#i can’t believe I’ve never drawn Cass before this

[its-minart]

Batgirls🦇

[mental-health-advice]

Ok so I have very low self-esteem for 2 reasons mostly 1. I was bullied from late elementary all through middle school 2. I’m very socially awkward.

I never see myself as good enough for anyone which makes it worse. I think all my friends and family are gorgeous so the attention is well deserved but it god hurts so much seeing everyone you know get flirted with, asked out, or dated while I’m just there. My mom always tells me I’m beautiful and that it’s just the people where we live but I don’t even believe that (yk the whole “mom compliment” thing). Everyday that goes by I pick myself apart more than before and I don’t know what to do. I just want to be loved like people like everyone else. I feel so bad for feeling jealous or even the slightest bit of resentment when my friends are complimented by people in front of me but I just can’t help it. I’ve tried to approach people to talk to them or just compliment but I always get overly nervous and stutter or just a weird look. And It’s like the only time I get told I look pretty is when I’m wearing makeup which really hurts but people always get weirded out when I say that it hurt lowk my feelings. I just want to have some self confidence because I’ve heard that people are attracted to confidence but I don’t know how to start from zero. - Cass M

Hey there,

Firstly, I am so sorry that you were bullied. This must have really shattered not only your self-esteem but also your self-confidence. I want you to know though that those who do go through a tough time (not that it makes it OK having to go through that tough time in the first place) tend to come out on top later in life. So please do be kind to yourself right now.

Whilst I agree that people are drawn to those who are confident about themselves, I believe that they are more so drawn to those people that have similar interests/ beliefs and that kind of thing. So, whilst it may seem like those that are seen as ‘gorgeous’ get more compliments than let’s say you, who’s to say what kind of relationship that person has with them. I think - and this is just my opinion – that those people that are drawn to similar people like themselves (same interest/ beliefs as an example) will have a much fuller relationship than a superficial one that may come from those relationships where one falls for another’s good looks. I hope that makes sense! And, I know that you will hate me saying this but maybe it’s time to be a little less hard on yourself and instead just focus on being the beautiful and caring person you are on both the inside and out.

And yes, wearing make up can be good and fun but it doesn’t show who you really are and I personally believe that some people who do use make up may be insecure about their own looks and so I give you the upmost of credit for being able to not go to it and especially as you know it only makes you feel worse when people only notice you when you do wear it, instead of focusing on who you are as a person.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know it we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[silentcrowsilentravens]

Hi Raven, can I ask for Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra leaving secret admirer style letters for a maid, only for her to figure out its them somehow? Thanks in advance!

I'm assuming you meant each daughter separately, but if not drop another message in my inbox.

Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, and Daniela Dimitrescu x readers where they leave letters expressing their affection for a particular maid, only for her to discover their identity accidentally.

(Fem reader).

Word counts: 687 (Bela), 770 (Cass), 413 (Dani)

Warnings: brief mentions of violence.

Masterlists here!

Bela Dimitrescu

"Did you receive a new letter today?"

You look over at Sasha, who you've been assigned the same task with today. You'd definitely consider her one of your closest friends, hence why she knows about the unsigned letters of admiration you’ve been receiving.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Nobody has that big of a smile on their face after being told to clean the library," she replies in a low voice. Remarks like that are best uttered that way, lest you be overheard by one of the Dimitrescus. "How long will it be before the two of you properly meet? I’m dying to know who this mysterious, charming woman is.”

“I’m not sure, but I'm hoping it will be soon. I am thinking about leaving something where she leaves her letters, asking her to meet me somewhere.” 

“Do it,” Sasha encourages. She pushes open the library door before coming to an abrupt stop, holding out an arm to make you do the same. You shoot her a questioning look and she nods towards something.

One of Lady Dimitrescu's daughters is occupying a chair, legs drawn up towards her chest and head propped up with one of her hands. Judging by the blonde hair hanging out of her dark hood, it's Bela.

Time to be on your best behavior. 

“Good morning, Lady Bela.” 

There is no response. She doesn’t even move. You approach her a little and realize that she appears to be asleep. You inform Sasha of this. 

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “Should I wake her?”

You know that every Dimitrescu daughter is dangerous. Any one of them could cut you open for a mistake, or simply because they feel like it. But you also know that Bela tends to be the most corrigible and controlled of her siblings. Plus, she can't possibly be comfortable sleeping in that position.

"No!" Sasha whisper-shouts. "Do you have a death wish?" 

You turn back towards Bela and your eyes fall on the book she has sitting on the arm of the chair. What catches your attention is not the book itself, but rather the notes resting on one of its open pages. They're done in pretty handwriting that you recognize.

It's the same as in the letters you've been receiving. Realization dawns upon you.

"...I'm going to wake her." 

Sasha sternly says your name. You ignore her and raise your voice a bit. “Lady Bela?” 

Bela jerks awake and pulls her sickle out of its sheath, knocking her book and papers to the floor in the process. 

Having preemptively stepped back, the point of the weapon hovers a few inches away from your face. You offer a smile. “I thought I might try to spare your neck and back. You fell asleep.” 

Bela holds your gaze for a moment longer before putting her sickle away. “...Thank you.” 

You bend down and pick up her things, making sure the notes are on top when you hold them out towards her. Bela looks at them, then up at you. She knows you know. You see the flash of recognition in her amber eyes. “When you’re finished with your work for today, I would like to have a word with you.” 

“Understood, my Lady.”

Bela takes her stuff back. Her hand brushes against yours. Then, she leaves. 

Sasha has gone as white as a sheet. “I can’t believe you. My heart is still pounding. Do you think you’re going to get in trouble? I’ve never heard her tell someone that she wants to speak with them like that.” 

“No,” you answer easily. “Now, should we get started with this library?” 

When you finish your last task for the day, you find Bela already waiting for you.  

"This happened sooner than I anticipated. I was thinking about how to go about revealing myself to you before I drifted off, actually. More specifically, I was in the middle of deciding what flowers to give you." She holds out a bouquet that had previously been behind her back. "I hope that you feel the same as I do."

You gingerly accept the flowers. "I do."

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You've been receiving lovely letters for quite a while now. They are often the part of your day that you look forward to the most, especially since you started leaving replies and picked up conversation with the writer. She signs her letters with the name Andra, but you know not her true identity. All you know is that she makes you very happy and you're becoming smitten with her.

The words Andra writes for you frequently leave you grinning and blushing like a fool. She makes you laugh and shares interesting (although purposefully vague) stories with you. She calls you darling. You want nothing more than to feel her touch. 

The one thing you know about her appearance is that she has dark hair, but that hardly narrows anything down since the majority of the maids do. Idly, you think about her as you head towards the dining room. 

Because the maid typically responsible for pouring wine during meals has recently been taken to the cellar, the duty has been passed onto you. Likely because you're not as frightened in the presence of the lady and her daughters as many members of the maid staff, and therefore less likely to make nervous mistakes and pour with shaky hands. 

You push open one of the doors at the beginning of dinner, a bottle of Sanguis Virginis in hand. Since they're seated facing the direction you came from, you immediately see the big grin on Daniela's face and how Cassandra seems as though she's seconds away from committing murder. Granted, that's not rare for her, but the accompanying facial expression is typically a gleeful one and not… immense annoyance. The kind that only a sibling can bring forth. 

Your eyes catch hers for just a second before her head dips down towards her plate and her hood obscures them from view. It seems to be a habit of hers to keep her head at an angle that makes it more difficult to see her face than either of her sisters', so you think nothing of it. 

"What is so funny, Daniela?" Lady Dimitrescu drawls. She gives you only the briefest glance of acknowledgment as you fill her glass, then move onto Bela's.

"Andra is in love," Daniela answers in a sing-song voice.

When the name leaves her mouth, it's like a brick abruptly hitting you in the face.

"Shut up!" Cassandra hisses, which only elicits laughter from the youngest sister. "And don't call me that!"

You've somehow never realized that Andra's name slots into the end of Cassandra's. Probably because you never even considered the possibility of it being her.

Was it only a mere coincidence? It had to be. You find it difficult to wrap your head around the middle sister being the Andra who's been writing to you. There is no way Cassandra Dimitrescu has feelings for you. Maybe Andra is nowhere even close to the author's actual name. 

"Why? Is only your girlfriend allowed to call you that?" Daniela rests her chin on her interlocked fingers.

And… there goes another brick. At this rate, you're going to end up collapsing to the floor unconscious.  

You desperately wish you could properly see Cassandra's face.  

A throat clears beside you and you stop pouring, realizing that you are dangerously close to overfilling the eldest sister's cup. She raises an eyebrow at you.

"Sorry, Lady Bela." You bow down slightly in apology. "It won't happen again."

"No elbows on the table, Daniela," Lady Dimitrescu chides. "Cassandra, is this true? That sounds very unlike you."

Cassandra only grunts.

"Seems to me like you've been spending too much time with her." Bela nods at Daniela. "She's rubbing off on you."

The rest of dinner is spent with you on autopilot as you try to process what you've learned. You only snap out of it once you're dismissed. 

"Wait."

You stop just short of the maid's quarters, turning to find Cassandra approaching.

"Hello, Lady Cassandra," you greet.

"Listen. What you heard? It isn't true. Daniela is full of shit."

"What isn't true?" You feign a look of ignorance. 

"That I have interest in y—someone! Someone." 

Wow. 

It's clear that she didn't think through what she was going to say before following after you. 

"You're much smoother in your letters, I see." 

Cassandra glares at you. It's the kind that makes new maids cower, but you aren't afraid.

"Are you disappointed?" 

"No…" you answer. "Just surprised. And hopeful that we can spend some time together now."

"If that is what you hope, then you ought to accompany me somewhere else. My room, perhaps?"

"I would like that, Andra."

Daniela Dimitrescu

You're building a considerable stack of letters. At this point, you're starting to feel them beneath your pillow when you rest your head on it. You really ought to find a better place to put them before they start affecting the quality of your sleep. You don't want to throw any of them away. 

The words filling them are that of an incurable romantic and true flirt. 

You have often wondered who the writer is. A few days ago, you found yourself sure that you've figured it out. 

It began with a book. Recently, she mentioned that you remind her of a character from a novel she started reading. While you were cleaning the floor on Monday, Daniela and Bela passed by. They were discussing something, but you didn't catch what. You ended up too focused on what Daniela was carrying. It was the exact same book. 

Sure, with the sheer number of books in Castle Dimitrescu, there very well could have been a few copies of a particular title. 

Part of you didn't want there to be any of this one.

Daniela used to monitor the section of the Castle you were always assigned to clean. She's flirted with you more than a few times before, leaving you a flustered mess. But the head maid told you that she does that with a lot of the maidens. You thought about it more, though, and you realized that you hadn't actually heard any more talk of that in quite a while. 

Did you manage to catch her interest? 

On Tuesday, you reread all of the letters, imagining the words in them spoken with Daniela's voice. You tried to picture her saying them to you.

On Wednesday, you manage to build up the courage to try and find out if you're right. You leave a letter where you normally find new ones, asking the writer to meet you in the garden.  

You finish your daily duties a bit later than anticipated. When you return to the maid's quarters, you find a response. 

'See you there, Angel.'

Hopefully, you're not too late. You rush down to the meeting place.

Daniela Dimitrescu is there. She’s laying on a low stone wall out in the sun, one of her arms being used as a pillow and the other holding up the novel, a leg dangling over one side and idly swinging back and forth. She sits up when she sees you approaching, her face breaking into a grin. 

You match it.

[thewayshedreamed]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I was wondering if you could write a combination of the prompts 2 (“c’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”) and 21 ( “i’m bored. come over and sit on my dick.”) from the smutty prompts for Nessian. Thank you and congrats again <3

Thank you for the prompt and the love, nonnie! I'm not going to lie, I shamelessly abandoned my word count limit for this one. I have no excuse other than I got carried away.

Hope you enjoy! This one's for you, lovely! (and everyone who enjoys a bit of Nessian smut. Except those of you in the gc. Y'all know who you are and why).

—

Nesta hated when Cassian's work ran late, especially when she hadn't seen him in days. She was temporarily placated by their active text exchange that afternoon, complete with work grumblings, friend gossip, and inside jokes. Cassian was her best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one deliciously built package.

His millionth text of the day interrupted her thoughts.

I'm bored.

I'm sorry, she replied. Me too. And I miss you.

Cassian: Miss you too, Sweetheart.

Nesta considered that. He must not have gathered her true meaning given the tone of his reply, but she supposed it was difficult to convey via text. What she meant was that she missed his callouses scraping over her skin, the heat of his kisses against her neck, his weight cradled between her thighs. They were several days overdue.

She typed a quick response to drive her point home. No, babe. I miss you, miss you.

The ellipsis pulsed, disappeared, and pulsed again. Nesta bit her lip to contain her smile. It seemed her boyfriend was on the same page.

Oh? he sent back. Then, almost immediately after, Come over and sit on my dick.

Nesta barked a laugh. Cassian wasn't shy in any capacity, especially in matters of sex, but his text was blunt even by his standards. She would be lying if she claimed it didn't make her core clench in anticipation.

I can't believe that worked, she admitted. Give me 20 minutes.

—

Cassian's door was unlocked when she arrived. Nesta was usually grateful that he worked from home considering the flexibility it offered, but she didn't particularly love how it interfered with her plans for the evening. He was seated at the dining table with his laptop in front of him, sitting on what sounded like a conference call and finishing up whatever data entry he needed to finish.

None of it was conducive to their arrangement.

He mouthed "sorry" over the screen of his computer, shooting her a wink for good measure. Nesta had already considered a number of possibilities on her way over, and the small gesture alone had her skin erupting in goose flesh. She tugged at the hem of her skirt and struggled to get situated on the couch nearby. Comfort seemed a distant goal when every movement she made riled her more.

A true test of her self-control came at hearing Cassian sign off of his call for the day, especially when every muscle in her body was poised to spring off the couch on a moment's notice. Rather than orient directly to her, his focus remained on the screen of his computer. His brows were furrowed in concentration, negating any possibility that he meant to antagonize her.

"You know," she challenged, "I didn't come over here to watch you work the whole time."

He glanced at her through his side eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? What did you come over for, Sweetheart?"

Nesta's cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders. "You'll have to refer back to our texts. It's not my job to remember your promises."

Cassian huffed a laugh and groaned as he leaned back in his chair. With his fingers laced, he reached his hands toward the ceiling in a long stretch. Nesta could see the impressive length tightening his pants, and her mouth went dry. At least she wasn't the only one affected.

He caught her in admiration and shot her a lazy smile. Her eyes trailed the handsome edges of his face, his broad chest.

"C'mere," he rasped. "You can sit on my lap until I'm done working."

His hand reached down to adjust himself, and he hissed against the contact. Nesta felt less self-conscious about her growing need to cross her legs to relieve some of the tension. Her voice was low, sultry.

"I didn't come over to sit on your lap either, Cassian."

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. "Then get over here and do as I told you."

A shiver ran down her spine. She sat transfixed by the movement of his hand and how he finally freed himself from his pants. Every part of her burned to touch him. The command in his voice had been her undoing; all good sense, gone. Her legs shook through her journey to close the space between them, but he didn't seem to notice.

Cassian groaned his approval as she straddled his lap, his large hand moving in a long stroke up and down his length. Nesta's position allowed him full access beneath her skirt, and he cursed under his breath when he realized she wore nothing underneath. Their lips crashed together, Nesta's hands poised against his shoulders. Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist to lift her over his cock and allowed gravity alone to ease her down until her hips sat flush against his.

Nesta moaned, desperate for friction. Her hips canted automatically until Cassian's rough voice and strong hands stopped her in her tracks.

He tutted his disapproval. "I never said you could move, Sweetheart. I still have work to finish."

"Cass," she whined, unashamed of her arousal. "Please."

"I'll take care of you, I promise." He pressed a kiss behind her ear, reaching behind her to resume his work. "For now, keep things warm for me, baby."

Nesta whimpered and gripped his shoulders. How could he ask that of her? Another couple of minutes, and her hips would be rolling whether she offered them permission or not. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the keys working behind her.

But then she was thinking about his deft fingers, how they wrought pleasure from her in immeasurable ways. How his hands always knew where she needed firm pressure of a delicate, teasing touch to—

"Nesta," Cassian warned, his voice hoarse. "What did I tell you about moving?"

He nipped her ear in warning. She forced her hips to settle, silently cursing them for their betrayal. The last thing she needed was Cassian holding out on her any longer.

"Sorry," she gritted out, "I'm— I don't know." Her mind was all over the place, reduced to some primitive by the need between her legs.

He made no moves to remove her from his cock, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers resumed their work, but they would no longer serve to distract her in the process. She needed to think of something less promising, but she came up empty any time she tried.

Cassian added insult to injury, running his nose up and down the length of her neck. Nesta opened up for him, careful not to move her lower body in the process for fear that he would pull away. His lips left a path of soft kisses where his nose had left fire in its wake, and Nesta was a single kiss away from snapping altogether.

"Fuck," he rasped. Her hold tightened on him at the sound of his voice. There wasn't a thing about the man that didn't affect her. "Nesta, you're—" He paused to gather his wits, buried his forehead against her neck. "You're dripping."

To her horror, she realized he was right. Her arousal coated her inner thighs and the skin just above where their bodies came together. She was making an all out mess in her boyfriend's lap, and he had yet to move.

Nesta moaned, tilting her head back to encourage his affections against her neck. "Please hurry," she breathed. "I've done what you asked. Please."

Cassian growled against her skin. How he always reduced her to a begging, pleading mess was beyond her. There wasn't another aspect of her life where she resorted to it, but for him, she would do it shamelessly.

He placed another path of kisses, rougher this time, down the side of her neck and over her collarbones. When he refocused his attention on his work, Nesta let her forehead hit his broad shoulder. Her fingers were white-knuckled against him as she fought her most base urges.

Blessedly, she heard some clicking of the trackpad behind her. In another number of seconds, Cassian stood to lay her roughly atop the table. His hands explored her body, gripping her possessively in all the right places until she was a writhing mess, his order be damned.

"So eager." He moved to grip her wrists in his hand, pinning them over her head. The other gripped her thigh at his side. "Go on, then. Fuck me, Nesta."

She didn't need to be told twice. Her hips rolled against him, taking him deeper than before. Her feet pressed into the strong muscles of his ass in encouragement, but he remained still while he watched their bodies come together. Nesta couldn't think beyond his name rolling from her lips and how badly she needed more, more, more. Before she could say as much, Cassian's restraint snapped.

He widened his stance, spreading her legs farther apart and changing their angle. His hand left her thigh in favor of pressing a supportive arch to the small of her back, his hips snapping roughly into hers.

They dissolved into a symphony of muttered curses and groans. Nesta cried out her pleasure when her release barreled through her, earning a string of praise from Cassian.

"That's it. You're so tight around my cock, Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath leaving him in huffs with each punishing thrust. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she fought to keep her heavy lids open for him. His brow was drawn together in pleasure, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Fighting his release was wearing on him, and Nesta could tell he wouldn't be far behind her.

"Gods," he ground out. "You were so good for me, baby. You know that?"

His thrusts came faster, and Nesta cried out. Another world-shattering orgasm was close, so close, when she hadn't thought it possible so soon. Cassian noticed when her pleasure ratcheted up once more, and a look of determination crossed his handsome face. He slid his hand from her back, and pressed it to her lower abdomen, using his thumb to draw broad circles around her clit.

Her hands fought against his grip, but to no avail. She wanted to touch him, to drag her hands all over his body and run them through his hair. More than that, she thought she would need to secure her body against his to ride out another wave of pleasure like the one before.

"Pleasedon'tstop," she muttered, her eyes screwed shut.

"I won't," he promised, his hips pressing into hers and making her dizzy. "Not until that pretty pussy comes for me again."

It took only seconds for Cassian to get his wish. Nesta's cries echoed off the walls of his small apartment, her body shaking through the aftershocks of her release. His hips slammed home when he met his own, his large frame leaning over her body as he spilled inside her.

Once he released her hands, Nesta moved them to his shoulders to draw idle patterns over his skin. Cassian lifted his head to press a kiss to her mouth before separating them and standing to right their clothes. They surveyed the area, how his work was scattered about and his cup of water lay spilled over the floor nearby, and broke out into laughter.

"What am I going to do with you?" he teased, pulling her against his chest in a hug.

Nesta hummed, her first thought sliding past her lips. "Love me."

Cassian placed a kiss to her hair. "Yeah," he murmured. "I will."

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 28: Summer Changes (School)

AO3

Prev

A week after the Disney movie marathon, Marinette was finally back on patrol. No thanks to her dad though. If it was up to him, she’d probably never patrol again. Luckily for her, (unluckily for him) her brothers were adamant on her coming back to the field. Which led to her current problem. Hanging upside down from a gargoyle near Wayne Enterprises.

“Ukht, what have you done?” Damian asks, and though she can’t see his face, she can tell by his voice that he’s exasperated. Join the club, she thinks, at least you’re not upside down.

“Why do you automatically think I did something?” She asks, trying desperately to turn around so that she can talk to him. It was really awkward talking to someone when you couldn’t see them but you knew they were near you.

“Because you are the one hanging upside down,” Damian says flatly. She huffs.

“It’s not like I want to be, Robin. It just kind of happened,” She says.

“And how exactly did it happen? I have never seen your yoyo betray you like that before. Not even in the videos when you were still very new.” Damian says, and she swears he’s smirking. He’s definitely laughing at her on the inside, and as much as she wants to be frustrated, she can’t. It wasn’t easy amusing her little brother (unless you were an animal) so she wasn’t about to ruin it.

“Hood made a bet relating to this exact gargoyle and I’d never been this way before and I just, I don’t know. Somehow I misjudged where my yoyo was going and next thing I know, I’m tied up and Hood is gone.” She says, sighing.

“Where did he go?” Damian asks.

“Over here so I could record the dumbass trying to untie herself.” Jason says with a snort, she manages to turn just enough so she can see him and stick her tongue out at him. He chuckles. “You’re the one who somehow tied herself up with a magic string, I’m just getting the proof so I can show Wonder Woman.” He says and Marinette’s jaw drops.

“You wouldn’t dare!” She screams, struggling against her yoyo, finally able to get the string to loosen slightly.

“Oh, I’d dare.” Jason says and Marinette just knows he has a huge smirk underneath his stupid helmet.

“But Wonder Woman is the coolest person ever and she can’t see me like this!” Marinette complains, trying not to grin when she feels the string start to move the way she needs it to. She ignores Jason’s next remark, instead focusing on the string and- yes! She free falls for a moment, laughing at her brothers’ panic before she swoops up and jerks Jason’s phone away from him.

“You little shit!” He calls after her, starting to chase her.

“You’ll get it back once I delete the videos!” She calls back, laughing as she continues swinging through Gotham, a warm feeling in her chest as she looks over the city that has quickly become her second home.

---

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” A voice screams, making Marinette jump out of bed with a yelp. She clutches her hand over her heart, glaring at her oldest brother.

“Are you trying to make sure I don’t make it past my fifteenth birthday?” She asks with a huff. Dick just grins.

“Happy birthday kiddo! I can’t believe you’re already fifteen!” He exclaims, picking her up in a giant hug. She wants to complain, ask him to let her down, but it’s nice, so instead she returns the hug the best she can. Until she glances out the window.

“Richard Grayson.” She says in a tone she usually reserves for enemies. She feels him stiffen, the hug turning into more of a restraint than a cuddle.

“Yes?” He says.

“Did you honestly wake me up, before the sun, because it’s my birthday?” She asks.

“Yes?” He says, his voice cracking slightly. She purses her lips and lets out a long sigh.

“Dad has a no killing rule.” She says, and suddenly she’s back on the ground.

“Oh would you look at the time, Mar’i needs another bedtime story loveyousomuchgottagobye.” Dick rushes out, practically sprinting out of her room. She just smiles and shakes her head. She’d learned intimidation tactics from Jason and Damian, who both claimed her size made her an easy target against bad guys. They were right, of course, so she was fine with a few extra lessons. Seems they were working. Deciding to call her Maman and Papa since she’s already awake, she frowns as it goes straight to voicemail. It would be nearly eleven in Paris, so the bakery shouldn’t be too busy. She quickly checks the Akuma Alert App to make sure she hadn’t missed anything while she slept. Nothing. So why weren’t they answering? She had assumed they would be waiting for her call since it was the first birthday she’d spent without them. Sighing, she lays back down on her bed, closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep.

As she lays there, she frowns as a realization hits her. This was the anniversary of her birth mother’s death. Her mood instantly sours and her stomach churns. It was the first year that she could do something about it, the first year she could visit her grave. Quickly making a decision, Marinette throws on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Hopefully no one would spot her.

“Kaalki.” Marinette calls out quietly, not wanting to wake Tikki (who had somehow slept through Dick’s intrusion).

“Oooo, Guardian, are we sneaking out?” They ask, an amused smile on their face. Marinette frowns.

“Yes, but it’s for a good reason.” She says, and Kaalki snorts.

“Whatever the reason, I’m happy to be of assistance.” They reassure her. Marinette smiles and calls the transformation, opening a portal in the cemetery where her birth mother is buried. Her Maman had taken her once, right after telling her she was adopted. It was extremely hard to avoid being akumatized that day, and Marinette steels herself before dropping Kaalki’s transformation. Today would probably be even harder. Pulling the hood over her head to try and hide her identity, she glances around the cemetery, unsurprised to see the small place empty. Despite its small size, it was well taken care of, with beautiful trees adding shade and creating a melancholy feeling. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the tombstone in the far corner, underneath the Willow tree. Bridgette Le. Died July 9th. Marinette barely notices the tears that start to form as she sits down, tucking her knees into her chest.

“Hi Mama. I-I’m sorry I haven’t really been by to see you much. Did you know I’ve been spending the summer with Dad? Sometimes, I wonder if you would’ve been okay with that. None of us really know why you left, why you didn’t tell him. I’m not blaming you, I just wonder if you would’ve been okay with me knowing him.” She talks, though she knows she’ll never hear a response. And she tries to pretend that fact doesn’t hurt her. “I have brothers. Four of them. They’re all great in their own ways, but they all also make me want to rip my hair out. Three of them are older, Damian’s younger than me. He kinda acts like a big brother at times though. And I have a big sister, Cass. She doesn’t say much, but she’s awesome. She’s in Hong Kong right now, so most of our conversations have been video calls. I have a niece, too.” Marinette stops, wiping furiously at her eyes. She didn't want to cry. At all. But knowing her birth mother would never be able to be part of her life, would never know any of these people like she did- it was hard.

“Guardian, please breathe.” Kaalki says, floating up to sit in front of Marinette’s face. Marinette blinks at the Kwami before listening to them. If they were worried, then Marinette was more lost in her head than she originally thought.

“And today’s my birthday. I was excited at first, and then I remembered the other thing that this day was. Remembered that it’s also the day you-” Marinette pauses, and grits her teeth. “I am so sorry, Mama. I am so sorry that I caused your death.” She chokes out, dropping her head onto her knees, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to break out of her chest.

“We need to go. Marinette, we need to go.” Kaalki urges, patting her cheek urgently. Marinette calls the transformation and falls through a portal, closing it quickly to keep the butterfly that was surely after her from following. She definitely didn’t need to test how far the victim had to be to be akumatized. The second she lands, she lets the transformation drop and the sobs break out.

“Shit Pixie.” Jason curses, and suddenly she’s wrapped in a warm hug, sobs tearing through her as she continues to apologize.

---

Jason Todd had been through a lot of weird shit. Waking up in a pool of green water after being fucking murdered by the Joker, was weird. Emotional baby sister falling through a portal into the room and sobbing? Also weird. But also heartbreaking. He grabs onto her and just holds her, desperately trying to give her some type of comfort.

“Shhhh, it’s okay Pix. I got you.” He mumbles, holding her close. Damian rushes in, sword drawn, face scrunched up when he sees them. Jason shakes his head, this wasn’t something that they could fix with a sword. He wasn’t exactly sure why his baby sister was crying so hard, but he had caught a couple of muffled apologies, so whatever it was, he didn’t think it was something that he (or Damian) could kill. Or, rather, maim, since she was against murdering people that were against her for some reason.

“Has anyone seen Mars, she’s not in her room-” Replacement starts, freezing as he walks into the room.

“Excellent situational awareness, Drake.” Damian mutters, glaring at him. Jason shoots both of them a glare, now was not the time to be fighting. Especially since the kid’s other parents were on their way to celebrate her birthday. If they showed up and she was sobbing, they’d take her home and never let them see her again. And Jason was NOT going to let that happen.

“Anyone know if M’s decided to not kill me yet?” Dick asks, walking into the room with a huge grin that falls the second he sees what’s happening. Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently none of his brothers could read a fucking room. Instead of staying at the edge of the room like Damian and Tim, Dick walks over.

“Hey kiddo, it’s okay. We’re here.” He says softly. The kid pulls away from him, though he can tell it’s a little reluctantly, before launching herself at Dick, her sobs starting to die down. Jason lets out a short huff, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to think of what could have set her off. There were no akuma alarms, but she fell out of a portal. Which means she was out of the manor when she got upset. He watches as Dick pats her hair gently and whispers to her. God, he’s such a dad. Then again, he’s been mother henning him and their other brothers for years, so it’s not really a surprise.

“I’m sorry guys.” Marinette says suddenly, her voice small as she stays hidden in Dick’s arms.

“No need to apologize, Pixie Pop.” Jason reassures her. She finally pulls away from Dick and Jason’s heart, honest to god breaks at the broken look on her face.

“She died in childbirth, you know.” She whispers, and suddenly it makes sense. Why she was sitting there sobbing on her birthday, why she’d fallen out of a portal.

“That is not your fault.” Damian says firmly, walking over and standing face to face with Marinette, something Jason knew annoyed the girl. Damian was two years younger, but a little taller than her. She didn’t seem to mind now, though.

“But it was. If I hadn’t been born-” She starts and Jason frowns at the thought.

“The world would be a much shittier place.” He says with finality, not leaving room for her to argue. “Pix, you’re amazing, and the world would really suck without you. Never be sorry you were born.” Jason says firmly, stumbling slightly when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Thank you Jay.” She mumbles, and he can tell she’s crying again, but this time it’s not sobs, so he thinks it’s fine.

“Come on, let’s all watch a movie.” Repla- Tim suggests and Jason raises an eyebrow at the idea, briefly wondering what kind of movie he’d pick. They all pile on the giant sectional that Bruce had bought specifically for impromptu movie nights as Tim sticks the DVD in. Jason just snorts as the title card for “The Addams Family” comes on, settling back in the couch, ready to watch one of the greatest movies ever.

---

“Thank you again for flying us out here for her birthday.” Sabine says, smiling at him. Bruce returns the smile and nods.

“Of course, thank you for letting her spend the summer here. I know she’s appreciated the break from her classmates.” He says, his smile quickly fading at the confused look on both Sabine and Tom’s faces.

“What do you mean?” Tom asks.

“Marinette hasn’t told you?” Bruce asks, suddenly regretting bringing it up. Why hadn’t she said anything? They were her parents too. Sure, she’d made it clear they couldn’t know about Ladybug, but her class wasn’t a hero problem. They were a civilian problem.

“We knew that she wasn’t hanging out with them as often, and that she didn’t talk about her class as much as she used to. We just assumed that she was busy.” Sabine says, her face a mixture of sadness and anger.

“My apologies, I assumed she’d talked to you.” Bruce says, feeling as if he had crossed a line. Would they be mad at him, for her telling him something she hadn’t told them?

“She’s always looking out for others first,” Tom finally sighs, a tired smile on his face. “She probably thought she was saving us from being akumatized.” Bruce’ jaw clenches. Had Marinette really suffered in silence to avoid being forced to fight her parents?

“We can continue this conversation later, right now we should focus on her birthday.” Sabine says, placing a hand on Tom’s arm. He nods and Bruce makes a note to talk to the two about the possibility of her switching schools.

“She’s probably in her room.” Bruce says, leading the two towards the stairs.

“Actually, Master Bruce, the children are all in the informal sitting room. I believe they snuck down to have a movie night after Master Dick woke Miss Marinette to wish her a happy birthday.” Alfred says, Bruce watches his face and knows that’s not all, but doesn’t press. It had to be something that he couldn’t talk about in front of the Dupain Cheng’s.

“Of course they did. Thank you, Alfred. Alfred, this is Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, Marinette’s parents. Tom, Sabine, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s the man who raised me.” Bruce says, smiling at him. The three exchange pleasantries and soon Bruce is leading the two to the sitting room. He pushes the door open gently, careful not to let it slam. He spots a sword on the floor near Damian and quickly grabs it, moving it away. If he was woken up suddenly, he would still panic and attempt to fight his way out.

“She looks so peaceful.” Sabine whispers, and Bruce smiles, a genuine smile, he didn’t have to fake a smile when most of his children were together and safe and happy. Or, quiet, at least. It was rare.

“I’ve found them like this several times.” Bruce admits, pulling out his phone to show the two all of the pictures he’d taken of the kids piled together sleeping. Sabine and Tom smile widely at the pictures and Bruce quickly sends them their favorites.

“B, I swear to god, I can sense you in here. Let us sleep.” Jason mumbles grumpily.

“Sorry Jason, Marinette’s parents are here so it’s time to get up.” Bruce says, amused at the way his son’s hair was attempting to defy gravity. Jason looked around sleepily, waved lazily at Sabine and Tom, and then collapsed back on the couch. Bruce sighs. “Would the two of you like to have a cup of coffee while we give them a few more minutes to sleep?” He offers.

“That would be lovely.” Sabine says, and Bruce leads the two to the kitchen, hoping Tim (who had sat straight up after Jason flopped down) would take the hint and wake up the others.

---

Marinette sighs happily as everyone sits down at the table for dinner. The day had been amazing, despite the rough start. And her Dad had even flown her Maman and Papa out to spend the day with her. They couldn’t stay for long, they had the bakery to run after all, but it was still nice to see them. Marinette glances at the end of the table where a place was set, but no one sat.

“What’s with the extra plate?” Jason asks, turning to Alfred who was sitting in the chair next to it instead of his regular seat.

“It is for Miss Le.” He says, and she can almost feel everyone freeze. Her throat tightens, but she still smiles at him with watery eyes.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She says quietly. He nods.

“You are quite welcome, Miss.” He says. She clears her throat and looks back at her Maman, noticing that her smile was also a little sad. It had been all day, but Marinette was certain it wasn’t anything to worry about. Bridgette had been close with her Maman, surely she was just mourning her today, openly for the first time in a long time.

---

Marinette groans at whoever is trying to wake her up.

“Five more minutes.” She mutters, burrowing deeper under the covers. It was summer break, why wouldn’t anyone let her sleep?

“Come on sweetheart, your Papa and I want to talk to you and Bruce.” Her Maman says, and she immediately sits up. Was she in trouble? Had her Maman figured out the whole Batman thing? Had she figured out the Ladybug thing?

“Uh, okay.” She says, sliding out of bed and stepping into slippers. She wasn’t sure how serious the conversation was, but since her Maman didn’t stop her from walking out of the room in her pajamas, she relaxed slightly. It couldn’t be that serious, right? She follows her Maman into her Dad’s study, glancing wearily at the clock in the corner. Her Maman was often too observant. Hopefully she didn’t notice anything odd about the clock. They all sit in silence for an entire minute until Marinette can’t handle it anymore.

“Am I in trouble?” She asks hesitantly, looking between her parents’ faces.

“Of course not, we just- We noticed how different you are.” Her Maman says and Marientte frowns, furrowing her eyebrows. Different? She was different?

“How?” She asks.

“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in months honey. Your smile reaches your eyes, you talk freely, you seem peaceful.” Her Maman says softly, and Marinette blinks in surprise. Had she really been so easy to read in Paris? Had her parents really been able to tell? She’d wanted to hide it from them, not let them see how everything was piling on her, crushing her. She didn’t want to worry them.

“What do you- how-” She stumbles over her words, trying to figure out where she messed up.

“We didn’t know why until we talked to Bruce.” Her Papa says and she turns to glare at her Dad, feeling a little betrayed. He holds up his hands in surrender.

“Marinette, you didn’t tell me not to tell them about your class.” He reminds her, and she huffs.

“Guess we can cross mind reader off the list of things you can do.” She mumbles, making her Papa snort.

“It wasn’t just that though. We’d seen how restrained you had become, how you never went out with friends and you stopped talking about them.” Her Maman says softly. Marinette grits her teeth, hugging herself to try and hold herself together.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She says, her voice barely audible. That wasn’t the main reason though. She didn’t want to fight her parents, and if they knew everything going on with Lila, they’d definitely be akumatized. She couldn’t fight them. Not if she could help it.

“What would you say about transferring schools?” Her Maman asks suddenly, and Marinette jerks her head up, looking at her with wide eyes. Transfer schools? It would be great, amazing, fantastic, but- but her classmates would still come to the bakery. Still give her the same odd looks they’d been giving her since they found out that she’s a Wayne.

“What school?” She asks, because yes, that makes a difference. Chloe had transferred schools not long ago, and Marinette did not want to trade Lila for Chloe. She’d rather not deal with either of them, if she was being honest.

“Gotham Academy.” Her Maman says, and Marinette feels lucky that she wasn’t drinking anything, because she would have definitely done a spit take. Gotham Academy? As in, live in Gotham year round? What-

“Are you giving me up?” She asks, suddenly hurt. Her Maman’s eyes widen and her Papa pulls her into a giant hug.

“Of course not honey.” He says, rubbing her back gently and squeezing her lightly.

“We asked Bruce if he thought Gotham Academy would be a good school for you. He offered to let you fly home some weekends, and any of the breaks you want. Or to fly us out here if you have time off school. You don’t have to say yes, and you don’t have to make a decision right now.” Her Maman reassures her as her Papa lets her go. Marinette turns to look at her Dad, his face unreadable.

“Would you really be okay with that?” She asks, and he nods.

“We all just want you to be happy, Marinette. Wherever that may be. And we’re all willing to work together to do that.” He says and she smiles, letting out a soft sigh.

“I- I’d need to think about it a little more,” She says, running through the idea in her head. It seemed perfect, besides the whole ‘bouncing back to Paris for attacks’ thing. But she’d been doing it all summer, it had been fine so far. And maybe, maybe, Hawkmoth would even be defeated by the end of summer. No matter what, things were changing and Marinette was trying her best to keep up.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[thecassadilla]

CASS! I WANT THIS ONE FOR KA!

18. "You are the most idiotic but adorable human on the planet."

18. "You are the most idiotic but adorable human on the planet." Send me a prompt!

Kristoff had a crush. A big, fat, all consuming crush.

It felt juvenile, and ridiculous, but thoughts of his coworker, Anna, were constantly taking over his brain. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, with her intoxicating blue eyes that he so easily found himself drowning in, and the sprinkling of freckles across her face, but she also had an incredible personality. She was sweet, and optimistic, and confident, and selfless - every single quality she possessed was admirable.

And though he thought he was being discreet and subtle about his ever-growing feelings for her, it was very quickly brought to his attention that the mushy, hearts-in-his-eyes way he would stare at her from across the office while they were working was very obvious to everyone around him - everyone except Anna, who thankfully, never seemed to notice.

What she may have noticed, however, was his social ineptitude and the way he seemed to bumble through every conversation he had with her. He was drawn to her like a magnet, but he couldn’t seem to actually keep it together while he was in her presence, attempting to keep his demeanor on the gruff side and maintain a little distance between them in a desperate attempt to keep his feelings hidden. But she was too nice - and, perhaps, a little unwavering with her friendliness - and he always found himself melting as soon as she was in proximity of him. Just thinking about her was enough to cause a dopey, lovesick smile to cross his lips.

“Did you hear about what happened to Anna?” Stacy, the woman who sat at the desk next to him, asked, effectively pulling him out of his Anna-induced trance.

“No,” Kristoff frowned. “What happened?”

“She had a meeting with human resources today. That new guy, Jake, kept harassing her about going out on a date with him and it got really bad. Like, unsolicited pictures and threatening texts, bad.”

“Oh, man,” was all he could manage. Though he didn’t want Stacy to catch onto his feelings, on the inside, he was seething with anger. He couldn’t believe that Anna - the kindest, sincerest, most down-to-earth person in the entire world - was dealing with all of that. No one deserved to be harassed or made uncomfortable, especially in the workplace, but Anna especially didn’t deserve it.

“I feel so horrible for her. It’s just wrong, you know? Every guy seems to think the word ‘no’ means try harder - except you, of course. You’re one of the few actually respectful guys left in the world.”

“Oh...um, thanks. I appreciate that.” As quickly as he could, he turned his attention back towards his computer, eager to avoid hearing anymore details about what happened to Anna from Stacy but knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be able to get any work done for the rest of his shift.

At the end of the day, and as per usual, Anna appeared by his desk, her jacket draped over her arm and her hands clutching her purse. “I’m heading out now, do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, that’s okay. You go ahead, I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Alright,” she smiled. “Have a good night, Kristoff.”

“You, too.”

He sat there for a moment, watching as she sauntered away from him before changing his mind about sticking around. What he really wanted was to talk to her and make sure she was alright after hearing about the situation with Jake.

“Anna, wait up!” he called, hastily gathering his belongings before jogging over to her. “I will walk out with you.”

“Really?” she inquired, a perplexed look crossing her features. “You never walk out with me.”

“I know. I, uh...I heard what happened to you today.”

Her face fell. “You did, huh?”

“Yeah, and I...I just wanted to make sure you were alright after...everything.”

“Oh. I’m fine,” she insisted, waving a dismissive hand. “It happens all the time.”

“I’m sure it does, but that doesn’t make it okay. I’m really sorry that that happened.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I feel really bad. I just want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, Kristoff. I really appreciate it.” She placed a hand on his bicep for a moment before letting it fall to her side.

“Of course.”

A brief silence fell between them, and the elevator doors slid open. Once the doors closed around them, she continued. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The people you aren’t interested in always like you and the people you actually want don’t like you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he chuckled nervously, unsure of what she was getting at.

She shrugged, smiling half-heartedly. “That’s been my experience, at least. Maybe you have better luck than I do.”

“I don’t think I do,” he hummed, his heart rate starting to pick up as he peered down at her. He was standing so close that he could count the freckles that were dappled across her nose and cheeks. “Honestly, I don't even try.”

“How come?” Anna met his gaze, her dazzling blue eyes wide with curiosity.

Kristoff looked away for a moment, unsure of how he should answer her. Because I’m spineless. Because I’m worried you’ll reject me. Because I don’t want to ruin our friendship. “I don’t know. It’s...complicated.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re a great guy, Kris. I think you should try. You might be surprised.”

“Thanks,” he nodded, pondering what she said in his head. Suddenly feeling a little emboldened, but still very nervous, he lowered his voice as he continued, “But what if she says ‘no?’”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “And if she says ‘no,’ there’ll be someone else. But I think you should ask her. You never know, she might feel the same way.”

The doors slid open once again, revealing the lobby of the building. They stepped off, not making it far from the elevator before pausing again. “You think?”

“I mean, I don’t know her, but I can’t imagine anyone turning you down. You’re sweet, and considerate, and very handsome.”

Kristoff raised his eyebrows in shock as a rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He could practically feel his heart swell with affection and warmth as he looked at her, in awe over her compliments. “You really feel that way about me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Anna laughed. He couldn’t help but notice that there was a hint of sadness in the melodic sound that wasn’t usually present. “I think she would be a fool to turn you down.”

“Oh.” He blinked, still completely taken aback by what she’d said about him. “Well...thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know how it goes, okay?” She started walking towards the exit, glancing over her shoulder after a moment to see if he was following her. “Are you coming?”

Unwilling to let another opportunity pass him by, he decided to speak up. He raced to catch up with her. “Anna, wait. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Um...so…” he trailed off, a thin veil of sweat gathering by his hairline. “Would you, um, would you maybe want to grab dinner sometime?”

“Yes!” she answered immediately, her entire face lighting up as she bounced in place. “Yes, yes, a million times, yes!”

“Really?” A giddy huff of laughter escaped his lips. He could hardly believe his ears.

Her eyebrows furrowed as her lips continued to quirk upwards. “After everything I just said, why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with you?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, barely able to hear over his pounding heart. “You’re so pretty, and smart, and way out of my league. I didn’t think you’d be interested, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, either.”

“You do realize that I’ve had a crush on you since I started working here, right?”

“You - what?”

“You are the most idiotic but adorable human on the planet,” Anna giggled, her cheeks tinging pink as she beamed at him. “I thought it was obvious! Why do you think I always ask you to hang out with me?”

His mouth went dry as he was inundated with a flood of memories. Invitations to grab a cup of coffee after work that he always turned down because he’d “be up all night if he had caffeine at this hour.” Or, how he always rejected her offers to eat lunch with him in the break room - instead choosing to eat the lunch he’d made for himself at his desk in solitude. Or, all the times she offered to stick around and wait for him to finish his work for the day so they could walk out to the parking lot together, which he declined, feeling guilty at the prospect of making her wait even a short amount of time. They were small and subtle gestures, but why would she offer to do something more extravagant when he always turned her down?

“I thought you were just being nice,” Kristoff mumbled, averting his gaze as his face and neck grew uncomfortably warm. “I didn’t think...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” she insisted, quickly taking his hands in her own. “I was mostly trying to be friendly because you always seemed so lonely, and I really do like you, but I probably should’ve backed down after you said ‘no,’ the first time I asked you to hang out. And I would have, but Stacy was insistent that you felt the same way about me. She said you were shy, and would never ask me yourself, so I kept asking you. I was hoping that, at the very least, we could be friends.”

"Yeah," Kristoff said shakily, still overwhelmed not only by the fact that she'd said 'yes,' but that she felt the same way. But regardless of how he felt on the inside, on the outside he couldn't stop smiling.

"But this is so much better than just being friends!" Anna squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

And she was right - it was so much better.

[hellyeahheroes]

Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

[emilia3546]

He Never Left Your Side - Nesta and Rhys

Nesta hasn't really spoken to Rhys since Nyx's birth, not for more than polite greetings anyway. But after attending a meeting about training the female Illyrians, they're stuck together with too much left unsaid.

*****

Nesta sighed as she stared out over the Illyrian mountains, enthralled by its rugged beauty, the raw untamed power in those jagged peaks, she almost forgot the male standing beside her, almost.

"You think it's beautiful," Rhys broke her concentration, and she held back the snappy response that would have allowed her to continue staring in silence,

"I've always been drawn the the wilder things in life," she said simply, let him take from that what he would, it was true in every sense, she'd never been the woman her mother had expected, not in her heart. But now, with the Valkyries, with Cassian, she was finally the person she was born to be, even if it was twenty five years too late.

"Thank you for coming today, I think we're getting there," Nesta wasn't so sure, the meeting had been a disaster, every Camp Lord had refused training to females, although, some had conceded permission for Nesta to run Valkyrie training, but no allowance would be made from camp chores and jobs. It was the first, very tiny, step, but a step nonetheless,

"Can't you just order them?"

"They'd disobey it, and I'd have to bring force in, I don't want a civil war, this is the only way, but with you showing that females can do it, we will get there, so thank you."

"I'll admit I never thought you'd say that to me of all people,"

"Will you hate me again if I say that I never expected to say it?"

"No. I'll mark you down as pragmatic though." Rhys laughed beside her, but Nesta couldn't tear her gaze from the view before her, "But you don't have to thank me, for anything, like it or not, you're my brother,"

"Still, I don't think I'll ever manage to thank you enough for saving Feyre's life,"

"She's my sister." Nesta did glance sideways at that, "And it was about time I returned the favor," she admitted, almost starting in surprise at the respect in Rhys' eyes, and the chuckle that left his lips,

"Don't tell her that. I'm glad that you found your own way to healing, and I'm sorry that it wasn't me who helped you, I was blinded by my anger over the past, it was wrong of me, and, well, you remind me of myself in some ways, I'm not altogether sure that's a good thing."

"That's a good thing."

"But, you are my sister, and I know we can't rebuild something that was never there, but I would like to really know you, I want you to be a part of the family. I owe you everything, and it shouldn't have taken me this long to give you a chance."

"You owe me nothing."

"Agree to disagree," Nesta offered him a small smile at that, the first time they'd truly agreed to anything, and stared back out at the mountains,

"I didn't believe Feyre when she said I'd like you, and I was right, but I hated you because you were what I could have been, with the right people, but I never truly hated you I don't think, I always respected you, somewhat grudgingly, but I did, mostly for your judgement of me, many males would have simply let me do what I was doing, left it to Feyre to try and reach me, you didn't go about it the best way, mind you, but the idea was what I needed. Maybe it was for her benefit at the time, but I doubt that's true now,"

"No, it's not, believe it or not, I like you, Nesta, I didn't like the Nesta who returned after the war, but I should have recognized that you were hurting and needed support, I'm glad you were able to find it." Nesta smiled,

"I do have a bone to pick with you, though,"

"Oh yeah?"

"You gave Cass baby fever."

"I do apologize," he laughed, "Are you sure you can't hold him off?"

"Oh I can hold him off, he won't insist, but still, it's all your fault," she teased, finally relaxing, her attention no longer zeroed in on Rhys, but their surroundings, as it usually was. The companionable silence surrounding them still surprised her, were it anyone else, she'd have expected incessant talking, but it seemed that he understood, they had said what they needed to right now, it was just about learning to trust one another, to find the family bonds that they had neglected.

It was this silence that alerted her to a slight sound, a sound she assumed was Rhys moving from where she couldn't see him, but the silence made her look round, not even the birds were singing any more, a flash of movement drew her attention. She moved on instinct, not knowing what the movement was, but a sense of danger overwhelmed her as she stepped into its path, shoving Rhys aside. As it crashed into her, she identified one of the Illyrians from the meeting, a Camp Lord's son, bringing up her hand to slam her fist into his face, his nose crumpling under her fist as he stumbled backwards.

"Oh gods, Nesta,"

"What?" It was only when she stepped away from the unconscious male that she noticed the crimson drops of blood on the stone, except the blood from his nose hadn't fallen. She glanced down, her hands automatically pressing into her side at the sight of the dagger buried to the hilt just below her ribs. It hardly occurred to her that she'd saved Rhys' life, again, with the blade's trajectory aiming to sever his spinal cord had she not intervened. Horror was written across his features as her vision fractured from the pain radiating from the wound, and he stepped back to support her as she stumbled, "Now you owe me," she laughed, and winced at the pain such a movement caused.

"Hang on, I'll fix this, I will, I've just got to get us home first, okay?"

"Mmhm," Nesta mumbled, her vision failing completely as blood rushed past her fingers, staining the cliffs red as they vanished, reappearing in one of the River House's guest bedrooms. Nesta didn't register Rhys setting her down in the bed, didn't register when the door flew open and Feyre rushed in, gasping in horror at the sight of her sister.

"Could you go and fetch Cass, it'd be better to tell him face to face,"

"Okay yeah, what happened?"

"She saved my life."

Nesta did register the dagger being withdrawn, and the paint that redoubled afterwards, but a quiet tap against her mental shields encouraged her to lower them, she sensed no danger from that presence, and the pain vanished, allowing her to slip into a blissful state of unconsciousness. She didn't wake when Cassian arrived moments later, all but begging Rhys to heal her. She didn't wake when the sides of the wound closed, blood vessels realigning, skin sealing back together at Rhys' command. She didn't wake when Rhys explained what she'd done, without even thinking about it. She didn't wake when Cassian kissed her brow, when he demanded to see the male who'd hurt her. She didn't wake when Rhys admitted to having left him behind, or when Cassian checked over her again, making sure that she was really okay before leaving to find Azriel to catch the male who'd attacked them.

She did wake when her stomach demanded the dinner she'd missed, finding Rhys still sitting beside her,

"Don't get up, it was quite deep, it might not be fully healed yet, when I heal with my magic it can take a bit of time if it's a serious injury, just take your time, do you need anything?"

"Honestly, food, and a glass of water," Rhys smiled at that,

"You're okay then, so long as anyone who's been injured is asking for food, that tends to mean they're okay really, hang on, I'll be right back." Nesta closed her eyes again, only opening them when Feyre's voice sounded through her sleep,

"Nesta? You said you were hungry?"

"Thank you," he stomach growled again at the scent of the simple broth, and she slowly sat up, the pain reduced to a dull ache as she moved, pausing at the sight of Rhys beside her, sprawled in a chair beside her bed, his head leaning back against a precariously balanced cushion.

"He hasn't left your side," Feyre said, handing Nesta the tray of food, "He insisted on healing you himself, it tires him, his magic is not really designed for healing, but he wanted to do it," Nesta smiled to herself, he was a better male than she'd ever given him credit for, and she was proud to call him her brother. From Feyre's smile, she must have said it out loud, and she nodded, she meant it, it was about time they found the love that they'd been missing all their lives.

tags:  @teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish

[insfiringyou]

BTS - A Chance Meeting (V & Ara)

Contains: Slight angst

*Alert for potential spoilers for fics not yet written in Jimin x Ara’s storyline*

Ara notices Taehyung sat alone in a quiet cafe and decides to stop by. 

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

Ara hesitated, before tapping lightly on the single-pane glass with her fingernails. She didn’t want to draw too much attention but was unable to stop herself from knocking. It was a surprise to see him after so long and she had double-taken in the street. His hair was a little longer, but that was expected. The last time he had just returned from the military and his short, closely-cropped cut made him seem more somber; years older than he was. Now it was back to a length she found more familiar but the dark, wispy suggestion of facial hair on his upper lip was new. He seemed lost in thought, sat in the back of the cafe with a small cup clutched between his fingers, staring into space. Despite her being gentle, the sound seemed to startle him and he looked up. Ara gave a tentative wave, hoping he recognised her. 

She tucked her fringe behind her ear, watching him pause before he raised his hand slightly in acknowledgement. Her bleached strands felt unfamiliar as she brushed the neck of her hair; the short, pixie cut still freshly blow-dried from the hairdressers that morning. She had asked Da-eun to do it for her but the young woman had refused, thinking she might get into some kind of trouble for it. Ara understood, after all, she had not yet spoken to her manager about a change in style.

Taking the plunge, she tucked her black purse beneath her armpit and walked around the corner to the entrance; the soft tinkle of a bell above the door signalling her arrival. She could not read Taehyung’s expression as she approached his table at the back of the small space but hoped she was not intruding. He was sat snugly behind a column which, luckily, seemed private. The cafe only had a small handful of customers but she looked around cautiously before joining in. 

“Hi…” She beamed, keeping her voice low. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “I’m good.” His tone gave nothing away, but after a moment he gestured to the spare chair opposite. “Do you want to sit down?”

She slid onto the seat automatically. “I can’t stay for long. I’ve got an appointment.”

He blinked a few times. “You’ve cut your hair.”

Her replying smile was bashful as her fingers moved in response to her fringe which had once more come untucked. “It was too warm in the heat. It’s much easier to maintain now.”

“It suits you.” He said coolly. 

There was a long pause between them, though it wasn’t awkward. She had grown used to these drawn-out silences, from the time he temporarily took lodge in her and Jimin’s apartment and when her boyfriend had left for the military. It would have been a lie to say she had gotten a lot from his company. He always seemed absorbed in his books as well as his thoughts, but there always seemed to be something he was holding back; an aura of mystery she couldn’t quite place and at odds with Jimin’s usual openness. But Taehyung was tidy enough and greeted her when she came home, so she hadn’t minded having him around. 

She found herself wondering what she could say to him. It seemed polite to stop and talk, but this chance meeting now reminded her how little she knew about his life now. Eventually, she spoke. “How’s the baby?”

The corner of his lips twitched in a vague smile. “Toddling.”

Ara was silent for a moment, only just realising it had been longer since she had seen him than she initially thought. “How old is he now?” She asked, voice open and inquisitive. 

He took a sip of tea; it’s aroma fragrant in the small space. She tried to read the label on the tag but couldn’t make it out. “Almost two.”

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. I keep meaning to go and see Cassandra, but I wasn’t sure where she was now. Is she still in Seoul?” 

Taehyung nodded, putting down his cup. It made a soft, strangely comforting sound against the china saucer. “She’s in Gangnam. Do you have her number?”

She thought for a moment, before nodding with a frown. “If she hasn’t changed it. She was kind of hard to get hold of for a while.”

“Gabriel had colic.” He replied with a shrug, as though that explained the years of absence. Ara thought the explanation a little odd, but did not comment. 

“Did you choose the name?” She asked. 

“It just seemed right.” He quickly murmured, not entirely answering the question. Ara thought the reply seemed rehearsed, as though he had answered it many times. She wondered if his family had commented on it and whether he felt the need to defend the decision. Jimin had not spoken much about Taehyung’s family, and she herself had never heard them mentioned in conversation. All of a sudden she found herself hoping they had been supportive; not just for his sake but for Cassandra, whom she had known for so long. 

Ara forced the thought away. “I bet it sounds lovely when she says it. Cassandra always had the most wonderful voice.”

Taehyung looked up from his tea cup. “She still does.”

Her mouth opened, forming an ‘oh’, thinking she might have gotten it all wrong. Or maybe things had changed in the past two years. She approached the topic tentatively. “Are you two…?”

“No.” He confirmed. “But we make it work.” He quickly added.

Ara settled back in her chair; understanding. She gave a soft smile which she hoped didn’t come across as patronising. “I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s the mother of my child, Ara.” He said quietly.

She sensed the sadness in his voice; a longing he couldn’t quite put into words and she nodded. “Of course.” She changed the subject lightly, seeing there was nothing else she could say on the matter of her old friend. “You should get in touch with Jimin. I know he wants to see you.”

He appeared to wince a little but recovered well. She almost hadn’t noticed. “You can tell him he’s welcome any time he wants. He knows where I live.” He murmured. 

Ara fell silent, realising he didn’t yet know. “You really haven’t seen him in a while have you?” She asked, before pressing on. “We broke up.”

He met her eyes across the table and she saw the shock in his expression. “When?”

“A few months ago.”

Taehyung was quiet, pensive, before he asked. “Was it mutual?”

She smiled sadly. “I think he needed it too. We still speak sometimes.”

The man opposite nodded in confirmation. “That’s good.”

Ara watched as he leaned forward to pick up the cup, looking downwards as he took the last few sips. She realised how lonely he looked; how the times she had come home to find him seemingly preoccupied masked the fact he didn’t seem to have anyone. His fans, she remembered, always thought him something of an enigma. She wondered now if that was truly it. 

“Have you thought about dating again?” She suggested, making sure to keep her voice down low, should anyone else hear. 

He didn’t look up from his cup. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know…” She trailed off, figuring out how best to word it. “Being in a relationship seemed to suit you.” She shrugged. It seemed silly now she said it out loud. “As far as I could tell anyway.”

“Cass has moved on.” He murmured, frankly.

Ara hesitated. “I meant with someone else.”

Taehyung’s eyes snapped up, meeting hers purposefully and she let out an unexpected giggle. 

“I didn’t mean me.” She confirmed, shaking her head. It felt strange without the usual brush of hair against her shoulders. She settled down, her laughter subsiding, and gave a long, dramatic groan, anticipating how pathetic she must sound. “I’m still trying to find myself.”

He looked back at the table, picking up a napkin and twisting it absently between his long fingers. “I don’t think I could have that again.” 

“You never know.” She easily dismissed.

His brows knitted together, creating deep, frustrated grooves in his forehead as he mumbled, glumly. “Maybe some people are only meant to be with one person.” 

Ara raised a questioning eyebrow. “You never dated anyone before Cassandra?”

Taehyung looked up once more, answering quickly. “That was different.” He sharply declared. “I was young.”

“You’re still young.” She said, deliberately gently, seeing he was hurt.

He grew quiet and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. Ara feared she might have crossed the line and she tightened her grip on her purse, getting ready to leave before he suddenly spoke. “I wouldn’t even know where to meet someone.”

Her hands stilled and she relaxed. “Well…” She held out the palms of her hands. “What do you like?”

He met her gaze. “In a girl?” 

She shrugged. “Or a guy.”

Half-expecting him to question this, he surprised her by remaining silent, meditative; thinking deeply. She wondered if he knew about her. Perhaps Jimin had told him. 

“Someone sweet.” He eventually said. “Someone kind.”

Her lips curled, simpering. “Is that all?”

“I’m not that picky.” He stated. 

She couldn’t help but scoff. “You dated the most European girl in Seoul.”

“She’s only half European.” He contended, entirely missing the point. 

“You know what I mean...” Ara shook her head with a grin and sitting back, she reflected for a moment. “What about looks?”

“Personality is more important.” 

“You must have a preference?” She challenged, suddenly curious. 

Once again he fell silent and Ara found herself a little impressed at how seriously he was taking this. “Dark eyes...soft and sweet.”

“The kind of girl you’d bring home?” She questioned with a smirk. 

“Someone I could marry.” He stated, a little dreamily.

Ara nodded, amused. He sounded strangely serious. “I know just the girl.” She teased, an idea already forming in her mind. 

He looked at her; eyelashes heavy, giving him a sleepy look “How about you?”

She stretched in her seat, realising she hadn’t thought about it much before and was surprised he asked. Smiling to herself, she blushed. “Smooth skin. Nice lips.” She giggled in embarrassment, adding: “No stubble.”

“So Jimin?” He challenged. 

The corners of her lips turned up and she looked away, unable to help the way her heart still skipped a little at his name. “I don’t know…” She admitted, drifting off and watching from the corner of her eye as he reached into his pocket, searching for his wallet. She took the opportunity to flick through her phone, typing a name and bringing up a familiar social media account. She swiped through the pictures with her manicured thumb before finding one which showed the girl in question at a good angle. It was taken at a company event, and the dress she wore was uncharacteristically short. The other girls on the make up team had talked her into wearing it but Ara saw the way she had tugged on it incessantly all night, trying to cover her pale knees with the frilled hem. 

“What about her?” Ara held out the screen, showing him. 

Taehyung squinted at the picture. “Do you know her?”  

“She’s my stylist.” She confirmed before tucking the phone back in her purse and closing the magnetic clasp. “You’d like her, she’s sweet...and single.” She added.

“What’s her name?” He asked casually. 

“Da-eun.”

She thought he was going to ask more, but instead changed the topic. “Are you going back on tour soon?”

“Once the new album’s out, we still have a lot of work to do. I’m meeting the producers this afternoon.” 

“That sounds good.” He murmured, sounding a little tired. She sensed the conversation was drawing to a close. 

“Are you working on anything?” She asked politely. 

“I was thinking about it.” The other man shrugged indifferently. 

“I’m sure your fans would really enjoy it.”

“I’d be doing it for me.” 

The steely tone of his reply took her aback a little and she found herself recalling the news headlines in the days following the birth. “Even so…” She drifted off weakly and checked her watch before drawing her chair away from the table. “I’d better be going.” She murmured apologetically, getting to her feet. “It was really nice bumping into you.”

His eyes followed her as she gathered her belongings and extended the strap on the purse across her shoulder. “You too. Take care.”

“I will.” She smiled, tucking the chair neatly beneath the table and turning to leave. 

“Ara?” He called softly and she spun back. He was silent for a few seconds but she waited patiently. “Your friend Da-eun…” He seemed a little embarrassed. “You can give her my number.” Another pause. “If you like.”

It took her by surprise but she nodded in agreement. “I will.” She confirmed, giving a gentle wave. “Goodbye Tae.”

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[phynali]

Dean’s Body as a Punching Bag

Ever since I made this post about Sam and (his lack of) bodily autonomy (as well as the follow-up post that carries the theme through the other 10 seasons), I’ve been trying to determine what the corollary for Dean is. Re-watching 5x01 made it jump out at me in a huge way:

The bodies of the people that Dean loves are consistently used in a way that hurts/harms Dean and metes out violence against him. And it is specifically his loved ones’ bodies themselves, not shapeshifters or lookalikes or Leviathan either. It is the people he loves’ hands and fists and weapons.

(I need a snappier way to word that, but bear with me).

Where Sam’s bodily autonomy violations occur before he’s born, and are seen as early as the pilot with Azazel in his room and with the Woman in White, Dean’s analogous theme doesn’t sneak in until the mid-season finale with Asylum.

In this episode, Sam gets infected with a sort of ghost-possession/ghost-sickness (another example of a violation of his bodily autonomy) and his internal anger becomes external, focused on Dean. Sam attacks Dean violently, and Dean goes so far as to hand over a (thankfully unloaded) gun and in this altered state, Sam actually tries to shoot him. 

Ouch. The person Dean loves and most wants to protect had his body violated and used against Dean. This theme is going to carry us through the next, eh, 10 or so seasons, with some tail-end examples even after that. 

In Season 1 we have Asylum mid-season, and we have the finale in which John is possessed by Azazel and hurts Dean most grievously, almost kills him. In Season 2, Sam is possessed by Meg and shoots Dean (in the arm). In Season 3, we had a writers’ strike and a season cut short so I can’t think of any examples there (but lots of other shit to unpack for another day).

The in Season 4, we have Sex and Violence, which is super interesting. While Dean is the one targeted by the siren and therefore the one whose body is used against his brother to hurt him, the actual violence doesn’t start until Sam is also infected. Sam’s body is violated by being held at knifepoint by his brother and his mouth forced open to accept the siren’s venom, but then it’s a fist-fight, a showdown. Both brothers’ bodies being used to hurt the other, but getting to that point required Sam’s body to similarly be ready to be used against Dean.

Season 5 is literally bookended by instances of this happening. First, true to the idea that Dean sees Bobby as family, Bobby becomes possessed by a demon and he violently attacks Dean. And then Swan Song, most famous example by a huge margin, Sam is possessed by Lucifer and is fist-fighting Dean, destroying his face and killing him with his fists, and it is his overwhelming love for Dean that allows him to overcome this possession and save the world.

The theme is carried forward for a few more seasons, pretty much until that narrative turning point in Season 10 that I mentioned in my post about Sam. In Season 6, soulless!Sam allows Dean to be hurt by a monster, harming him by proxy. In season 7, Sam is hallucinating and almost shoots Dean. In season 8, Cass is programmed by Naomi to kill Dean, and in the episode Goodbye Stranger beats him to a pulp before overcoming this programming. In season 9, when Gadreel reveals himself and takes over Sam’s body and kills Kevin, he also attacks Dean. 

Skipping Season 10 for a hot sec (more on that below), Lucifer also later possesses Cass in Season 11 and harms both Sam and Dean. In Season 12, we get brainwashed Mary attacking her sons (and overcoming possession thanks to Dean). And possibly examples from S13-15 that I’m missing (Garth being affected by Michael? Cass being affected by Rowena’s spell? Both Sam and Dean were affected by the Witch from Wizard of Oz, right? I honestly can’t recall the late seasons near so well). But regardless we see the theme play out in the final 5 seasons, just less and a bit different than it had prior. 

-

Now, let’s unpack the S10 shift a bit, and why it changes things for this theme of Dean’s.

In S9, Dean takes on the Mark of Cain under the weight of guilt and self-loathing from having violated Sam’s bodily autonomy by tricking him into being possessed by an angel (and forcibly having him possessed by a demon to then fix that angelic possession). In this instance, Dean is willfully taking on something that alters his own body, and the narrative between he and Sam is flipped. Now Dean is the one with something ‘evil’ marring his body and impacting it outside his control, and now Sam is the one who is ignoring Dean’s protests and autonomy in order to save him from this thing, consequences be damned.

That 2.5 season role-reversal arc was huge for how it changed Sam’s storyline for the final 5 seasons, and similarly huge for how it impacts Dean’s.

Dean is now the one whose body is being used as a weapon against those he loves most, and he is the one suffering that loss of autonomy and control over himself. He is sick with bloodlust, is turned into a demon, is drawn to the First Blade, and is not in full control of himself. When the Darkness is unleashed and Dean suffers the emotional consequences of feeling tied to and drawn to this monster (woman? celestial being? godlike person?) against his will. 

The Mark/Darkness narrative shows us that Dean’s body might belong to him, but it too can be corrupted against his will. Dean learns that he won’t always be able to choose, learns what it means not to have control over his own body. That while he puts his family as his duty above all else, while he would sacrifice literally everything (his body, his soul, the entire universe) for his little brother, the opposite might also be true, even if Dean doesn’t want it to be. 

(And I said elsewhere that I fundamentally believe this narrative role-reversal was a consequence of him overstepping his ownership over Sam by tricking him into taking Gadreel. Their positions are swapped because they have to be, because narratively it becomes necessary for Dean to know what this loss of autonomy feels like, and for Sam to override his brother’s choices, or else they may never find a sense of equilibrium again).

By the time this Mark/Darkness narrative wraps up, Dean is fundamentally, irrevocably changed. Where in Season 5 it was completely unthinkable that he would agree to be a vessel for Michael, it is in the finale of Season 13, just two seasons after the Darkness storyline wraps up, that we see him take Michael into himself as a snap, in-the-moment decision. What was previously unthinkable is now canon. 

Because Dean is now different. Because his core of protecting Sam is the same, but his theme of how others' bodies are used against him has now upended itself, and he now has had his body used against others.

In my post about Sam, I said that in the end for the final seasons, the narrative has shifted from Dean owning Sam’s body to Sam also owning his own, and them acknowledging that they are in this together as a result of Season 10. I believe that happens with Dean as well, owing to this reversal. Sam has now taken some ownership over Dean’s body by getting rid of the Mark, and Dean has relinquished some of his tight-fisted control over himself. 

So Sam is sharing ownership over his body with Dean (in the vein of “I can’t pretend you won’t do whatever you can to keep me alive, even if I don’t want it, but we’re in this together” and “if we die we do that together too”), and Dean is also sharing ownership over his body with Sam (in the vein of “I’m no longer convinced you’re going to abandon me, so the things that I will do to keep you by my side will be met equal between us” and “when it comes to keeping you safe, it’s my autonomy I will give up first, not yours”). 

-

But what does this particular form of bodily-violence-from-family say about Dean from a thematic standpoint?

In my post about Sam, I talked about how the themes of possession (ghost and demon) and demon blood are inherently about bodily autonomy and free will. 

For Dean, thinking through this theme of his loved ones being used to hurt him, I’m torn trying to find the way to word it, but I feel that it has to do with his themes of self-effacement as love, as protection and duty. It’s about being willing to suffer anything (even to the point of death) to protect his family, the ones he loves most. Family is the end-all-be-all to Dean, and protecting his family (most especially his little brother) is the core and heart of his character. It is a duty and a responsibility and a calling and a purpose. 

To remix a quote from the film Legend, Dean’s devotion to his brother (and to a lesser extent, to everyone else he calls family) is how he measures himself. There’s no single word for it, as it’s a mix of protection as love, as an instinct, but also as a fundamental duty, an identity. His internal compass.

So Dean’s narrative invokes free will in a very different way than Sam’s. Dean always had and has free will. He had the will to sell his soul, the will to refuse Michael. He has autonomy over his body and he has choice, so much so that he makes choices over and over for Sam. Instead, Dean’s struggles with autonomy of self as related to his constant effacement (to the point of complete ego-destruction and physical loss of self) for the people he loves. He will die, sell his soul, let himself be beat to a pulp, and anything more that the situation calls for, so long as it means protecting or not harming his loved ones.

The original Swan Song end is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, in the style of Greek tragedy. Sam’s struggle for autonomy, and the moment he claims that autonomy for himself, he falls into the Pit for eternity. Dean’s original intended Swan Song ending is analogous: a struggle to exist as more than his duty to his family, and right after he accepts that Sam is allowed to choose Lucifer and death for himself while Dean may continue on living, he then chooses to fall into the Pit after his brother so they could be together (in Hell, in the Cage) eternally.

Both of them have these absolute tragic flaws and in the first Kripke-era arc, tragic sacrificial ends. Sam’s relating to will and autonomy, Dean’s relating to love, family and protection/duty. Both of them belonging to themselves and to each other.

-

-

A few extra things about this theme worth noting:

1. the people who love Dean are always in an altered state when they harm him, whether it be possession, brain-washing, siren venom, soulless, etc etc, which I think goes to show in some ways how this love as a given to people who will never deliberately harm him.

2. in a huge proportion of these instances, Dean is saved by the person who loves him reclaiming themselves over and above their altered state. John overcomes Azazel’s possession (arguably, I would say, deliberately from Azazel, but let’s not quibble). Bobby stabs himself in the stomach to save Dean. Cass overcomes Naomi’s brainwashing. Sam overcomes the literal Devil possessing him. Mary overcomes some brainwashing (I think?). Etc. So Dean's love as sacrifice is rewarded?

3. Sam’s body is the most frequently used to harm Dean.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 7

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

----------

At least their purchases were found undamaged. That was a little upside to the disaster of the supervillain attack. Marinette suspected Tikki might’ve had something to do with this, but didn’t comment. Police kept the rope dart as evidence, but they promised to return it as soon as it was possible. Marinette gave Gordon her number (after the commissioner was vouched for by Damian) and number to her mother. It was a possibility that she would’ve been called to court to testify. She was a prime witness and while her involvement declared only self-defense, Gordon told her in all honesty that the lawyer might try to put some blame on her. It was a sad reality, but Damian reassured both his beloved and the commissioner that they would be prepared. Waynes kept a contingent of lawyers not without reason. 

The teens were picked up by Alfred before the press figured out who the mysterious hero of the day was. Marinette really didn’t need more lights on her. It was enough that she agreed to make her relationship with Damian Wayne public at the gala. Objectively, she knew it was a better option than for the press to learn from students of Gotham Academy. Inside, she was dreading the event anyway. 

When they arrived at the manor, Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were waiting for them. The girls launched themselves at the woman and she pulled them into a hug. Damian followed slowly, not revealing any emotions. 

“I received a call from Jim,” Bruce began once they were behind the closed doors, “something about Firefly and brave teens stopping the attack.” He looked at all three of them with a judging glare. It wasn’t that he was disappointed, but it made the teens feel under deep scrutiny.

“It was all me!” Marinette confessed immediately. “He stopped us from escaping and we were with a bunch of kids. I just acted and I might have kinda accidentally… defeated him.” She spoke very fast. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. We’re not angry or anything.” Sabine quickly reassured her while sending a glare at Bruce.

“Well… Yes.” The billionaire nodded slowly. “But you could’ve been more careful.”

“Ridiculous!” Chloé stared at the Wayne patriarch. “Utterly ridiculous! Of course, Dupain-Cheng could’ve just run away and left those poor lost kids to die, but she stayed.”

“I didn’t mean…” The man tried to speak, but the blonde ignored him. 

“But no! Mr. Batman thinks that suddenly protecting others without the suit is somehow wrong. I didn’t see you on the scene at all. There was Red Hood, but he arrived there only after Mari already took out that flying pyromaniac.”

“I just…”

“So don’t go off on us preaching safety when you have your kids running on the rooftops every night.” 

“But…” Bruce had no idea what just happened. He only wanted to congratulate them…

“I did get all the fabrics I will need, but we didn’t get to eat.” Mari decided to change the subject and spare her father-in-law further humiliation at Chloé’s hands.

“The lunch will be ready in five minutes. You can take it in the dining room.” Alfred spoke from behind Bruce, startling the poor billionaire. It was apparently not his day. 

When the group moved there and took their seats, joined by Cass, who was the only other permanent resident of the Manor, Marinette decided on the next subject. 

“And how did the Class trip go?” She asked her mother with a bright smile. The woman sent her a tired look in response. 

“They are monsters. I sympathize with their parents if that’s how they act every day…” 

“They can’t be that bad, love.” Tom tried to defend the kids, but several stares from around the room would kill him if it was possible. “I meant can. My English is bad. I meant can.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“That Lila girl is indeed a talented manipulator when she is not going overboard. If I didn’t know her, I might’ve actually fallen for her lies. And she even doesn’t resort to lies anymore.” 

“What?!” Marinette was glad that she only got the lunch served and didn’t yet eat anything. “No way!” 

“Yes. It looks like she established herself as an internet star to the point where she is somewhat famous.” 

“Tt. She is still a harlot.” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“The modeling for the Gabriel brand and Ladyblog. Outside of Paris, it would make her into a star of some internet super-hero show in addition to a front-page model!” Marinette was suddenly enlightened. “I can’t believe her lies actually worked!” She collapsed in her chair, resigned. “Guess lying did work for her in the end…” Her face took a look of a beaten puppy.

“Say a word, Angel, and we can make you into three times the star she might be,” Damian spoke and Chloé nodded in agreement. 

“It’s not that!” The bluenette tried to protest. “I just… Her lies hurt people. I told her that it wouldn’t work in the long run, and she proved me wrong ten times over…” 

“Lila… bad.” Cass frowned. “Hurt Nettie.”

“Cass…” The girl tried to say something, but her cousin continued.

“I will… hurt Lila.” She stated confidently. 

“No!” Marinette protested. “I’ve got enough trouble stopping Damian and my mom!” 

“She is bad,” Cass stated confidently. 

“Cassandra.” Bruce glared at his daughter, but before he could explain things to her, Sabine intervened. 

“Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to help Mari, but we must also respect her wishes. Even if I already have a place chosen… Never mind.” She smiled brightly before anyone questioned her. 

The whole table exploded into laugher while Damian and Cass smiled wider than usual. It was just such… a familial scene. Like they weren’t a bunch of superheroes, but a happy family. Even if the talk was about murder. 

----------

In a dark, damp room two people stood opposite one another. The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head. 

On the opposite was a woman in a dark-blue dress that hugged her figure very tightly. The clothing ended barely above her bust, continuing with a sparkly net that was almost translucent. From under the cut starting just below the belt, her legs were also visible and covered in the same sparkly net. The blue/purple of her skin clashed slightly with the dress, but the sparkles of the fancy net managed to offset it to the point it was barely noticeable. Her deep-blue hair was pinned back into a rather messy bun with two long strands framing her face.

“Are you sure?” The young man asked. 

“Don’t worry,” she dismissed. “My grandma reassured me that this is perfectly safe. Besides, it’s too late to stop now.” She grinned and pointed her folded fan at the ground. When she unfolded it, several candles lit with pink flames, bathing the room in an eerie light. The light reached to three bodies laid in circles drawn with their blood. The two figures in the center were also in a runic circle. 

“The bond will not interfere with my Princess?”

“Whatever that vile American did to her must have hurt her badly. You do want to save her and lift the curse, right?” She grinned when there was a new fire in his eyes. “And I told you about my demands.”

“I’m still not convinced.” He glared at her. “And I told your grandfather that his demands are ridiculous.” 

“They are my demands.” She corrected him in an amused voice. “If you don’t want my help…” 

“Fine. I will do it.” He suddenly closed the distance between them until they were face to face. “But don’t even try to trick me. I’ll know and I will end you. Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.” 

In response, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Immediately, the boy recoiled. She just licked her lips. “Whatever you want, beloved.”

“Ugh. Let’s just get done with this.” 

The candles went out one by one when the female chanted in Latin. When the twelfth and last one died out, the room was once more dark. Then, the runes lit and red light enveloped both of them. She reached to the center and grabbed a small goblet. After taking a sip, she handed it to the boy. 

He hesitated for a moment, but then also took a sip. They were both enveloped in deep scarlet light until it died out and both of them fell unconscious on the ground.

----------

Marinette and Chloé had to go with the class for the next trip, which was to the Botanic Garden. Damian and surprisingly Cass also joined them. And this was how the class almost signed their death warrant and handed it to Sabine. 

As soon as the guide started speaking about various plants they had there, Alya and Lila started gossiping in the back. 

“...told you she was a…”

“...I can’t believe he would…”

“...and that black-haired…”

“If it was up to…”

“I bet she just…”

“Maybe it’s a thing here?” 

Finally, Sabine had enough. She asked the guide for a five minutes break to rein in the misbehaving group. Caline tried to protest, but she was silenced when the older woman looked her in the eyes with fires of fury. 

“Listen up, because I’m not going to be repeating myself.” She started. “Cassandra is my niece, who lives in Gotham. By a lucky turn of events, she turned out to know Damian and agreed to accompany me and Marinette today.” She glared at every student in the group. Sabine noted that Alix stood alone in the back, separate from Max and Kim. “She is a precious little bean and if any of you dare to say anything bad about her again without even trying to talk to her first, I will personally see to it that your trip will be very-” She made sure to put emphasis on the word “-unpleasant. And if you even think about hounding her, I will see you suspended.”

“Now… Sabine, I think you’re…” Madame Bustier tried to defuse the situation.

“Caline. It is, and always will be for you, Madame Cheng. I’m on this trip to make sure they behave. If you’re not going to help me, try not to make my job harder than it already is.” She huffed and looked back at the class. “Am I understood?”

Several barely audible “Yes” could’ve been heard if someone tried hard enough. 

“Good for now.” Sabine looked at their guide. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt.” 

“No worries Mrs. Cheng.” The woman chuckled. “Anyone who tries to badmouth Cassandra or anyone from her family deserves your wrath.” 

“Good. We can continue.” And so the group moved on. 

Lila decided to change the subject of her lies and now kept talking about how good friends she was with Damian Wayne, or rather her Damiboo. It was clear that their guide wanted to add something, but Marinette’s boyfriend made a gesture to stop him. The grin on his face made it clear he had different plans.

After they finished the trip, the class was placed in the bus with Sabine while Damian and the girls were left free to wander around. Some tried to protest, but one murderous glare from Madame Cheng shut them up hard. 

“Why Marinette and Chloé are allowed to wander around with some boy, while we are confined to the Hotel!?” Kim protested. 

“Yeah! Lila can’t even meet her boyfriend!”

“It’s simple.” Sabine cut them off. “Marinette and Chloé are staying with Damian’s family, which is their host family for this trip. You will be meeting your host families after the new year.” She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing some more salt into Lila’s wound. She might be an adult, but it doesn’t stop her from being petty sometimes. Especially when someone decides to speak badly about her favorite (and hopefully only) niece. “If your… Damiboo was missing you so much, you could’ve asked him to invite you. Cassandra said he is attending Gotham Academy. I’m sure he would love to have you stay with him at Wayne Penthouse.” 

“Oh! He did want me so badly with them, but we agreed that it would be better for me to get to know some of his friends.” Lila answered quickly and Damian had to stiffen a groan. How could someone be so dense? 

“Suuure.” Sabine grinned. “Then please don’t complain about the situation of your own making.” It was clear that the discussion was over. Damian, Marinette, Chloé, and Cass were left to their own device. 

“Chlo, I love you like the best friend you are,” Mari started when they were alone, “but Damian’s got a date planned. So bye!” She said before running off with her husband, leaving the flabbergasted blonde and the noirette alone.

“Ice cream?” Cass pleaded.

“Fine. I guess I can hang out with you then.” 

“Ice Cream!” The other girl almost jumped in the air. 

----------

The couple walked through the gardens in silence, holding hands and enjoying the cool air around them. The temperature was warmer than outside, but still rather frosty. Marinette, feeling bolder, dragged Damian’s hand down slightly and pulled him closer to her. She cuddled into his shoulder and smiled. After dealing with the class, it was nice to have some peace, only the two of them. 

“So…” She started with a grin. “Wayne penthouse?”

“Tt. For your information, it’s where Drake and Brown live.”

“But Damiboo! You wound me! And I thought we could stay there together.” Marinette did her best Lila impression. 

He tried to scowl, but the end result was an unholy mix between scowling and grinning. 

They wandered around, laughing at occasional jokes and generally enjoying the time. At some point, Marinette dragged him to a hot-dog cart to enjoy what she called a ‘taste of America’. He couldn’t help but smile at some of her antics. They stopped for some coffee to rest their legs. He allowed her to talk most of the time, listening to all the details of her new outfit for Jagged Stone. 

“...so I decided to replace half of the usual silver studs with golden ones. Or rather gold-colored. He doesn’t actually like the wealth display that much and is all for replacing it with cheaper ones. When his producer one time tried to force me to make him everything with the actual gold, Jagged signed it and immediately donated it to The Gotham Orphanage.”

“I remember.” Damian’s memory flashed him an article about it. “And don’t be modest. It held your signature too.” 

“Well… He wanted to throw it to Fang first. It was so much not his style.” She smiled. “Bob almost had a stroke when he learned that he still had to pay for it full price. I think it was actually the first commission I accepted that was not priced like clothes for friends. I did deduce the cost of materials that he provided though.” 

“Habibti. You’re amazing.” 

She blushed at the compliment. “I’m not! I’m just a normal girl.” 

“An amazing normal girl.” 

“How can you be so smooth and so socially awkward at the same time?!” She squeaked.

“Because people are fools. You are perfection incarnated.”

“Stop it!” She giggled. “I’m not! I’m clumsy and awkward.”

“It doesn’t stop you from being perfect.” He countered. Before she could protest, he lifted a cookie and put it in her mouth. She bit it and munched it in silence. When she swallowed, he continued feeding her. In retaliation, she picked some whipped cream and gave it to him. They ended up feeding one another and laughing.

It was slowly getting dark, so they started walking toward where Alfred would pick them up. They still had some time, so Mari dragged Damian into the music store. There was a whole stand for Jagged Stone discs. 

Marinette, feeling devious, pulled out a marker and signed two before handing it to Damian. He thought for a short moment before making a small heart next to her name and putting down his autograph too. They hid the discs behind others and moved on. In the end, Marinette bought some ballet music for Cass that Damian told her she didn’t have yet. The bluenette liked her cousin and wanted to get her something for ditching her with Chloé

When they exited the store, Alfred was waiting there, ready to take them to the Manor. The two sat in the back of the limousine in silence, cuddled together. By the time they arrived at their destination, Marinette had dozed off. Not having the heart to wake her, Damian did his best to gently lift her and carry her to her room. Somewhere along the way, she clutched to him tightly and didn’t let go even when he placed her on the four-poster bed. He sighed. He didn’t know if he would survive the teasing he would receive after someone finds them. Scratch that. Sabine would kill him before that. 

Still, he would have to wake her up. With one more look to make sure the doors were closed, he lied next to her and stared up. He could at least stay awake, right?

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

Masterlist // Next

[desert-dyke]

Pollen

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Fallout New Vegas Relationships:

Craig Boone/Arcade Gannon

Craig Boone & Female Courier

Characters:

Arcade Gannon

Craig Boone

Female Courier

Additional Tags:

Sex Pollen

Anal Sex

Frotting

Blow Jobs

an assortment of fun sexual favors

Strangers to Lovers

bottom boone

Smut

lil fluff at the end

Arcade and Boone are sent to survey Vault 22 only to discover some plant life there has some interesting side effects...

Arcade’s eyes wandered across various equipment in the lab. Not as nice as what he had to work with while with the Followers, but a lot better than other factions could brag. Sloan was talking to one of the scientists. He sort of zoned out by now. She was far from the brightest crayon in the pack and sometimes it was better not to hear her “brilliant” takes. He could tell a deal was being made. An exchange of caps promised. Yeah that always caught Sloan’s attention. “How do you feel about going to Vault 22?” Sloan asked, giving him that smile that suggested she wasn’t really asking. Arcade blinked. He promised to follow her and give her support, but he did not like where this was going. He could have sworn he heard something about someone disappearing, and research needing to be reacquired. It was the former part that unsettled him. “It’s got plants! You like that sort of thing,” Sloan appealed. 

“Why can’t you go?” Arcade asked. Sloan’s sunburnt shoulders rose and fell again. 

“I’ve got other business here.” 

Arcade rolled his eyes. He had noticed the way her eyes seemingly glazed over when Corporal Betsy was talking to her. It was so characteristic of Sloan to ditch him to flirt with whatever pretty lady they encountered. He remembered losing her for nearly two days in Westside, only to find her holed up in the Thorn. Apparently her and Red Lucy got pretty close during that time. 

“I’m not going alone,” he asserted. He could protect himself just fine, but if already someone had disappeared, Arcade did not want to add himself to the body count.

“Take Boone with you,” Sloan suggested. He couldn’t believe his initial reaction then but he actually preferred Sloan to Boone. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly towards the rest of Sloan’s friends. She definitely had interesting tastes when it came to making friends. Cass was a bit rough and rowdy. Raul was a sarcastic pushover. Lily was sweet and doting on Sloan, but he was certain she could and would snap him in half. But Boone? He was just quiet. In all honesty, Arcade didn’t know what to think of Boone. Not knowing his deal made Arcade cautious of him. 

“Why Boone?” He questioned. Sloan shrugged again, but she was a terrible bluff. He could tell by the twitching corners of her mouth. She had her reasons, but she wasn’t going to tell him them.

“I’m tired of him moping around the 38,” she made the excuse. “Take him out. Show him a good time.” Her arm wrapped around Arcade’s shoulder. She was much shorter and had to pull him down to her height in order to do so. Arcade didn’t fight against it. “There’s a nuka cola quantum in it for you…”

“I could buy myself my own,” Arcade said. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his way out of Sloan’s hold. It hurt to bend like that. “Fine.”

Getting Boone to talk was like pulling teeth. On one hand, there was some peace to that. Boone was just about the only one at the Lucky 38 who didn’t try to probe Arcade for some history. He had the inkling that Boone genuinely did not care, whereas every one else only further inspired them to pry. 

The silence began to wear on him after an hour of walking in it. Boone’s sun-shaded eyes darted along the desert expanding before them, on the lookout for any sign of trouble. He accepted that silence in this case meant stealth and cover from any wasteland creature who might do them harm. Yet the sound of wind whistling across an empty desert kept making Arcade look over his shoulder, thinking he heard the sound of voices. 

Boone raised a clenched fist, his arm forming a right angle. Arcade crawled to a stop, unholstering his pistol. Boone had his rifle trained on an enemy hidden from Arcade’s view. He tried to squint his eyes, shading them from the scorching sun, but all he saw were dancing waves of heat. 

Arcade jumped as Boone’s rifle fired. A hand accidentally touched the sniper’s back and was quickly brushed off with a grunt. 

“What was it?” Arcade asked. Silence. Was he annoyed at his touch? Arcade sucked a breath in, but before he could speak, his ears rung with the sound of the rifle discharging. Boone fired twice more before standing. Arcade remained crouched for a moment longer, trying to process what happened. Boone began walking, indifferent to whether Arcade was following or not. He hustled to catch up with Boone. Finally, he saw something in the distance, coming from between the mountains. It looked overwhelmingly green. 

Something crunched beneath Arcade’s tread. He looked down with disgust at the oversized insect he stepped on, it’s insides now covering his shoes. This must have been what Boone had seen and taken out long before it would even know they were there. His finger searched for the trigger of his plasma pistol, resting just in case there were any more nearby. 

“Area’s clear,” Boone said. Whether that was meant to be reassuring was lost on Arcade. He checked the crudely drawn map he had been given, aligned it with surrounding landmarks. A red x marked the spot, in a small alcove of the mountain range, confirming what Arcade already knew. The green was where they needed to go. 

It was even more overwhelming the closer they got. Vegetation was sparse in the mojave and what did was hardy and prickly. Not soft with fanlike waxy leaves, something he’d expect to see in the jungle, not here in the desert.  

“I’m no botanist, but that doesn’t seem entirely natural,” Arcade remarked. He looked towards Boone, still silent. He lead the way, rifle in his hands. The vegetation grew denser the further they wandered into the alcove. It’s source was covered in it, so that Arcade almost didn’t recognize the entrance to vault 22. He was afraid to brush against the plants, unsure of what effects they might have. He had an antivenom on him, which could possibly work if something was poisonous, but wasn’t definite. However, if it triggered an allergic reaction, they would be plum out of luck. 

Boone sauntered ahead without the same caution. Arcade hissed in a breath watching the skin of his arm touch a plant, expecting blistering welts to rise moments later. When nothing happened and Boone continued on ahead without him, Arcade relaxed only slightly and followed him into the vault. 

Despite the lack of soil, the plants had no problem growing on the metal of the vault floors, walls, ceiling, literally anywhere he looked there was growth. Arcade jumped at the sudden metallic boom. Boone was no longer in the entrance with him. He heard another gunshot and deciphered Boone must’ve headed further inside. Arcade hustled, following the sound. Gunshots meant trouble. His feet flew down the stairwell, chasing noise, any sign of life. He halted, almost rushing into a figure rising from a cluster of flora. It was human shaped, but definitely not human. Arcade discharged his pistol into the back of the creature. It shrieked and burned as it crumpled to the ground. Boone turned around, realizing the creature had gotten dangerously close to him before Arcade shot it down. Arcade expected some hint of gratitude but Boone showed none. 

“We’re not alone,” He said, instead. As if that much were not already obvious. The stairwell split into two opposing sides. “I’ll take that way,” Boone said, before heading down the stairs before Arcade could oppose them splitting up. 

He held tight to his pistol as he ventured the other route. Boone’s gunshots echoed the metal walls. He was relieved to see they rejoined on the same floor. Boone took the liberty of surveying one of the rooms. Arcade took to the opposite, which looked to be a lab. Promising, Arcade thought.

He took out another plant-person as it rose from another cluster of flora. He wondered, with some morbidity, if these creatures were indeed once human. Maybe even the scientists working in this vault. 

A light shone on a large blossom, catching Arcade’s attention. He approached with caution, pistol pointed forward in case another creature spawned from it. The blossom opened, releasing a visible cloud of spores. Instinctively, Arcade gasped. It smelled, he was embarrassed to admit, like sex. He pressed the sleeve of his lab coat to his face, trying to avoid breathing any more of it in and promptly left the room in search of Boone. 

“We need to leave,” He told the sniper, when he encountered him loitering in one of the labs. “There’s spores in the air, and who knows what harm they could be if we breath them.” He thought of the corpse they found that looked like a human body entirely encased in flora. No doubt they would soon share a similar fate. Boone did not seem particularly riveted by Arcade’s words. Arcade felt his blood warm. Frustration. He knew he wasn’t exactly the type to give orders, but he wished Boone would at least listen to him. “We need gas masks and then we can try again. I’m sure Sloan would understand,” Arcade added, considering maybe Boone was afraid of disappointing Sloan. 

“There’s spores in here too,” Boone stated, pointing towards a similar looking blossom.

“Yeah, exactly why we need to get out of here,” Arcade reiterated. He never realized how dull Boone was. Abandoning all caution, he reached for Boone’s hand, giving it a tug. Surprisingly, the contact earned no response from the other man.

“Are you feeling feverish?” Boone asked. Arcade paused. He had been feeling a little warmer and

his heart was pounding in his chest. He assumed it was out of ire towards the sniper. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. It was warm. “You look flushed,” Boone commented.  

“Yeah, well something really fucked up is going on in this vault, so excuse me for being a little worked up,” Arcade replied. His heart was really pounding, as if he had just ran a lap around Freeside. Sure he was upset at Boone, but even he acknowledged that it was a bit of an exaggerated response to the situation. Unless it was the pollen he inhaled causing him to have an accelerated heart rate.

“Worked up is right,” Boone commented. He scratched his buzzed head under his beret. Arcade noticed how low Boone was looking. He followed his line of vision, noticed a small tent had formed in his pants. He could add this to the list of awkward moments he had gotten a boner. 

“I’m not going to let you die down here just because you want to be difficult,” Arcade redirected the conversation back to what was most urgent. He grabbed the collar of Boone’s shirt and pulled. Boone swatted his hand away, but it got him to start moving. 

Arcade kept his plasma pistol close in case they encountered any more of those spore creatures on the way back out. Every cluster of flora that broke through the metal floor of the vault put Arcade a little bit more at unease. He jumped upon seeing a corpse of one Boone had sniped earlier, laying among all of the plants. 

The further up they went, the warmer Arcade felt. He was coated in a fierce sweat, as if he were fighting a fever, his glasses fogged a bit from the heat radiating from his body. Arcade paused to catch his breath. Boone took note.

“Hey,” The concern in his voice was forreign to Arcade. “What’s up?” That was probably the closest Boone was going to come to saying ‘are you okay?’

“I’m not going to lie, I’m not feeling great,” Arcade confessed. He was having a difficult time placing what was wrong. He did not feel ill. Despite the high body temperature, he knew he didn’t have a fever. He just felt exceptionally wound up, like he had just did a warm up lap and was ready to do more. 

“Something’s not right,” Boone said, in agreement. Arcade looked towards him. Boone was looking flushed as well. He didn’t mean to look, but it was hard to ignore the swell tugging against cargo pants. 

Boone stepped closer, causing Arcade to take a step back. He couldn’t see behind Boone’s sniper shades, but he thought he was pissed, that he was going to hurt him. Instead, Boone clutched Arcade’s sleeve, pinching it tight inside his fist. “I need help, Doc.” 

Arcade’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He felt as rough as Boone looked, as if their bodies were going to give out from stress if relief didn’t come soon. “I don’t…” Arcade stuttered. “I-I don’t know what to do.” 

“Bullshit,” Boone growled through clenched teeth. 

Sweat loosened the pomade in Arcade’s hair, so that strands dangled in his face. He brushed them back, all the while leaning on a computer mainframe for support. He did have an idea of how to treat this condition. While it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, it also wasn’t something Arcade impulsively rushed into, like Sloan might. He had secrets to keep, secrets that didn’t belong with such intimate acts. 

But he was also certain not doing so would kill them. Already the stress was taking a toll on Arcade’s body. He knew they wouldn’t make it far from the vault before one or both of them would suffer a stroke or cardiac arrest. 

“Yes. Fine,” Arcade conceded. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Neither of them had any other choice, but Arcade needed consent before performing this sort of procedure. 

Next thing Arcade knew, Boone’s hand was on the collar of his button down, pulling him down to his shorter height and mashing his lips against Arcade’s. His glasses clacked with Boone’s, knocking them askew on his face. Arcade removed his and rested it on the mainframe before returning his lips to Boone’s.

Boone’s breath was hot on his face. He kissed ravenously, like Boone had been wandering the Mojave for days and Arcade was the first drink of water. His hands grasped at Arcade with the same urgency, while constantly shifting place, as if Boone was still trying to figure out what felt right. 

Arcade stifled the question in his mind of whether Boone had ever been with a man before. He was confident Boone hadn’t engaged in sexual activities since the loss of his wife. Being close to someone now must have been weird to him, regardless of anatomy. 

He decided to offer Boone some assistance, and pulled his lab coat off before beginning to unbutton his shirt. It clung to his body, damp with sweat. Boone eyed him for a moment before doing the same with his t-shirt. 

His stocky torso shined with sweat. His skin was battered with scars all at different stages of healing, but his shape was soft and inviting. Round pectoral muscles and a slight pudge of stomach cushioning ropes of muscles beneath. Arcade would be lying if he said he never found Boone attractive previously, he just didn’t think Boone would be interested. Even now, Boone hesitated. He realized Boone was waiting for his direction. 

Arcade took his hands in his own and guided them towards his chest. Boone traced along his torso before eagerly coming in for another kiss. Their chests pressed together, he could feel the heat radiating off of Boone. Arcade was painfully erect and the slightest brush of cloth against his groin made him ache. 

He reached between their bodies to free himself from his pants. Boone mirrored him before turning around and leaning against the mainframe. Arcade was taken aback, watching as Boone waited for him. Two pale mounds that were his now exposed ass facing in his direction. Now it was Arcade’s turn to be cautious. 

Boone looked over his shoulder towards Arcade. “Please.” His voice was low, so that he almost missed it. 

Arcade held his hips between his hands. He lined himself up and then pressed in. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped from him. Boone bit down on his own hand. At first he was worried it was bad for him, then he realized Boone was trying to stifle his own noise. 

“Harder.” 

Arcade obliged. Each thrust came easier than the one before and scratched at his itch. Finally the tension building inside of him felt right instead of something that wanted to kill him. Shamefully, Arcade did not last long, nor did Boone, as the latter climaxed shortly after him. Much to Arcade’s surprise, he was still hard as he pulled out. 

“That’s...new,” He remarked. Boone turned around, his erection mirroring his own. 

Before Arcade could question if these effects were going to be permanent, Boone was on him again. His bare cock brushed against Arcade’s. Even the slightest touch made small fires light inside of him. He watched as Boone lined them up. Boone’s hands were rough with callouses, but warm as he surrounded them both. Arcade placed his slender fingers over Boone’s, squeezing their hold tighter as together they pumped. Boone leaned his head on Arcade’s shoulder. He could hear every raspy breath that shook through Boone, mixed in with a small, whispered ‘fuck.’ Arcade gasped as Boone bit his neck. It must have done something for him, because next thing he knew, he was releasing again, this time onto Boone’s stomach. Boone’s hot fluid dripped onto his fingers. 

Arcade was out of breath. Carefully, he lowered himself onto a patch of the vault’s floor that didn’t look as dirty as the rest. His chest heaves, deprived of air. His heart still thunders, but not with the same urgency as before. His member, though still firm, was beginning to wilt ever so slightly. 

Boone knelt beside him. Arcade now noticed that his beret had fallen off at some point, leaving his buzzed haircut exposed. It sparkled with flecks of sweat that dripped onto his temples. 

“I think...it’s working,” Arcade commented. He leaned his head against the mainframe, feeling like he was going to collapse from exhaustion. 

“We’re not done yet,” Boone said. He crawled closer before he laid on his belly before Arcade, his head in the researcher’s lap. Arcade gasped as he felt Boone’s hot breath against his cock, moments before he took Arcade inside of his mouth. 

At first, Arcade watched as Boone’s head bobbed, afraid to touch him, which was probably silly considering everything that had happened between them recently. He gave in and gently raked his fingers through the bristles of Boone’s cropped hair. Boone’s moan vibrated against his cock, causing Arcade’s breath to catch. This part lasted longer. Or maybe Arcade’s head was clear enough that he could finally concentrate on what was happening, rather than all his previous actions passing by in blurred emotions. Before was so desperate, like relieving pain. This...this was kind of...nice, he had to admit. 

When Arcade inevitably released, he half expected Boone to pull away in disgust. Instead, he accepted the load without complaint. Arcade reached for his canteen and downed half of it, attempting to replenish all the water his body had sweated out. He wiped excess moisture from his lips as he offered the canteen to Boone. Boone accepted. 

“What about you?” Arcade asked. His eyes drifted to the semi-erection that bounced between Boone’s legs as he shifted. Boone finished off the canteen before answering. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

He sealed the empty canteen and handed it back to Arcade, before shirking his cargo pants back up his thighs. “Yeah.” 

Arcade watched him straighten out his clothes, pushing his shades back up his nose and readjusting his beret atop his head. He didn’t seem to be changing his mind anytime soon. 

“We should leave,” he said. Arcade had to agree, before they encountered more spores. He wasn’t sure how many times his body could go through something like that before it finally quit. 

His vision cleared once his glasses returned to rest before his eyes. Arcade covered himself again while Boone stood watch, holding his rifle. If they had been attacked while lost in their frenzy of desire, they would have been goners. Arcade could count himself lucky that hadn’t been a problem. 

“Hey,” Arcade sought his attention, touching his arm lightly. He half expected Boone to flinch away from his touch, but he didn’t. His shaded eyes turned towards Arcade. Arcade brushed his lips against Boone’s. They tasted salty of sweat and his own cum. Boone’s lips moved gently in response, feeling for the briefest of moments the wetness of a tongue before it ended as abruptly as it began. 

“We can’t tell Sloan,” Boone said, after an elongated moment of silence.

“Absolutely not,” Arcade said, in agreement, before the two headed back towards the surface.

[problemchildnoonewanted]

Demon!AU: Part 1

Hiro had given up. He tried everything. None of the inventions he had built or formulas he concocted bore any fruit for all his labor. The science he loved and cherished so dearly left him with dead end after dead end. It couldn't bring back his big brother.

So after eight days of sobbing and Baymax saving Hiro from suicide two times, Hiro decided to try one last thing.

It all started with a stupid ad he saw on a sketchy web site. It read: Demonology For Beginners! How To Make Your Dreams Come True!

However, when he clicked on the link it just took him to a white page with a 'site not found' message.

He sighed in frustration, but the possibilities were already bouncing around in his mind. So he began researching. Even getting into contact with a few experts and practitioners. Until finally after weeks of gathering information, he found himself here. Painting a rather large summoning circle on his bedroom floor with white paint. Aunt Cass would kill him if she ever found out he did this to her floor.

One of the friends he had made warned him that when making a deal with a demon there can be a catch. Demons like to play tricks and pranks with foolish humans. But Hiro was an intelligent person and from what he's learned so long as he's specific he'll get his brother back.

Hiro would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was terrified. What if it didn't work? What if the demon flat out said no? What if-

No, now wasn't the time for that.

Hiro lit the six black candles he bought and placed them in the center of the outside circles.

Hiro grabbed the sharp kitchen knife and dug it along the palm of his hand. Blood almost instantly started pouring out of the wound and Hiro tried not to make any sound of pain as to not activate Baymax. He quickly moved around the large circle to spread his blood around the edges and letting it drip around the candles. When he was done he wrapped his hand in a disinfectant cloth.

Then he began the chant.

"Magnum daemonem Domine da mihi volo te voco. Audite quaeso ut mihi vocationem auxilium, et super me misericordia." (Great demon lord, I summon you to my side to grant my wish. Please hear my call for help and take pity upon me.)

Hiro followed the instructions and repeated the mantra a total of six times.

Then silence.

Hiro knew that this probably wouldn't work, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Hiro fell to his knees and buried his face in his hand as he began sobbing.

"Why are you crying, boy?"

Hiro jumped away from the direction of the menacing and terrifying voice. Looking up Hiro saw the towering figure above him. It was very human-like in shape, but it was far from mistakable. Its huge lean figure, long, pointed horns, and not mention its black shadow-like body gave away what it truly was. A demon.

It tilted its head and its eyes made of white light seemed to narrow in amusement at Hiro's panting form on the ground.

Every part of Hiro's brain was telling him to get up and run from the creature, but he fought those urges down.

"I can't believe it worked," Hiro spoke more to himself than anything else.

"Yes, indeed. Now that we are past the amazement of my existence, you will answer my question, yes?" Hiro stared mesmerized by the way the being mouth appeared and disappeared from its face and, just like its eyes, it was made of pure light.

"What?" Hiro asked a bit foolishly.

The demon sighed. "Why were you crying upon my arrival, boy? Most don't start crying until they see me, and you didn't even seem to notice I was here." The creature waved its hand around as if to prove a point.

"Oh. It's because... I thought it didn't work." Hiro sat up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I see. And would it have been so bad if it hadn't?" The demon questioned seemingly intrigued by the human child's reactions.

"Yes," Hiro replied without hesitation.

"Oh? And why is that?" The entity moved closer to Hiro and from this distance, he could make out more details. The black layer that seemed shadow like at first now revealed to be skin that Hiro could see faint glowing veins beneath. The demon also didn't seem to have any perceivable gender.

"Because then that would mean I'd never get to see my big brother again." Hiro's gaze dropped to the floor in sorrow before snapping back up when the demon spoke once more.

"Is that why you've brought me here? Is he missing?" The demon sat down in front of Hiro in a bit of a lazy fashion just on the edge of the circle it was summoned with.

"He died in a fire."

"I see."

There was a moment of silence where the demon just seemed to stare at Hiro.

"Can you bring him back?"

"I can."

"Really!? That's ama-"

"As a demon."

"What?"

"I'm an Archdemon, not a god. My power is great but limited," The demon waved its hand again and an unnatural light filled the room before disappearing just as fast as it came.

Hiro sat and contemplated this new information for a minute.

"But it would still be Tadashi, right?"

"Correct. It's still his soul. Just corrupted."

"Corrupted!?"

"It's just another word for becoming a demon. The only thing that may be different about him is he may become less moral. But only a little." The demon pinched its thumb and index finger together with only a bit of space in between them as if to show how little the difference will be. "You'd barely even notice. Most of the time they just become a little more selfish with what they want. Possessive. Carnal. That's all."

"Oh... I guess that's not so bad."

"Of course it's not. Now, why do you want him back so desperately? Be specific."

"Because he's my brother!" The demon's eyes narrowed at Hiro's raise in tone and lack of a proper answer. "I-I'm sorry. I mean because I love him more than anyone and he's always been there for me. He's the only reason I ever tried to be better and now that he's gone... I barely find the energy to get out of bed."

"Hm... I'm sensing a little more than familial love." Hiro felt heat rise to his face and the tips of his ears and opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but he was cut off. "And don't lie to me, boy. I'll know. And if you do I'll kill you and take your soul so you'll never see your precious brother again. You see I despise liars."

"I-I... Yes. You're right."

"Now, was that so hard? And how sweet." The demon grinned inhumanly wide and with how close they are Hiro could make out just how sharp each of its teeth, more like fangs, were. They could easily slice through flesh and, if he had to guess, maybe bone and metal. "How long have you known? I don't get out much, so do forgive my intrusiveness, but I am so curious."

"I th-think I may have always had a crush on him. As a kid, everyone said I had a brother complex because I didn't want Tadashi to go anywhere if I wasn't there and didn't want to let him hang out with anyone but me. I just thought that since he was my brother that meant he was mine. And for the most part, Tadashi just let it happen. Doing whatever I wanted and letting me get away with anything. Then a couple years ago love was explained to me for the first time and I realized that that's what I felt for Tadashi. But by then I also knew it wasn't acceptable to feel that way for your brother. So I didn't tell anyone... And then he went to college. He started spending less time with me and more with his projects and new friends. So I did what any kid my age not getting enough attention does and started something illegal to get his focus back on me."

"Wow, kid." The demon seemed almost astonished with just how honest Hiro was.

"Sorry. You're just the first person I've ever talked to about this." Hiro scratched the back of his neck again and looked down.

"... And you're the first human that's called me a person." The demon brushed its claws through Hiro's hair without thinking before quickly retracting its hand to its side.

"That's kinda sad."

The demon chuckled in response and had Hiro heard that sound in any other situation he probably would have pissed himself. Hiro laughed and the two sat in silence for another moment.

"So... Is this the part where you eat my soul or whatever?" Hiro looked up at the demon through his long bangs.

"No. I don't think I will. It pleased me to speak with you, child. I hope to do so again. So how about this instead. I give you your big brother, Tadashi, back, and should I ever need a favor you will help me without question or condition."

"Yes! I mean wait. What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"Like what's the downside?"

"Hm. I suppose it would be that you will have to supply your brother with your energy as he will now be bound to you. But that's it." The demon leaned forward with its clawed right hand outstretched. "Do we have a deal?"

"Absolutely!" Hiro clasped both hands around the demon's and shook it harshly.

The demon's grin stretched up past its eyes and almost to its horns. "This might tickle a bit."

Before Hiro could even question what the demon meant he felt searing hot pain shooting through his body from where he was connected to the other. It was easily the worst physical pain Hiro had ever felt. And then it was like every memory Hiro ever had of Tadashi was playing through his mind.

Hiro's memories played until he saw the explosion from Tadashi's death and it was like the end of a camera real. He was able to see his room and the demon again.

"Ah. There you are. I've located his soul. Luckily, he's still in limbo awaiting assignment. That's easy enough to pull him from," Hiro heard the creature's voice inside his head. "Now for the tricky part. Let's create your demon form."

Hiro noticed out of the corner of his eye a dim light and glanced over to spot another circle slowly materializing in red fire-like light. This one was different from the one Hiro had drawn. It seemed more complex.

"Ah!" Hiro hissed in pain. It felt like someone was slicing into his wrist with a fine blade. He looked down and saw that the same symbol was being carved into his skin by seemingly nothing. Hiro reached to cover his right wrist as though to protect it but the demon in front of him grabbed Hiro's left wrist and held tight to his right hand.

"Don't." Then everything around them began to shake and the demon started to laugh at the events unfolding.

Hiro felt genuine terror at the moment as a few tears slid down his face. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the new circle finally finished materializing on both the floor and Hiro's wrist.

Hiro looked over in time to see a column of fire burst from the circle to the ceiling and for a moment Hiro was worried an inferno would break out. 'Am I going to die in a fire too?' But Hiro was surprised to find that when the blaze receded there were no marks.

Movement caught Hiro's eyes immediately. He looked down to the sight of a steaming, heavily breathing form. It had long horns protruding from its forehead, and short black hair in the same style Tadashi always had it. Hiro looked to meet its eyes to see if it really was Tadashi, but the creature seemed dazed. Hiro stepped close to get a better look and the demon let him go to do so.

"He'll be out of it for a minute or so while he gets accustomed to being alive again."

He seemed taller and broader, more muscular. The horns were red and flaked in black obsidian. The whites of his eyes were now red and the usual soft brown was now a striking golden yellow. They seemed sharper in a dangerous way. The lower half of his face was covered by what looked like the bottom half of a red Japanese Oni mask.

Looking lower, Hiro noticed his muscles were definitely more defined. Hiro wanted to reach out and feel them but was stopped by what looked like fire blazing beneath his skin. There were patches of red and black around his shoulders and his hands led down to black long claws that twitched every now and again.

Hiro's eyes moved back to his torso where he saw the red and black patches around his sides flowing down to his hips and- 'hoLY FUCK HE'S NAKED!'

Hiro whipped his head away and felt the heat return to his face making the demon by his side snicker as though it could hear his thoughts. But the damage was already done and Hiro just kept thinking, 'That is really big,' like a damn idiot. 'There's no way Tadashi was that big before, right?'

"Don't be shy. There's more to see." The demon he summoned purred out. Eventually, Hiro turned his head back to further inspect Tadashi's new form just avoiding that area, which was kinda difficult considering Tadashi's hips were almost Hiro's shoulder height.

A fluid motion caught Hiro's attention behind Tadashi and he saw that it was a long swishing red tail ending in black with a dull point. Hiro then saw that the nails on Tadashi's toes were now black and more claw-like as well.

"Well, what do you think? Some of my best work if I do say so myself." The demon remarked a bit smugly.

"He's-" Just as Hiro was about to share his thoughts Tadashi seemingly jolted to life and looked around in a disoriented manner. He made eye contact with the being that was closest to his eye level first.

"Wha-" Tadashi tried to get out but when he heard how different and muffled his voice was he freaked out and reached for his face. He instantly felt the hard lines of the Oni mask covering his mouth and began trying to pull it off.

"Calm down. It's just a battle mask. All demons have one. Relax and it will come off," The taller demon, that Tadashi somehow knew to be his maker, spoke as it began circling Tadashi to get a good look at its creation. "You can summon it at will. You'll figure it out."

Tadashi took a few calming breaths and the mask slipped off with ease. Tadashi let it fall and he followed the motion, but the mask dissipated before it hit the floor. Tadashi then looked over himself to take in his new features. He was a little freaked out, but, in a way, it felt... natural.

Tadashi then noticed the figure in front of him and looked up to see that it was Hiro. His Hiro. He's not sure why, but when he made direct eye contact he got this intense feeling as though he had found something he was missing.

The feeling was so strong that he felt tears welling up and soon spilling over. Hiro suddenly looked very concerned and it was like he could feel that concern himself.

"Don't be alarmed. A demon's tears are normally either red like blood or black like tar depending on the reason." The shadow-like demon brought the back of its claw up and swiped at Tadashi's cheek and pulled back to show Tadashi the reason for Hiro's alarm. What he saw was, in fact, a red, almost blood-like, liquid.

"I-Is this real?" Tadashi asked reaching out for Hiro to cup the side of Hiro's face gently with his new clawed hand. Hiro leaned into the contact and latched his hands onto Tadashi's wrist and forearm when the contact didn't burn him like Hiro thought it would.

"I was just about the ask the same thing." Hiro closed his eyes and nuzzled into Tadashi's palm. Tadashi felt a sense of peace wash over him and moved to fully embrace Hiro as the blissful sensations coursed through his being.

"Your emotions and intense thoughts will be connected to each other now. It's apart of the pact. Boy, you are now responsible for his well being. Keep in mind that he can only receive energy from you and so if you refuse or forget to feed him he will die. Though I doubt it will get to that point between the two of you. If there's ever a time you feel he needs discipline just apply pressure to the seal with thoughts of harm. The same can be said of the opposite. I'll be off now." The lanky demon slowly walked back to the summoning circle with a smirk.

The brothers were too busy embracing each other to worry about the retreating demon who left as quietly as it came.

"Hiro Hamada, what was all that noise and shaking!" Aunt Cass's voice called from the other side of the locked door.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 9

An acotar fanfic that takes place during the time of the War. For the summary and the entire fic, click here

Disclaimer: The world and the characters in acotar belong to sjm

---

When Rhys opens the door, the first thing he notices is that he isn't alone in his room.

His hand shoots to his dagger, he mentally checks his shields. In the Illyrian camps, a few of his fellow soldiers liked ambushing him and the others and Rhys trusts the High Fae of the Hewn City no more than the Illyrians.

"Who's there?", he calls into the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

"Me", a soft voice replies and Az steps out of the shadows.

Rhys curses. "Shit, Az. You want me to have a heart attack?"

"Your father can't know I'm here. He forbid me from seeking you out."

Rhys frowns. "Is everything alright? Are you..."

"I'm fine", Az says, but there are shadows in his eyes that weren't there when they last saw each other. What is his father forcing him to do? Az continues, "It's you I'm worried about."

"Why?", Rhys asks, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"Your father. He feels threatened by you - by us. You are almost as powerful as he is, and with us as your friends... He fears you might try taking the throne."

Rhys nods slowly. He should have seen it coming. He pushed his father too far - their argument a week ago was likely the last straw.

"What about you, then? Mor and Cass? Is he after you too?"

Az shakes his head. "I'm too... useful." He practically snarls the word. "He won't harm me. And Mor is safe on the Continent. I don't know why, but that emissary, Miryam, has taken an interest in her and your father won't risk crossing her. Cass might be in danger, though."

Rhys nods, relief and worry warring in him. "What can I do?"

"Keep a low profile", Az says, "You father will likely send you and Cass to battle at the coast. Whatever you do, don't draw any more attention to yourself."

Without another word, he vanishes, leaving Rhys alone in his empty room.

----

 Three days after Drakon's council voted in favour of joining the war, their decision remains secret, both to their allies and enemies.

Drakon sits next to Sinna and watches another group of soldiers try out for the army

With the looming war, there are plenty of volunteers who wish to fight and support Erithia's standing army. (An army that, on its own, is rather impressive already. Not the biggest on the Continent, not by far, but well-trained and sizeable enough to be significant in this war.)

"That one's good", Sinna comments and gives an approving nod to a soldier who just completed his trial flight.

Neither Drakon nor Sinna are strictly needed for this, but as Prince and General of Erithia, they are expected to watch at least a part of the proceedings. Besides, they both have a personal connection to one of today's participants.

Steps approach and Drakon turns around to find his emissary standing behind him. The male bows and says, "Ravenia sent another letter demanding we choose a side. And the Alliance wants to send an emissary. They heard you are raising your armies."

Drakon sighs. "Can you delay them again? We only need two more days."

"Not without reason. You know the Queen."

Yes, Drakon does. He thinks of the statues on the mountain where the Seraphim honour their dead, of the family he lost.

"Why does she even want to marry me?", he asks, "Honestly, I don't get it. She doesn't even seem to like me - which I take as a compliment - and I never made a secret of my opinion on slavery."

His emissary just shrugs. "I don't know, Your Grace. But I could...", he hesitates. "If I let it leak that you have trouble controlling your council, it could work, but it would..."

"Make me look like an incompetent fool in front of the entire Continent?", Drakon asks wryly, "Do it, then."

The idea doesn't sit well with him, but at least the impression won't last long. Because in two days, if all goes well, they will take the Callian Pass from Rask. It is one of the only passages across the mountain range that divides the Continent and easily one of the most important strategic locations in this war. Unfortunately, it has belonged to Rast for the past eight centuries.

So they are really going to need the moment of surprise on their side.

Drakon has already written the letter declaring war on the Loyalists and asking the Alliance to be allowed to join as well as a rather personal and insulting note addressed to Ravenia, but they won't be sent until the last moment.

His emissary bows and leaves. Drakon turns back to the try-outs.

"Have I told you already that I love your plan? Taking the Callian Pass from Rask by attacking without warning", Sinna says, "Insane, but sneaky. Hard to believe you came up with it."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence", Drakon mutters.

Truth is, he doesn't really feel good about invading Rask without warning. It's not the honourable thing to do. But, as Sinna told him in her usual brisk style, honour doesn't win wars, especially if your enemy has none.

They watch the next would-be soldiers in silence, until Sinna says, "You know, now that we are officially going to war, we should probably try to cut any unnecessary drains to our resources."

"Such as?" Drakon has a bad feeling about where this is going.

"Such as having our spies look for that slave girl you talked to once. If I didn't know better, I'd say the rumours are true and you have a thing for her."

Drakon glares. "She was a child and completely terrified of me. Do you honestly think..." He cuts himself off and shakes his head. "I just want to thank her. Because, you know, she's the reason I'm not married to Ravenia right now."

He can imagine the girl won't be terribly interested in ever seeing him again. But Drakon needs to know she's alright. After that, he's going to leave and never seek her out again.

"Well, regardless, looking for one half-Fae female without even knowing her name is both hopeless and a waste of resources."

"Fine", Drakon snaps, "I'll lower the priority of her case." He nods towards the try-outs. "How long until it's Nephelle's turn?"

"Two more", Sinna replies, suddenly tense.

Nephelle wants to join the army - wants to fight for her country and for human freedom. Badly.

But the harsh truth is, she would never have even made it through the examination that precedes the try-outs. She is too short, her right wing too small to pass the physical requirements. So Sinna asked Drakon to pull some strings for her lover. (Abuse of power, technically. But Nephelle is his friend and it isn't a big abuse. Still morally wrong. Why does he always end up in these situations?)

"She's going to make it", Sinna says, a stubborn set to her jaw.

Drakon nods, even though he knows Nephelle's chances are slim. It's not that he doesn't believe in her - Nephelle is probably the most strong-willed Seraphim he ever met - but Sinna told him that she never managed to reach the requirements in training. Not once.

She still wants to try, though.

Drakon watches as the a group of competitors exit the ring and claps politely. Nephelle steps into the arena with the next group. She holds her head high, wings drawn tightly to her body.

The beginning of the try out goes fine. Nephelle hits the centre of the target each time, surpassing the requirements by far. But then, the main part of the try out begins. Flying two miles, carrying weapons and a Seraphim shield.

Nephelle is barely able to take off with the shield. Once she is in the air, her smaller right wing can't support the weight and she keeps almost falling out of the air.

It is almost painful to watch. Because Nephelle refuses to give up. Even as her feet almost brush the ground, even as everyone but her has long finished, she refuses to give up.

"Come on", Sinna whispers.

But Nephelle doesn't make it. She doesn't even reach the end of the race. Two rounds before the finish line, her right wing gives in and she falls to the ground. Sinna is on her feet in an instant, rushing for her.

Nephelle just drops her shield and weapons and walks out of the arena, wings lowered and dragging over the ground behind her. Sinna runs after her.

The arena is silent. No one laughs. Not a single person.

Drakon wishes he could run after Nephelle and Sinna as well. But he has to stay at least a moment longer. He is the Prince and can't just leave whenever he feels like it. So he remains to watch one more group. Then, he thanks all participants and excuses himself.

He finds Sinna and Nephelle in a small room behind the arena. As he enters, Nephelle just withdraws her hand from Sinna's.

"All I want is to fight for what I believe in and I don't even get a chance!"

Nephelle is crying, he realises with a start. He doesn't think he ever saw her cry before, not even when some people whispered 'cripple' behind her back. (Not that anyone ever called her that twice, at least not when Drakon or Sinna were around to hear.)

Drakon knocks on the door and the females dart around to him. He smiles at Nephelle.

"If you ask me, you'd be wasted in the army, anyways", he says.

Nephelle doesn't smile back at him. She looks so... hopeless. "Yes, maybe I can wash the soldier's clothes. That's about all I'm good for."

Sinna opens her mouth to object, but Drakon beats her to it, "Come on, now, you don't believe that. You know more about nature and geography than anyone else and I've seen your drawings. You're brilliant."

"So I'll just draw our enemies to death?"

"No”, Drakon says, "I was thinking you'd be exceptionally well-suited to being a cartographer. For that, you need some prior experience because, believe it or not, it's actually harder than wielding a sword, so we've had a hard time finding people for it. Maybe you can help us out."

Nephelle blinks at him. Then, slowly, she begins to smile

"Yes", she says, "I think I'd like that."

"Great", Drakon says, "saves me the headache of finding anyone else to do the job."

It's good to see that sometimes, his plans actually work.

----

Miryam barely manages to talk to Jurian the day after the battle. Well, they talk plenty, but only about the camp organisation.

So after spending the next night trying to figure out the 'Language of the Universe' (which makes Continental politics look easy by comparison) she invites herself along on a patrol she knows Jurian is leading.

They aren't exactly alone, but the nine soldiers wo accompany them are kind enough to keep their distance. Miryam with her Fae heritage can still hear their conversation, but she doubts they understand what her and Jurian are talking about.

"Did you know that Mor started training?", Jurian asks.

Miryam nods and leans forward to pat her horse's neck. "She told me. She thinks that you're an excellent teacher."

"I could teach you, too", Jurian says a bit too casually. She`d bet that he only brought up Mor to suggest training again.

"It's a nice offer, Jur, but I neither want nor need to fight."

Miryam does carry a dagger, but that's just to keep Jurian from worrying. He hates that she doesn't know how to defend herself, but she hates the idea of killing another person. (There are a few people she'd make an exception for, but she doubts that she'll ever be in the position to kill Ravenia or Artax.)

"We're in the middle of a war", Jurian says drily.

"And I'm a healer. And a member of the Alliance's council, an emissary. There are several ways to contribute to the war effort and not all of them involve wielding a sword."

Jurian sighs. "I know that. You think I don't know? And I don't want you to fight in battles, but... learn to defend yourself. Just in case." When Miryam still hesitates, he adds, "Please."

How can she say no to that?

"Alright. But just the basics." At least it means she gets to spend more time with Jurian.

"Great. Let's meet at dawn each day. One hour."

Miryam smiles in spite of herself. "You really did plan that, didn't you?"

"Never go to battle unprepared. I even had two back up plans prepared." Jurian laughs. "You agreed more quickly than I thought."

Miryam smiles. Cauldron, she really missed him. (If she's being honest, it's not the camp that has become home, but rather the man besides her. She wonders if that's what love feels like.)

At that moment, she notices a movement in the bushes next to them. She lightly pulls at her horses' reins to get it to slow down and slides out of the saddle. Something is hanging between two trees, something that's moving, but she can't quite make it out.

"What's that?", Miryam asks.

Jurian frowns. "I can't see anything."

For a second, Miryam thinks that this is her magic playing tricks on her, that she once again sees something that no one else can see. But then, she remembers that she can see much further than Jurian thanks to her mixed heritage and he likely just can't make out the movement she noticed.

Without another word, Miryam rushes off into the bushes. She can hear branches snap behind her as Jurian follows her. After a few steps, she reaches a net, hanging between two trees. Inside, a falcon is caught, its feather a beautiful shade of burnt red.

"It's a trap", Jurian says from behind her, "Likely set up by some peasants."

Miryam nods and draws her dagger. Carefully, she approaches the falcon.

"Easy", she whispers, "I want to help you."

"You'll get your eyes hacked out", Jurian warns.

But the falcon holds perfectly still as Miryam reaches out, although its amber eyes remain fixed on the dagger as she carefully begins to cut through the net trapping it. As more of the strands come loose, the falcon begins to sway. It screeches and tries to flap its wings. Hastily, Miryam holds out an arm for it to hold onto. (Not her best idea. She's sure the falcon doesn't mean to hurt her, but its claws still cut through her sleeve and into her arm.) Miryam grits her teeth and cuts the last bit of rope

"What now?", Jurian asks, "Its wing is broken, it won't be able to fly or survive like this."

Indeed, the falcon's left wing is hanging in an odd angle. Miryam bites her lip. The idea of this bird never being able to fly again is horribly sad. (When Miryam was younger, she dreamed of growing wings and flying far away.)

"I'm taking it back to the camp. Maybe I can heal it."

She shoots the net a mournful look. What if the person who set is up is close to starvation? She finds a gold mark in her pocket and puts it on the ground next to the ruined net.

Jurian shakes his head. "You're incorrigible. Here." He pulls off one of his leather gloves and hands it to Miryam. "Put that on or you won't be able to hold a blade tomorrow for training."

"How thoughtful." Miryam grins at him.

She puts on the glove and lets the falcon climb on her other arm. She can tell the bird is trying to be careful, but it still hurts when it pulls its talons out of her arm and hops on her other hand.

"It must have been trained", Jurian says.

Miryam is sure it isn't. But it's better if Jurian thinks so, so she just nods and turns back towards their horses, the falcon surprisingly heavy on her arm.

----

Rhys didn't think he'd be this nervous. After all these years of training, after everything he survived in the Illyrian mountains, he never thought his first battle would scare him this much.

Cass is nervous, too. Rhys doubts any of the other Illyrians in their group notice, though. Because Cassian is all brave words and laughter. He jokes around and makes light-hearted comments. But Rhys knows Cass well enough to see that the louder he is, the more nervous he feels deep down.

It is not Rhys who leads this assault, but Devlon. And although Rhys knows that this was meant to be a slight by his father, ha thanks the Cauldron for it.

His first battle. He could not imagine being the one leading it.

A whistle sounds, warning them that a group of enemies is approaching.

"Remember to keep your head down", Rhys whispers to Cassian, Azriel's warning ringing in his ears.

Cass presses his lips together in annoyance. Rhys can see he hates the idea of not fighting to his fullest, of risking their companions' lives in doing so. But he nods.

From their waiting place on the mountain side, Rhys can now see the enemy approach, walking through the valley in neat, organised lines. They wait until the soldiers are well below them. Then, a horn blast sound, giving the sign to attack.

Rhys flares his wings and leaps into the air.

His first kill is a High Fae male from Spring, who looks almost surprised as he collapses. (It is not really his first kill, of course. He killed plenty during the Rite. Still, battle feels different. More chaotic. Both more and less horrific at the same time.)

Rhys drops deep into battle calm. Any emotions become distant, irrelevant. But even as he kills his way through battle lines, even as his power is a roaring ocean beneath him, he keeps a tight hold on his magic. Doesn't use it beyond basic shielding.

The first minutes go well. The Illyrians outnumber their opponents and they have the moment of surprise on their side.

But then, the tide starts turning.

The Hybern Fae have magic - more than their spies reported and far more than the Illyrians. One High Fae lifts his hand, grey power flares and a dozen Illyrians turn to dust. Rhys creates shields, uses his magic to protect as many soldiers as he can. But still, he doesn't use it to smash their opponents to dust. Still, he uses nothing but his sword to attack.

Do not draw attention to yourself.

Around him, the corpses add up. Loyalist Fae, but just as many Illyrians.

Cassian makes the decision a second before Rhys does.

His siphons flare, red power blasting a hole into the enemy lines. A second later, Rhys follows. He stretches out a hand and darkness leashes out. Soldiers start screaming.

It is over in the span of minutes.

Over the corpses, Rhys exchanges a look with Cassian. Both of them are wide-eyed and panting.

Rhys spends the following hours helping with the wounded, collecting the dead. He wonders how many of these soldiers might still be alive if he had acted sooner, if he had not tried to avoid his father's wrath. He tries to memorise the faces of the dead. He is sure they will haunt him for the rest of his life.

And silently, he swears to never let his fear of his father stop him from doing what's right again.

----

Miryam names the falcon Kiel, because that's what its cries sound like. (Helion tells her that the name means 'free' in Old Landian and Miryam nods like she knew that already.)

It is the middle of the night. Miryam once again lit her candle and sits perched over the book. Kiel is watching her, his amber eyes glowing in the dark. Miryam feeds the bird a strap of meat she got from the kitchen.

"What do you think?", she asks, "Should I do this?"

"Kieeel", the falkon replies, which could mean anything ranging from 'Why are you asking me, you stupid human' to 'I want more meat'. Miryam feeds him another strap of meat and gets up

"Wish me luck", she says. (At this point, she truly hopes that animals understand her. Otherwise, she is making a complete fool of herself.)

The spell is easy, the book claims. Well, it is still second grade, because the book's former owner deemed first grade spells too simple to write them down. Miryam has memorised the words, the instructions. The book claims that for a spell as simple as this, no one with witch blood would need anything but the words, but Miryam would rather not bet her life on that so she follows the instructions by the letter.

She takes out a bit of chalk and uses it to draw a circle on the ground, symbols lining its edges. Then, she puts up four candles and adds a few bone shards for good measure.

She steps into the circle and lights the candles. Then, she begins speaking.

The words taste strange on her tongue, burn in her throat. All around her, the strings start glowing more brightly. New ones appear, wrapping around her.

And suddenly, Miryam understands why they call it 'Language of the Universe'. Because it is the language of the strings and each word Miryam speaks makes them move, like she is giving them orders. Her power is thrumming through her, light dances through the room and creates a net wrapping around the tent.

It is beautiful.

But Miryam doesn't mean to actually set up a ward around her tent - it would be hard to explain - so she starts reciting the second spell, the one that's supposed to break the wards. Indeed, the net begins to loosen, lines withdrawing with her every word. It is far easier than she thought. Just like that, the wards are gone.

But her power still rises. The fabric of the tent starts flapping on a fathom wind, Kiel shrikes.

Miryam panics. She tries to call her power back, to clamp down her hold on it once again, but it won't obey her. The flames of the candles flicker higher, until they almost reach the tent's ceiling, trapping her in a ring of flames.

"Stop", she whispers, "Please, stop."

It doesn't. Miryam feels like she's standing in the middle of a river, her magic tugging at her like a strong current and she cannot make it stop. She pushes against the magic. It pushes back and for a moment, Miryam thinks that she's going to lose this battle.

But then, her magic gives in.

It rushes away from her in a wave, further and further until Miryam can breathe again. The candles flicker and go out. She lets herself slide to the ground.

Her head hurts, but at least she doesn't feel like her body is on fire. At least it went better than that first time. Miryam is almost relieved.

Until shouts start ringing out all through the camp. She scrambles to her feet, stares at the circle on the ground, undeniable proof of what she did.

She grabs the candles and bones and shoves them into a bag that she flings under her bed. Hands shaking, she puts the book back into its hiding place and wipes away the chalk. Then, she rushes out of her tent.

Soldiers are running around outside. Miryam catches one of them by the arm. "What happened?", she asks

"I don't know, but there was this tremor. Really creepy." He shakes his head. "Magic really is a curse."

A good summary. Miryam lets him go and runs off to the centre of the commotion, which is where she'll likely find Jurian. Indeed, he is standing in the centre of a group of soldiers, trying to calm them. When he sees Miryam, he waves her closer.

"Thank the Cauldron, you're here", he whispers, "Someone shattered our wards, the soldiers are panicking. I need you to help calm them."

Only then does Miryam notice that the strings forming a net over the camp are gone.

Oh Mother. She did this. And the worst part is, it wasn't even hard.

----

A/N: Let me tell you, trying to keep to canon is hard! Like the fact that Drakon is looking for Miryam for three years without ever finding or meeting her (which I'm having a bit of a hard time explaining, but hey, just about a year to go)

Well, anyways, this part was rather slow. Next time: Rhys has trouble with his father (what's new), Mor gets used to life on the Continent and Drakon goes through with his plan

@starswhoanswer

[romanparrishlynch]

For the first time-Chapter 6

"Well that's impossible " Amren said as she turned around from the burning mess.

Of course the gaki would burn into flames before they could question it. It wouldn't be his life if it was that easy. " There goes our only lead " Azriel stated the obvious as they made their way into Amren's living room.

" At least now we know whoever's controlling the demon is powerful enough to navigate it through your wards " Amren stared at him flatly.

" I mean you are the most powerful witch in velaris and I thought no one could get through your wards unless you wanted to let them "

"First, If you hadn't forgotten, the demon broke through your wards without you even realising it " Amren glares as she continues "and here I thought you were supposed to be the most powerful creature in this continent "

Bitch

"Wards aren't my speciality amren. The last time I checked it was yours considering you've been practising witchcraft since you shredded your horns eons ago." Azriel smirked as Amren raised a eyebrow. Neither of them made a move as they stared each other down.

"Are you having a staring contest?" Mor asked as she watched them from the door. Azriel hoped she hadn't heard their conversation.

"So I take that you are done interrogating the demon . Cassian was really interested about it "

"I'll let the siren explain it to you "amren said she gestured toward the door .

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

"I can't believe she kicked us out like that " Mor grumbled.

"It's Amren. what did you expect?" Azriel said as their arrived to the table.He looked around and they were the only ones there .Azriel took a sip of the coffee and grimaced.He pushed the cup towards Mor." How can you even drink that ?"

"Not everyone has a sweet tooth like you. " He shrugged as he took a sip of his strawberry milkshake.

" What happened at Amren's?"

" The demon combusted. Spontaneously. We didn't do anything. We couldn't even get a word out of it ".

" I meant , you and Amren . You two looked like you were fighting ? " Mor asked leaning across the table.

" It looks like it's gonna rain today" Azriel commented as he looked outside the window and saw that it was sunny.

"Wow. Subtlety, Az . Try it. It will help you. So the demon was a dead end." Mor said and paused , looking at him horror " And you broke amren's table for nothing. The table was a gift. Form me . Az, did you know how much it costs?"

Azriel was not feeling guilty. His house has gone through so much remodelling thanks to the conclave meetings. Modern furniture and angry alphas don't go well together. He contemplated about what to tell her. It's not like you know anything his siren provided much to his dislike.

" It wasn't a typical gaki demon. We think someone was trying to control it " trying was a lie. Who ever was behind this had complete control of the gaki. From his house to Amren's. Till it died.

" Like navigating? Az , I thought demons can't be navigated . " Mor said .

Oh demons can't be navigated, can they Az ? You should know. We did it before . We could do it again. His siren provided.

He let out a sigh and said " I don't know who did this but they are more powerful than we thought "

"Damn, Cassian's gonna be so dissapointed though. He was really excited."Mor talked as if that's the most pressing issue right now.

"Maybe I'll tell him that the demon escaped"

"From Amren's dungeon? As if anyone is going to believe that."

" Maybe I'll just get him another one?" " Are you gonna summon another demon because your boyfriend wants to play with it? "

" How about I don't tell him anything and Cassian is not my boyfriend. "

" When are you gonna tell the others about the demon ? I can do it instead. I'm going over to invite them" Mor looks at him and realises that he doesn't have a clue.

" It's the summer solstice party Azriel. And I should be leaving . Do you want me to drop you off anywhere?"

"No. I'm gonna finish this "Az said as he pointed at his milkshake. She waved as she left.

Azrirl took a look around the cafe. It was crowded. He sighed . It always happened. He noticed people trying to take subtle glances at him. He took out his phone to check his messages. Not that he did this often. There were a lot from cassian which he ignored because he knew what it would be. The next was from elain.

'Hi'

Azriel blinked at his screen.

Now he had no idea what to do next. Maybe he should have texted his friends for practice. Now it's too late . He sighed and put his phone down. He picked up his drink and looked out the windows.

Azriel was trying to find an answer to give the alphas about the demon's sudden combustion. He wasn't sure how they would react to it or if they would even believe that. Even more bigger problem was finding whoever's controlling that damn thing. His drink ran out before he had done listing his problems. He paid for it and left wondering where his feet would take him next. Maybe he should have taken his car. He was walked back to his home. It was a long walk and it helped clear his thoughts. Not that he had gotten answer for any of his problems.

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

Azriel was fixing his tie when he heard a honk. He took the flowers. Azriel saw Rhys waiting for him. He got in the passenger seat.

"You bought flowers?" Rhys asked in a amused voice.

"Of course I bought flowers. It's a funeral. The question is why didn't you ?"

"I'm not going for the funeral " Was Rhys's reply and Azriel left it at that.

Five minutes. That's all it took for Rhys.

"So is your siren ..... okay?" Azriel laughed at that.

Wow. Tell him I'm doing okay

" Well, in a way"

" What happened at that conclave ?"

" You were there too" Azriel smiled as he answered.

" You know what I mean ?"

" What do you mean ?" Azriel really wanted to see how far he can take it .

Rhys sighed.

"You shifted "

" Partially. It's not a problem. "

"You grew scales Az. It's the first time we've have ever seen it "

" It's the first time you saw it ."

" Who else has seen you shift? You shift in front of people ?"

" Yeah I do that. Often. At The Gemini. Every Thursday. After 11 special. It's a private show. " Rhysand looked really offended.

"Will you take it seriously?"

" Then why don't ask the questions you want to ask?"

" Fine. Is Elain your mate ?"

" No?"

"Is that a question or a answer?"

"There's company " Rhys looked annoyed but didn't say anything as we passed the gates.

"I don't know. "

" You don't know what, if Elain's your mate ? I think the mating bond would be pretty obvious. "

" I've never heard of siren's having mates. But I'm drawn to her. I dont know why."

"we are here . We'll continue this conversation later" Rhys announces as he parks the car.

The pack house was filled with people he unfortunately recognized, which meant he had to greet a lot of people. He placed the flowers near tamlin's photo. He stood there for a few seconds, Tamlin was an asshole but he wasn't evil.

Azriel searched the crowd for cassian. He already met Tarquin and kallias. He wanted to leave this place soon. He finally spotted Cass talking to someone. He made his way across the room when he felt something weird. Cass introduced him to people he didn't care about.Azriel was listening to Cass when his eyes wandered to Lucien or rather the person next to Lucien.

It was Elain .

That's why he was feeling strange. He wondered if he should approach her but noticed she was talking to Lucien. Azriel could feel Cassian smirking at him as if daring him to go to Elain.

"If you are wondering whether you should or shouldn't go, the answer is you definitely should. " Cass spoke up.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

" I can see it in your face. "

" I'm gonna go get something to drink " Azriel left cassian as went to the kitchen.

"Hello azriel " It took all of azriel's self control to not teleport away right now.

" Hello" he replied curtly.

" What are you searching for ?" Ianthe asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Water. I need some water " She looks confused but pointed towards the fridge. Azriel nodded and left before she could open her mouth.

Azriel took a sip of cold water. It calmed him. Azriel's eyes found elain again and he had to remind himself that he was at a funeral. It was getting tiresome. He looked around for Rhys and found him talking to Elain's sister. Azriel walked around the place avoiding people he knew and made conversation when he couldn't avoid them. His usually chatty siren was oddly quiet now. He didn't know if that had anything to do with Elain's presence. His mind was buzzing with questions again. He moved away to the garden. The rose garden was in total contrast to the building next to it. The place seemed like it was used to be something enchanting and now it looked haunted with overgrown rose bushes and broken statues. He could still hear every voice inside the house and somehow he couldn't track Elain's voice. He was frustrated with himself and then he was weirded out that even tried to track her. Azriel sighed heavily. He has been doing that a lot lately.

"Azriel "

Azriel was startled to hear Elain's voice. He was conscious not to turn abruptly towards her. His breath was coming in uneven gasps . He wiped out the shocked expression off his face before addressing her.

" Elain, what a surprise! " he winced at his own words.

" what are you doing out here?" Elain asked curiously.

" It's too crowded inside. " he replied as if he wasn't used to crowds. Elain smiled at him and his mood improved .

" It's so pretty, don't you think so? " Elain said sweetly as she reached to touch a rose. She looked so pale next to the vivid red of the roses but she seemed so in place next to the plants that had grown wild. Azriel noticed that he had moved closer to her unconsciously. He plucked out a rose and offered it to her.

" I think it pales in comparison to you" Azriel blurted out and then wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Elain smiled at him again and reached for the flower. Her fingers brushed his hands and Azriel wondered if she could feel the pull too, being a human. "I think you're being too obvious " A new voice interrupted their quiet moment.Azriel turned to look at Tarquin who looked curious as he stalked towards them. Of course someone had to come and ruin it.

"Tarquin " Azriel greeted with a nod towards Tarquin's general direction and turned back to elain. "I was looking for you----- oh you have company " Tarquin said as he stumbled towards them.

"I'm Tarquin. The king of Merfolk" he said with a smile and extending his arm .

"Hi. I'm elain and --"

"And you are drunk , my friend" Helion said in a weird tone." Are you sure he's the only one who's drunk?" Azriel asked annoyed by their interruption. Elain looked confused, looking from one face to another." Azriel, I need to talk to you. "

" I don't azriel is available. But I am. you can talk to me. "

"How about we continue this inside?" Cassian said as he came behind them and draped his arms over both Helion and Tarquin shoulder and guided them inside." But I need to talk to azriel about the... what was it about?"

Azriel heard Tarquin muttering as they made their way inside." King of Merfolk ? You have interesting friends" Elain said , laughing. He noticed her eyes crinkled ."I'm so sorry about this. They are not usually like this" Azriel said obviously lying , they were so weird.

"It was nice talking to you but I'm afraid I should probably go and find Feyre. See you next time" Elain starts walking away as she says goodbye.

" If you are free tomorrow, we could meet up for coffee. If you would like to.. If you want to? " Azriel blurted out. " Elain! Feyre's been looking for you. " Lucien, the next interruption, called out from the door . Azriel sighed.

"Let's go in " Azriel said to Elain and stared at Lucien who was glaring , Azriel wasn't sure what it was about. Elain walked in first and Lucien guided her away. Azriel watched as she left. Maybe he shouldn't have asked her out. Azriel watched as Tamlin's pack members left one by one until a few remained. All the alphas remained too. Azriel took his place next to Cassian. Azriel watched the ceremony quietly. As it was ending, Eris walked up to Lucien.

"Not to steal your thunder or anything, but our father might be dead "

"What the fuck ? You waited this long to say that " Cassian said as he stood up.

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 23): Loose Position

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, pstd.

Pairings: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Summary: They’d shoved their trust issues and private wounds into that hazy ‘after’ area to deal with later, and Tim believed that for the most part they never really expected to arrive there. But they were there now and Tim floundered in the face of how to address those issues. Just because it’s over, Tim reminds himself, doesn’t mean everything suddenly goes back to normal.

Chapter Notes: Loose Position: A position vulnerable to opponent attacks because it is overextended or its pieces are uncoordinated.

______________________________________________________________________

“You said love is a synonym for damage. I said our bodies are a synonym for light. You told me, this isn’t sex. And I said I know, it’s whatever’s left.” — Missed Connections with Lonely Boys, Meggie Royer.

______________________________________________________________________

The plane shook with the rumble of thunder in the night sky and Tim awoke in his bed with his shirt clinging to his back and an icy chill covering him from head to toe like a blanket. Tim blinked out his bedroom window, orienting himself to his true surroundings— not caught in a storm running from Ra’s al Ghul and his men once again, but home. Safe. Or as safe as couldn't be expected.

The horrible flight home through stormy dark skies was days behind them now, but Tim still felt it like it was only yesterday. He was never really aware of much that happened that night after his fight with Ra’s to be honest, just the fiery pain in his dislocated shoulder. What he remembered was fractured sensations, unbound by time. Jason’s warm unmoving arms bracketing him. Damian’s knife sliding against his skin as he cut off away the fabric of Tim’s gloves to expose his injured hands. Cass’s insistent voice in his ear urging them not to fall asleep. Not yet.

Tim shifted out of his damp bed and traded his sweat-soaked shirt for a dry one. He glanced back at the mess of his covers before stepping out into the hall, deciding it’d be easier to find another place to sleep than to remake his bed in the middle of the night.

The library was quiet, except for the low whistle of wind from the cracked corner panes of the old windows. Tim’s skin broke out in gooseflesh at the abrupt change in temperature. A low fire burned in the fireplace though, so the cold wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Tim dragged the leather couch closer to it to bring him some warmth.

He was pulling the blanket down off the back of the couch when he felt a change in the air behind him. Tim twisted and found himself standing there with his hand clenched tight around the person’s neck before he could even register what he was doing. When he did, however, Tim became aware of his own constricted breathing and Jason standing in front of him.

“Nightmare?” Jason asked even though Tim’s grip of his neck was tight enough to make the word a croak.

He didn't try to break Tim’s grip. Nor did he look frightened, seemingly confident in the knowledge that Tim wouldn’t hurt him. Tim just wished he would remember that he had hurt Jason, in more ways than one.

Jason touched his fingers lightly to the bones of Tim’s wrists.

“There was a storm… the plane crashed.”

Tim relaxed his grip into Jason’s warm fingers, remembering how Jason had done this once before in the car in Tibet. The way it took Jason ages before his fingers even touched Tim’s skin. So long that his anger and fear had time to cool, and eventually disappear, and he almost wanted to reach out for Jason himself. If only to feel him.

“ I didn’t expect to wake up,” he continued, “but when I did, everyone was gone. Everyone except him.”

Tim let his hand drop away all at once and went back to what he was doing.

Jason slid his hands around Tim’s back and pulled him against his chest. The blanket fell abandoned onto the couch cushions.

“Why didn’t you come to my room?”

Tim pressed his forehead hard against Jason’s breastbone and stared at the floor, trying to find the space to breathe freely.

He couldn’t.

Even standing safe in Jason’s arms he still felt like everything was too close for comfort, closing in on all sides to choke him. “I don’t know… we never really talked about ground rules for once it was all over and done with.”

Before and After.  

Tim felt the sharp line of that divide— where certain events and feelings in his life started and others stopped.  

Before the mission.

Before Ra’s.

After Jason told him that he loved him.

Before Jason’s death.

After Tim had lost his mind more than just a little bit.

They’d shoved their trust issues and private wounds into that hazy ‘after’ area to deal with later, and Tim believed that for the most part they never really expected to arrive there. But they were there now and Tim floundered in the face of how to address those issues.

“A part of me wasn’t sure if you’d want me to seek you out in the middle of the night,” he continued, “it felt like I was using you— to crawl into your bed after every bad nightmare without you doing the same. Another part of me wasn’t sure that I wanted to let that side of me win.”

“Win?” Asked Jason.

“The part of me that’s constantly screaming for me to kiss all of those bruises I’ve given you and make them better. That weak side of me that reminds me that it would be so much easier to say ‘I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again’ knowing that you love me enough to convince yourself that it's true—that you won't press the issue because you got me in the end so what does it matter anyway, right? And we’ll go on with our lives… sleep together, live together, fight together and all the time we’ll each be wondering: Did he really mean it or was that just another lie?”

How do we go about making amends for such horrible betrayals?

Tim wanted to ask Jason that same question he’d asked before Jason had walked out on him. Do you really hate me so much for what I did? But he knew the answer would still be the same. Just like his own feelings on Jason’s actions hadn't changed.

Jason uttered a noise filled with fatigue and despair. “Yeah… I understand that feeling all too well. I don't want to hate you, Tim. I can’t and yet I do and it's fucking torture to want you and not want you all at the same time.”

Tim pressed his laughter into the newly damp fabric of Jason’s shirt and held him tighter.

“Torture. Yeah, that’s what this is.”

He pressed his cheek against Jason’s chest. “What are we going to do, Jason?”

Jason slid the collar of Tim’s shirt away from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the patch of bare skin he found there. “Take it one day at a time, I guess. So for tonight? Let go back to bed. I'm fucking exhausted.”

Tim smiled and allowed Jason to tug  him over to the library’s couch. Tim leaned back against Jason’s chest and pulled the blanket up over them both. The fire was warm against their backs and it provided enough light that if Tim tilted his head up, he could still catch the outline of Jason’s features in the orange glow. They didn’t talk to fill the silence. Instead, Jason tucked his chin into the crook of Tim’s neck and followed Tim into the quiet darkness of sleep.

______________________________________________________________________

One day at a time, it seemed, was asking too much of them and soon it was all they could do to take things one hour at a time. That sensation from before — of tiptoeing around the house and maintaining a safe distance, was gone—  but what replaced it almost felt worse. All of their tiptoeing had been for naught. The facade had cracked long before they’d drawn together in their final fight against Ra’s and now they’d returned home to find the broken pieces strewn about, each trying not to cut themselves on the jagged edges.

It seemed like the only words that left their mouths were apologies, and yet all of the apologies in the world weren’t enough.

Sometimes it was Tim who set Jason off and sometimes their roles reversed, but most of the time it presented itself in a horrible chain reaction of anger and injury that surged from one boy to the other. Like when Jason found the information that Tim and Damian had continued to compile on Gotham’s mercenaries for hire. Tim thought it had been bad when it was a private fight between the two of them, but then Jason had played dirty by bringing the information to Bruce— something that Tim hadn’t expected him to do in a million years. From there it had exploded into a civil war— their family breaking into factions. Damian and Cass— perhaps because on their own upbringings by mercenary families— backed Tim, agreeing that he had the right to do what he had to if it made him feel safe. While the rest of the family backed Jason’s mistrust of Gotham’s mercenaries and the likelihood that they could very well turn around and sell Tim to Ra’s if given a better offer. The ironic nature of Jason’s argument was not lost on Tim and he made sure to tell Jason exactly where he could shove his opinions on the subject.

______________________________________________________________________

Tim shoved upright in bed and doubled over trying to remind his lungs how to breathe. His fingers clutched tightly into the fabric of his t-shirt where it rested over his chest. Tears blurred his eyes and dripped onto his bedcovers.

He stared down at the dark blue fabric, seeing it but not seeing it.

The horrific images flashed before his eyes still—  in time with the bruising thump of his heart against the walls of his chest.

Tim heaved a breath. Jason spewed blood and something more onto his arms as Tim clutched him tightly against his chest.

He breathed out and pulled Jason’s drenched form out of Nyssa’s lazarus pit, knowing all the while that this wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Another breath and Jason’s lifeless eyes stared up at him, the water running down the cold skin of his face like tears for the life he didn’t get back. A small dark voice in the back of Tim’s head whispered to him that it was okay, this was what Jason had wanted, after all.

Tim muffled his sobs with a first pressed against his mouth and curled inwards. “It isn’t real. It didn’t happen.”

He didn’t care if Jason hated him at the moment, or if they were currently having a fight. He knew he wouldn’t be able to calm himself down until he set his eyes on Jason breathing peacefully in his bed.

He tumbled out of his sheets and padded down the hall to Jason’s door.

“Jason?” He tried to smooth the roughness out of his voice as he stepped into the dark room.

Tim stared at Jason’s vacant bed for a moment, looking around like Jason was just out of sight, hiding by the window. He closed the door and walked to the library where they had spent the night together just a few days ago. The couch was back in it’s original place, the blanket folded neatly over its back.

Tim sucked in a shaky breath and sped up his pace until he was running down the hallways of the manor, slapping on lights and throwing open doors.

Tim was skidding around a corner in the kitchen, heading for the cave stairs when he caught sight of the garden lights on out of the corner of his eye. Motion sensored, he remembered all at once.

Tim threw open the french doors and stood gasping in the frosty midnight cold.

Jason turned around to face him and took a drag from the cigarette he held to his lips with a quavering hand. The tear tracks on his cheeks glistened under the outdoor lightning.

Tim threw himself against him and Jason rocked back on his heels with the blow, his arms coming up to wrap around him almost as an afterthought.

“You died,” The words came out as a wet sob against Jason’s breast. “You… died.”

Bruce had warned him long ago… back when Tim was still Robin, that sometimes after a tragedy you might think you’re fine and then all at once, when you’re least expecting it, the reality will just hit you. Tim had thought it had hit him a long ago, but now he realized this was the moment.

Jason pressed an equally wet kiss to the side of Tim’s forehead. “I know I did, honey.”

Tim felt Jason shake his head— a dark memory being shoved back to a far corner of Jason’s head, waiting for the time when it could push forward again behind his closed eyes. Except, it didn’t quite work. Halfway through the motion a choked breath slipped past Jason’s lips and before either of them knew it, Jason was turning away from him, his hands pressed hard against his wet eyes.

“I’d forgotten what it felt like… all alone in that cold darkness…” Jason turned back on him suddenly, full of undirected anger. “Fuck, Tim. Look at us! How are we supposed to be together and handle each other’s messes when we can’t even handle our own?”

Tim gave a disparaging laugh and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I honestly have no idea. It’s almost impossible for me to think outside of my own problems right now.... I’m sorry if that sounds cruel or selfish, or whatever…”

Jason wiped the wetness from his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. I think we’ve earned the right to be a little selfish now and then.”

Tim stared at Jason in all his worn down glory, teary-eyed and shivering in the frosty dark. And he loved him, he couldn’t deny that. It felt like they were floating together through space, with no sounds except their breaths loud in their own ears, frosting the air in front of their faces.

All at once Tim shifted forward and wrapped his fingers around the back of Jason’s neck, pulling him down into a desperate kiss. Jason’s hands threaded tight into Tim’s hair and held the kiss until they were forced to pull back gasping.

Tim focused on Jason’s eyes, their lips still a breath apart from each other. “Tonight, if you want to, I’d like to try not to be selfish. I’d like to show you how much I love you.”

Jason captured his lips in another kiss and breathed him in; the tears, the sweat, the scent of his shampoo. Tim couldn’t fathom what he liked about him in that moment, but Jason smiled.

“You sure?”

The most Tim could manage was a shaky nod, though Jason wasn’t looking so strong and stable himself at the moment. “C'mon. It's cold out here.”