted on the floor with her arms crossed.

Tony’s heart clenches at the thought of sweet Peter walking through the lobby, tears streaming down his pretty face as he heads home hopelessly.

“Oh,” Tony says. He looks at the spot next to Pepper instead of subjecting himself to her judgemental stare.

Pepper says, “Oh? So, you know something about this?”

Her voice is accusatory right out of the gate. Which is fair, she - although while never saying anything outright - has always seemed to understand there was more to Peter and Tony’s relationship than the surface.

“It’s complicated, Pep,” Tony says.

Pepper says, “Well, uncomplicate it then, Tony.”

“We kissed, he told me he loved me, and that’s not okay so I told him to leave,” Tony says, voice getting meeker as he reaches the end of his sentence, truly realizing how much of an ass he sounds like.

“Why the hell would you do that?” She asks.

She walks toward him, her steps so filled with vitriol that Tony’s genuinely worried she’s going to hit him.

Tony says, “Peter’s a good person. He deserves someone who can give him what he needs and that someone is not me, Pep!”

“Do you love him?” Pepper asks.

Tony pauses.

She sighs, “Do you love him or not, Tony?”

“Of course! Of course I love him! Who wouldn’t?” Tony says, “He’s amazing, brillant, beautiful - I would literally die for him, Pepper, but - no matter how much I love him - us getting together would only hurt him.”

Pepper’s unimpressed expression doesn’t inspire confidence in Tony.

She exhales deeply before saying, “It’s not your job to protect him anymore. He’s an adult now, he’s got his own ambitions and his own life and he can make his own decisions. You don’t get to decide that you’re not good enough for him.”

“That’s… no, Pep, no I… just - he’s so-” Tony rambles on, making random gestures with his hands.

She snaps, “Tony!”

Tony’s mouth shuts and he looks at her.

“Listen to me, very carefully, okay?” She says.

Tony nods.

“Okay,” Pepper continues, “what you are going to do, because you love Peter so much, is you are going to find him and apologize for sending him away and you are going to tell him how you feel.”

Tony shakes his head, “I can’t-”

“You can,” She cuts him off, “and you will, otherwise, Tony, you will lose him and you will spend the rest of your life wallowing in regret of what could’ve been.”

She gives him a brief, supportive smile before the clicking of her heels signal her departure.

Tony sighs and rubs at his face.

Maybe, he thinks, being selfish one more time won’t hurt.

Peter’s hiding under his covers. He’s blocking out the world in a futile attempt to make the pain disappear.

He feels the soothing melody of sleep sing to him. And just as he starts to fall asleep, he hears something tapping at his window.

He jolts up from his bed and looks to the window.

Tony Stark is standing on his fire escape like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Peter blinks hard. He briefly wonders if he’s lost his mind; that maybe this is a delusion from his desperate mind.

Tony taps on the window and says, muffled by the glass, “We need to talk.”

Peter shuffles over to the window and opens it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter asks; a surge of incandescent rage sparking within him only for it to be snuffed out just as quick.

Peter steps back as Tony clambers through the window - basically falling through it.

Peter watches with a tight expression on his face.

He asks, voice much softer this time, “What are you doing, Tony?”

“I-” Tony says, standing then continuing, “I am… uh… well, I’m not sure what I’m doing, to be honest with you. But I’ve been tormented these past few months by my own soul. Peter, whenever I close my eyes you’re what I see and whenever I imagine heaven it’s you with me.”

Peter breathes deeply, “And what does this mean exactly?”

“It means that,” Tony pauses, forcing down his apprehension, “I love you. I love you with all my might and, for so long, I’ve restricted myself to just dreaming, but I can’t anymore. I can’t watch idly and let you slip through my fingers, Peter, and I must admit that I’ve been a selfish ass these past few months. However, if you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I’ll love you unabashedly and I’ll love you purely.”

A sudden rush of joy floods Peter so quickly he feels light-headed from it.

“Do you mean that?” He asks, his voice so soft he wonders if the words even left his lips in the first place.

Tony nods and grabs Peter’s hands in his own. He presses his forehead against Peter’s and they stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“I say this with all my conviction, darling,” Tony whispers, voice raw, “you are the only one for me.”

Peter feels a stuttered breath pass his lips. A fiery feeling, that of pure want, burns throughout his body, infecting his mind, soul, and body until there’s hardly anything left.

He smiles, “I forgive you… I don’t think I could ever bring myself not to.”

“So, we’re together then?” Tony asks as he brims with apprehension.

Peter says with a watery smile, “We always have been.”

The world seems to pause for a moment as they look in longing at each other. It’s a sudden uncertainty, they’ve been gifted the most coveted treasure of all. Love. They are both nervous in each other’s arms as they hesitate; in fear that one wrong move will send it all crashing down.

Tony’s eyes trace Peter’s face. His eyes dark, gentle as they admire Peter with such delicate precision Peter swears he can almost feel it.

Tony studies Peter; his eyes of chocolate, his strawberry lips, and porcelain skin with a flush so perfect it looks painted on.

Tony rests his hand on Peter’s jaw and swipes his thumb across the young man’s bottom lip. Peter’s tongue reacts immediately darting out to lick the calloused fingertip.

The action, simple as it is, sparks a bright fire within Tony’s body. An even deeper want filled with sensuality and sex. He can feel the last of his restraint unraveling until nothing remains, but - unlike before - he does not scramble to stop it. In fact, he encourages the last of his hesitations to slip through his fingers.

“I want you,” Tony admits ashamedly.

For he feels such remorse for lusting after someone as near divine as Peter.

Peter only smiles; his lips upturned in a knowing smile and eyes glittering with golden mischief. With his voice soft and soothing, like the summer wind sweet in its brevity, he says:

“Then take me.”

#starker #starker fic #mild angst #max writes

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tisfan · 4 years

Text

Lucky Buck’s Magical Coffee Shop

For Fantasy Bingo Fill: Technomage

cowritten by @27dragons Art by @monobuu

“What even did you do to it?” Bucky demanded, peering in his cup. It was supposed to be a triple shot espresso with a custom blend lucky in love potion. One of his most popular drinks, and what practically kept him in business. Being a potioneer in the modern world was tricky business.

Back in his mother’s day, love potions were all the rage. But through legal pressure and the consent issues, that business was illegal. You could still get one if you knew where to look, but both the potion giver and the maker could be held accountable for overpowering someone’s will.

Bucky had learned to gently massage his skill, to influence the drinker in a positive manner, instead of having the potion get slipped in someone’s cocktail while they weren’t looking.

Lucky Buck’s was his shop. Potion-making was his game.

Also, he was a killer barista, and the caffeine base did a wonderful job of keeping the potions perky.

But what he was looking at right now was not Lucky in Love, but something that was a truly revolting shade of green.

Lucky, maybe. Green was still a lucky color. But, “I’m not sure what this would do to someone who drank it, Clint.”

“I didn’t do anything, it just came out that way,” Clint complained.

“Right. Okay,” Bucky said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Put out the temporary closed sign and I’ll call the repair guy.”

Not his favorite wizard in the world, either. Howard Stark was a good technomage, but he was a terrible person. The sort of guy who probably went looking for blackmarket love potions.

He dialed the number. It’d been years since he’d had to call Stark’s.

“Stark’s Wizardry; how may I direct your call?” The posh-sounding British receptionist sounded exactly the same as always.

“Emergency repairs, please, yes, I’ll hold,” Bucky said. He looked back at the green goop. “Here, put this next to my kit, I want to figure out what it does do.” Which could be important for disposal. He didn’t want to put, say, a sex pollen potion in the fire and spread it across half a city block.

“--fine, can I just--? Thank you! Stark here, what’s your emergency?” It had been a long time, but Bucky didn’t remember Howard sounding quite so... young.

“My potion dispenser is… churning out something dangerously not like what I asked for. It was cleaned two weeks ago, and my casting hasn’t been off, so I need someone to come take a look at it before I poison someone. Or lose all my income for the day.”

Bucky was watching outside the window as people leaned in to squint at the sign and then walked away. Each one, a customer who might not be back. God damn it.

“Yeah, those can be tricky, is it-- Tell you what, I’ll just pop over directly. Hang up the phone and step back a couple of paces. JARVIS, pull the return--” Stark hung up, mid-sentence.

Huh. Speedy service. That was better than Stark usually did. Most of the time, Bucky had to make an appointment.

But Bucky did as he was told. That was a new travel method, but he’d seen people do close-up teleporting before. Usually, however, it was to a designated travel pad. Bucky did a quick sweep of the area to make sure the guy wasn’t going to appear blended in with one of the chairs.

Only a few seconds later, there was an audible bamph of displaced air as a man appeared at the counter, only a few inches from where Bucky had just been standing, his hand resting on the top of the phone. “Great, okay, now where am I?” He turned around, stopping when he spotted Bucky. “Well, hello there, hot stuff. You call for a techno-wizard?”

That definitely wasn’t Howard Stark. Not unless Howard had mixed himself up some extremely dubious de-aging potions-- but no; Howard had blue eyes, and this man had wide eyes the color of really good whisky. Or dark honey.

“You’re not Stark,” Bucky said, instinctively. “Did he send you--” The espresso potion-maker started making weird hiccuping noises from the counter. “I did call. My potion dispenser made-- that.” He pointed at the cup full of green slime that was now bubbling over the sides of the cup. Yuck.

“Oh, wow, I haven’t seen that before,” the mage said. Before Bucky could stop him, he reached out and swiped a finger through the goo. He sniffed at it cautiously, then -- oh, yuck -- licked it off. “Coffee base? Yeah, okay, I can see it; the caffeine would interact with most of the common potion solvents to--” He kept talking as he edged sideways toward the espresso machine, almost as if it were accidental.

“...Of course, if you’re using chlorophyll, you’ve got to be careful to avoid Kenyan beans, especially a dark roast, because the particular quality of the oils those beans produce will--” He spun around and opened both hands, pointing them toward the sullenly-grumbling machine. He had sigils tattooed on his palms, Bucky saw, that were glowing a bright, eerie blue.

The light burst from the wizard’s hands and engulfed the espresso machine, which seemed to slump in dejection. “Yeah,” the mage said, leaning forward to peer through the light at the dispenser. “You’ve got a minor possession going on, here. When was the last time you had your wards updated?”

“Uh, the building doesn’t belong to me,” Bucky said. “I rent it. Hydra’s supposed to take care of all the warding, it’s in my rental contract. Every six months, I’m told.” Although come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Sitwell in almost a year now. “I can check my records -- usually the guy comes in for a lunch on the house, which I’m allowed to back bill against my rent.”

“Oh, Hydra,” the mage said knowingly. “Yeah, they’re pretty notorious for skimping on their wards, I’m afraid. I’m surprised you haven’t called me before this.” He puttered around the espresso machine while he talked, etching colored lines in the glowing globe around it.

Bucky watched, almost spellbound, as the man worked. He had long, quick, clever fingers and a way of talking to the espresso machine like he believed it was alive. Also, he kept bending over to check things, and the rearview was to die for.

“So, you’re Howard’s-- what, protege? I’ve never worked with anyone else.”

“What?” He glanced up, startled, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no, Dad never wanted to admit I existed, half the time. He didn’t like that I’m not very traditional about my spellwork, nevermind that it’s twice as effective.” He put his hands on either side of the espresso machine and his palms glowed bright blue again. It looked almost like it was pushing the magic and light through the lines he’d laid down, until the whole thing was nearly too bright to look at--

And then the lines of light broke away, tumbling off the espresso machine and reforming into an imp, no taller than Bucky’s knee. “Go on,” the wizard told it. “Off with you.”

The imp hissed at him, which didn’t seem to phase him at all, and then disappeared with a soft pop. “Right,” the mage said as the last of the glow faded. “Give it a try now.”

“Right,” Bucky said, staring at the spot where the imp had been. You always heard about those sorts of things, but he’d never actually seen one. “Uh, yeah, let me get a new cup.” He grabbed a mug, ground beans from his house blend and tamped them. Two drops from the Essence of Luck and one from Hearts into the bottom of the cup.

Steam hissed over the beans, and Bucky counted in his head. Twenty-six seconds. Pretty good. The espresso had a nice crema on it, and when Bucky added the steamed milk, he drew a little heart and arrow through it.

“Looks much better,” Bucky said.

“Smells fantastic,” the mage agreed. “Just a little fruity. Almost like... blueberries? No, plums.”

“It’s a lucky in love spell,” Bucky said. Obviously, he could drink it, but potions never worked on their makers. It was some sort of rule of three; Bucky had to give out in the world to get back. “Not a big one, of course. Just increases the possibility of meeting someone, or having it work out, or having a good date. It’s my second best seller.”

“Oh? What’s the best, then?”

Bucky rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Money for Nothing,” he said.

The wizard laughed. It was a gorgeous laugh, rich and full, and made his eyes crinkle at the corners delightfully. “Yeah, I probably should have guessed that.” He reached out and picked up the espresso cup. “I’d rather have love, myself.” He turned the cup around in his hand carefully, then poured the coffee into his mouth, the foamy point of the arrow first, like it was leading the way down into his stomach. “The name’s Tony, by the way.”

“Bucky,” Bucky said, offering his hand. “Natural Potions master, and barista.” Natural was a title that was rapidly giving way; magic was diluted enough in the blood that most people were degreed. Not that, magically speaking, it mattered all that much. The only time a client really needed to have a Natural was for something custom, or complicated. Anyone with enough study and a few drops of magical blood could brew basic potions.

Tony took Bucky’s hand; his grip was firm without being obnoxious, and the tattoo on his palm was just a tiny bit warmer than the skin around it. “Glad to meet you, Bucky.” He glanced down at the espresso cup he still held in his other hand, then set it down with a faint smile. “I’d be even gladder if you agreed to go to dinner with me.”

Bucky knew his own magic. He couldn’t be affected by it, but he could be… well, he could be someone else’s match. Huh. That had never happened before.

“Uh, yeah. I… I think I’d like that.”

#fantasy bingo #winteriron #magical coffee shop

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Danganronpa 1 Girls: adopting an abused child - Headcanons

Request: If it's okay, the DR1 girls with an adopted child that was previously in an intensely abusive living situation? The kid is extremely traumatized by the experience, and is very quiet, fearful and suffers frequent breakdowns and nightmares.

Part 2: Oh! Adopted abused child for DR1 girls anon here... To specify, headcanons.

Of course! A unique request. I’m gonna write this assuming they’ve had the child in their home for a while, maybe a few years, and you can headcanons the girls’ partners versus if they are single moms on your own. This will just be how the DR1 girls treat their adopted, previously abused child. - Mod Kokichi

WARNINGS: past child abuse implied/referenced. Trauma/panic attacks and anxiety

Aoi Asahina:

The queen of three things: sweets, sports, and positive attitudes.

She would definitely use these three skills/interests of hers to help the previously abused child she adopted.

First of all, she’d chosen this child in particular because she saw their profile and asked about them. Her big heart wouldn’t allow her to abandon a child that’s clearly been through a lot of suffering, especially not after her own experience in the killing game.

Despite whether or not she had a partner, she’d want kids when she was able to responsibly care for them. Also, her experience as a big sister would prepare her for kids a little better than an only child.

Sweets: having a panic attack? Here’s some home-made cookies. Bad day at school? Let’s strap on an apron and bake together tonight. Stayed up late with insomnia or nightmares? Well good news, doughnuts for breakfast the next morning!

Sports: being athletic and active herself, Hina would encourage her child to enter team sports to get better at socializing and just learn important motor skills, but she wouldn’t force them into it, knowing crowds or loud noises may overstimulate them.

Maybe she’d have them start small. Table tennis or private swimming lessons. When and if they were ever ready, soccer or lacrosse on the school’s team.

That’s not to say she wouldn’t love and appreciate a more artistically or mathematically inclined child. Sports or not, she’d find a way to use their inherent skills to better them. She’s not one to give up on the people she cares about.

Positive attitudes: slip-ups and panic attacks are nothing to get discouraged about! She would stay up all night with a child going through anxiety, assure them that this too shall pass, and use positive reinforcement.

Sakura Ogami:

Another mom who would seek out sports as a way to ease her child’s suffering.

But unlike Asahina, she’d see sports as more of a way to teach perseverance and self-discipline rather than social skills.

She would want them to learn some type of martial art. It would teach balance, strength, inner-peace, and erase self-doubt.

Plus, learning martial arts would help teach self-defense. She would never want her child to go out until the word helpless and not knowing how to defend themselves should they absolutely have to.

She would enjoy reading to her child at night, and talking at length with them about what was bothering them. She would let them cry onto her strong shoulders, and offer stoic wisdom. She’s like, super good at giving advice.

Loves them unconditionally, is fiercely protective and loyal. A very supportive and loving mother.

Shells out the cash for any and all therapy they need, physical and psychological. She doesn’t see mental illness as a weakness.

Celestia Ludenberg:

This mom, instead of teaching a child to ignore trauma and bullies - be they internalized and metaphorical or external and corporeal - would teach her child how to face their obstacles head on.

Bullies at school? Well we’ll handle that. “They won’t be a problem anymore, trust me.”

PTSD and past trauma? Well we will sit here and talk about these weaknesses until they become our strengths. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and you’ll be undefeatable after all you’ve been through.”

This child will be spoiled, but not in a bratty way. They will simply wear the best clothes, eat the most expensive food, and attend the best schools.

Celestia would play endless card and board games with her child to keep their mind off of darker thoughts.

“Moooom, you cheated again!”

“Oh? Did I~?”

“Yes!” A disgruntled but reluctantly amused smile.

“Well~ I think it is simply that you don’t know how to play this game yet. But one day, you will.”

Kyoko Kirigiri:

At first, it may take her a while to open up and truly be the best mother she can be.

But she understands wanting more from a parent-child relationship, and after a while of doubting herself, would buckle down and do what she needs to do.

Wouldn’t be as pushy with talking about triggering subjects, or entirely comfortable giving advice either.

But is a terrific listener/observer. She walks in after work and sees her kid crying alone in their room. They’d remembered something scary, something they didn’t want to think about, they said.

“I see...well, do you want to talk about it?” And she’d sit there by their bedside until she was sure they didn’t need her any longer.

If single: definitely has a big house, a reputable maid, a nanny, a nice car in the driveway, but still insists on personally packing her kids lunch with a little encouraging sticky note inside.

If she has a partner: can be convinced to be more involved and slowly but surely becomes more hands-on and soccer-momish, minivan and all. Sees her partner’s own parenting skills as a challenge to step it up. Kyoko has all the makings of a great mother, she just won’t let herself see it. A partner would be just the push she needs: a Watson to her Holmes.

Toko Fukawa (I watched the anime and played the three main games so if her personality changes drastically in ultra despair girls and I’m way off I apologize):

Toko knows childhood regret, trauma, nightmares. She understands feeling isolated and different. She would be a very clingy and coddling mother.

If you ever touched a hair on her child’s head, you better just execute yourself before she does.

Sure she’s not the most confident or kind person on her own, but we’ve seen how devoted to and possessive she is of people she cares about.

She’d read to her child nightly, but only what she deemed to be the best children’s literature, of course.

Would love her child more than she loved her own partner. She would feel needed, like someone depended on her for once instead of her tagging along behind someone else.

I think as she boosts her child’s confidence and social skills, her own would grow along with them.

I know she’s getting better every day at controlling her inner demons, and her other half, Syo (I watched like two hours of UDG gameplay so I know this much) but I think she’d be extra careful and determined to have full control once becoming a mother.

Sayaka Maizono:

I think she would see music as an outlet for a hurting child.

Another girl who would have hella money, so she wouldn’t hesitate to get her kid lessons from the best instructors, be they voice or instrumental lessons.

And when her child mentions feeling uncomfortable about leaving the house for unnecessary reasons, especially for going to a public, noisey studio, she would pay extra to have the instructor come to them.

To her, music heals the soul.

When they have nightmares, she’s the most likely of the girls to sing lullabies, being the most talented and confident in her singing voice.

She would definitely want to be a mother one day, but with her time-consuming job, might find adoption easier and less compromising to an idol’s “flawless” body (her manager’s opinion more than her own ugh).

She’d use her intuitive “psychic” abilities to sense when her child was having a particularly rough day, or having more depressing thoughts. I think she’d be one of the ones more suited to deep conversations and true motherly advice.

Junko Enoshima:

I honestly don’t think she’d adopt a child for any wholesome or selfless reason.

She’d adopt a child with PTSD or past trauma in order to feed off of their despair or to teach that already hurting child to hurt others.

She’d be drawn to the more chaotic and/or mentally unwell children, but it would be a mistake to let her near them.

Junko is selfish in every way and would only adopt a child to carry on her evil lineage.

It may not even go that far. She may get bored of them or decide they aren’t worthy of becoming her protege and just dispose of them like an old play thing.

(Sorry Junko stans but I’m not about to pretend she’s just a bratty, preppy rich blonde mean girl type. She’s a selfish and abusive psychopath lmao)

Mukuro Ikusaba:

Another one who probably shouldn’t be a mother.

I do feel bad for her though. Much like Korekiyo, I think their siblings both abused and manipulated them from a young age. They never learned any differently. Still she’s responsible for her bad choices in the series.

Without Junko’s influence, I believe she would be fiercely protective of a child, much like an obsessive mother bear once she retired from mercenary work for good.

But unfortunately, she’s given her life to her abusive sister.

If she had a child, they would either be neglected because she spends all of her time serving Junko or away on dangerous mercenary missions.

Or they would be trained to be an abused slave to their aunt Junko just like Mukuro is.

Junko may manipulate Mukuro into adopting a child, saying things like: “you’re more of the mommy type than me!” Or, “yeah I totally think a despair filled child would be good for you! You could teach it to like kick ass and shit!”

This of course, was all a way to get Mukuro to do all the work of actually raising the child, while Junko warped both of their minds to her cause.

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reversecreek · 4 years

Text

snickers feverishly at myself for bringing in a 5th... who do i think i am? unstoppable? invincible? suddenly ripples my titanium plated pecs. maybe so. u can find her pinterest here n her playlist here.

* margaret qualley, cis female + she/her | you know bradley milligan, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to looking for knives by dyan like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole snow angels trampled through by your father’s footprints, casually reading a newspaper that’s catching flame & stubbing a cigarette against the wing mirror of a parked cop car thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 11th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her )

HISTORY:

bradley has this memory of meeting her grandmother for the first time n everything in the room was frozen still. even the air. she didn’t feel like she cld move n she got the impression this is how it’d always been in the milligan lineage. the only thing that was allowed to act of it’s own accord was her grandmother’s eyes as she tracked every slightest flinch of muscle. when her father left the room her grandmother reached out and took bradley’s hand n bradley looked at this like it was smthn she’d never seen before until her grandmother leaned close and all she could stare at was a nicotine stain on one of her front teeth. “he’s cold, isn’t he? he’s always been cold. i don’t think he’s mine.” bradley could tell from how tight she held her hand that he was. she could tell by the way she smiled as she said it, too. the way she felt obliged to smile back.

growing up in a huge white house in aquila drive w pruned hedges sounds idyllic n looks it too. swanky cars w tinted windows in the long driveway. always men filing in and out under the cloak of night wearing expensive suits n smiles worthy of a politician’s billboard. bradley’s mum alyssa thought so too n that’s hw she got into this whole mess tbh. tony milligan is very good at advertising. he cld package a jarred human heart as strawberry jam and convince u to spread it on ur toast if he wanted to. he could make u smile politely as u ate ur own.

alyssa ws this very pretty blonde kind of mysterious presence in a room. everyone wanted to kno her story or fk her but noone rly treated her like a person more just like a puzzle to solve. john green syndrome alert..... literally manic pixie dream girled bt on turbo charge. there were vague whispers she’d run away from home when she appeared in town out of nowhere bt nothing concrete. tony decided he wanted to crack the case n once he set his mind to something there was no changing it. they wound up embroiled in a whirlwind romance. head over heels. he came at romance hard and fast as a freight train. alyssa knew he was into shady things but not quite the full extent of it n honestly she didn’t care bc she wanted security n a family to call her own n tony promised that. they were married within a year.

tony came frm money bt he wanted to carve his own path n make his own legacy. destined fr greatness he’d tell her. we’re destined for greatness. it sounds nice doesn’t it! alyssa thought so too.

(drugs mention tw) slowly over the yrs he essentially forged his own crime organisation tht only grew. he opened a strip club down the seedier side of irving called ‘no angels’ n this became the front thru which his gang ran drugs in the back (predominantly coke n they pride themselves fr having a Superior Blend apparently) as well as laundering cash n this also was kind of their home base to hang

(abuse tw) their marriage increasingly lost it’s shine n alyssa came to realise she’d been sold a lie n she didn’t rly know this person or what he was capable of right around the time bradley was born. by then it was kind of like Wow i am rly in this n there is not an exit door huh. i won’t go into details bt things were not good at all. bradley witnessed n experienced a lot of things she shouldn’t have growing up. she didn’t understand why other kids drew home in all these different coloured crayons like they were bright places to be. she didn’t understand why everyone got so excited when the bell rang at the end of the day bc she just felt sick. she rationalised tht this was normal when she was younger bc sometimes kids talked abt the monsters under their beds giving them nightmares n she thought mayb they were talking abt their dads too. as she got older she realised tht actually her world wasn’t the same as anyone else’s n she also realised no-one wld ever be able to tell her why. she started becoming friends with the angry feeling in her chest tht she used to try and swallow around this time. often she’d wander the mall for a while to put off going home. smoke on random park benches. watch trains rattle thru town from the vantage point of a random rooftop.

(abuse, missing person implied, murder implied & grief tw) when bradley was 12 she woke up and all of her mum’s clothes were gone frm their drawers. no shoes anywhere. a framed photo of them at the beach holding bradley as a baby vanished from over the mantelpiece. when bradley asked her dad what was going on, tony essentially said “it was exhausting her. being here. being your mother. she didn’t want to do it any more, so now she’s gone” n then he hugged her. little details leaked into the mix over the yrs. at one point tony dismissed her as having flown overseas to a foreign country to drink in the sun like she’d always wanted even tho alyssa always told bradley she liked the snow best (once she even walked outside as it fell in a thin lace nightgown when tony was out n when bradley said “mom you’re gonna get cold” she only tugged her down and made her do snow angels until her lips looked blue). the most significant memory bradley can never shake from her head is her mother cupping a yellow tulip at the park n saying she hated them. when bradley asked why she only turned and smiled at her as she stroked the hair from her face n then said “because they look so happy”. after bradley’s mum vanished a long flower bed at the bottom of the garden was suddenly overrun with dozens of freshly planted yellow tulips. whenever bradley looked at them out of her window she got this sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach like she was visiting a cemetery. she suspected what had happened to her mum (especially as rumours circulated within tony’s organisation abt alyssa being unfaithful with someone tht used to work fr him) bt she cld never bring herself to truly accept it. thus she ws stuck in this strange purgatory state of not-quite-anger at her mum for “leaving” and not-quite-grief.

bradley rly started to transgress in school after her mum was gone. alyssa was always kind of a character when she’d pick bradley up (wasn’t doing well n acted kind of ‘eccentric’ i suppose u cld say) so tony managed to spin it all as a child acting out in the wake of an unfit mother uprooting n abandoning. bradley became........ interesting. JKHGFSSKJGHFSGHSKFGHFG. she’d snap n resort to violence very easily. very desensitised to it. students were kind of scared of her tbh. as this progressed into proper high school she got in w the more rowdy popular crowd solely bc she was so fking.... wild for lack of a better word. rly would just do anything fr the thrill. had no sense of ‘i shouldn’t do this bc it’s dangerous’. partied harder than anyone. bit back harder than anyone. no filter. hung w a lot of guys honestly bc they had less morals n either found her scariness cool or wanted to fk <3

(hospitalisation, depression & drugs tw) she’s had. a few stints in psychiatric institutions fr various reasons tbh. missed a small chunk of her senior yr fr this but it wasn’t widely known just kind of rumoured. she showcases a lot of similar symptoms to her mum who struggled w severe depression (which was difficult to cope w when ur husband was often pouring ur prescription down the drain fr kicks) n in order to compensate fr the lows she takes a lot of things to kick them into highs. drinks n snorts too much. bradley i love u bt i’m begging u to seek healthier coping mechanisms......

as the yrs went on (especially once alyssa had gone) tony rly started trying to integrate bradley into the business side of things...... she literally. is named bradley bc he was expecting a boy n he was like well let’s still call her bradley. n had in mind she’d still fulfil the role he wanted her to of being his little protege so to speak.... both sexist n ugly all in one fell swoop...... an example of this is he literally. bought her a mint green switchblade for her 14th birthday n named it tinkerbell bc it would “die without attention” aka using it. tht sounds like a healthy gift to give a child tony congratulations sis <3

in an ideal world bradley wld have gone to uni to study psychology bc she jst wants to know how the fk her dad is literally like that bt she probably stuck around n is now managing no angels along with billy n marco (billy’s in her dad’s gang n is, u guessed it, a cunt, n marco is his sort of right hand man so to speak) bc tony’s in the closest neighbouring city overseeing a second ‘no angels’ opening up there to expand into a franchise n widen their income margins. bradley wld also be sort of used as a honey trap type deal once she got older if they needed to lure ppl places n sometimes still is bt it depends. the guys in the club all know not to mess w bradley bc she’s tony’s daughter n literally kind of scary herself sometimes bt there’s also this certain allure tht comes with being the boss’ daughter n it kind of comes across in how they act or talk abt her. yes i will kill them all n no i won’t feel bad abt it <3

think that’s kind of all u need to kno history wise... blinks one eye out of sync w the other..... runs to personality

PERSONALITY:

a phrase i wld always use to describe bradley in old intros is “like a cup of black coffee with one grain of sugar that u don’t taste until the last sip”. also dark chocolate. lime. liquorice. she’s an acquired taste n i feel like u either love her or u hate her.

cannot express how unpredictably chaotic she is..... frequently throws a drink in a stranger’s face jst to start something bc she’s bored. loves to hurl cheese slices across the room so they slap onto someone’s face out of nowhere. likes smashing things. stubbing cigarettes out on faces in framed family photographs. will literally pick a lock n then smash the window besides it to defeat the whole purpose just bc she found how neat it was boring. does anything fr the adrenaline n thrill. gets into far too many fights n fights dirty. probably been thrown out of every bar in town at least three times. banned from a bunch too.

she’s witty bt she has a dark sense of humour..... can be quite mean.......... loves to roast ppl for no reason........ honestly has some nathan young frm misfits aspects in that sense like jst seems untouchable emotionally n like she doesn’t take anything seriously n is fking outrageous about it.....

has this quality abt her tht kind of scares herself sometimes. it’s like she recognises parts of her dad in her. she’s very perceptive (bc she’s had to be over the yrs trying to read every micro-expression of her dad’s to predict what’s next) n like emotionally intelligent in a way which is ironic bc her own emotions r just an absolute minefield.... bt. she can read people quite well. gets this eerily calm look abt her sometimes n it’s jst like god what’s. she thinking. what’s she’s gna do. i’m shaking. a cool n controlled kind of rage can often be scarier than the explosive type n bradley does that well. grits my teeth n tugs on my collar....

very strong on the surface. hates being vulnerable. has this ingrained idea that crying is childish or rly any kind of emotional display within herself. 50% not taking things seriously 50% angry. tht’s how she comes across....... internally? whole different story. bt ppl don’t see that.

very cavalier abt some things. will flash her tits n not even think abt it. jst very out there...... one of her closest friends is a homeless man named joe who wears neon purple fishnets on his head n loves to spit on ppl from over an underpass. finds eccentric ppl like this funny n surrounds herself w them. loves to be kept on her toes.

LOVES driving stolen cars down the wrong side of the highway. it’s a lot.

fiercely loyal to a fault to a select few bt if u wrong her personally this can switch pretty quick. quite a force to b reckoned w n will hold a grudge. bt like. if ur a Chosen One she’d bury a body for u no questions asked.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

deals to u: bradley isn’t like full time into dealing bt she does do it sometimes.... treats it kind of like a hobby bc the lesser ranked can do tht shit as far as she’s concerned bt.. sometimes also jst gets bored n is like. why not. might be chaotic. mayb they’ll try to rob me <3 we love the thrill <3 or like..... if ur friends w her she’ll deal to u n no she will not do a friends discount <3 or if she does there will definitely be some sort of stipulation attached <3

high skl crew: if ur muse is local n ws an absolutely demonic hell spawn in high skl tht went to 1974547254 parties n was outrageously chaotic n rude then. bradley probably was friends w them <3 her friendships tend to be surface level bt they’d definitely go out a bunch bt whether they actually knew a lot abt her life is debatable bt we could explore options fr this

people who work at no angels: no angels is her dad’s strip club in irving that she kind of helps to run now. it’s kind of a shifty environment. the place where ud have an outrageous bachelor party. u go for the first time w a fake id n u get served bt u also get ur wallet stolen n ur convinced someone spat in ur drink n u also kind of think there might b a hit on u now after u made eye contact too long w a broad shouldered man smoking in a back booth. scary environment. testament to her dad as a person. maybe ur muse is a dancer there or works the bar or security or whatever u name it....

ma’am are u ok?: ur muse found bradley passed out across two bus seats one time in smudged dark eyeliner a silver slip dress n the world’s chunkiest combat boots this town hs ever seen. sometimes she winds up in spots like this when she goes too hard n it’s absolutely dangerous n reckless bt that’s jst bradley <3 mayb they forged an unlikely friendship frm this strange meeting or maybe even? dare i say it? a romance? opposite worlds colliding? good influence? let’s go crazy. release ur inhibitions. feel the rain on ur skin.

hook-ups: bradley’s cavalier abt this stuff..... very unemotional typically..... mayb we cld do an unrequited thing that wld be angsty n fun altho i won’t lie i don’t kno if she’d be the one to catch the feelings.... she rarely sleeps over bt once when she woke up in someone’s bed she hiked over to straddle them carefully as possible so they wldn’t wake up n then pressed her knife to their neck as a fun little surprise where she said boo when they opened their eyes.... she’s a lot clearly.

watermelon slugger, hiiii: bradley has this habit where she gets a bunch of watermelons n then goes to a rooftop n throws them over the edge to watch them explode when they hit the pavement.... maybe ur muse almost got hit by one once n were like WTF???????? another quirky meet cute moment like the bus one <3 can’t stop w them <3 maybe she randomly invited ur muse to do it w her when they were like. a stranger of f the street. she was bored. decided to adopt them as a science experiment. we cn elaborate on this probably....

ouch charlie: similar territory bt she also sometimes shoots pedestrians w a bb gun from rooftops. mayb ur muse wld always get hit by one on a certain route they walked n finally one day they saw her head ducking down behind a ledge n then they see her in the street one day n are like HEY IT’S YOU............. WTF? n bradley’s like ya i’m christ risen again it’s a lot to take in i know...

rly jst anything... mutually destructive friends... exes.... in one rp a character tried to get close to bradley so he cld write an expose all book about her n her family which i found so fking funny so i’ll request that again.... people she’s fought.... ppl whose gf/bf she’s fk’d n it’s caused enemy status.... someone whose place she broke into and shaved their eyebrows off in the night only to draw them on again in crudely thin permanent sharpie lines.... roommates cld be fun n sexy i’d love that actually.... jst anything rly. go wild. kisses everyone tenderly on cheeks.

#irvingintro #abuse tw #missing person tw #implied murder tw #grief tw #hospitalisation tw #depression tw #drugs tw #death tw #i think tht's all of them....... cor blimey......

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phoebehalliwell · 3 years

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Probably an unpopular opinion here, but I kind of wish that Phoebe had ended the series learning to be contentedly single. Because part of her plotline for four straight seasons - sometimes more than once in a season - was 'teach Phoebe to learn how to trust in love again, and the fact that they did it so much seems to mean that it wasn't really working out for her.

And they clamed so much to be 'girl power' and feminist - it just seems antithetical to that message to have the final takeaway to be "you just have to find the right guy - or have him magically handed to you - in order to fix you and make you truly believe in love again."

I think a more satisfying ending for Phoebe would have been her realizing that she didn't need romantic love to be complete, that she loved her sisters and her nephews, and had a career she was amazing at, and good friendships, and that her life was complete just the way it was. If they wanted to pay out the baby arc she'd been obsessing about, they could have even had the witch protege they introduced in s8 be a teenager who she bonded with and eventually adopted - along with her little sister nicknamed Ladybug.

i feel like i both agree and disagree here because i would have liked phoebe to end up with a happy romantic resolution just because so many relationships have blown up in her face i would like to see her with one to have n to hold but like. at the same time you’re very much right on how they just kept using the same plot over and over again like she never really got a break and when she did it was like. constantly acknowledged how she was single. like we didn’t do this with paige who went s4 mostly love interest-less s5 too if i’m not mistaken richard in s6 kyle in s7 and henry in s8. and all of her love interests for the more part carried with them some plot (richard was through love’s a witch, and then his whole. addiction thing. yikes! but it was a plot. kyle obvi with the avatars. henry got his intro through a charge, got payback’s a witch, there were episodes where her love interests were players.) phoebe rarely got that i feel like jason never was with her for a plot miles definitely not nick lachey? dex? drake i’ll give drake his dues he got. two whole plots good for him. but more the most part these men were window dressing and for what? we never really got to see phoebe grow in these relationships. and none of them ever felt like they were meant to be endgame they were always just there because heaven forbid a woman in her late twenties be single. so while i personally do like a happy ending romantically for phoebe, i fully agree that she never really was satisfied by herself. like s1 phoebe vs what she became like she was happy being who she was and she didn’t need love she just wanted fun and yes obvi we change we develop we mature but to have someone who was comfortable being alone kinda devolve into that,,,,,, i just. :/.

#in regards to like. the feminist element all that. like obvi i love the show right that all really fell off in the later seasons #like they still get points for having you know three powerful women balancing careers family love and saving the goddamn world #but like. come on. the lady godiva ep? battle of the hexes? it was all like it all felt v gimmicky to cash in on the original ideas #it was initially praised for you know?#but it wasn't really feminist per se not to get into the discussion of What Is Feminist? but like.#baby crazy phoebe and her whole need for love like. it's really it can be a real downer to watch because like #she was such an amazing character and she lost a lot of great qualities in exchange for narratives that gave us nothing #i'm still blaming brad kern for this like. i mean what was going on is s6 esp with her trying to #like speed run dating and using her powers and she's trying to get pregnant and Because Of This her power is stripped?#i hate it i really do it never fails to both depress & anger me lmao #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#charmed #phoebe halliwell #💌

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ihititwithmyaxe · 4 years

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How to teach someone Magic: the Gathering

I got asked to explain how to teach someone Magic: the Gathering. I have taught many players, and here’s what I found works best when you’re starting from literally nothing. I hope you find this guide useful.

Magic is a hyper-dense game. There are 10x as many rules to teach as a starting player needs to know. If you’re introducing someone with zero experience with Magic, start with the bare minimum. The hardest thing about learning Magic is the sheer volume of rules. It is much harder than you’d think to present the game as too simple, but it is incredibly easy to overwhelm someone new with a barrage of rules and mechanics and vocabulary and interactions and and and and and. Magic is really complex, so the key is starting slow and simple.

Lesson 1: The most basic fundamentals Make two 30-card monocolor decks with only basic lands, creatures, and sorceries. No other card types to start with! You want the decks to be pretty low power level, evenly matched, with a good mana curve, have some simple ways to draw more cards, and include a few exciting but simple cards (Pelaka Wurm, Goliath Sphinx, Sunblast Angel, Rune-Scarred Demon, Thunder Dragon). Use those decks to teach the major essentials:

-parts of a card -turn structure -the mana system -the different zones (except exile and the stack. save those for later!) -how to cast spells and execute other common game actions -very basic rules (one land per turn, how to attack and block, etc) -essential vocabulary (destroy, untap, discard, draw, sacrifice, damage, target, etc)

Keep creatures simple: mostly vanilla and french vanilla, and a very few with enter the battlefield triggers. Avoid repeatable triggers. Use only one or two different keyword abilities per deck and stick to the really easily understood ones that don't break other rules: trample, lifelink, deathtouch, flying, defender, and reach are great introductory keywords. Avoid cards and mechanics that are exceptions to normal rules--as simple as they seem to experienced players, using vigilance, haste, first strike, hexproof, prowess, protection, menace, indestructible, and other creature mechanics make it harder to learn the essential game rules and get the hang of everything 'normal' these mechanics disrupt (tapping, timing, combat damage, targeting, lethal damage, power/toughness, etc). Don't even mention the stack. Don't use any creatures with activated abilities. Only teach the three card types in the starting deck. Use clear, straightforward, flavorfully resonant sorceries: Concentrate, Enlarge, Sever Soul, Righteous Charge, Flame Wave.

It is actually pretty useful to stack the top 10 or 11 cards of their deck the first game so they get a reasonable good flow of lands and spells they can cast on the first few turns (don't let mana screw or flood be their *very* first experience with the game, lol). Practice a few games with those decks, let the newbie stop whenever they want, try to let them win at least one game. Offer to switch decks so they can get a feel for the other deck they’ve seen you play and because seeing how an experienced player uses the same cards they were just using can be helpful, too. Unless the new player is super eager to keep playing, take a break here and call it a day before moving on to the next lesson.

Lesson 2: Enchantments and new Keywords When the new player is ready to play again, play a game to refresh the skills, vocabulary, and information from the first lesson. After a refresher game or two with the basic decks, if it seems like they mostly get the rudimentary game mechanics (not strategy--that’ll come later), explain enchantments by showing some auras and non-aura enchantments, add about 3 of each and 3 lands to both decks, add one sorcery or creature that can destroy enchantments to both decks, then shuffle up and play some more games. After creature, land, and sorcery, the easiest card type to explain using flavor is enchantment, and they are a very helpful bridge to understanding artifacts and equipment. Play a couple games with the decks until the new player gets some hands-on experience using enchantments and figures out how both types work. Then swap out a few vanilla creatures for ones with new keyword abilities that come up a lot: haste, vigilance, first strike, hexproof, menace/intimidate/fear (depending on what era of cards you have). Play a few more games with these decks, then probably take a break before advancing to the third lesson.

Lesson 3: Instants and the Stack Next time you play, if things so far are going well, play another game or two to refresh their memory of what they learned so far, then introduce instants. Instants are a fundamental step up in how games flow and open up a lot of strategy doors. Start with very simple but useful, interactive instants: giant growth, disperse, murder, lightning strike, disenchant. This is when you finally introduce the stack, and it will probably take some getting used to because it’s just a weird game mechanic, but necessary to how the game truly works. Some things have easy flavor to help you explain: “things with deathtouch are extra deadly,” or “things with wings can fly over things without wings.” The stack has no flavor to help you explain, it’s purely a bunch of game rules. This is also a good point to swap out the simplest vanilla creatures for a few slightly more complicated ones that can help players get excited and interested, cards that are easy to fall in love with and show off the most iconic things a color does: Overrun, Vampire Nighthawk, Mind Control, Ghostly Prison, Flametongue Kavu. Play a few games with just simple instants, sorceries, enchantments, creatures, and basic lands. The mechanics and strategies and gameplay here represents a huge amount of what Magic is about, and after a few games with these decks, your protege should have a pretty good foundation.

Recapping what you taught them Take a few minutes to talk through what they’ve been learning and put it into context. Ask them if they are seeing how the three major tangible resources (mana, cards, and life) interact. By now they probably are starting to ask strategy questions, which is great! Explain in simple terms the single most fundamental pillar of Magic strategy: card advantage. Illustrate with different kinds of card advantage: Divination & Mind Rot, Flametongue Kavu, Second Thoughts, Cloudkin Seer, etc. Give some general pointers they can apply in most games, like the more mana you use during each of your turns the better, and think through what creatures live or die in combat if you attack or block a certain way before you decide to do so.

If your pupil is really showing interest in the strategy, now is a fine time to explain the essence of the five colors and basic strategy of the five major deck archetypes. I’ve outlined a really simplified version of each below. But if they aren’t especially showing interest in this, it’s fine to save these explanations for later:

White wins because it’s tougher than you. Blue wins because it’s smarter than you. Red wins because it’s faster than you. Green wins because it’s bigger than you. Black wins because it wants it more than you.

Aggro (aggressive) decks deploy as many cheap, fast threats as early as possible to kill the opponent before they can get set up. They excel in the early turns of the game. Control decks prevent and disrupt the opponent’s game plan, build up card advantage, and win with just one or a few powerful, expensive threats. They excel in games that go long. Midrange decks deploy a mix of mid-sized threats and efficient answers, out-classing aggro decks and pressuring control decks. They’re at their best in the midgame. Ramp decks seek to increase their mana supply faster than the opponent in order to dominate them with more powerful spells than their opponent can afford. They effectively reach the later turns of the game sooner than the opponent. Combo decks combine cards that interact to generate an effect more powerful than the sum of their separate pieces, often winning immediately. They want to find assemble their combo pieces as fast as possible before dying to more conventional strategies.

Where to go from here If they are on board, learning well, and enjoying the game so far then it’s probably you have successfully recruited another Magic fan! If your card collection allows, there are some very common but tricky game elements it’s best if you’ve avoided until now: activated abilities and artifacts, +1/+1 or -1/-1 counters, and multicolor cards. If lessons 1, 2, and 3 went well, it doesn’t matter much which order you introduce these four new game elements. But consider if anything is giving them trouble. If your padawan is struggling with the instants and stack, more practice with that is helpful before introducing activated abilities. Similarly, someone having a hard time with combat math might benefit from more practice with that before learning counters that modify power/toughness. For someone not totally comfortable with how the mana system works, hold off before you introduce multicolor cards and 2-color decks.

The game mechanics I’d suggest learning after these are a teeny bit more complicated, but very common and just about essential for getting into the game at this point: the exile zone, tokens, and cards that care about creature type. It’s also a good time to start slowly introducing mechanics that make the actual gameplay better and more enjoyable: scry, cycling, modal cards, cantrips, tutoring, and color fixing. Getting mana screwed/flooded, not having useful cards, and not having the right colors of mana can make a game very frustrating. These mechanics make those common unfun situations in Magic much more avoidable by helping your rookie player draw the right cards in the right order in more games, which will in turn make learning the game a much happier experience.

Things new players don’t need to worry about Some parts of the game are just too complicated to bring up with someone just learning Magic. You will make learning the game easier for a rookie if you just don’t even bring these up until they really have the hang of the game. -Planeswalkers: They are so much more complicated than any other card type, but they are very cool. -Legendary: this adds so little from a game-play standpoint and is (just in mechanics) basically all downside and extra rules for negligible payoff. -Layers: while necessary for the game to work, put off explaining the layer system as long as you can. It boggles and frustrates, and is a pain to remember, even for people playing for a year or longer. -Formats: it’s easy for new players to worry about card legality and formats, but just focusing on what cards and gameplay are exciting and fun will reel someone in better without touching on this for a while. Compounding a new player’s efforts to learn basic rules with format-specific rules like Planechase, Archenemy, Commander, etc won’t help either. -Multiplayer: As tempting as it is to throw people into multiplayer games to play up the social aspect, many new players can find this overwhelming. A common new player response is to just give up trying to understand what’s happening in a game if there are too many cards to read and track, or play is moving too quickly. Patience on this. -Infrequent, retired, or complex mechanics: stay focused on practicing the basics and the evergreen mechanics (the ones in every or almost every set). Learning the core of the game is easier when you aren’t overloaded with new vocabulary. You can teach someone better without adding in proliferate, exalted, flashback, bushido, hybrid, escalate, or suspend. Protection has come back to the game and is starting to show up more, and regenerate is on tons of old cards that show up in reprint sets and Commander, but both of those mechanics are much denser than mechanics like double strike or scry. -Deckbuilding: this can be a daunting challenge that turns many new players away and often rubs in their face the parts of the game they are the least proficient in. You should do most or all of the deckbuilding or use precons for someone just learning the ropes unless they express a lot of interest in doing this themself.

I hope this guide helps you, but it is only a guide. Remember to teach following the interest and excitement of a new player. Magic is an awesome game, but lots of people find different things to love about it. Finding what your newbie loves is what will hook them into the game, so look out for that as they learn. And when you find things that especially delight them, show them more so they know whatever it is they love is something Magic is full of!

#magic the gathering #mtg #gaming #articles #how to

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gildedmuse · 4 years

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So... I have this bad habit where sometimes, when attempting to summarize the idea for a fic, I go into waaay too much detail.

Like, I don't go as far as to actually wrote the damn thing because, you know, effort and laziness, but... Well, it's a close call. It gets to the point where it's less a summary and more what my friends use to call a Quick Fic. All that's .kissing is the actual dialogue and descriptive narration.

Having said that....

Here is a "summary" of an ZoLaw AU where Law works for Doflamingo...

What happened was, basically, Law got caught by Doflamingo after eating the devil's fruit which eventually allowed him to cure his dieses, thus why he's still alive. Or, at least, isn't dead from lead poisoning. Because let's face it, Doflamingo could have just killed the boy then and there. Sure, he'd have to find the fruit all over again, but better that the deal with this little traitor

Except really it was his brother who had been the traitor. Law is still just a child, and children can be so suspectable to any number of ideas so long as an adult gives them a pat on the head and a treat after.

Which is when Doflamingo realizes that he can just manipulate Law into being another loyal follower. Then eventually - when he's no longer useful - Doffy will have him sacrifice his life for his own immortality. By that point Law will be family, and family never lets Doffy down. Not anymore.

So it's under Doffy's personal tutorage that Law grows up, and as much as he might resit the man who imprisoned Corazon, it's hard not to eventually fall to all Doflamingo's sweet praise and promised. And Law gets what he had wanted all along: a way to get back at the world that willingly watched his home wiped off the official world map and would be happy to see the entire town dead to the very last one. This Law truly earns his title Surgeon of Death, acting as the top officer of Hearts in the Doflamingo crime family. And yet despite his cruelty, he isn't even on the government's wanted list; protected under the Shichibukai's jolly roger.

In the meantime, the Strawhats are still doing their thing right on through Punk Hazard (which they somehow manage to not only live through but actually do more damage and cause twice as much chaos. The biggest difference is that Ceaser and Monet escape and Sanji can't perv out over being in Nami's body). So this time when they roll into Dressrosa it's less "backing up the plan of an ally" and much more "on complete and total accident" and "without a damn clue".

Yeah, basically they're the Grand Line's easiest prey.

But, hey, it works out! Well, no, not really. But Sanji does meet Violet, Luffy meet Sabo and help recover Ace's devil's fruit, and Zoro does get lost and require a magic fairy guide. Plus, hey, since they're not really there for any purpose other than that they happened to be passing by, it's not like they can't pull a dine and dash. They may be unprepared, but The Monster Trio can still keep up the fight until everyone is back on the Sunny.

A perfect escape!

Except no.

Because Luffy isn't totally ready to leave, not when he wants to know more about what Sabo is doing and help his new friend Rebecca. Not that they have time to debate the merits of staying or pulling a tactical retreat since at that poing Big Momma is on their ass. And that scary dude in the long black coat is still somehow following them, teleporting himself through the fucking air like wtf why is this happening now!? Nami is forced to make an executive decision: they're can't stay. Also, oh God oh God they're trapped and they're going to be killed and oh God.

It's moments like these you're almost thankful one of your crew members is a total maniac. Because in the middle of all this mess, Zoro just smirks, tells Nami to just concentrate on getting away from that annoying ass ship, he's got their other attacker covered. Which only makes everyone freaks out MORE because what is Zoro thinking: he'll be killed! ("Not immediately, of course. First they'll likely torture him for information, perhaps even kill him as slowly as possible." / "What? Why would you say that? That is not SUPER helpful to hear right then!") The Sunny goes into an all out panic attack. Everyone is yelling or crying or both.

Except Luffy.

Luffy who looks at Zoro, at the singing ship, at the dark power user trying to slash their ship apart, at the shore line of this island and the way it radiates a fake happiness covering Rebecca's very real pain. Luffy who just lowers his hat over his eyes and gives the nod.

Zoro smiles, and is immediately almost clobbered by a giant Chopper. What is Luffy saying? Don't they realize that is the same guy who almost took down Sanji, Zoro AND Luffy only moments ago? Zoro can't fight him alone! Sanji, more calm than the rest, lights a cigarette while explaining that he's not trying to stop Zoro from getting himself killed or anything, but Chopper is right. That guy was incredibly tough, and there's no way Zoro can do it alone ("Shut up dartbrow! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I could take him down with just the two swords! With one hand behind my back!" / "He already kicked your ass once, Marimo! Or have you forgotten because of all the head trauma!?" / "The only reason he kicked OUR asses is because YOU kept getting in my way you damn weak-ass cook!" / "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, IDIOT MARIMO!?") Franky tries to regulate the fight but he's busy blocking those deadly aimed slashes from hitting his poor ship while Brook and Kin'emon work on stopping the incoming cannon balls. Either way they're going to have to do something SUPER fast if they want to get out of here. Yeah, Luffy, we need an actual plan. We can't just send Zoro out to-

"Zoro", Luffy says and despite everything going on around them the deck of the Sunny goes really quiet. They all know that tone. "Zoro, I need you to take care of this until we can get back. I still need to kick Mingo's ass for a friend."

At the sound of his captain's no nonsense voice, Zoro is suddenly easily able to stand, shrugging off the pile of people trying to stop him from jumping to his death (and by pile of people I do mean the coward trio and Sanji, who is mostly just trying to get in a few kicks). He draws Wado, clutching the katana in his teeth and yet still somehow manages what you know is a smirk. It's a promise.

And like that, Zoro is launching himself right into the blue sphere of the battle.

A battle against one of Doflamingo's top officers. A devil's fruit user with a twisted heart and home field advantage. Needless to say, it does not end well for our hero.

—🧡—

Although, Law has to give his rival swordsman some credit. He has his share of fun toying with the boy, and despite never standing any real chance of victory Law can admit the strawhat pirate puts up a better fight than most. Far better than Law had been expecting from some one so new to the New World (supposedly he got Mihawk to agree to train him, but Law has met the Hawk Eye and finds the idea utterly absurd). Then there is the way his smile had just an edge of what Law could only call manical delight, even when it became clear he'd long lost. This greenhaired kid really is stupid enough to believe his captain will come back for him. As though he would come charging back into Doflamingo's territory a second time just to retrieve a single crew member. One who was not only crazy enough to sacrifice himself but couldn't even win the fight. At the same time the swordman's loyalty and faith - as misplaced as it is - is kind of... Adorable. Who knew someone could come so far on the Grand Line and still be so innocent?

Law immediately wants to corrupt it.

Thes other family members will whine tell you, Doffy has always had... Let's say... A "soft spot" for Law. He's spoiled that brat for years, is what they mean but don't dare to say. Sure enough, Law barely has to work to talk Doffy around to letting him personally see to the prisoner's arrangements. Doflamingo is a little suspecious at first (he can never truly trust Law, not after the Corazon incident), but he quickly dismisses it. He's had the Heart Officer's loyalty for years now.

Of course, when he sees the spark of interest light in his apprentice as they eye their newest spoils of war, he can't help but tease Law. After all, Zoro is quite an enticing young man and Law isn't the only one there who likes pretty things. They're so fun to destroy which - judging from the way Law shivers when Doffy runs a hand through thick green hair before yanking the boys head back against the wall hard enough to leave the young captive panting and dizzy - is precisely his protege's plan.

(Doflamingo also happens to know Zoro almost definitely had trained under Mihawk, and he would love to see his fellow warlord's eyes flash with barely contained anger when he learns how Doflamingo has broken his favorite toy. It's not his fault - Mihawk is always so uptight and repressed, it makes agonizing him too much fun for Doflamingo to resist.)

In the end, though, he knows when Law's determination is set. And for whatever reason the boy has decided he absolutely has to be the one to keep their guest "comfortable" while his captain makes up his mind on what he'll do. So Doflamingo only teases for a bit - touches a little, plays with the barely conscious boy kneeling at his feet, enjoys the way Zoro still has enough spirit left to try taking bite when Doffy's fingers trail to close to his bloody lips (oh, and, what a joy! Law nearly growls at the prospect of not being the one to ruin the boy!) - but eventually he stops his little game. He gives in, telling Law to have fun with his treasure. He is the one who took him down after all. It is only fair he keeps him.

Just try not to completely break the poor thing, not until Strawhat returns for him.

Law snorts at the very idea. This is hardly the first time they'd done this. He's never seen a single captain try and retrieve their stolen property (he has of course, but he doesn't remember them). He doesn't see why Strawhat-ya would be particularly special.

Before Doflamingo can come up with a clever, vague answer about Law trusting him, Zoro suddenly gives a bark of laughter that would have scared lesser men senseless. It only serves to draw the two men's interest back to their little pet.

Luffy won't come back for him, Zoro confirms, much to Law's surprise (he personally never thought Strawhat-ya would, but then why would the swordsman sacrifice himself so willingly for a man he has so little faith in?) and has Doflamingo raising an eyebrow in.... Interest. Zoro looks at both of them with no fear, like he hadn't taken a humiliating defeat and is even now bloody and chained up, helplessly listening in on these two infamous pirates talk about him like he is a mere object. Actually, if anything, he appears to be wearing a smirk under all that blood. Because he knows something they don't.

Luffy won't come back for him, because his captain knows Zoro doesn't need to be rescued.

To Law, this makes Zoro look like an even sweeter treat. Doflamingo is simply amused, remarking that perhaps their little pup has yet to realize the leash around his neck is shaped like a noose.

Zoro meets his gaze, steady yet daring. He promised Luffy that he'd take care of it, and so that is what he will do. He'll never go back on his word, especially when it comes to his captain. Something Doflamingo with his distrusting and fear-toed crew couldn't understand. So see, their plan to use Zoro as bait will never work, because Zoro swore to Luffy that he'd be take care of it. So he will. Luffy has enough faith in Zoro that he'd never believe anything less and would never turn around out of doing to try and mount a rescue.

No, when Luffy comes back it will be for the sole purpose of kicking Doflamingo's ass.

The mood darkens. In a flash, Doflamingo is in back in front of him, yanking Zoro forward by the chin. He squeezes hard enough to bruise. You can hear the cracking of bone as he explains to Zoro exactly how precarious his current position is only to grow second by second more frustrate by Zoro's completely lack of fear. So he squeezes harder. He slams the boys head back into the wall and starts smiling when he gets a since from the stoic swordsman.

Before he can do any real damage Law steps in, reminding Doffy that he promised him he could have the boy. And just like that, Doflamingo's whole mood appears to shift back to calm. He puts on his fake smile and let's Zoro go, even pets the boy's hair. Of course, he had promised. And he, too, is a man of his word. Something Zoro will surely learn in time now that he is one of them.

Zoro, now with blurred vision and the taste of fresh blood on his tongue, is smart enough not to answer. But not smart enough to lower his head or try and appear humbled. Lucky for him, Doflamingo decides the boy isn't worth it. When he turns around he notes the hungry way Law is eyeing the kneeling prisoner behind him. Which brings a crueller, yet more genuine, smile to Doffy's featurss. The Strawhats vice captain may act invincible now, but he's never faced Doflamingo's own Surgeon Of Death. As disinterested and put off as Law might usually act, the boy can be dangerously twisted. He's sure his top officer will break the young pirate down bit by bit - both literally and figuratively - long before his captain can come running back in to try and find him (and Doflamingo is sure Strawhat will, no matter what Zoro might think).

He leaves with one last reminder to Law not to completely shatter the infamous Pirate Hunter. No, Doffy would hate to see their newest family member treated so poorly, especially seeing as he has much bigger plans in store for the young Mr. Roronoa. Specifically, he wants to see the face of Monkey D Luffy when he watches as the last bit of his first mate's spirit broken.

And because Doffy practically raised the boy and knows exactly the right buttons to push, he decides to give Law a little extra motivation to bring Zoro to that point. Just in case that interest turns into something dangerous like longing or - laughable as it is - actual fondness. It's so simple, too: as he walks by he simply whispers how there is nothing like crushing the heart of unrequited love.

It will be such a treat, tearing Zoro from his captain, and watching Luffy realize he's lost his chance to love the other man, wouldn't it Law? What a truly tragic romance. It almost makes you hope the two of them at least had some time together. Law didn't happen to give them a moment along before forcing Zoro to throw himself into the fight, hmm? Just a small, precious second or so for the two to share a final kiss. After all, not even Doffy is so cruel as to deny the poor boys such a tender moment.

Sure enough, Law's eyes immediately narrow and Doflamingo can feel the jealousy rolling off him. Not because Law gives a damn for their prisoner's feelings - Doflamingo raised him better than that - but he always has had a possessive streak. Having taken an interest in the swordsman, he will hate the thought that the boy might even think of another or that Law won't be the first to possess him in ever possible way.

Doffy leaves with a cruel, deep laugh. He can't wait until dinner, when he may just happen to remember the rumours about his "friend" Mihawk and his taking a young green-haired boy under this wing and in to his bed. By tomorrow he suspects every part of Zoro's body will bare at least some mark that he now firmly belongs to no one but Trafalgar Law.

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Sands #2 (1/2/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates meets Alastor @usedhearts. They hunt fish. I don’t mean “they go fishing,” I mean “they hunt fish.”

At one point Valera uses their Mom Voice on Alastor. It’s super effective.

Valera

Having guests was lovely, but the best part of being back home? The ocean, with all the underwater caverns, the kelp forests, the reefs and coves and crowds of colorful fish to lose yourself in. Valera had well and truly lost track of time goofing off in the water, doing acrobatics and harassing the local wildlife until she was dizzy from it all. But she had obligations, and as wonderful as time to herself was, she wanted to see her company before it got too late.

She turned to the shallows once more, picking up speed and skimming along just under the surface until the last! Possible! Moment! And then she breached, tucking into a somersault and then twisting into one, two, three backflips before landing on the shore, a self satisfied little grin plastered across her face. Still got it. Hmhmhm~

Alastor (@usedhearts)

When Valera lands, there's applause, both real and canned, and even a few whistles.

"What a performance! Simply stunning! How graceful, how dexterous! How powerful!" Alastor called from his spot on his beach blanket. With a red and grey stripped swimsuit, and a pair of small sunglasses replacing his monocle, he looked decidedly different from his usual outfit. But certainly not different enough that one wouldn't recognize the Radio Demon himself.

"I wasn't expecting a show beyond the sultry song of the sea herself, but then there you were, springing for from the water like Aphrodite herself!" He stood and walked over towards them, hands, still gloved, clasped behind his back-- and was he still in his shoes and socks? Yes! Clearly someone didn't plan on going for an actual dip.

"Mademoiselle Valera, isn't it? Pleasure to finally, formally meet you! Alastor, the Radio Demon!" He winked over his sunglasses and moved nearer to give her a playful elbow.

"But you knew that already, didn't you!"

Valera

She really should have expected an audience, with this many people on one island. But it's still a surprise to turn and see the ~feared radio demon himself~ dressed like something out of an old timey picture... Oh gods he was still wearing socks and shoes. Somehow she'd expected as much... But best not to get distracted by that, he was coming in fast and already talking and right right yes, this was a new one, must by Kyxs' boss? Either that or the one Rhedd brought along, but... No, he seemed normal-ish, for an Alastor..

A demure little smile, and she nods. "I'd be hard pressed to mistake you for anyone else, my good man! I take it you've been enjoying your stay so far, judging by your attire?"

Alastor

"Yes! Certainly! Haven't seen an ocean this gorgeous since I was alive, had to get my fill!" He turned toward said ocean, his hand moving in a large arch, taking in the whole of it. "And of course, I couldn't wear my usual out here! The beach is no place for a suit, after all!"

He turned back to her, and gave himself a comical slap on the forehead, the audience laughing as he did. "Oh dear, how rude of me, I haven't made it clear _which_ Radio Demon I am! I'm the one that came with Kyxs! He's my apprentice!"

There was a chorus of 'ooooo's like someone messed up in a sitcom. "OH! And I even forgot to thank you for that gift: the tiny radio! Bee's a darling, she's right here, actually!"

He pulled the teeny radio out of the pocket on his swimsuit chest, cradling her gently in his hand to show Valera.

"Thank you dearly for her, she's a charmer to be sure! No one can look away when she comes out!"

Valera

She covers her mouth with a hand, stifling her amused snort as best she can as he waves around. This Alastor was *very* animated, it almost reminded her of Pentious. "Ah! Yes, of course. I was wondering. I appreciate the speediness of your clarification, my dear, much appreciated!"

Oh, and there's the little darling herself, tiny little Bee! "I'm so glad you like her, she's the sweetest little thing to ever receive a radio wave. And so helpful! Her schematics have been a great help in understanding the transition from the larger compact radios like the Baby Grand, to the pocket radios like *this* little beauty. But that's a lot of technical nonsense, I wont bore you with my prattling."

Though, now that she sees Bee.. "No no, I have something MUCH better for you and yours, my good man!" Give her a moment to reach into her room through the ever convenient portal, there's something somewhere on her worktable... Ah, perfect. Alastor is presented with a tiny bow, fabric dyed to match his classic bow tie.

"So you can match!"

Alastor

His eyes turn to dials, just for a split second when she reveals the bowtie. And then he's gasping! The audience is gasping! Everyone is gasping!

He delicately takes the bow and affixes it to Bee-- somehow it sticks without any sort of adhesive, but that's magic for ya! Alastor holds Bee out, admiring her with her new bow. The audience coos in delight.

"Look! At that! How cute, how adorable! Simply stunning, beautiful, the most charming little radio to ever graces the nine circles! She'll be the talk of the town!!"

Valera

Oh no, oh that was so cute. Look at that itty bitty little radio all dressed up, she could just KICK herself for not making some tiny antlers to match. Next time. But even just a bow was precious, no need to overdo it.

"She looks even better than I imagined! Nobody will be able to resist your little lady now, even the coldest hearts would melt. Make sure nobody tries to steal her away, Alastor!"

Alastor

"Oh, they won't! I'll be sure of that! No one's going to touch this little darling!" He tucked her safely back into his pocket.

"Now, I've been wondering, the sea-- what kinds of seafood do you get from it?"

Valera

She tilts her head to one side, fins exaggerating the gesture.

"What kinds of seafood? Fish, with and without shells. Plants as well, if you're interested in kelp and seaweed. There's a sea serpent in the area too, but I wouldn't consider him food so much as a part of the scenery. If you're craving fresh fish, we've got plenty in the kitchens for you to play with!"

Alastor

"Oh, that sounds delightful! Fresh fish can be so hard to come by in Hell, and to get to experiment with new varieties, well! It's enough to make a chef's heart soaaaaaar!" He belted the note, the sound of birds chirping accompanying him.

"I'll have to make sure to take some when I go, just to have some extra fun with the hotel! But before then, seeing the variety would be scrumptious!"

Valera

"You should try snorkeling. Maybe spearfishing, if you want to try catching them yourself..." She looks him up and down. Perhaps not. "... Or we can package some in live traps for you!"

Alastor

"Live traps! How quaint! I'd love some, certainly, thank you!" He laughed, and as always, the audience joined in.

"I might be persuaded to wade a bit, but going fully underwater isn't my cup of tea. You understand." He tapped his chin. "Spearfishing, though, tell me more about that..."

Valera

Oh good, a subject she can drone about! She claps her hands, giving Alastor her toothiest grin.

"The most basic form of spearfishing is very straightforward. You get your fishing spear, you find a good shoreline, pier, or take a boat out to a school of fish.. And you heft your spear in to skewer your target! If you plan on throwing it, tie a line to the pole! You can put bait or just wait for an opportunity to present itself, people have different methods. There's also *speargun* fishing, where you take, essentially, a crossbow, and do the same thing! Speargun fishing is typically done fully underwater, but I'm sure it would still be serviceable from above. The bolt is pulled back in by the line, the fish is placed wherever you store them, rinse and repeat!"

Alastor

"Oh! That sounds wonderful! Now, I wonder where there would be an experienced spearfisher to show me the ropes!" He pretended to look around before jumping when he 'spotted' Valera.

"Well! You're right here, aren't you! How about we go rummage up some gear and let loose on some fish!"

Valera

"By all means my dear protege, just so long as that fish isn't me! I may be delicious according to select sources, but I'm afraid there's already other Alastors queued up for a go at me!" She sighs, pressing a dainty wrist to her forehead. "Yes, everything from breast to shank. You'll have to take a number, or settle for second best!"

Valera snorts, offers a deep bow, and gestures grandly towards the estate. Weaponry awaits!

Alastor

"Oh, how terrible! Looks like I'll have to wait my turn behind myself!" The audience gave a short boo before swapping to laughter, as Alastor turned towards the estate.

"Let's see the weapons! Can't wait to discover all the secrets of alien weaponry!"

Valera

And off they go, to the estate, and then the armory. The secrets of alien weaponry? Easy! It's magic!

Veci don't have a cultural inclination towards technology, but every member of the species radiates magic the way humans radiate body heat, and they channel it in everything they do. How could electricity compete with that? All things that Valera will happily explain to Alastor when she drops a speargun into his gloved hands.

"I don't know if your magic works the same way, Alastor, but it doesn't matter. I can always charge it for you, and even without magic the gun will function. The magic just lets the bolt go farther, and winds it in automatically."

Alastor

His grin becomes a little manic when the gun is dropped in his hands. He'd never been one for guns, but this!! This was something special! He adored the heft of it and held it up to look down the sights.

"Oh, no worries! Let's see..." His eyes turned to dials and the static picked up, a red glow radiating around his hands. It flowed into the gun and he settled back down.

"Well, look at that, I think it worked!" Alastor laughed, putting it up on his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Valera

A wise man would probably think better than to cheerily hand the big bad radio demon a magic powered speargun designed for maiming fish, especially when said wise man was himself a fish. But Valera never claimed to be wise. Or a man, but that was as debatable as any other gender floating around. No no, Valera grins just as wide as Alastor, her own gun loosely held in a practiced grip.

"We *shall!*" And off they go, to spear helpless fish off the pier.

Alastor

Alastor lets out a cackle filled with static as he followed them-- no audience that time, it was full manic Radio Demon glee!

And down to the pier they travel. He's so excited he's nearly vibrating.

"Now, don't pick on me if I'm a terrible shot-- haven't handled a gun in decades!"

Valera

"I wouldn't *dream* of it, my good deermon. In fact, I should warn you! You'll want to aim low, water refraction likes to make fish look further than they actually are. The first five shots are practice, in my book."

She twirls her gun with a flourish, curling her tail under herself to improvise a seat. How convenient, to be a fish with a tail longer than you are tall. How rich! And now the fun part. A little bait in the form of a chicken thigh tossed off the pier, and watch the fish gather.

"Have at it, Alastor."

Alastor

"Deermon! Ha! Lovely!" He laughed, the audience joining in this time.

Once the bait was in the water and the fish swarming, he took aim, humming a jaunty little diddy to himself as he pulled the trigger....and missed.

Well! Valera did say the first five didn't count! He wound it back and then gestured for her to take a shot.

Valera

She purrs, takes a look down at the water... And spears a fish through the head. She doesn't look very pleased when she reels it in though, huffing as she examines the entry point.

"Hrm. I was *aiming* for the eyes..." Ah well, time to take a bite! Delicious.

Alastor

"Oh! Well, look at you-- and here you had me thinking we'd be trading missed shots for a bit!" He laughed and then aimed again, focusing more intently this time.

Another shot!

......And another miss.

Valera

She glances over, eyes scrunched up in half moons as she tries to look apologetic around a mouthful of fish.

"Oh? Sorry darling, I've been doing this since I grew thumbs! Though if it makes you feel any better, it took me three days of trying before I ever caught my first fish with these tools."

Alastor

His eyes squint in turn, but he's still amused! So that's good.

"Ah, fair enough! Like me with cooking! Been doing that since I could hold a spoon!" He took aim again-- but then blinked, something registering at last and he lowered the gun to turn to her.

"_Grew_ thumbs, you say?"

Valera

Oop, hang on, let her swallow this mouthful. Alright, the fish remnants are dropped on the pier next to them, that can be the next piece of bait when they feel like shooting again. She turns to face Alastor properly, jazz handing with gusto.

"Yeah! Veci like me hatch with our little graspers shaped more like *paws* than anything else. If you were so inclined, you'd still be able to feel the grippy little pads in my fingertips. Think... fish cats? I guess? We've got a hatchling right here in the estate, actually, if you're struggling to visualize what I'm on about."

Alastor

"Paws?" A brow arches as he thinks on that, and then he laughs.

"Oh, that's quite cute. Fish cats...." He snapped his fingers and shouted. "Catfish!" Before bursting into laughter.

"Ah, oh, I crack myself up!"

Valera

She flutters her eyelids, pressing dainty fingertips to her smirking lips.

"Actually, I'm a lionfish, my dear sir."

And then she just starts _cackling_.

Alastor

Oh boy! They're both laughing! And the audience is laughing! It's just a laugh factory around here!

It takes him a GOOD FEW MINUTES to collect his composure, and he wipes tears from his eyes as he does.

"My, my, you are a CARD, my good lady! Or perhaps even a full deck! No wonder you've charmed your way into the hearts of so many of Hell's citizens!"

Valera

Just a couple of clowns standing around with spearguns, laughing their heads off. What could be more normal than this?

Deep breath, she's good. "Thank you, my fine fellow! That's the kindest way I've been called *stacked* yet!" She honest to god slaps her thigh, barking out another laugh before she regains her composure.

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist! I appreciate it, truly. You're a bit of a riot yourself, aren't you Alastor? I suppose I could expect no less from a fellow who knows how to talk a person in circles!"

Alastor

"Oh yes! Comes from working in Raaaadiooooo~" He belts that last word-- he was doing that a lot today! Maybe it was just from being so happy at _not_ being hunkered down for an extinction. Plus sun was good for the skin!

"I've trained a long time to work my way around words as well as a serpent sliding through the surf!" He threw her a wink before hoisting his gun again. He took aim and!!

This time he hit! He laughed excitedly-- with surprisingly little static-- as he pulled it in.

"Well, would you look at that! It's a body shot, but hell, I'll take it!"

Valera

Being out of Hell seems to have perked up a lot of people's moods, she shouldn't be surprised by the extra oomph. She is, but she shouldn't be. But then he turns to try another shot, and she gasps in delight as he hits his mark, clapping as he reels in his first catch.

"Oh! Amazing, only your third shot and you've made a catch! You're a natural, Alastor. What a shot!" Will he be needing a cooler for that fish? Some ice?

Alastor

Nope! Just like her, he takes it off the spear and takes a nice, big chomp out of it. What good was catching your own seafood if you didn't try some fresh out of the ocean?

He hummed and hawed as he chewed, tongue licking his teeth and picking at the spaced between. "How interesting a taste! Familiar, and yet, completely foreign!"

He laughed and then took another bite, letting the audience continue to chuckle for him.

Valera

FINALLY someone around here with STANDARDS. Valera's tail would be wagging, if she wasn't using it to lean on. Her fins will suffice, the little wiggle likely indiscernible from another other twitch to the eyes of an alien. But even so!

"Palatable, I hope! You're doing a grand job, you'll be wiping the floor with me soon enough. Were you a hunter in life, then?"

Alastor

He laughed again! Around his mouthful of fish! He swallowed without chewing much and shrugged.

"Oh, I dabbled here and there. Living in New Orleans, one learns those sorts of things. So much in bayou to make into dinner! Say, have you ever had gator?" His eyes sparkled-- literally, they got big and sparkly as he spoke.

"Ah, one of the things I miss most about living! So hard to get good gator down in Hell, unless it's been a fellow sinner!"

Valera

HAS she had gator? Hrm...

"I might have, but not in many, many years! I'd be happy to bring you some, if you'd be kind enough to share the meal you make out of it! Same with any other seafood you crave. Or crawfish, I never know if they should count as *sea*food..."

Alastor

"Oh, I certainly think so! A proper seafood spread is never finished without a heaping, steaming pile of crawfish!" He laughed. "I'd be more than happy to share some of anything I make! What good is New Orleans cooking if you don't share it?"

He hummed, a low whine turning more high pitched, as he aimed again-- and fired. Oops that one's another miss.

"Dang! Thought I had it!"

Valera

She watches him fire again, eyes narrowing as the bolt misses. Would it be overstepping if she...? Ah, what's it matter. She reaches an arm out, mindful of his personal space as she taps the speargun a hair lower.

"You're doing beautifully, don't worry. You've got this next one in the bag, Alastor."

Alastor

He doesn't say anything when she tilts the gun lower, and even sends a beaming smile her way. And then he aims again, and fires again.....

And another strike! Another body shot, but hey! He was still learning, after all. He reeled it in and removed the spear.

"This one I think, will need some ice!"

Valera

A small matter to drop a cooler and some ice in, presented with a grand flourish to her most esteemed guest. And THEN a round of applause on top of it. He IS doing remarkably well after all, he deserves some feedback for his efforts.

"Fantastic display, Alastor. Five shots, two kills, and all within your first half hour of practice! I couldn't be prouder of my star pupil!"

Alastor

"How long until this thing needs to be recharged, so to speak?" He looked at the gun, inspecting it all over.

"And thank you! I've always picked up things rather quickly-- well, most of the time!"

Valera

"Eh, with shallow waters like these? Ten shots, I think the instructions said? Though I'm not sure how your magic compares, so it could be eight, or twelve." She shrugs. "I barely ever need to charge mine, but to say I radiate magic might be describing it in the way a forest fire might be called a bit toasty, so.. Your mileage may vary."

Alastor

He snorted, and aimed once more-- spearing another fish. He was getting pretty good at this.

"Radiate is about right, I could feel your aura from a mile away! It's so....everywhere here, that it _actually_ took me a while to notice it. Like if you're in the water and don't notice the temperature."

Valera

She grins! Offers him a very loud purr in place of a shoulder bump.

"Oh! You noticed? Nobody had said anything, I wasn't sure if you were sensitive to it or not. Okkylk itself sings with magic! Or, at least the parts where we Veci like to live do. If you go into the mountains, it thins out considerably. The Nir and Artak'in aren't nearly so.... Vibrant, I suppose. And the Pira actually *absorb* magic." Yes, he's totally going to know what all of those things she's saying mean. Absolutely.

..... Cough. "Those are the other species that live on Okkylk."

Alastor

He smiles through it. Be strong, Alastor, be strong for Mother! He laughs and gives her a nod.

"Oh yes, I figured as much! Wouldn't want to meet the ones you said absorb magic-- I run on the stuff, pretty much!" He shrugged and aaaaaimed again. And fired! And missed. Well, you win some, you lose some. He reeled it back in.

"I'm quite magical myself, so I did notice! I suspect my other selves also did, but with the lot of us, who knows! Kyxs may well have noticed too, but he hasn't been practicing his aura sensing much." The audience 'ooooo's and he tsks.

Valera

Oh, hm! Closer, that one was unfair. She'd probably have missed too. Guess she can fire a shot, but she'll be fair and aim for trickier targets... Ough, body shot on that eel. Good enough, into the cooler it goes.

"Tsk tsk! Alastor, you'd better tell that boy to get back to his studies! Can't have him getting himself in trouble with half baked magic, that's worse than no magic at all!"

Alastor

"Yes, I know! I've been giving him a break for the holidays-- stressful time that it is-- but after the extermination, he'll be right back in it!" He laughed and shot again. Another fish and that one was right into the eye! Excellent!

He beamed at Valera as he tossed it into the container.

Valera

She actually cheers when he reels in his new catch, bouncing in place right there on the dock as she claps enthusiastically. He did it! What a shot! What a PERFORMANCE! A perfect display!

"Bravo, Alastor! That was BEAUTIFULLY done! You've got to be pulling my leg, you've done this before, haven't you darling? Either way, that was perfect! I'm in awe, my dear!"

Alastor

He laughs!! Again!! And puts a hand to his chest. "I swear on my dear Mother, that I haven't! Told you, I get things quick!"

He hums and then a song starts playing. _If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it!_ The song cuts off as quick as it starts, and he chuckles, firing off another shot. And another strike! Not a clean one like before, but still good!

Valera

Not perfect, but more than good enough to bring in dinner. And look, she even gets a snippet from... "Anastasia! A wonderful little film that was, the songs were so lovely. And my goodness, the animation.."

Hmmhmm... She's getting distracted, don't mind the humming.

Alastor

He blinks at that! Well!! "I wasn't expecting you to know songs from Earth!"

He lifts the gun and fires again, and another strike. As he reels it, he figures it's about time to charge it back up, and there his eyes go, all radio dials again and the static picks back up-- and then he's back to normal.

"I find most musicals entertaining! Far more than non-musicals, for certain! And yes, the animation has a charm to it!"

Valera

He wouldn't know! Of course he wouldn't know. She twirls in place, arms opening as she just short of sings.

"Oh, I love Earth musicals! All the works of Gilbert and Sullivan, Mary Poppins, Hello Dolly, Chicago, even a number of animated films! I've seen a spread, and I've found some charm in each of them!"

Alastor

He perks up visibly at that. "Oh! A fish swimming in my own see! How grand!!"

Another song starts up. _Come on, babe. Why don't we paint the town? DADADA BUM BUM And all that jaaaazz!_

He almost forgot he had a gun in his arms, but remember it quickly enough, turning to take aim and fire another shot. Shoot, another miss.

Valera

Good try, Alastor! She leans in, lining her sights up to shoot the fish he'd been going for as it swam away. Not a good shot, by any means, but vengeance is vengeance, can't have that fish telling anyone else that it escaped the radio demon. To the cooler with his catch!

She'll dare go for a hip bump, just enough of a brush that it might have been accidental. Is she humming When You're Good To Mama? She might be, but good luck getting her to admit it.

Alastor

The song cuts off and the audience cheers, and Alastor claps his hand against his gun. "That little thing won't slip out of your grasp!"

When he picks up what she's humming, his frequency shifts and that song starts playing in place of 'All That Jazz'.

"You know! This is practically the theme song of a good friend of mine, whom you've invited here!"

Valera

Dinner and a show, what could be better? She snorts, stepping back into her own personal space bubble.

"I'm familiar! She's a lovely dame, big fan of the work ethic she keeps."

Alastor

"It's true, she never stops that Madame! Always working some angle, networking some connection-- I'd call her ambitious but that'd do her a disservice. She knows what she wants and she grabs it with both hands and four tentacles!" Another bout of canned laughter.

"I've been a loyal patron since she approached me way back when-- never showed her fear, which I applaud!" And there's some canned applause. Alastor lifted the gun again annnnnnd.....boom! Another fish onto the pile. How many did they have, four? Hm, not enough for all the carnivores they had here. He should shoot some more.

Valera

He SHOULD shoot some more. So should Valera, instead of jawing away and flailing around like she is. Silly fish. Back to hunting, then.

"Indeed." Oh, another eel? She aims, then hesitates a moment while she double checks... alright. Not one of her guests, it's safe to shoot. She doubted either Pentious was dumb enough to swim around where there were people spearing fish, but at the same time.. They weren't the most observant, despite the eyes.

"Try not to shoot Sir Pentious, my fine fellow. I don't think he's over here, but I'm sure he's swimming around somewhere."

Alastor

The Audience boos a bit at that but Alastor only laughs. "As your guest, I'll respect your request! Considering that I couldn't be sure which Pentious I was shooting at anyway, it's no skin off my teeth!"

He displayed said teeth in a wide mouthed grin. "Wouldn't want to tag your beau instead of dear little Pentell instead!"

Valera

She misses her next shot, jolting in place as Alastor just TELLS HER SIR PENTIOUS' REAL NAME. The poor speargun doesn't even get a chance to reel in before she drops it, hands flying to her hips as she rounds on her guest. "ALASTOR."

Ooooh Alastoooor she's giving you a look like she's about to get out a wooden spoooooon.

Alastor

That _tone_ has him JUMPING nearly out of his skin. His smile doesn't falter-- eighty years of keeping it up the only thing to save him there-- but his eyes do widen, almost comically. The feeling crawling down his spine is a familiar one, someone who grew up with a strict but loving mother always would get when one did something to earn her ire.

He turned towards Valera, trying to keep his cool as he asked, as nonchalantly as possible: "Yes? What is it?"

Valera

Valera steps in, using the entire two inches of height she has on him for all they're worth. Not to look down at him, just to loom as she lowers her voice to that firm, no nonsense tone.

"Alastor, you know better than that. Why would you go telling business that isn't yours to tell?" Oh, maybe she's being too mean.. Alright, soften that tone up. She's not his *boss* here, she's just the hostess. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. I don't want to make Sir Pentious feel like I've invaded his privacy, but I'm going to have to talk to him about this later."

Alastor

Oh and does she loom. And when she whips out the 'I'm not Mad, I'm Disappointed' line, it's like she just took the speargun and shot him right through his chest. It's only his consummate professionalism and skills as a performer that keep his face static, keep him from giving a hint of ground.

"Ah, yes, my apologies! I often forget myself when speaking about him. Don't mind me and my old mind, sometimes things just fall out out of there! Like blood leaking from sackcloth!" He laughed, but there was noticably more static and reverb to his words. Alastor turned back to the sea, firing off his gun again to spear another fish, as he spoke again.

"Don't worry about Sir Pentious-- or the one that I'm familiar with at least. He's resilient! He bounces back eventually! No one can put him down for good, though many have tried!" Every compliment seems more insult coming from him, where Pentious is concerned.

Valera

Nice try, Alastor. If you were the first she'd met, she'd probably have believed him. But no such luck this time around. She watches him turn away and spear another fish, quietly taking up her speargun to wind it in properly. But then she sets it aside, planting a firm hand on the poor man's shoulder.

"It's not me you need to apologize to, Alastor. Though I do appreciate it, that's very sweet of you." Better to temper her scolding with kindness, it's the only way she's gotten *some* people to listen. "We can come out again later, we should take these back and clean them before any pesky birds show up. I've got scalers in the kitchen. You did a wonderful job catching these!" A pat, and she pulls her hand away. She was already playing a dangerous game by initiating any physical contact at all, so best to keep it brief.

Alastor

There's certainly a shiver when she touches him, but he swallows it down. Don't be weak, don't show it. The show must go on. After reeling his latest catch, he puts it on the ice and props the gun on his shoulder.

"Yes, I think we've got a hefty enough supply! And the cleaning is the best part, after all, I'd be happy to lend a hand!" He wiggled one set of fingers.

"Or two!" Suddenly, his other hand is waving-- without the gun moving from its place on his shoulder-- and then he's back to holding it and all is normal. Including him dodging the bit about apologizing to anyone else.

Valera

Ah, back to business as usual, that's MUCH less tense. Valera snorts at his theatrics, picking up her speargun and laying it over the fish before hefting the cooler up with her tail. Much better than making anyone carry the bulky thing in their arms!

"Much appreciated, my dear. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my promise! You'll get your fresh fish before you saunter back to Hell. Now lets get these things looking presentable, hm?"

Alastor

"Yes, absolutely! We'll have to see who's the better cleaner, eh?" He laughed and gave her a quick, playful jab with his elbow. Got to show who's the one who gets to touch around here!

Valera

"What, you think you can descale a fish better than another fish can? That's awfully bold of you, I hope you've got the talent to back that claim up, Alastor!" She wont elbow him back, considering she's got spines full of neurotoxins around there, but she will give him the gentlest shoulder bump, barely enough to dent his padding. She's competitive, but not to the point of actually wanting to upset the man.

Alastor

"I think I'll at least put up a fight!" He laughed. "As long as I've been around fish and fish adjacent creatures, I've gotten very good at relieving them of scale and guts!"

Valera

"I can't tell if I should be impressed or intimidated. I'll decide when I see it in action!" She'll stop milking the 'because she's a fish joke', but come on. It's perfect for this.

And off they go, catch and all.

#extermination party palace #autokrates #usedhearts #chat log

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3cf · 4 years

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Favorite Season Finale So Far - The End 5.22

There are moments I love so much and it really is a great finale for both the loop and Coulson's illness storylines.

This post is basically just a bunch of favorite moments thrown out there...

I don't love Coulson dying but I do love the Coulson's illness arc, that he has time for goodbyes and that he died a Coulson way. Injecting him another miracle substance, well he is not so fond of the idea. He did temporary lost some free will last time it happened. He is a leader, and the leader of his own life, making hard calls is what he does. Sacrifices he makes some all the time. Sacrificing his life he made it several time. So him being able to sacrifice his life in order to save the world one more time his such a Coulson death, and here he basically sacrified his life two times (Ghost Rider & Serum), even more Coulson.

All the YoYo scenes. She simply is so moving and strong though quite desperate and lonely. She is true to herself, as always, honest, determined, brave, empathic, willing to make sacrifices and has stong opinions. I just think she is amazing during the whole episode, I really appreciate that she got to talk to Coulson and got his support even if she already knew it. My favorite is the scene where she reanimates him as it represents her in this situation so well, to her it is a hard choice, but a sacrifice she is willing to do to save the world, a sacrifice Coulson agrees to do, but this doesn't ease the pain of seeing him like this, of losing him. Though she says "What have I done? Forgive me. Dios mio Perdona me por todo lo que hecho" she has really not change her mind on the matter but the pain and fear of seeing Coulson dying is simply so overwhelming and hard that she can't bear it in this moment.

We get to see Mother courage Polly and her scared but brave Robin. (I just really love the Hintons)

Deke's moment is short, but I love it and I kind of been waiting for one like this. He gets to express both his desire to see the world and his fear of dying before, and the fact that he is lonely and still hasn't find his place. He even has his moment to shine, giving good advice to Daisy. (Also lonely, lost and wanting to be love Deke got a little appreciation express to him, can't hurt.)

The hurtful but important Philinda scene about Coulson's death.

"I've made it clear how I feel" "I'm just having a hard enough time leaving you behind" Philinda expressing their feelings to each other.

Also I love that scene so much: "I'm aware that we rolled the dice with Coulson, and I still believe that we need him for this but I will admit that I let my emotions get the best of me. I thought that Coulson was the only one who could keep us all on the same page. You would say that's proof that I can't do the job, that I shouldn't lead. Well, I agree. The truth is I can't hold the team together. But he can. Coulson wants me to call the shots in his absence. Well, that's my decision. Mack should call the shots. He has the biggest heart. I mean, physically, but also, you know... You are our moral center. And look, I never want to stop... being a soldier. He's a general we can all rally behind. Everyone who thinks I'm a 100% right about this, raise your hand." "Couldn't have said it better myself"

We get to see SHIELD taking care of helping directly the 'civilians' and not just fighting the enemy (it is brief but I like it)

The whole Daisy & Coulson exchange in the quinjet I love it so much too.

"I am becoming a hero" "You ARE one. The minute that you enlisted, you became one. We all did. Look around. You're surrounded by them. Anyone who signs up for this, to lose friends or limbs or your mind or your life in protection of humanity." The Coulson style speech to Gravitonium Talbot she nails because she believes so much in what Coulson does and it became her own fight and life. Daisy has truly embraces Coulson's legacy. She truly makes it hers but in her own way, respecting who she is (the whole wanting to be a soldier for example). Though she thinks she is far from ready she has just come so far, far more then she realizes. Her once the lost orphan hacker, her once the lost rogue quake, has found and knows herself now.

The confrontation with 'Gavitonium Talbot' simply looks sooooo cool.

The main storyline is all about getting out of the loop and the changing point in time can really be felt.

Fitz's death is definitely not a favorite part but it did got a good scene and I'm totally in bord with the no word heard for the announce to Jemma choice they've made. His death is not that much address afterward in the episode but more the fact that there is another Fitz (which is a pity but is probably due to lack of time) so I do appreciate that there is at least the scene with his suitcase where we can see his monkey statue, the Academy FitzSimmons photo and his 'Night Night pistol'. I also appreciate that they used the knife that both Fitz & Deke have and Jemma look of determination to first address the whole finding cryo Fitz.

Coulson speech and the team’s reactions felt so true, moving and it’s a good way to say goodbye and to have a bit of closure.

"I've lived a life surrounded by heroes. None bigger than all of you. Since the day you joined, same as anyone in the line of duty. Heroes. Because you... Because we sign up to lose each other. To get cose to good people and have them taken away." (Daisy’s speech to Talbot vibs)

"I never forget those we've lost"

"No. With respect sir, you're wrong. We don't move on. We hold that place in our heart,we close it off, we lock the door, we visit from time to time, but we don't move on. Even after we say goodbye."

"Here's to us. Who's like us? Damn few."

The goodbye hugs.

Daisy & Coulson's goodbye in particular. "Basically just says I'm proud of you" and the ‘I love you’s is a simple but perfect exchange for their mentor/protege father/daughter relationship.

No Melinda & Coulson goodbye just yet. More like beach time for just a lillte bit.

I absolutely love the ending: the hula doll in the cockpit, the team leaving with new director Mack and Philinda on the beach holding hands. I even feel like Fitz is being included as to me Mack's look and smile to Jemma after "Where to first?" referes to the project of saving the one Fitz they still can.

#Agents of SHIELD #aos #30aos #30aos day17 #aos s5 #aos 5.22 #3cf post #catching up as it is a s5 day

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absentlyabbie · 4 years

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“Not the best with words, but I’m told I’m great with a hug.” - Family and (mis)fortune fic 😊 if that's okay, i love this au so so much haha

thanks for this prompt, anon! sorry it’s a month late in the filling, but i’ve been working at it the whole time, i promise. i hope this satisfies what you wanted, and thanks so much for loving this self-indulgent crack au with me <3

a family and (mis)fortune fic

on ao3

moments growing up in the life of tommy merlyn, part-time wayne foster child. (four)

—————

Bruce was at a loss.

For reasons beyond comprehension, it hadn’t been nearly this difficult to bring Dick into his home; maybe they had just grieved too much the same, raged too much the same. Bruce had understood Dick all too well. Not that that had made things easy at the very beginning, but it meant Bruce had something to start with.

Tommy was nothing like that.

He was certainly angry, and undoubtedly grieving. But everything he did was an attempt to hide or subvert those things. He was either bright and animated like a boy who didn’t know a fraction of his loss and hurt, or he was shut down and silent.

“He’ll open up,” Alfred had assured him after the boys had gone upstairs. “You were rather a closed fist yourself in his position.”

“That was different,” Bruce replied, lips pressed in thought. “And I was never in his position.”

“No?” Alfred questioned, that one challenging eyebrow arched. “Alone in all the world, too full of things too large for that age?”

Bruce shook his head, the tilt of his smile wry. “I wasn’t truly alone. I had you.”

Alfred only hummed at that. Nevertheless, his point was made.

Huffing a laugh, Bruce nodded. “Alright. Fine. I’m going.”

Up the stairs and down the hall, past Dick’s room, down two doors and across the hall. The door was open, the boys’ voices spilling into the hall all chatter and laughter. It made Bruce breathe a little sigh of relief; he hadn’t known for sure if they would get along. He had of course thought it likely, the factors enough in favor of that outcome it had helped make the decision for him. But they were five years apart in age, and Bruce knew so little about Tommy and how he was likely to react that he was pretty much a wildcard.

He paused just outside the door, eavesdropping shamelessly.

“Oh cool, I’ve seen this movie. How come this one’s in your suitcase and not with the rest of your stuff?” Dick was asking.

“It’s my favorite,” Tommy answered, more solemnly than the context seemed to justify.

Dick’s cheer took on a valiant, striving edge. “Yeah? I get that. Robin Williams is hilarious. And man, Rufio, so cool right?”

“Yeah, Rufio’s awesome.”

There was a pause, then Dick asked, carefully lightly. “I guess that’s not why it’s your favorite though?”

A rustle of cloth, maybe a shrug. “My Mom got it for me. It was the last thing she gave me, before she…”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, if you ever wanna watch it, I’m in. Or not, if that’s better?”

“No,” Tommy hurried to reply. “No, that’d be cool.”

“Cool,” Dick echoed. “Wait’ll you see the entertainment room, it’s almost like being at the theater. Bruce almost never uses it, but I guess he figured if you’ve got a bazillion dollars and you’re gonna take in feral acrobats as a new and eccentric hobby, you gotta trick out one room with stuff kids like.” He paused, his voice dropping to a teasing stage whisper that might as well have been an elbow in Bruce’s ribs; his presence had been noted. “Honestly, it was probably Alfred, I’d bet.”

“Yeah? I mean, home was…” Tommy’s pause was less a hesitation than a sinkhole in the middle of his sentence. “I mean, we’re rich. Were rich. But this place is bigger. We didn’t have like a movie theater in the house or anything. Dad would’ve—”

Bruce held his breath, but Dick didn’t break into the sudden anger of that bitten-off phrase.

Anger banked to bitter, and Tommy forged through the end of the sentence. “Dad would’ve said something like that was a waste for just me.”

There was another pause, but it seemed like Dick was just letting that moment breathe for a second, letting the hurt bleed a little, bleed off a little. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and so sincere Bruce was struck with gratitude that his protege was not merely clever and insightful, but so genuinely kind.

“Well, there’s two of us here. We’ll do movie nights, make sure we make good use of it.”

Tommy’s answer was quiet, shyly pleased. “Okay. That sounds good.”

Bruce figured he’d better make this his opportunity, otherwise the eavesdropping would stretch to a point that was just awkward. He stepped into the doorway, leaning against the jamb as he rapped his knuckles gently against the polished mahogany. “How’s it going in here?”

Dick turned to him with an amused raise of his brows, seated on Tommy’s bed with a plastic VHS case next to him. Tommy was standing next to him, his suitcase open on the foot of the bed, contents in the process of untidily transferring to the chest of drawers against the wall. It hit Bruce like a punch to the chest—and he’d know—the way Tommy visibly closed up at the sight of him.

He’d need to address that, and soon. At least try.

In fact…

Bruce cleared his throat and canted his head towards the hall. “Dick, can you give me a minute with Tommy? I’m sure Alfred could use some help with dinner.”

Dick launched gracefully to his feet with a melodramatic sigh and accompanying eyeroll. “Fine. I mean, it’s not like we can let you do it. I want dinner to be edible, and Alfred doesn’t deserve that kind of stress.”

Bruce just rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as if his patience were perhaps hidden in the attic. Dick snickered. He passed Bruce and out the door, squawking indignantly as Bruce took mild revenge by ruffling his hair. Dick bobbed away and stampeded down the hall.

Bruce smiled fondly after him a moment before turning to Tommy.

The younger boy wasn’t looking at him, head bent as he sloppily folded a pair of jeans that had been more neatly folded before he began. His movements were slow and clumsy, and Bruce knew he was paying less attention to his task than he was to appearing to not pay attention to Bruce.

Inhaling deeply, Bruce reached for somewhere to begin. “Mind if I come in?”

Tommy looked up at him, first with surprise, then muted skepticism. “It’s your house.”

“And your room,” Bruce pointed out mildly, inclining his head. Tommy blinked at him and he let his smile show just a little more. “Hopefully you’ll think of this as your house, too, someday.”

That statement struck.

Bruce’s chest clenched in surprise and a tinge of regret at the way Tommy’s face flickered—first with shock, then a longing so piercing it howled, then a cynical misery he wasn’t nearly old enough for—before blanking entirely.

Tommy’s only answer, in the end, was a shrug.

Wincing, Bruce scratched idly at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you, Tommy. I know this is all sudden, and very far from home, and you don’t know me well.”

Tommy stared at him, jeans forgotten in his hands and brows pulling together with each word in a dubious frown. “Well. Yeah.”

Bruce chuckled a little awkwardly, at himself. He wasn’t exactly sticking this landing. “I’m just trying to say that I hope you can feel comfortable here. I want you to feel like this is home. Like you have a place here.”

Tommy worried his upper lip with his teeth, brows still knotted over that steady gaze. For a moment, he looked like he might actually show Bruce how he was really feeling, like they might actually, really connect.

His thin chest expanded on a deep breath, and Bruce waited, hopeful.

But then Tommy’s face twisted in a duh expression Dick would have been proud to pull off. He smirked in that ridiculing way only children manage, but his tone wasn’t mean so much as teasing when he said, “That’s what you were trying to say?”

Bruce wished he could take back the laugh that startled out of him. He genuinely did. It only encouraged Tommy to push that fake humor further.

Tommy’s smirk bloomed into a grin that would have been brilliant if it hadn’t been paper thin. “You’re not very good with words, are you.”

Bruce arched his brows at the sling of that sass. God, if he and Dick ever ganged up on him, he was in deep shit.

Worse, he was about to have to squash it.

He couldn’t just let this go on. Let Tommy keep tumbling into whatever role he thought would play best to his new audience whenever he didn’t want to feel what he was feeling, or was afraid how it would be used against him.

(It made the fist in his pocket clench, to think of who must have taught him that survival mechanism. He was a little boy. No nine-year-old should be this attuned to the moods of the adults around them. Too many, too many of those adults had shaped Tommy this way when he was too young and too malleable, and if the first to do it weren’t already dead, Bruce would be hunting down Malcolm Merlyn under cape and cowl for a reckoning.)

“You don’t have to do that, Tommy.”

He said it softly, but Tommy still flinched. Barely visible, too consciously suppressed for Bruce’s comfort.

His chin briefly wobbling, Tommy widened his eyes and stiffened his upper lip, looking down at his half empty suitcase and deflecting, “It seems rude to make that Alfred guy do it. They’re my underwear.”

Bruce sighed. “You know I’m not talking about your clothes.” Finally, he moved into the room, stopping a couple feet on the opposite side of the bed, both hands in his pockets, shoulders in a posture intended not to intimidate. Tommy hunched anyways. “You don’t have to make me laugh to stay here. You don’t have to be anything to stay here. Just you. I know you’ve been shuffled around and left waiting to know where you were allowed to be. So I’ll just say it. You’re allowed to be here.”

Tommy’s head jerked up and he stared, eyes round and tense, that betraying wobble back in his chin. His breath hissed too rapidly from his nose, knuckles going white on the edge of his open suitcase. Quiet but heated, he whispered, “For now.”

Bruce felt his own face betray him, saw Tommy’s sharp eyes clock the devastated twitch of his brows, the parting of his lips.

Immediately, reflexively, Tommy’s mouth split in another grin bright and false as tinted foil. “I mean. You said I’m going back to Starling for school, right? So. For—for now. Then, I’m back at school. I’ve never been in the dorms. It’ll probably be… cool.”

Bruce firmed his jaw and tucked his chin, meeting Tommy’s fevered eyes seriously. He ignored the entire tumble of words, cutting through the panic, through the act. Direct, Bruce Wayne could do. “You belong here. Not just now. Yes, you’ll go back to school. And when school is out, you’ll be back. Because you’ll still belong here.”

Tommy’s defenses—too well built, too resilient—finally cracked. His grin faltered, slipped. And when it dropped entirely, tears spilled sudden as a faucet over Tommy’s cheeks. He jerked, wiped frantically at his face, and when the tears kept coming and his breath hitched in a sob, he turned sharply away, putting his back to Bruce.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered damply. “I’m fine. Sorry. I’m fine.”

Bruce’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might implode from the pain of seeing how disposable this child had been made to feel. “No. You’re not. And that’s okay. Even if you’re not fine, you still belong here.” He paused as Tommy glanced at him over his shoulder, face red, tears still coming, shoulders shaking. “I probably should have said that in the first place.”

Maybe it was time to stop waiting on Tommy. Maybe it was time to reach towards him first for once. Bruce moved around the foot of the bed, stopping and sitting gingerly beside the suitcase when Tommy whirled towards him, tripping back a step over his own feet.

Bruce tried a smile for him as Tommy just stared at him and cried. He still hadn’t responded to being told he belonged. Bruce suspected he was afraid to.

Sighing, he nodded, smile rueful. “You were right, I’m not very good with words.”

This surprised a wet laugh out of Tommy, a muffled giggle that made him sound more his actual age. “Told you.”

Bruce’s eyes crinkled back at Tommy, and Tommy tried to fist the wet tracks off his red cheeks.

Lifting his head higher, Bruce pushed the suitcase towards the pillows and patted the comforter beside him. “Well. I may not be the best with words, but I’m told I’m great with a hug.” He held an arm out to the side, an offer. “If that’s alright?”

Tommy hesitated, biting his lip so hard Bruce worried it would bleed. Finally, haltingly, Tommy closed the steps to the bed and sat next to Bruce. Meeting him halfway. Bruce’s heart soared in triumph and relief and he wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulders—too thin, small for his age—and squeezed him gently against his side.

Letting his head fall against his shoulder, Tommy tsked. “Great with a hug, huh?” Bruce looked down at him with a raised eyebrow and caught the edge of Tommy’s smirk, the boy’s head angled down. This smile, at least, looked real. “Somebody lied to you.”

Bruce didn’t try not to laugh this time, and Tommy’s joined his, filling the room.

He hoped it was a sound they’d all get used to.

—————

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist @icannotbelieveiamhere @p0cketw0tch @andyouweremine @storiesofimagination @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline @cronusamporaofficial @batsonthebrain @adeusminhacolombina @relevanttosomeone

#tommy merlyn #bruce wayne #dick grayson #arrow #arrow fic #batfam #family and (mis)fortune au #fam au #bruce is just a tall child trying to pretend he has any business raising short children #but oh my god does he try #Anonymous #asked and answered

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the-mad-starker · 5 years

Note

‘m dying for non r*p*y overstim fic please halp?????

My dear anon, you caught me just as I got my smut powers back. I hope this is what you wanted D:

Edit: I have no idea what I did but okay, guess I went there.

Notes: multiple orgasms, consent is sexy, safewords mentioned, handjob, blowjob, overstimulation, anal, some dirty talk, tiny hint of breeding, daddy kink

Also using this as my Free space in @starkerbingo. Woo.

Length: 2252

💗💗💗

Tony cleared his schedule for this. Not even just the evening, but the next three days just so he could focus on Peter and give him what he deserved.

Tony's undivided attention and love.

He could tell from the shy but eager look in Peter's eyes that the boy had been anticipating it long before they set an actual date. He was practically bouncing on his toes in excitement but once Tony pulled him in, Peter melted in his arms.

"You can back out anytime you want, you know that, right?" Tony reminded him.

Peter gave him an eager peck on the lips, eyes shining beneath the flutter of dark lashes.

"I know," he breathed, "if it's too much…"

He bit his lip, truly reluctant to even consider the possibility but he knows how important this was. And Tony being the more experienced of the two needed him to understand.

"I just… want this so much and… God, it's so embarrassing how easily I get worked up," Peter admitted, a tiny bit mortified. "But… but if you don't mind then…"

He looked Tony straight in the eye and nodded firmly. "I'll safe word, even if I really, really don't want to."

Tony smiled. That was all he needed. "Good boy."

Just those two words had Peter melting once more, pressing up against the older man and offering his lips for more kisses.

That was how it started.

Overeager protege on his lap as Tony's hands ran through his hair. Fingers dragged, scraping pleasantly against his scalp. Even that tore a gasp from the boy, his senses keying in and fixating on all the different sensations.

God, Tony loved kissing him. He pressed close and his tongue slid, wet and warm over Peter's. They both got goosebumps from that. His hands roamed over Peter's back, over his clothes and then under, warm skin beneath his palms.

Peter arched into his touch, he always did, and he forgot for a moment that Tony was in charge. Eager hands tugged impatiently at Tony's shirt buttons, then decided they weren't important.

Tony groaned when Peter touched him but he wasn't gonna let his lover take him apart.

Oh, no. The next few days were about Peter and just how far Tony could push him.

"Ah-!"

Tony returned the favor, palming between Peter's legs and finding him just as hard.

"Ton–" The moan was cut off, stolen by Tony's lips once more.

It didn't take much. it was easy to get Peter caught up in pleasure. The boy trembled in his lap, arms snaking about Tony's neck as he tried desperately to continue kissing him.

Between his legs, his jeans were unzipped, his erect cock flushed and leaking. Tony's hand was wrapped around the poor thing, jerking it off with slow, steady strokes. Too slow compared to the fast and efficient way Peter was used to bringing himself off.

To Tony, Peter's moans were music to his ears but the older man knew how much his boy loved hearing his voice. So even as he gave Peter his pleasure, he whispered all the dirty, filthy things into the boy's red tinged ear.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, baby?" Tony murmured, voice rough from arousal. "Wanted all my attention… A night like this… Me taking and taking everything you have to give until there's nothing left…"

Soft moans answered him but the jerky way Peter nodded was answer enough.

"You wanna come now or you wanna hold off till later?" Tony asked as he nibbled on the boy's ear.

Peter's head tilted down and Tony could imagine what he saw. His legs spread apart and Tony's rough calloused fingers wrapped around his erection. The swollen tip was dribbling plenty of fluid already, it was literally dripping down Tony's fingers.

Tony waited, breathless for whatever Peter wanted.

"N-Now," Peter gasped, head thrown back. He couldn't look at it anymore, he'd come right on the spot if he continued to do so. He squirmed in Tony's lap, frantic energy cooking in the pit of his stomach with nowhere to go. "P-Please, Tony, I– Wanna come."

"Shh, shh," Tony soothed him. "Don't worry, baby, I got you… Just let go."

The pace quickened and Peter's hips twitched instinctively, chasing after that sweet friction. Chasing after his own pleasure.

"C'mon, kid," Tony murmured, "Come for daddy… Spill it all out… Let me feel you…"

Peter came with a moan, cock twitching in Tony's hand as it spurted out a nice, thick load. Tony didn't bother trying to contain it.

They were going to be filthy after what he had planned so why bother?

He let Peter lick every drop of his come off Tony's fingers and then chased after the taste in the boys' mouth with his tongue. He put Peter's mouth to good use shortly after, leisurely fucking his mouth while they waited.

The boy's mouth was so warm and wet… Tony had trained him well and there were only a few things better than watching his boy suck on his cock. Even then, Tony caught the slight movement Peter made when he went to reach between his legs.

It hadn't even been five minutes and Peter was hard again.

Tony went back to work.

This time, Peter was stripped of his clothing. They moved from the couch to the master bedroom where Tony could do as he pleased.

Peter was pushed back onto the bed, all long, tan limbs spread out for Tony's pleasure.

A lovely flush stained his cheeks when Tony crawled in after him, fully clothed compared to his nude body. The fabric of the suit brushed against bare skin and Peter shivered, legs parted easily for Tony to settle between them.

They rutted against one another, Tony's thick thigh pressed between his legs. His bare cock was so sensitive and Peter couldn't help but moan, wide eyed as it dripped all over Tony's suit. There was just something about it… The vulnerability he felt being completely exposed while Tony only had his pants open and his cock bare.

Tony didn't even need to touch him the second time. Just the feeling of friction and heat between their bodies had Peter spilling with a muffled cry.

"Again?" Tony murmured, hand wrapping around Peter's softening erection.

"Please–" Peter begged. His chest was rising, up and down like he ran a marathon. "I want… Give me everything. I can take it…"

Tony kissed his forehead, gently, lovingly. "I know you can, baby. Lay back for now…"

Peter obeyed so sweetly, eyes hooded and heavy with pleasure. He squeaked when Tony pulled his hips to the edge of the bed. When he saw Tony kneel between his legs, his thighs trembled.

Tony trailed his next series of kisses from the boy's ankle to his knee. He continued from there, eyes fixed on the boy as he slowly made his way.

"Oh–" Peter gasped softly.

"Hmm?" Tony prompted, lips pressed against his inner thigh.

"Your beard…" Peter mumbled. "Feels… feels good…"

"Does it…" Tony teased before repeating the kisses right there. His beard scratched over sensitive skin, leaving behind faint pink marks. The sensation made Peter's toes curl in the air, the pink flush deepening into a rosy red as it worked its way down his neck and across his chest.

His cock was twitching on his stomach, poor thing demanding attention.

"Daddy..."

Tony paused. His dark, hungry eyes had never left his lover.

"Yeah, baby?" Tony encouraged.

"M-My cock…" Peter whined. "Please…?"

Tony leaned down and took the needy cock in his mouth. His hands on Peter's hips stopped the boy from bucking his hips but what truly surprised him was the flood of salty sweet come.

The boy's thighs squeezed around him, just briefly before they fell apart.

"Oh, God… Oh, God…" Peter panted, staring wide eyed as Tony swallowed it all. Then Tony sucked, ever so gently, but it was enough to get a high pitched moan from the boy. "Ngh–"

Tony didn't begrudge Peter for the way he dug his fingers in the older man's hair. Once… Twice… Three times… Peter had already came three times and Tony was still testing his limits.

The pleasure still felt so achingly good that Peter was just tossing his head left and right, breathing through the sensations.

Tony wondered how many more times it'd take until Peter couldn't take it anymore. How many more times until he started coming dry? Which would come first? Peter tapping out or his body wrung out, completely spent but still going?

The answer was quite a few. Even if each time was just shy of painful, his boy welcomed everything Tony did. As expected, they were a mess of sweat and fluids just a few short hours after they began. His limbs trembled after the next one and he squirmed and thrashed on the bed when Tony started to finger his tight little hole.

Tony was surprised he hadn't come just from his fingers alone but maybe Peter was making an effort to hold on.

Then he found Peter's sweet spot. Just the slightest brush of his fingers there and–

Peter's body gave an almost violent jerk and then one miserable groan later, he was spilling once more. The small load added to the mess on his stomach.

"One more…?" Tony asked, two fingers deep.

Peter's body was limp and sated, his hole still tight but in this state, it was easy for Tony to stretch him open.

"Maybe…" Peter breathed with a lazy smile.

"Tell me what you need, baby," Tony urged him. "You want more of daddy's fingers? Want daddy's mouth again?"

"Mm– Want daddy's cock," Peter sighed. He was still a bit shy calling Tony daddy but he loved it. And when he got like this, the title that normally left him blushing, slipped out so sweetly.

The dreamy, dazed look on his face almost had Tony paused. Then Peter reached down and grasped Tony's arm, tugging on it until the older man followed. Peter wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

"Fuck me, daddy…" he begged just the way Tony liked, "wanna feel you come inside…"

How can Tony resist that?

"I'll give you what you want…" Tony promised.

He didn't even bother with the lube, he simply passed his hand over the mess of come on the boy's stomach. He slicked his own cock with it, hissing in surprise when he realized just how much he needed this.

This entire time, Tony hadn't come, not even once. He had been so focused on Peter that he hadn't even realized how much his own cock ached. Now, with his hand on it, stroking it and giving it some much needed friction, the need felt daunting.

They both groaned when Tony pushed in. The boy clung to him, legs wrapped around his trim waist as Tony started to pound into him. They were both on edge but Peter was walking a thin line between pleasure and pain.

His half-hard cock bounced from the force of the thrusts. Every brush against his sweet spot had a small drop dribble from his cockhead. He could barely breathe, the feeling was so intense.

He clung to Tony, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure ripped through him. His next orgasm was inevitable. It was the strongest one yet and when it crashed into him, his breath caught in his throat. It was so good that tears burned in the corner of his eyes.

Peter whimpered when he came back down.

"Look at that," Tony marveled when Peter looked up at him with wet eyes. "You came dry, baby…"

Tony was still going, hips snapping as he fucked in and out… His cock felt so good… Peter was on the very edge and couldn't even keep his legs wrapped around the older man.

All he felt was the pleasure mounting, the way his skin felt electrified, and yet, he wanted more. needed more.

He moaned so sweetly for the older man, lips brushing against anything he could reach. Tony's shoulders his neck, his ear, his jaw. Desperate little kisses as Tony had his way with him.

This… This was what he wanted.

"Gonna come inside you," Tony promised him, "Breed your little hole and fill you up with my come… Got such a big load for you... Then when I'm done… Want me to clean you up, baby? I can lick every drop out… Make you come just like that…"

Peter whimpered at the image. It was that last push he needed to get his next orgasm. He didn't safeword even after Tony fulfilled his promise and came inside him.

Didn't safe word when Tony turned him onto his stomach and spread his cheeks apart. He whimpered and cried, fists clenched in the bedsheets as he came over and over, his cock twitching but nothing coming out.

It was hours after, the sun just a few short hours from rising once more. Tony, himself, was exhausted but when he couldn't go anymore, he used his hands, his mouth, and various toys until Peter finally couldn't take it anymore. His entire body ached, his hole fucked open and dripping multiple loads.

In the end, they soaked in the warmth of Tony's hot tub. Their sore muscles complained and complained loudly, but when Peter gave Tony such a loving kiss, all sweetness and warmth, Tony felt it was well worth it.

#starker #madstarker writes #poke mads to write prompts #overstimulation #NFF #if you've sent me a prompt sorry!#i had serious writer's block and only now getting out of it #please be patient with me t.t

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manjehaal · 4 years

Text

Avenging Her

Read on AO3.

Nora grasped the hilt of her saber, backing her steps, lifting the amethyst blade to shield her face. The hum of the weapon could not quiet her skipping heartbeat. It was like a fist wrapped around her lungs, as a rush of cold air hit her exposed arms.

Khione, as they called her, stood above the tie-fighter, hovering over the Sith temple like a phantom, with silvery eyes lit like a candle in the shadows. The tie lowered, and Khione landed without noise, igniting her saber as she met eyes with the girl. "Put the weapon down, child."

“I’m not afraid of you," Nora said, angling her saber into a threatening stance, held still despite the shakiness of her knees.

The woman possessed a wicked smirk as if to mock the girl's attempt at bravery. “Then you will die braver than most," she said, slashing at Nora's blade, pushing back with a force that the young padawan couldn't compete with. She feared, if Khione pushed any harder on her weapon, her arms might collapse into themselves. She stumbled back at another strike, finding the hilt slashed away from her fingers just as soon as the woman's scarlet blade sliced through it, leaving it in pieces on the floor of the temple.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Khione said, narrowing her icy eyes at the child and bringing her saber to hover above Nora's head, about to strike.

But coming from the lit end of the opposite entrance, standing wide-eyed with fury, was a man. A man that Khione had thought would be long dead, buried in the grounds of the fallen Jedi, a ghost taken by one of Vader's inquisitors. A man that she hadn't set her eyes on since she bore the name of someone else.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, voice steady, causing Khione to startle into frozenness, letting her blade hover over the head of the trembling padawan. He was looking at her with untamed fury, like he carried the weight of all the fallen, coming to seek their vengeance.

And at his anger, Khione was struck frozen under his gaze.

~.~

Caitlin assessed the damaged skin, running a cool finger over the edge of his palm. A stray brush of Zolomon's saber did little damage to his hand but left a blistery ache that caused him to flinch at the healer's cold touch.

"How did this happen?" she asked, pressing a bacta-patch over his skin.

"I had a vision," he said simply, taking a deep breath, bringing his injured hand to his lap, wincing at the way his fingers shifted. "And I acted too quickly to prevent it."

"And did you prevent it?"

"This time."

It was a common cause of injury, a Jedi's foresight. Many Jedi, especially the young, would run headfirst into battle at the time of their first vision. But with time, it became easier to navigate such power, and they began to control their compulsions. Based on the stories of this particular young Jedi, she had assumed he would be younger, by the number of times he had been referred to by the other Jedi healers. The Clairvoyant, they called him, with a roll of their eyes.

“So you’re a padawan learner?” she asked, sliding a few more patches of bacta in a bag for him to take on his way.

He rolled his eyes, with laughter rolling off his tongue. “Actually, I was knighted a few years back."

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that-”

He shook his head, silencing her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m older than I look."

And he was older than she had expected, but his youthfully wide eyes and smile had confused her. That, and the youthful rashness that had landed him under her care in the first place. But when she looked closer, seeing the darkness under his eyes and the weariness of his gaze, she understood. It was a strength that kept him bright-eyed, despite the weight of his clairvoyance probably keeping him awake for most hours of the night. From what she had heard, he was somewhat of a protege, consulting the Jedi fairly often for a force user of his level.

Catching her gaze, he gave her a cheeky grin. "But it will do me good when I reach Yoda’s age, yeah?”

She smiled, reaching for his hand. He relaxed, letting his hand rest under hers, taking in the strength of her power, cooling the space where the red burn shimmered.

“So how does one become a Jedi healer?” he asked, inspecting his hand.

She smirks. “How does one become a Jedi clairvoyant?”

“Most Jedi are clairvoyant.”

“Not like you. You're different. Word gets around."

He smirks, taking the bag she held out to him. "I would tell you my secret, but you'd regret asking. Sleep is a luxury most want to hold onto."

~.~

The way she looked at him, stunned by the light of his face and his narrowed eyes, it may be believed that she wanted to be by his side. She was frozen in her tracks, keeping her blue eyes focused on the figure standing in the light. And though bodies may manipulate, they both knew deep inside that they were staring at an old friend. She leaned in, feeling the raw familiarity of Cisco, just the same as he had always been. And he reached to her, his Jedi Healer Caitlin Snow, now a ghost of an old friend. They felt the shift of certainty. She was sure, but he was slow to let himself believe it.

“It was foretold that you would be here, Clairvoyant. Our long-awaited reunion has come at last.”

"I told you foresight was dangerous," he said, voice thick with emotion. And then he breathed shakily, letting his hand fall onto the hilt on his belt. “I’m glad I gave you something to look forward to.”

She closed her blade that was still hovering over young Nora, taking a step toward Cisco. “We don’t need to be enemies, Cisco. The Emperor will show you compassion if you supply the locations of the living Jedi.”

With a piercing gaze, his eyes were on fire with fuming hatred. “There are no Jedi left. You and your fellow inquisitors have seen to that.”

She smirked, feeling his conflict just as heavily as she used to in their youth. Then, knowing Cisco's weakness like the back of her hand, she turned back to Nora. “Perhaps this child will confess what you will not.”

She turned to face him, not missing the look of betrayal in his soulful eyes, flickering at her flippant regard for his padawan's life.

He shook his head repeatedly, putting his hands up in some sort of defense, denial screaming in his eyes.

“I was starting to believe I knew who you were, behind those cold eyes. But it's impossible. My friend could never be as vile and bitter as you.”

“Caitlin was weak," Khione said with bitterness on her lips. "So I destroyed her.”

He made a pained expression, tightening his lips, before huffing out a breath, letting his eyes grow cold with anger. “Then I will avenge her death.”

With rebuking eyes, hinting a smirk, she wagged her finger in front of him. "Revenge is not the Jedi way.”

And then, finally letting his hand find the hilt of his saber, he removed it, letting an ivory blade pierce the dim temple.

“I’m no Jedi.”

~.~

"What is it?" she asked, her attention drawn to his heavy eyes, like a storm of thoughts pulling him away from the roof he was sitting on.

He was different than she had expected. Though unique in their own right, Jedi had a certain level of predictability they had to maintain. This meant honoring the Jedi's ancient code, severing off attachments and keeping their eyes on the will of the force and maintaining the balance. It meant valuing peace over passion and considering death a great victory. They said possession was birthed from greed. They weren't to seek out violence. They were keepers of the peace, not soldiers.

Cisco cared very little for the code, making it no secret that he considered the strictness an impossible feat. He would argue that passion, with restraint, could be good. That the enjoyment of life or possession was not a fault. Sometimes war was necessary and denying love was just as deadly as hatred. He said that perhaps the balance the Jedi valued so dearly was misinterpreted. That the code was one of the extremes while the darkness was the other, and not maintaining a balance of both could lead to a loss on both ends.

He was free in that way. He didn't fear to tell her what he truly thought of these things.

Today though, he had a weight in his eyes that she couldn't pull with her lighthearted comments. When he smiled at her, it didn't meet his eyes. But he would tightly grin, keeping his eyes trained on the senate building just a bit off.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said, letting her legs dangle over the side of the roof.

"A feeling," was all he said, flicking his eyes away from the building and back to his friend. "A disturbance."

"A disturbance?" she asked, biting her lip. "That must be really bad. Not the usual bad vibe as you normally put it?"

"A disturbance," he confirmed, grimly wrapping his cloak tighter around his body to shield him from a gust of wind.

"Something coming for the Jedi?"

"Not for. Within, I think."

He looked much like a child, wrapped up in his large brown cloak and tied tight with his knees brought close to his chest.

His views on the Jedi were becoming more hostile as time passed. She wondered if it was just intuition or if his visions brought this about. Caitlin didn't doubt the Jedi's benevolence, but she wondered if maybe she should. If maybe his words held truth, being that he had an insight that she never could obtain. Being a healer, she had very few visions of the future. It had been many years since she could recall anything of the sort. But Cisco was entranced in them. If Cisco saw something, she knew to believe it.

"Your views on the Jedi have changed."

He sighed, brushing his hand over his tied-back hair. “Sometimes I think they’re taking advantage of my power. Like it's all to win their war and if I am damned because of it they wouldn’t care.”

"War has a price,” she said, understanding. "They see you as a valuable asset. Do you really think their intentions are that vile?"

“No, not vile. And you see, I’m not afraid to make the sacrifice, I’m just afraid they won’t give me a choice. Sometimes the visions are a lot and well, it..hurts.”

This came as no surprise. Many times she had seen him doubled over, clenching his teeth, gasping at the touch of an object, trembling as he sat, terrified. The injury only furthered his pain.

“They shouldn’t expect you to hold the entire weight of the galaxy on your shoulders.”

“But they know I’m willing to do it.”

They sit in silence for a bit and then he speaks up.

“What about you? You’ve been distant.”

She narrowed her eyes away from him, afraid at the thought of being found out. “It’s nothing. Not something I should let get to me.”

Cisco laughed, giving her a knowing expression. “Ronnie Raymond.”

“What?” she asked in shock. “How did you know?”

“You’re not very discrete, Cait. I've seen the way you look at him.”

She leaned her head back on the wall, closing her eyes. “I need to let him go.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she echoed as if to mock him. “Because it's my duty to honor the code. I can’t be in love. It isn’t my right.”

“It’s everyone’s right,” he said softly. “They can’t just control things like that.”

“It's for the best.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Have you ever thought the Jedi might be wrong?”

“Wrong or not, I could be expelled.”

“Love might be worth it.”

She paused, looking at Cisco with an incredulous gaze, marveling at the stark comparison between him and the other Jedi. He said things as he saw them. The other Jedi were more careful, not wanting to be seen as disrespectful to the old ways.

“Have you ever been in love, Cisco?” she asked, wondering where these strong opinions were born.

He looked up at her, his cheeks warming as if a secret flashed through his avoidant eyes. “Not yet.”

“But you’d do it? Leave the order for love?”

He didn't give her time to wonder. “Without question.”

She laughed, shaking her head at her friend, being classic Cisco Ramon. “You really are one of a kind.”

~.~

Cisco stood there with his blade extended forward, his feet planted firmly into the ground as he waited for his opponent to move.

She followed his lead, with a flash of scarlet bursting in front of her face, reflecting on the glaze of her eyes.

The knot in his chest resulted in a fit of rage, with hatred clutching at his eyes, aiming at the monster that had infected Caitlin's warm heart. His fist clutched the sword, and he was moving forward, charging toward the demon, with every intent to destroy. He slammed his blade against her own, fighting with quick and furious strokes. After many violent swipes, Frost fell into a bow, holding her sabers up as Cisco attacked from above.

They circled each other, slamming the colors against each other, with red on white, fighting to get the upper hand in strength. And Caitlin, never being one for violence, now was relentless to take down Cisco, knowing he was her only remnant to the past.

~.~

She was sagging forward once she caught up with him, resting her forehead on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat through his poncho. She couldn't dare to look up and see the decision in his eyes, confirming the fear that had been swimming in her thoughts since the bombing. He placed a thumb on her cheek, lifting her gaze to meet his, and her stomach twisted at the sight. It was Cisco, her Cisco, but he wasn't changing his mind.

"I know how much Ahsoka meant to you," she said.

"It's not about Ahsoka. It's about the Jedi. The Jedi, Caitlin. They betrayed her and I have to leave before I'm next."

She couldn't breathe. What had happened to Tano was awful. The accusations. The stripping of her title. The manhunt. Cisco had gotten close to her and Skywalker over the past year, coming back and telling Caitlin of the stories of their heroics. He said that they were what the Jedi should be. So the betrayal, that came so quickly with just a little bit of incriminating evidence, had shattered Cisco's perception of the Jedi. He would never be able to move on and Caitlin knew that.

But she was his best friend. She was the one he told his secrets too. One day had turned to years for them. Years that Caitlin would never give up. So it hurt in ways that she couldn't even explain to herself. She couldn't accept that he was turning his back on the Jedi Order. That he was turning his back on her.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said, hugging Caitlin tightly on the steps of the temple.

She didn’t say anything but she couldn’t stop the tear from sliding down her face. “Are you sure you have to go?”

He smiled, placing a hand on her arm. “I wish I didn’t, but I can’t live like this. Maybe nobody should.”

She just looked back at him, looking lost.

“You should come with me,” he said, resting his hand over her arm. “Then you could be free too. Be with Ronnie. Start a family as you’ve always wanted.”

It was as if she didn't have a say. Her voice was automatic. “I have a duty, Cisco.”

He looked disappointed but he nodded. He knew her after all.

“I know, Cait."

Then he swallowed, looking at the Temple with resolve in his expression. But then, a trace of fear lit his eyes and he reached into her heart with his gaze. He would reach out again. He had to.

"Please be careful. There is darkness in the order. I’ve sensed it for some time. They will fall."

"They can't. They won't," she said quickly, denying the sincerity in his eyes.

"I’d hate to see you fall with them.”

She couldn't worry. She couldn't believe a massive institution like the Jedi order could ever fall. So she ignored his words, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Will I see you again?”

He turned after a gentle nudge, with a light, hopeful smile. And then, facing the other direction, he looked back, nodding. “I have no doubt.”

And he was gone, being taken by the Jedi path and the dimming sunset.

~.~

They circled each other, eyes locked as their sabers met, passing silent messages through the sea of slashing light.

Cisco's steady eyes betrayed his failing heart, like shattered glass poking at his confidence, leaving him winded at the blur of Caitlin's hidden brown eyes. He should have said it, long ago, long before the Jedi got to her, and then Vader. Long before they replaced her hands meant to heal. Back before the light of day left her eyes and the setting suns took him off. He should have told her the truth, as he walked away, telling the real reason to her face. The real reason he wanted her to come with him.

I love you, his eyes whisper, though his hands were still moving. If he put down his blade, he knew despite his disbelief in Caitlin's distorted eyes, that she would kill him. Without hesitation. He knew, from his time on his own, just how powerful the darkness could be. And just how dangerous it was to let it thrive.

I never loved you, came a glimmer of narrowed eyes, as she pushed her saber, leading him to the walkway on the outer edge of the Sith temple.

At the turn, she paused, and for a moment he dared to hope that she might hesitate, standing there like a ghost with her icy hair and silky dark cloak. If not for the hum of the weapon in front of her eyes, she almost looked the same, in the way her lips curled and her body was postured. But as he dared to defuse his blade, taking a step back, her eyes flickered to silver, with gold bleeding through.

Suddenly, her eyes didn't recognize him anymore, and she did what she had to do. She looked at him and she saw a target. And she was strong, predicting most of his movements, countering them with quick precision.

Shocked by the edge of the path, he misses his step, tumbling downward with a simple strike, seeing nothing but her wide eyes watching him plummet into the darkness below.

~.~

He had always assumed she had been killed, much like the other Jedi had during Order 66. He had even hoped for it at times, knowing that there were fates far worse than death. If not the fate he possessed, in a constant state of running and hiding, then the worse was to be in the Empire's pocket. He had never in all his worst nightmares imagined that Caitlin would be one of them.

After reconnecting with Tano, he had found a place in the Rebel Alliance, going by the code name 'The Seer' for some time. He had served as a voice in broadcast, just an anon with drops of what was to come. Some came from his own foresight, and some came from intel gathered by other rebel cells. Talk over radio had pushed him to follow stories of a Death Star, an old Sith cult, and most interestingly, a mysterious woman that late-night tips called Killer Frost.

After a few years, he found himself in contact with a daring journalist by the name of Iris, later connecting with her husband Bartholomew. They came to him by the direction of Tano, with their young daughter, Nora Dawn, who was a Force-sensitive. She needed training. That was what finally drew Cisco out of hiding, willing to finally reveal himself as one of the last remaining Jedi. Whether that meant facing an entire fleet in the cockpit of an X-wing or revealing his ancient weapon to fight back against one of Vader's inquisitors.

He hadn't even considered that Cait, the healer who kept him company, could ever be one of them. Not until a particular mission alongside the West-Allen trio.

This one tie-fighter had been pursuing them relentlessly, predicting their every movement, keeping up despite the risky turns Cisco had taken. It was if this person could sense his movements before he would take them. As if they had some foresight of their own.

He couldn't deny that he felt something. He had spent a good part of his life constantly surrounded by other Force-sensitives so he could pick up on such things easily.

“The force is strong with them,” he says to himself, reaching out to feel their presence. He should have been more cautious, he supposed, reaching out to distinguish just how strong the user was. He hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of vague nostalgia or the eeriness of the cold presence. He hadn't expected to be submerged in ice-cold shivers. But despite the blaring pain, it felt familiar, as if he had felt this particular presence before. As if he had even known it with his whole heart. He couldn't keep up with his racing thoughts but his eyes went wide with recognition.

Just as the thought finally crossed his mind, like a cold hand clasping around his breathless throat, the words came pouring into his mind with her familiar lips.

“The clairvoyant lives.”

The strength of her power and the grip of her voice on his soul made him dizzy, as a gasp of incredulous denial bursts from his mouth. The wave of darkness clutched him, and he lost his grip on the ship's controls, slamming forward and passing out.

~.~

Cisco came to a few minutes after Khione tossed him back, squinting at the bright lights of the imploding temple. If Nora had listened, she would be removing the Holocron as they speak, as an attempt to make the foundations collapse on Khione as well as remove the power from their power-hungry enemy.

But with Khione in her vicinity, he feared what the corrupted woman could do to his overly ambitious young apprentice.

He had to keep moving, he told himself, stretching his aching legs and moving to climb the temple walls, with his vision focused on the wellbeing of Nora, and not his aching grief at the thought of Cait.

Maybe she was gone. Maybe he had to accept it.

* .

* '

* *

It was like an invisible hand was pulling on her, keeping her from exiting the temple. Much like the gentle, telekinetic pull of Cisco pulling her to safety, or even the generous push of the Force as she reached out to jump a long distance. But this, this was hardly gentle or generous. It was like she was trying to pull the skin from Nora's back, forcing her to slide backward, like a moth to a flame.

She closed her eyes, holding the Holocron tight in her grip as Khione pulled her closer, about to slice her through with her fiery saber. She almost accepted it, that the ship hovering in her line of view, the one brought to her rescue by her father, was just too far away from reach. That her master wasn't coming back. That Khione had gotten to him already.

But then, just as she let the monster pull her into that brush of death, a shriek came echoing through the walls of the temple, and a bright blade of silver struck through the back of Khione's cloak, leaving a string of fabric across the temple floor.

"Run," he said, pushing the ghost back as he came soaring over her, with fury slicing through them. He placed a pulsing hand on Nora's shoulder. "Run," he said again when she didn't move, with a growl in his throat. "Find Tano."

Nora stepped toward the exit, moving as he commanded, quickening her pace as Khione pulled herself from the glassy floor.

Struck by Cisco's determined eyes, she felt her body move toward the ship, like an invisible angel pulling her by the fabric of her clothes, lifting her to the safety of THE FLASH. The temple was falling in on itself, and Cisco had managed to throw her back, swiftly sliding her through just before the doors fell through with it.

Cisco had never looked like he did then. Not with such hatred. Not with such rage. Not even with even grief. He had been the one to warn her of the dangers of such emotions in the line of battle. How easy it could be for the darkness to take hold of emotions such as those.

She just stared, not aware of her father, Bartholemew, moving her to the confines of the ship, or the fiery debris that was hitting her face. Her concern was for her master, consumed by his own grief and pursued by the phantom behind the wall.

* '*

* *

"Wake up!" he pleaded, turning again to face Khione, trying to push aside the voice of Nora crying for his name on the other side of the wall. He walked toward her, now just a puddle of black robes and white hair blocking her face, trembling at his steps.

They said nothing, both listening to Nora, pleading for him to follow, repeating his name in a loop.

He couldn't help it. He looked to the door, sending a silent message to his padawan, telling her that things would work out. That the force would be with her. That Tano would be there to show her the way.

The voice stopped then, and he assumed Barry must have forced her into the ship, causing a great relief inside of Cisco. But then, as he took in the sound of silence, he heard his name again, but this time, coming through the layered voices of Khione, but unmistakably, within it all, he heard the voice of Caitlin Snow.

“Cisco?”

~.~

His brain had felt as if it was in a knot, with denial pounding at each wave of fear. The possibility that Caitlin Snow, the girl with the softest brown eyes, could somehow be on the side of the Empire, felt like a lie even when he spoke it. She just wasn't capable. She was always too kind. Too kind to hurt anyone. And even at a time of war, when keepers of the peace were asked to be soldiers, Caitlin hung back, using her power to tend to the wounded rather than fighting at the frontlines.

All of it. The entire concept. The entire thought. The possibility that Caitlin Snow had somehow become evil was a possibility that he just could not accept.

But yet, he had felt her. Or at least, something like her. Something familiar. Something similar.

He had argued with himself, saying that it had been a test. That it was something replicated with the intention of making him confused in this way. That somehow, a mastermind had constructed it. That they had stolen the soul of Caitlin Snow and projected it somehow.

But it was foolish.

Deep down, he knew what he felt. He just couldn't admit that it was the truth.

Despite his denial, he wasn't able to rest until he found the truth. So he went to Nora, leading her to a Jedi Temple revealed to him by one of Ahsoka's Holocron, promising Nora a lesson in the depths of the ancient structure. They entered as a pair, using the Force to access the door, and then waited together, until Nora heard a voice that Cisco could not.

It was then that Cisco had to wait in the shadows, opening himself to the possibility of the cold truth. Shedding his figurative armor. Letting himself feel for the first time since the dark thought crossed his mind.

And for quite some time, nothing happened. It was just him, the walls around him, and the cool rock against his bare feet. He could feel his own breath as he sat there, rupturing like a volcanic element deep within his ribcage. It was a fire he hadn't tasted since the heart of the Clone Wars, and it felt like rage and hunger and hatred and death. But it was all that he was for a few moments, as the fight between the light and the darkness circled like a duel inside of him.

He puffed out some air, unclenching his teeth, with his vision on the light.

He had to let it go.

It was the only way the Force would give him an answer.

And then, as he slowly released his fear, breathing out the hatred, and clinging to the light of compassion, he leaned in, and The Force was with him.

The silence moved away.

He waited.

And then, a voice. "Cisco?" it asked in a ghostly soft tone, coming from behind him, like a gentle balm against his aching chest. He searched the area, trying to locate her, wondering if it had even been a voice at all or if he might have misheard it.

But then, again. "Cisco?" it asked, stronger, and he couldn't deny it. It was her. It was Jedi Healer Caitlin Snow. His best friend. His loyal companion. His hidden soulmate, that he had hidden from even himself. Her, whispering like a lover in his ear, tearing away at his fear.

"Cait," he whispered softly, eyes arching upward with burning recognition, as his eyes blur over at his pounding heart.

The softness fluttered and a broken murmur replaced it, and she asked, “Why did you leave?”

He can feel her eyes behind him, burning holes through the fabric of his tunic, hovering over him with accusation. Shattered, her voice asked a question. “Where were you when I needed you?”

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't answer. But his mouth was open, speaking to the phantom voice. “I made a choice, Cait. I couldn’t stay.”

“You were selfish," it broke through, pounding on his eardrum, now a mirage of distorted voices. Voices that belonged to Caitlin, but came from everywhere in the room.

“No Caitlin," he said quickly, feeling his throat go dry at her declaration. "No," he said, pushing hard at the word, demanding that the bodiless voice understand him. As if this wasn't a vision. As if this was the true Caitlin Snow looking him dead in the eyes.

“No Cisco!" her voice came violently, piercing the room. "You abandoned me! You failed me!”

His eyes were heavy, threatening tears. But he clenches his fist, keeping his trembling form from bursting at the seams.

She is right, he thought, pushing two fists into the floor, carrying the weight of his guilt.

“Do you know?” she asked, her voice changing to haunt him, with an echoey tone that talked over Caitlin's whisper. “Do you know what I have become?” the echo asks, with a malevolent triumph at the lift of her voice.

And then a cold wind, like a breath of the dead, covered his skin. Leaving him gasping and trembling. “No,” he says repeatedly, unable to comprehend or believe.

NO. NO. NO. NO.

NO.

Nooo.

No.

And then a roaring scream came from his throat as a tear finally slid down his cheek.

He turned to the voice, flinging his lightsaber toward its direction only to find darkness. Just an empty walkway and a set of stairs. Just looking at him. Just mocking his aching body.

And despite it all. Despite what he had just felt. Despite what he had just heard. Despite it all.

He tells himself that it can't be true.

~.~

Over and over, his answer was given to him.

Caitlin Snow was one of the same as Khione. Killer Frost, the legend passed on in the late night transmissions, was Caitlin Snow. Caitlin was Khione. Khione was Frost. Frost was..Caitlin. His dearest friend was an inquisitor. An inquisitor who he loved.

He knew this, deep down. He always had since the moment he felt her presence taunt him. But now, in the Sith temple, with his back to Frost, he finally heard her voice. Through the mouth of a monster. Her. Caitlin. Calling, asking him, his name, wondering just as he wondered about her if she was really looking at her friend in her memory.

"Cisco?" she asked, the voice suddenly clear as her own, not shredded by the overtone of Khione. Just her, with her own eyes, and her own heart, seeing, for the first time in so long.

Cisco spun to face her, his eyes large and hopeful, finally unable to deny the face that he is looking at. And as he saw her, peering back at him through her icy eyes, transformed by the white of her hair and the paleness of her face, he couldn't do it. He couldn't be angry. He couldn't hold onto the fury. And it passed, melting away as he stepped closer.

“Caitlin.”

“Cisco,” she said again, softer.

“Caitlin,” he forced, with realization in his voice, and tears swelling in his eyes.

She was still gripping her weapon with clenched fingers, white with rage, but she was frozen. Her eyes did not leave him as she moved closer.

"I won't leave you," he said, extending a hand, reattaching his saber to his belt with the other. "Not this time. Never again."

She looked at him closely, her eyes betraying the frown of her lips. And as he watched her, moving forward with a gentle step, her eyes beginning to soften. And for a moment, but only a moment, her eyes were flooded with brown, as if Caitlin had been enough to turn off Khione.

But just as quickly as her eyes bled to brown, they slipped back into an icy glow and her face transformed. It looked as if it caused her pain, but she said the words anyway, switching her blade on and aiming it toward him.

“Then you will die.”

~.~

Time had once been simple. But not so simple that he hadn't fallen in love with her.

What had it been? Maybe he couldn't define it. Maybe he shouldn't be able to. Maybe he just did.

Or maybe it had been the two of them, existing beside one another.

Or maybe it had been more than that.

Maybe it was simple.

It had been Cisco meeting Caitlin in the center of the healers, being taunting by the others with their knowing gazes.

And it had been Caitlin pulling him to the roof, looking into his eyes for a sign of light despite everything.

And it had been Cisco, making up stories while Caitlin stared wistfully at a stary canvas.

And it had been Caitlin, kissing his cheek after he came back angry and torn.

But on one night, it had been Caitlin, pulling at the cotton of his cloak, wrapping her fingers around his shaky hands. She had leaned in, looking deep into his eyes with warm reflection. "I have something for you," she said.

"You know how the Jedi feel about possessions," he countered, with a smirk peeking out of his distress.

"Yes, but I also know how you feel about the Jedi and their code."

He laughed, eyes sparkling at her words. "So what is it?"

"Close your eyes," she said softly, cheering at his compliance.

"Okay."

"Open your hand."

He reached forward, feeling the warmth of her touch as she pressed a cool object into his palm. He brushed the object, feeling its edges, clutching it to feel the shape of the rock.

"A kyber crystal?" he asked, eyes fluttering open to look at her.

She smiled, pointing down to his palm. "In its purest form. Perfectly clear."

He peered down, examining it closely.

"Not corrupted. Not tarnished. Neither made of darkness nor light. Just pure. Just The Force."

He lifted it, letting the sun reflect it, creating a wave of colorful light across the glistening sky.

"Like you," she said, closing his hand around it and pushing his fist to his own chest. "Just like you."

~.~

"Kill me if you must," he said, eyes burning through hers. "But I won't fight you, Caitlin."

"That's a mistake," she said, laughing at him. "Caitlin is dead."

He just shook his head, bringing himself to stand mere inches from the tip of her lightsaber, lingering there with certain eyes. He would never accept the lie from her mouth. "Not to me. Never to me."

About to protest, the ground crumbled beneath her feet, causing her to spiral backward behind a stream of falling rock.

"Your faith is misguided, my friend," she sneered, coughing as more of the foundation fell around them. "You need to let me go."

He just shook his head, tearing his saber from his waist and tossing it to the side. "Don't ask me to do that."

"Let me go, Cisco," she said again, stepping forward through the rubble, her eyes growing more intense.

He knew deep inside that this was the end.

And as he met her eyes, he could see Caitlin, trying to save him from the monster that was standing before him. Caitlin, reaching out to him as the floor folded in on itself. And in his backtrack of footsteps, he missed the falling ceiling, and the outstretched hand as the darkness clouded his eyes.

She hated him.

She had to.

It was her duty as an ally to Vader.

Killing Cisco was simple, wasn't it?

Despite the goal given to her by her master and the cold rage in her stomach, she found herself panic at the danger above her enemy. It caused her to stumble, with confusion aching in her mind, as something told her that she was forgetting something. Something immensely important. Her fury subsided as she glanced at him, and her blood ran cold, with the realization that Cisco may truly die at her hand.

And the startling fear brought her forward.

She dropped her weapon into the melting rock and reached forward, taming the fall of the upper levels, moving her hands to seal the cracks. She accessed the ancient power of Khione and birthed rage, bursting forth with shimmery icicles to frame them both. She had landed over him, spooning him in her silky cloak and covering him with her exposed arms.

She couldn't feel the rocks striking her as she focused on the frozen dome she was building over them. She couldn't feel anything at all. She just knew what her body was trained to do since the moment she met Cisco Ramon. And that was, without question, to save him from harm. To cure him. To heal his injury.

She forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Keeping her arms wrapped over him like protective armor, she held him tight as the temple collapsed above, sinking into his warmth.

And she closed her eyes, attempting to pull her mind away from the sense that she was home.

When everything finally stopped, she pulled away from him, catching her wrist on the chain around his neck, losing her breath at the shock. She held it, the pure kyber crystal, in the palm of her hand. She felt the edge of it with her thumb, attempting to swallow back the way it had felt in his hand, warm and calloused on that temple roof. And for a moment as she stared at him blankly, a feeling swelled deep in her chest, and she remembered him.

All of him.

His heart. His mind. His love.

And she dared to look his way, gasping at the twitching of his lips.

She dropped the chain, letting the crystal fall to his chest.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her. "Cait, is that you?"

She was still close to him, just hovering over him without movement. At his kind gaze, her eyes bled warm for a moment and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then she lifted his hand, just as she had long ago, pressing her fingers to the broken skin in an attempt to heal him.

He smiled, gazing up at her, locking his eyes to hers.

"Please," she said, begging him with her eyes. "Please don't chase me. Please don't force me. Don't make me kill you."

He swallowed, eyes stinging from tears.

"Please, let me go, sweet Cisco."

He couldn't nod. He couldn't ever promise something like that.

She rose at his reluctant stare, turning to leave him. Knowing her hands were not Caitlin's anymore. Knowing her heart was frozen for too long to love him. They had killed Caitlin Snow during the fall. Cisco had been right to warn her, but she didn't listen to him. So this was her penance. This was the price she had to pay. This was the thing she had to lose.

And she had to leave him alone. Hate him to save him. Hate him enough to not chase him. Because if she loved him, she would go after him. And if she went after him, she knew she may kill him.

It was mercy.

But still, she whispered, trembling as Khione took her form, "Please, strong darkness, allow me to let him go."

#Killervibe #Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #Killer Frost #Star Wars AU #westallen #nora west allen #Ahsoka Tano #Anakin Skywalker #Star Wars

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