#injustice is okay but you’re on thin ice

[faerygardens]

I haven’t watched it yet but from what I’ve gathered my adventures with superman is The definitive superman adaptation, like they know what they’re doing over there, they know that the edgelord snyderverse injustice superman is completely inaccurate and that superman is actually, in fact, a dorky himbo anime magical girl with massive tits amen

[motimatcha]

it happened suddenly...

Ky Luc x Reader(gender neutral)

Warning: AU - soulmate; mention of blood and corpses.

Short description: Due to the fact that your couple is a vampire, you managed to survive after the apocalipsis. These are the first moments of your life.

(I assume that at the time of the apocalypse, Ky Luc was somewhere in Russia, since he is Urd's right hand, so why shouldn't he be in St. Petersburg)

Number of symbols: 3,906.

it seems it (I) is still alive.

...it was winter - not the best time of the year, especially for such a gloomy city like St. Petersburg. Perhaps the whole point was in your attitude to this time of the year or to life in general, but you absolutely did not like the dull snowy season; meter-long snowdrifts did not beckon to bury oneself, the snow creaking underfoot did not attract one to bend over and make a snowball in order to launch it into the head of a friend, and cold winds forced one to wrap oneself up in any warm clothes that could be found in the house.

But it was still winter, which cannot be taken and, at the snap of your fingers, canceled, cut out of the natural cycle by a mental or verbal command. You have to put up with injustice and wander further along the gloomy streets of St. Petersburg. Someone found this city romantic, especially in winter, when the pillars are decorated with garlands and other tinsel, and big Christmas trees are put on the squares, but you know what happens to those in the first three days... blinking a couple of times, you tried to banish such gloomy thoughts from your head and focus on the road. In contrast to the tidy and beautiful center that sparkles all year round, the outlying districts of the city looked somewhat worse: tall and gloomy buildings that, like wardens in the holds, watched the lives of people; streets covered with a thick layer of snow, and sometimes black snowdrifts due to the cleaning of the roadway; what can we say about the puddles, which became ice and now inattentive passers-by had to slip and, scolding everyone on what the light stands, fall on solid ground.

At some moments it seems funny, until it concerns you personally.

And then... something happens. For some reason, your heart begins to ache, and you grab the left side of your chest through your jacket, clench your teeth tightly and hiss, trying to breathe in or out. It turns out, but something incomprehensible and strange has already happened. Something thick, dark red, even black flows to the leg, and there is a lot of this "something".

Fright freezes on your face, and your lips twist in a silent cry for help, but pitiful hissing sounds erupt from your throat. Nausea rolls over and you, unable to bear it, spit out the contents of your stomach on the asphalt, on... the corpse of some man and the realization of your act only becomes worse. Your head is spinning, and tears begin to accumulate in your eyes that run down your cheeks and burn.

“O?” someone's voice is heard behind, but there is no strength to turn.

Someone’s light steps are heard, even jumping, before the man’s, definitely man’s, hands grab you around the waist and hug you. There is no warmth from someone else's chest, you are surprised at the thin fabric of someone else's clothes, and under the ear the heart does not beat in a frantic rhythm from fear - there is nothing, silence, which is the case with the dead; they turn you around forcibly. Through a wall of tears and snowflakes falling from the sky that dance with the wind and seem not going to stop, you can see the man's mocking face.

His face looks relaxed and his lips twitch slightly, as if a man is trying not to laugh. Does death amuse him? Does your tear-stained face amuse him?

“It's so surprising and sudden, to meet your soulmate under such circumstances,” the native language seems unfamiliar, some arrogant whisper to the very lips, “You’re scared, right? Don't worry, it's okay now.”

The promise is not comforting.

Hugs are not comforting. Your nose is buried in his cold neck. You can smell the faint smell of someone else's blood and death, which stands before you and gives you a stifling embrace. Tears run down your cheeks with renewed vigor and the man pulls back again. He frowns barely noticeably, and a hand in a white glove gently erases the salty line of your tears that pinch your skin in the cold.

“No need to cry,” he strongly recommends. “My name is Ky Luk, my dear. I will take care of you.”

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 12

So, we start this episode with our heroes having to give up their swords. I like that with everything he’s been through, Lan Wangji doesn’t put up a fight here. He willingly gives up his sword without any resistance. It’s the smart move: he’s already injured, the Cloud Recesses has been nearly destroyed, his brother is missing (and in the book, his father is also dying). And it stands to reason that Jin Zixuan is the one who protests—his clan so far has been protected from the Wen Clan: they are wealthy, they certainly are a large clan, and they have the resources to keep the Wens at bay, seemingly.

“Though I am disgusted with Wen Chao, I’m not gonna bring any trouble to our family during this time.” Welp. That was short-lived. I think this thought of his lasts for about 12 hours before he can’t take any more of Wen Chao’s shit.

As if regular Wen Chao wasn’t horrible enough, now we get sleazeball Wen Chao. This is, of course, important later, that he takes a liking to MianMian. She’s essentially marked from this point on. But can I say that I love how she’s the one who steps up to assuage Wen Chao, rather than the Jin Zixuan? She steps up like a boss, takes Wen Chao’s gross comments in her stride, and stops her master from making a big mistake.

And it’s nice to get some actual character development for Jin Zixuan too. Prior to this, we know he was engaged to Jiang Yanli, but had no interest in marrying her. He basically acted like a big dick, without any real redeeming qualities. But now we see that he is not interested in going along with the Wens’ indoctrination, even though his dad told him to just be a good boy. Brings in the theme of the younger generation wanting to pave their own path. The older generation (the majority of the clan leaders) end up being pushed aside. Their ways don’t work against the Wens. A lot of our heroes (I use that word lightly in some characters’ cases) end up being forced to grow up really fast here—they come of age as they are literally fighting a war. They form identities on those battlegrounds. Idk what I was saying, I started to ramble.

And just as a side note, Wei Wuxian kept glancing at Lan Wangji throughout that scene, maybe searching for a reaction, maybe an opening to speak, maybe just wanting Lan Wangji to look at him—seeking that connection. I think he is desperate to find out what has happened since they parted in Qinghe.

Ugh, Jiang Cheng, I couldn’t care less about your little crush on Wen Qing! Stop being so emo about her! Seriously, this is the dumbest thing they added into Untamed. This stupid “romance” that amounts to nothing and really adds nothing to either character, especially Wen Qing. Omg but imagine if they had gone with their original plans to make Wei Wuxian hook up with Wen Qing—the drama between him and Jiang Cheng! Or maybe this was the compromise. Like, “we need to make Wen Qing the romantic object for one of the boys…hmm…who should we pick…Eeny meeny miney mo….” I hate it, really. I don’t give a damn about the comb or the eventual life of loneliness that you have ahead of you, Jiang Cheng. Just stop. You’re not marriage material—you’re not fit for that, okay? You get to be a grumpy uncle, at best.

This will never not be funny to me. The absolute gall he has here, to gleefully volunteer to recite, and then to decidedly recite the wrong principles. But see what I mean about him immediately causing trouble? He’s looking for a window to talk to Lan Wangji and he finds it in misbehaving and forcing a punishment onto himself. It’s as if he’s fine behaving and being a good boy for the Jiang Clan, unless something is going on with Lan Wangji, which it most certainly is. More fuel for the fire for Jiang Cheng, I’m afraid, more proof that perhaps Wei Wuxian values Lan Wangji just a little bit more than him.

Also, everyone’s reactions here: Jiang Cheng is pissed (of course), Nie Huaisang is bemused (“Oh, you rascal!”), Jin Zixuan seems to be impressed (“You go, girl!”), and Lan Wangji…I think this is the first time that Lan Wangji actually looks at Wei Wuxian. They don’t make eye contact, but he looks up, and as his eyes flick back down, it’s as if he’s uttering a silent “thank you.” It’s such a quiet moment, juxtaposed to Wei Wuxian noisily reciting the Gusu Lan principles. I think Lan Wangji is just so appreciative here to know that he isn’t alone. He may seem alone—his clan lost many, his brother is missing—but he is most certainly not alone, because Wei Wuxian is here too. I’m getting all emotional now.

Okay, now they’re making eye contact, hahaha! Do I think Lan Wangji is a little annoyed that he has to cart shit around? Probably a little. But I actually think that he’s more annoyed that Wei Wuxian might be making things harder for them all in his desperation to have a talk with Lan Wangji. Like I said, Lan Wangji appreciates that Wei Wuxian is with him, making him feel that he’s not alone, but he also doesn’t want to make things worse. His clan is in a bad state right now, and at this point, he has to still be concerned that if they go too far against the Wens, that could come back and spell bad news for their families. Wei Wuxian has already forced that issue to the back of his mind, because he’s so focused on finding out what happened at Cloud Recesses. I can understand why Jiang Cheng is pissed, since Wei Wuxian told him he’d keep his head low, and he’s currently doing the opposite. More tension, I love it!

It’d be really easy to look at this scene and make it all about wangxian and how Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian so much and would do anything for him (this is, of course true), but that’s not what this scene is all about. It’s about three out of the five major clans seeing how oppressive the Wen Clan is, it’s about standing up for what’s right, even if it looks like you’re going to lose the fight. Jin Zixuan could have kept his head down and continued to shovel shit, but he didn’t. He stood up and used all the clout he had to try and put a stop to the abuse that Wen Chao is doing against Wei Wuxian. At this point, we know that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian will help each other out—it’s happened before, it’s not news (not that I don’t fucking love it), but Jin Zixuan, who up until this point has had a pretty poor relationship with Wei Wuxian, didn’t have to do anything, but he did. He knows this is wrong, he can see what the Wen Clan is doing is wrong, but he’s mostly powerless to stop any of it. His threats are inherently empty, but nevertheless he tries. It doesn’t mean he likes Wei Wuxian, but it does mean that he knows Wei Wuxian is right to stand up to the Wens.

I love this. All of this. Lan Wangji putting himself between Wei Wuxian and Wen Chao, only to be whipped aside, and then getting up (on his broken leg) and doing it all over again. Just like Jin Zixuan, he’s literally standing up to injustice, but it’s different, right? It’s different because this is Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, two people who’ve been through dangerous situations together, two people whose beginning was extremely rocky—but they are two people who grew to understand and need each other. I don’t think either one of them could pinpoint that need, but I think it’s there, just below the surface. Lan Wangji could never stand aside and watch Wei Wuxian be abused, and the same is true for Wei Wuxian. Right or wrong, they have a desire to protect each other. Because, like I said before, I think Lan Wangji knows they are all treading on thin ice right now. He’s seen his home destroyed and he likely doesn’t want the same thing to happen to Wei Wuxian. I would be amazed if he wasn’t thinking about that right about now—how will my actions affect him? Nevertheless, he won’t stand by and do nothing, even if it means taking that risk.

I also kind of wonder what Jiang Cheng would do here. I feel like he would try to protect Wei Wuxian (he does so later with his mother), but at the back of my mind, I still feel like Jiang Cheng has this deep resentment of Wei Wuxian that is always hiding just below the surface, just waiting to show itself. Wei Wuxian got himself into this mess, and maybe, in Jiang Cheng’s mind, he deserves the punishment. And that’s not to say that Jiang Cheng would agree with the Wen Clan, because obviously he does not, but part of me thinks he might be thinking, if only a flicker of a thought across his mind: “Serves him right.” I have a dark fascination for Jiang Cheng—I don’t want him to ever really be a good person hahaha.

Can I just point out that Lan Wangji never lets go of Wei Wuxian here, and it is a thing of beauty.

Until this moment, of course. Wen Chao asks if Lan Wangji wants to join Wei Wuxian in the dungeon, and 100% Lan Wangji was ready to do just that until Wei Wuxian stops him. He makes the decision to be taken alone. He doesn’t want Lan Wangji to get in any more trouble. He’s got to realize by now that Lan Wangji was taken to Qishan by force and probably finds that idea disturbing at the very least.

The look on his face really kills me here. Again Lan Wangji is in a situation where he is powerless. This is just like back at the Cloud Recesses. He fought—yes, he fought with everything he had, but in the end, he couldn’t stop them. He had to give up the Yin Iron shard, he had to go with the Wens to the indoctrination. And here is again: he tried to stand up to them, but ultimately he’s forced to give up and live to fight another day, as they say. And if you look at Jin Zixuan, he’s visibly annoyed—he feels like he shouldn’t be treated this way, that his standing in the Jin Clan should protect him from this. Lan Wangji, though? He looks defeated here. Not fall-on-the-ground-sobbing-defeated, but definitely defeated. He wants to do more, but realizes that he can’t. This whole mini arc for him is like one battle with himself after another. He’s struggling to find what exactly is his place in this world, what’s his place with Wei Wuxian, what’s his place in his own clan.

This fucking dog. I hate this. I hate that they went with practical over CG here. It looks so bad. Has anyone reading this seen Neverending Story? Yes? Okay, that’s what this reminds me of. 1980s special effects, but this was made in 2018. My friend and I are watching the series together (yes, I have two simultaneous rewatches going), and she likened this to Xena: Warrior Princess special effects. I think that’s pretty apt—1990s television, extremely cheesy and hokey. Honestly it ruins the whole scene for me. Xiao Zhan’s acting is great here—he is terrified of that fucking semi-animatronic dog at the other end of that cell. Although, I commented to my friend, if that had been a puppy, Wei Wuxian would have been just as terrified. I definitely relate. Dogs scare me—a lot sometimes. I had several dogs jump on me as a very young child and I’ve really never recovered. That doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs—I like them a lot! But I wouldn’t choose to be around a wild, poorly behaved dog. Like, just no.

Also, since I’m not really commenting on Wen Qing/Wen Ning stuff (because it’s mostly padding to me), but Wen Ning just wants to have friends! Wen Qing is coming from a good place, yes, but he has no fucking idea why she won’t let him talk to Wei Wuxian, a man who he clearly looks up to from the little interaction that they’ve had together. Honestly, I really wish they had kept in the archery contest when Wei Wuxian sees Wen Ning shooting arrows (I know they kind of moved it, but it’s not the same).

Wen Chao is really just trying to stop Wei Wuxian from actually breaking down this cheap-ass door. Seriously, it looks like it’s supposed to be rock, but it’s moving quite a bit. Now I’m just being mean, aren’t I? Honestly I love the low budget stuff (Mystery Science Theater 3000, anyone? I mean the good one. Not that crap that they put out recently), and I’m just poking fun.

Oh, my gosh, I just had a funny thought. How did Wen Chao know that Wei Wuxian was afraid of dogs? Maybe Jiang Cheng told him hahahaha. I mean, not like you’d need to be afraid of dogs to be terrified in that situation. It was a funny thought, in a dark way.

So I took this screenshot to set up a contrast. Lan Wangji is relieved to see Wei Wuxian alive and well, and in pretty good spirits for someone who spent the night with an enormous mythical-like dog. He doesn’t say anything—he just watches.

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, at first is relieved to see Wei Wuxian, but he quickly pushes him away when Wei Wuxian attempts to make physical contact with him. This isn’t the first time. He did that in Lotus Pier as well. He doesn’t hesitate to brush Wei Wuxian off. I know that Jiang Cheng cares about Wei Wuxian—I know that—but he cares less about Wei Wuxian than he does about other things, like his family. There’s a distinction for him. Yanli, his mother, his father—they are all his family. Wei Wuxian was practically raised as his brother, but it’s clear that he doesn’t see him as a brother at all. He sees him as a subordinate, someone who should listen to him and report to him. I don’t think his anger here is that Wei Wuxian could have been killed, I think it’s more that Wei Wuxian could have caused the Jiangs trouble.

There’s a poignant sense of a loss of their youth here. So much has changed, and it’s changed for the worse. The sense that they took so much for granted is palpable. It’s really sad. And it’s not played for laughs at all. They all miss those days back at the Cloud Recesses when they goofed off, learned a lot, embarked on a journey to find the Yin Iron shards, a journey that ultimately was the root of all the chaos that they are currently living in (again, within CQL verse). I like how it’s just Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian who are actually having a conversation, but they keep panning over to Lan Wangji as they fondly remember their time in Gusu. Like the land he lives in, he has changed too. His scope of the world is so much bigger now: it’s not just about rules anymore, and who’s following or not following them. There are worse things than bringing Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses.

So Wen Chao has laid it all out before them now: Cloud Recesses has been taken over, Qinghe is going to be taken over, Jin Clan is cooperating but will be attacked if Jin Zixuan steps out of line, and Jiang Clan could be next. Jiang Cheng is obviously upset about the prospect, not to mention Wen Chao called his father a coward. It’s nice to see Wei Wuxian, who only a few hours ago was on the other side, trying to restrain someone else. But he knows now that the Wens are not above anything—murder, torture, absolute destruction—and Wei Wuxian is one of those people who doesn’t mind harm coming to himself, but cannot abide harm coming to others, especially those he is close to. But Wei Wuxian is obviously pissed too, and it’s taking every fiber of his being to resist the urge to lash out again. He understands now: they need to watch themselves during this indoctrination.

There was a time when I might have turned a blind eye to Jiang Cheng’s remarks here, when I might have assumed he was coming from a place of concern. This is not that time. Wei Wuxian is so caring, so kind, so welcoming, and Jiang Cheng is just none of those things. He is very much a person who places his own safety (and his family’s safety) above anything else; he is a person who doesn’t really get it when they say on the plane, “put your own mask on first before assisting others” because he would literally never not put his own mask on first. Know what I mean? And I think the concept of working together here, seeing the Gusu Lan Clan as allies, doesn’t phase him. He’s like, it’s us or them, and he chooses us. And this is all logical, but I’m only saying it because that’s not what Wei Wuxian is about. Wei Wuxian’s “us” includes the Jiang Clan (yes), but it also includes Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang, and the other clans that are being held ransom by the Wens.

And I still say that Jiang Cheng is continually jealous of the attention that Lan Wangji receives. He wants to be the most important person in Wei Wuxian’s eyes—he is the future clan leader, after all. He wants Wei Wuxian to support him and him alone. He doesn’t understand this loyalty to another clan, especially someone like Lan Wangji, who he still thinks dislikes and disdains Wei Wuxian.

I love their faces. I love how genuine Wei Wuxian is here. I love how he asks several times how Lan Wangji’s leg is. I love how Lan Wangji stoically answers each time that he’s fine. And I hate that the episode ends right here lol. Look at that smile, though! How could you say no to that smile?

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

[trassellynn]

An escape... from his own flat

Written for @weeklygrishaprompts Fandom: Six of Crows Pairings: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik/Matthias Helvar, mentioned Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck Main Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Kuwei Yul-Bo (I apologise, in this fic Wylan is only mentioned 😔) Warnings: Mention of blood and injuries. Prompt: “You are the worst patient I have ever seen”. Plot:  Kaz is recovering from a bullet wound, but he doesn't want to miss an important business meeting, so he comes up with a plan to evade his friends' surveillance. (Set about two years after Crooked Kingdom). You can find on Ao3 HERE. 

Kaz couldn't believe it. He had been waiting for that meeting for weeks, it represented a huge opportunity for his business, and now he risked to lose it because of... what? A ridiculous bullet wound? He was sitting in bed, arms crossed, a disappointed expression on his face. It was so unfair, so unfair... “You look like a child who has been scolded,” Inej said, a smirk on her lips. “Come on, it's not the end of the world, the date of the meeting can be changed.” “It's not professional to ask for it!” Kaz protested. “Please, Inej... it will be just for a few hours, tonight, and the place is not far from here! And the injured leg is the lame one, I am used to walk with it!” “You're not used to walk with a bullet wound that almost killed you,” the young woman replied. “Kaz, if Helèna wasn't in West Stave, that night, you would have bled to death. You heard what she said: you need to rest. Now, I'm going to be busy until tomorrow, but the guys will be here for you and Matthias. Don't you dare to do anything stupid.” He grunted, but he still placed a quick kiss on her lips when she approached her face to his. “See you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow...” Once she walked away, Kaz immediately started to think to a plan. “Wylan and Jes' turn starts now, then, Wylan will leave at 2 pm. Kuwei will arrive at 3 pm, but I bet Jes will stay for at least thirty minutes more, to make sure I won't try to escape... Kuwei will stay until 6 pm, then Nina will come for dinner time... we'll be alone with her until midnight...” The meeting was going to start at half past ten pm. He needed Nina to be distracted for at least ten minutes, giving him enough time to reach the place... A grin curled his lips: he knew what to do. He pretended to be grumpy and annoyed during Wylan and Jesper's turn, often insisting on the importance of the meeting and the atrocious injustice of the whole situation. He couldn't risk to look calm, his friends would have immediately become suspicious. Well, more suspicious. At half past three, during Kuwei's turn, the plan started. Kaz grabbed his cane and he cautiously limped out of his bedroom, his feet only covered by a pair of soft socks. The bullet wound on his thigh sometimes hurt, but it wasn't too bad, he was feeling much  better than the day before. He took a peek inside the room where Matthias was resting: during the fight against Count Lucien's minions, after Kaz was shot, the Fjerdan immediately ran to protect him and ended up with with a dislocated shoulder and a stab on his left side, not bad enough to kill him, but still able to keep him in bed for days. In that moment, he seemed to be peacefully asleep, so Kaz walked away as silent as possible, reaching the end of the small aisle. “Where are you going, Demjin?” asked a rough voice from the bedroom. Dirtyhands froze at his place, clearing his throat: “Kitchen. I'm hungry. Do... you want anything?” After a moment, Matthias simply replied: “I'm fine.” “Okay.” Kaz walked into the living room with the most innocent smile on: Kuwei was sitting on the sofa, studying for his new project. He raised his eyes from the chemistry book and gave the older boy a suspicious glance: “What are you doing?” Kaz widened his smile so much that the muscles of his face hurt. “I'm hungry, I'm going to prepare a little snack. Would you like... some waffles?” The Inferni studied him for a while, then he sighed: “Well, since you asked, yes, bring me a waffle with vanilla cream, please.” “As you wish.” “What about your leg?” Kaz limped to the kitchen, struggling to hide his excessive zeal: “Not a problem. I can make the waffles while sitting.” The plan was working. Kaz was feeling very optimistic, while collecting the ingredients and tools on the table. He took a peek through the window and, as he expected, Jesper was still outside, on the opposite side of the road, talking to Anika. When he noticed him, the Fabrikator smiled and waved his hand, a nice way to tell: “I'm still here, don't you dare to do whatever you have in mind!” Kaz waved back, putting a fake smile on. “Don't worry, Jes,” he thought, turning his smile into an evil grin “I don't want to escape now.” The pendulum clock in the living room tolled ten times. Kaz limped to the kitchen, pretending to be sleepy, and, when Nina, who was making some tea, looked at him with a wary glance, he yawned. “What are you doing, Kaz?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mind you, I have no patience, tonight.” She looked very tired, her hair were tied up in a messy ponytail, her bare feet were visibly swollen and she was trying to support her huge, heavy baby bump with a hand. Kaz showed his palms, displaying pacific intentions: “It just came to my mind that Kuwei made a surprise for you, this afternoon. He asked me to tell you after dinner, but I forgot it. You can find it in the oven. Oh, wait...” He bent down, paying attention not to stress the injured leg, and he brought a magnificent plate of waffles out of the oven. Nina's eyes shone: “Kuwei did this for me?” “All for you. Waffles with chocolate chips. And look, he also made some caramelized apple slices!” The beautiful Grisha's attitude immediately changed. She looked like a child in a toy shop. “He's so sweet! I should give him a huge hug tomorrow!” “Yes, you should,” Kaz replied, seraphic. “Oh, here you are, some chocolate syrup and vanilla cream... if I may... I'll go bak to bed, I'm so sleepy...” Nina barely listened to him, she was too focused on her delicious post-dinner snack. For a moment, Kaz heard Inej's voice in his head, reprimanding him because it was very mean to deceive a pregnant girl like that. But there was not time for remorse: the meeting was about to start. He placed some pillows beneath the blankets, giving them a rough human shape, then, he wrapped a long rope around his waist and he silently opened the window... The meeting place was at the Blue Lavender, an elegant cafe near to the Emerald Palace. Kaz walked down secondary alleys, a satisfied grin on his usually plain lips: he did it. He managed to escape from the flat and was closer and closer to his goal. “Not a big surprise,” he thought. “I am Kaz Brekker. I managed to enter the Ice Court and come out of there. No one can stop m-...” A sudden weight on his shoulders made him wince, two thin legs wrapped around his waist. Then, a gloved hand covered his mouth. “What a surprise,” a familiar voice said. “Kaz is doing something stupid.” “Inej...” he whispered, once she removed her hand from his mouth. “What... what are you doing here?” The girl jumped down from his back, catching his wrist: “I knew we couldn't trust you. I knew you would have tried to take part to the meeting, disobeying the doctor's order.” “That meeting is so important, Inej!” he protested. “Please, let me...” “The meeting has been postponed, you idiot,” said another familiar voice. “Mr Rackham has a fever, he has just sent his son to the Slat to tell us. He will decide another date the next week.” “Jes...” Kaz grunted. “Why didn't you tell me before?” The sharpshooter pretended to ponder about it: “Uhm, let me think... maybe because, when I went to your flat, you weren't there. And I think you need to know Nina is furious.” “And she's right,” Inej echoed. “You have been horrible to her.” “Well, if she's so mad, maybe I should wait, before going back to the flat,” Dirtyhands replied. “Maybe, I can go to visit Mr Rackham, and...” A sudden pang of pain made him groan. The injured leg was finally answering to the stress of that day. “Saints, Kaz,” Inej sighed, shaking her head. “You're the worst patient I have ever seen. Get ready to be insulted not only by Nina, but by Helèna too.” “At least, Helèna won't raise an army of dead against me...” he commented. “Well, I hope my leg won't give us too many troubles, it will be ten minutes from here to the flat...” “Oh, don't worry about it,” Jesper said, with a cunning grin on his lips. Before he could protest, Kaz found himself on his friend's back, his legs around his waist, his arms on his shoulders. “Jes! What the fu...” “Shut up. You've lost your right to protest, you shameful liar!” The criminal opened his mouth to reply, but, then, he obeyed. He had to admit himself that, for once, he had lost a game.

[a-crimson-lion]

I Need To Stop Reading Into Things…😂

Yet again for @kiricookie .

[Check out this post first.]

So… we’re here again. Lord forgive me, I’m back on my bulls***.

Okay, jokes aside, I really should stop doing these things, but I am a stubborn individual. Plus, I wanna see how our notes compare, and try to have more civil discussions on the internet than I see on average. I’d reblog, but again, your post is already long as is (not incredibly long, but still), and I’d rather not occupy dashboard space more than I need to.

Alright, I think I’ve said my piece. Let’s talk about your post…

Oof. Starting right in the heart of the issue, really.

I am aware that Izuku is… incredibly likeable. I am aware that some of his issues, while perceived by some as noble, are heavily problematic and probably need to get sorted out before the boy gets a close audience with death. I am also aware that some of his habits are less than courteous in some circumstances, though like you said, Izuku has the benefit of having no malicious intent when it comes to these actions, even if they can come off as annoying.

Now, regarding Katsuki’s snail pace development… I get what you’re trying to say, but that doesn’t make it come off as any less frustrating...

As much as I want to believe that Katsuki’s upbringing in society is what’s stunted his growth so badly, I wish the narrative was more willing to show it. All we’ve gotten of Katsuki’s past are flashbacks from Izuku, remarks during the visit to the Bakugo household, and the “raised with violence” line from the Remedial Course arc. Now this understandably paints a pretty terrible picture, but uh… what has Katsuki done to try to fix it? How has Katsuki tried to demonstrate that his upbringing wasn’t justified? Why is he imitating the behaviors he supposedly despises, that supposedly keep him held back, instead of trying to find a workaround? I’ve only seen a few growth/redemption arcs of antagonistic characters, but even if the arcs took long, there was always an ultimate reason for doing so. And Katsuki doesn’t have that. At least, not yet.

It’s been implicitly established that Katsuki’s growth will be the mother of all slowburns. I’ve mentioned it in this old post of mine, but this is doing Katsuki no favors, at least for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I love myself a flawed character, but there’s only so much I can stomach before a flawed character becomes less “flawed” and more “asshole.” I personally believe that his true growth doesn’t get started until “Deku vs. Kacchan 2” (Episode 61), but if we really wanna consider that “Bakugo’s Start Line” (Episode 8) is his… well, start line, then that only makes it worse. Because again, his character arc is, as we’ve established, slow. But the fact that it’s slow enough for several other character arcs to transpire (Shoto, Tenya), as well as slow enough to allow “background characters” some significant development and return to relevancy (Eijiro, Hitoshi), I start wanting to stop holding my breath for his arc’s supposedly inevitable conclusion. Now I know you personally consider the suspense a positive, but it’s the opposite for me. I’d chalk it up to impatience, but again, MULTIPLE character arcs have transpired, and a few have been far more believably gradual compared to Katsuki’s.

While it is impressive that Katsuki was willing to pour out his feelings to Izuku, I’d like to argue that it wasn’t as… well, sentimental. Remember that society and Izuku’s peers before UA regarded him as the lowest of the low. The weakest, the most worthless. “The pebble in the path.” Considering that Katsuki lost the Training Exercise AND technically got outsmarted by Izuku, who was considered this until VERY RECENTLY, I’d imagine that’d be one hell of a blow to his ego. It is still significant that he’s willing to talk to Izuku about this, but it’s not exactly because he’s humbling himself. It’s because he’s begrudgingly admitting that he’s not the best, and it’s been well established that he HATES not being the absolute best. And I don’t know about you, but suddenly getting your high expectations crushed after years of nothing but “positive reinforcement” should not be made as big of a deal as it is here. I’m not saying to get over it, because you’ll never get over it, you have to live with it and learn from it, but don’t make it seem like it’s the end of the world and a half like Katsuki did in that scene. Plus, didn’t he essentially reaffirm that he was going to do what he planned to do from the start of his tenure at UA? I mean, good on him for his dedication, but you’d think the guy would want to take a step back and actually try to learn from others if they were so impressive.

Now, the DC Superhero franchise falls in and out from my radar at times, but I don’t think Katsuki and Batman are a good comparison for the point you're trying to make. Yes they both use violence, and yes they’re both intimidating, but for entirely different reasons. Batman uses fear tactics because he finds them efficient; I don’t know what they’re doing with his character nowadays, but from what I can gather in his earlier incarnations, Batman’s not out for blood. Vengeace, sure, but he doesn’t waste time getting there beating the snot out of his enemies. He takes care of them, sends them off, and keeps on trucking. Before they tried making him even more edgy, he didn’t kill and he kept away from firearms because he was well aware of any issues he had. He may not be a goodie two-shoes like most heroes, but he does show definitive empathy in some of his earlier incarnations. Remember, Batman was the kid who lost his parents to injustice. That was his entire reason for taking up the cowl, for becoming more than Bruce Wayne. In the Justice League Unlimited Episode “Epilogue,” he has the option to kill Ace, a teen villain with dangerously growing psychic powers. He doesn’t do that. He takes the seat next to Ace as she begins to die. He offers his support as Ace has to confront the terrifying realization that she is dying. He’s helping another scared kid, because he knows what it’s like.

That’s heroism. That’s Batman.

Katsuki’s motivations and actions aren’t as sympathetic. Him lashing out isn’t for anything strategical; early on in the series and even after his “Start Line,” up until the Endeavor Agency Arc, I believe, Katsuki’s sole motivations are victory and bloodlust. Even if it seems like he’s growing more chivalrous with his resolve, he backslides so many times back into the angry loudmouth trope its hard to want to keep hope, because if he can backslide multiple times before, what’s to stop him from backsliding again? It ruins the suspense for some people. And people are intimidated by Katsuki, but that’s because he’s borderline unhinged. I’d be scared s***less too if a pyrokinetic powerhouse was gunning on me with his eyes glowing like the fires of Hell as he radiated killing intent (an exaggeration, but still). I have yet to see Katsuki use this intimidation “tactic” of his beyond the fact that he appears to be enjoying it, either.

Alright, enough of that, let’s analyze that penultimate question: why hate Katsuki? If you asked me early on, I would say that yes, I don’t like him because he hurts Izuku. But as I’ve continued looking throughout the series, I now say that I don’t like him because, contrary to what he says, virtually everything is handed to him. Most of the time, its people mistaking his battle thirst as chivalrous determination, whether it be against a villain or just a standard opponent. He never tries to make himself any more “likeable,” and while Class 1-A is quick to call him out for this in the USJ Arc, by the Sports Festival they’re all flocking to him, and I have yet to understand any proper reasoning for this. It’s less like Katsuki proving there’s more to him than meets the eye and earning the respect of his peers, and more so that people latch on to the abstract concept of Katsuki’s coolness and strength, and he just begrudgingly tolerates them from there.

I mean, Eijiro was wholeheartedly against Katsuki’s actions during the Battle Trial, yet by the USJ the difference is night and day, and it doesn’t help that he’s interpreting Katsuki’s desire to beat up villains as “faith in his classmates.” Shoto was abused by Endeavor, so the fact that he can’t at least draw some comparisons between Katsuki and his sperm donor is slightly concerning, and while I want to chalk it up to his stunted social skills, I feel like Hori and/or his editors trying to shove in a friendship to increase their overall likeability (especially Katsuki’s) is more likely. Don’t even get me started on the hoops they jump through in the Joint Training Arc. Not even gonna touch that…

Okay, finally made it to the last paragraph. So, here’s something about me you may or may not like: I don’t like people dying, good or bad. Unless their actions are comparable to that of Satan, or at least close, then they shouldn’t get the axe. Why?

Because a dead person can’t change… and a dead person can’t suffer.

Believe me, even though I’ve fallen off the bandwagon a long time ago, I want Katsuki to change for the better. And he can’t do that if he’s dead. The manga’s most recent arc has been hella frustrating because of that, and no spoilers, but the two deaths that did occur did not leave me in high spirits. Hawks, Shigaraki, you both are on thin f***ing ice I swear. So no, lucky for you, I do NOT want to see Katsuki dead just because he happens to be an ass. What I wanna see is proper repercussions that go beyond being a villain hostage and having everyone else’s potential trauma downplayed for the sake of giving Katsuki more sympathy points.

Also, I’m well aware Katsuki’s death would absolutely ruin Izuku. I am also well aware that it is one of the few concrete facts I hate with nearly every fiber of my body. Not because of what it says about Izuku…

...but because I am sick and tired of Katsuki continuing to be the arrogant s*** he is, whether it be his genuine feelings or merely a front. I am sick of the fact that for as smart and aware that someone like him is, he still insists on trying to act like a badass when there is no need or overall expectation to do so. I am sick that he continues to decide to put himself and others in jeopardy, all for the purpose of maintaining his ego. I am sick that he gets all this support, all this help, and yet his development is still worse than a snail’s pace, and the narrative continues to keep letting him off with love taps and leaving him unfairly unprepared for the kill shot.

...maybe Katsuki deserves to get better. But is this really the best way to do it? Really?

Thanks for listening. Hope you got something from all of that.

-Crimson Lion (24 August 2020)

[silverwhisp-headcannons-blog]

Fan Made Injustice/MKX Style Intros 3

Intros/Clashes Cecada/ Adam Taurus Introduction 1: Cecada: I’m finished. Adam: You can’t escape us, Cecada. Cecada: No. I’m finished with mercy. Introduction 2: Adam: After the way you’ve been treated, you still defend them?! Cecada: Yeah. Because I’m not pathetic. Adam: Then die with them. Introduction 3: Cecada: You’re such a child. Adam: What does that mean? Cecada: Don’t get what you want and you throw a fit.. Clash 1: Cecada: Do I look like Atlas? Adam: You can’t kill me! Clash 2: Adam: There’s still a chance. Cecada: I’d rather die! Darkseid/ Connor Arcadia Introduction 1: Darkseid: You dare challenge me? Connor Arcadia: Trust me. You’ve made me as strong as you. Darkseid: Doubtful, blasphemer. Introduction 2: Connor Arcadia: So much sin. Darkseid: What are you blabbering about? Connor Arcadia: It’s fueled me fit to burst. Introduction 3: Darkseid: Kneel before your new god. Connor Arcadia: If I make you bleed, no one will believe in you. Darkseid: You dare!? Clash 1: Darkseid: You’ll make an excellent slave. Connor Arcadia: And you’ll look good dead. Clash 2: Connor Arcadia: You’re sin fuels me. Darkseid: Impossible! Qrow/ Scarecrow Introduction 1: Qrow: Ooo spooky. Scarecrow: You will know fear. Qrow: *Scoffs* I only fear running out of booze pal. Introduction 2: Scarecrow: Couldn’t save her could you? Qrow: You’re walking on thin ice Scarecrow. Scarecrow: Poor Summer dying alone with no hero to save her. Introduction 3: Qrow: You were bullied as a kid weren’t ya? Scarecrow: What makes you say that? Qrow: Inferiority problems. And you’re scrawny. Clash 1: Qrow: Why don’t you go defend a corn field? Scarecrow: I’ll show you terror! Clash 2: Scarecrow: Time to face your fears. Qrow: I have. Trust me. Bayek of Siwa/ Batman Introduction 1: Bayek: Why a bat? They harbor diseases. Batman: To strike fear in my enemies. Bayek: An animal won’t do that. The man behind the mask has to. Introduction 2: Batman: I’m not here to make enemies. Bayek: Yet you approach me like you are threatening me. Batman: Because I can’t trust you. Introduction 3: Bayek: This ‘Joker’ sounds like a madman. Batman: He was until Superman killed him. Bayek: The one good thing he’s done. Clash 1: Bayek: You fight like a madjey Batman: I learned from the best. Clash 2: Batman: No killing. Bayek: Some men cannot be saved. Salem/Superman Introduction 1: Salem: You conquered your world so easily. Superman: I killed all threats to the planet. Salem: Careful. You know not who you speak to. Introduction 2: Superman: Walk away or die. Salem: I thought we could join forces. Superman: Like hell. Now die. Introduction 3: Salem: You should consider my offer. Superman: I have Diana and that’s enough. Salem: Forgetting about poor Louis Lane then? Clash 1: Salem: We could have been king and queen. Superman: I’d sooner die. Clash 2: Superman: I’m going to end your life. Salem: Assume nothing fool! Zuko/ Cinder Introduction 1: Zuko: I was just like you once. Cinder: I doubt you were anything like me. Zuko: Power hungry and wanting someone to love them? Yeah. I was just like you. Introduction 2: Cinder: Nothing you say will change my mind. Zuko: There’s always a way Cinder. I learned that from Aang. Cinder: Fools teaching fools. How sad. Introduction 3: Zuko: You’ve been thinking. Cinder: Silence fool! Zuko: I’m getting in your head, aren’t I? Clash 1: Zuko: There’s still time! Cinder: Shut up! Clash 2: Ciner: Still think there’s hope for me? Zuko: Not a doubt in my mind. Darkseid/ Salem Introduction 1: Darkseid: An interesting proposition. Salem: We would rule over all life. Darkseid: Prove your worth to Darkseid first. Introduction 2: Salem: These ‘Omega Sanctions’ give you your power. Darkseid: Just as your god of darkness gave you yours. Salem: Then it can be removed. Introduction 3: Darkseid: What could you offer Darkseid? Salem: An infinite army of dark creatures that kill on command. Darkseid: I have my parademons. Show me what else you have. Clash 1: Darkseid: You’d make an excellent ally. Salem: You have no idea. Clash 2: Salem: Surprised at the power? Darkseid: Impossible! Bayek of Siwa/ Cecada Introduction 1: Bayek: You remind me of Anubis. Cecada: May I ask, why? Bayek: You judge people based on their actions not what they are. Introduction 2: Cecada: I wish the gods of my world were as kind. Bayek: *Chuckles* Ours have their wrathful side. Cecada: Show me it then. Introduction 3: Bayek: How can you carry such a weapon? Cecada; Nearly ten years of practice. Bayek: I wonder if it will weigh you down. Clash 1: Bayek: You’d make an excellent madjay. Cecada: And you’d be a hell of a huntsmen. Clash 2: Cecada: Damn your fast. Bayek: No. You are just slow. James Ironwood/The Merciless (Dark Knights Metal) Introduction 1: James Ironwood: You’re the God of War? The Merciless: No. I took the title from the old god that I killed. James Ironwood: Then if you die, conflict dwindles. Introduction 2: The Merciless: I’ll give you an honorable death. James Ironwood: Bigger things have tried and died at my hand. The Merciless: Then let us battle General Ironwood! Introduction 3: James Ironwood: That helmet blinds you to the truth. The Merciless: What truth would that be general? James Ironwood: You’ve become a monster that needs to be put down. Clash 1: James Ironwood: I expected better. The Merciless; You cannot defeat me! Clash 2: The Merciless: This world belongs to Barbados! James Ironwood: Over my dead body! Weiss/ Blue Beetle Introduction 1: Weiss: That’s thing is… Interesting. Blue Beetle: I know it’s weird. Weiss: Let’s just do this. Introduction 2: Blue Beetle: Oh wow. You’re well, Um… Weiss: You’re blushing Jaimie. Blue Beetle: Thank Christo the Scarab covers my face. Introduction 3: Weiss: So if I beat you, I pick the spot for the date. Blue Beetle: And if I win you still can. I’m not good at picking. Weiss: *Laughs* I already have ideas Jamie. Clash 1: Weiss: Advanced alien tech or simple sword? Blue Beetle: Come on Scarab! Clash 2: Blue Beetle: Come on Snow White. Weiss: You’ve been talking with Yang. Kerian/ Wonder Woman Introduction 1: Kerian: This has been a long time coming. Wonder Woman: It was an accident Kerian. Kerian: Were the other deaths accidents to? Introduction 2: Wonder Woman: I never wanted to hurt you or her. Kerian: Yet you did. She was innocent. Wonder Woman: And I will live with that for the rest of my days. Introduction 3: Kerian: Huntress, Jo’n, Hercules, Alli. Is anyone safe? Wonder Woman: Kerian… Please don’t do this. Kerian: And to think I ever loved you. Clash 1: Kerian: Gaia has marked you. Wonder Woman: Don’t do this. Clash 2: Wonder Woman: I won’t kill you. Kerian: I’ll just keep coming. Gladiolus/ Cecada Introduction 1: Gladiolus: And I thought my sword was big. Cecada: It’s probably lighter than you think. Gladiolus: Maybe I have met my match. Introduction 2: Cecada: I think you and the other three would fit right in. Gladiolus: A small vacation killing monsters? Cecada: Isn’t that par for the course for us? Introduction 3: Gladiolus: Prompto says you can deflect bullets. Cecada: It’s one of the first skills I learned. Gladiolus: Would you teach me then? I'm tired of getting shot at. Clash 1: Gladiolus: Damn you’re strong. Cecada: You sure you’re not part bear? Clash 2: Cecada: I see where Noctis gets it. Gladiolus: Maybe I should let you teach him. Prompto/ Emily Introduction 1: Prompto: Aren’t you a tad young. Emily: We get trained to do this at 14 Prompto. Prompto: Geez. I was still chubby at 14. Introduction 2: Emily: Such a shame to ruin the outfit. Prompto: Wouldn’t be the first time. Emily: *Giggles* Fighting monsters does that. Introduction 3: Prompto: You doubt my aim? Emily: To be fair my standard are high thanks to Altus. Prompto: Okay. I may not be THAT good. Clash 1:

Prompto: Man. I’m breaking a sweat. Emily: How’d you become a royal guard? Clash 2: Emily: Not bad pretty boy. Prompto: Hey! I’m not a boy! Ignis/ Gabriela Introduction 1: Ignis: I take it you’re the strategist of CAGE? Gabriela: Correct Ignis. Ignis: Let us see who can out maneuver the other. Introduction 2: Gabriela: Seems our teams like each other. Ignis: We all have allot in common I think. Gabriela: Yes we do. Now lets break the tie. Introduction 3: Ignis: Are the Grimm like the daemons? Gabriela: If what you described is true, then yes. Ignis: Perhaps we should join forces. Clash 1: Ignis: You are good. Gabriela: So are you. Clash 2: Gabriela: Who trained you? Ignis: Only the best chefs. Noctis/ Altus: Introduction 1: Noctis: That joke wasn’t funny. Altus: Your friends thought it was. Noctis: I am not short. Introduction 2: Altus: All those weapons. Noctis: And? Altus: I wonder how well you fight with them. Introduction 3: Noctis: We still up for burgers? Altus: Last I checked me and my team were. Noctis: Then let’s do this. I’m getting hungry. Clash 1: Noctis: Damn you’re focused. Altus: Semblance remember? Clash 2: Altus: I thought you were the prince of ‘ass whooping’s.’ Noctis: Just shut up. (P.S: Just in case no one saw. In the Injustice universe, Kerian's sister Alli was killed on accident by Diana. It was a mere miss of a stab and Alli was killed for it. This turned Kerian into a scary force of nature that even Batman will steer clear from.)

[imhereforbvcky]

Absolution - Part 3 (end)

Masterlist  -  Part 1  -  Part 2

Summary: Bucky must figure out how to live with some of his worst memories when he can’t shake one particular ghost from his past.

Prompt(s): Could you do a Bucky story inspired by Murder Song - Aurora?

Warnings: AAAAANNNNGGSSTTT so much angst. Ok, we’ve got swearing, nightmares, looks at Bucky’s captivity and the unpleasantness related to it, murdery sadness, I think that covers it?

Word Count: 2667

Author’s Note: Oh god. Okay. I just want to say… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just am riding the angst train hard lately. Also I’m watching Iron Man 2 rn and have all kinds of Tony feels, so he’s going to be my supportive buddy, because I think he would get it to some degree, my poor iron baby with the squishy heart.

Italics are Bucky’s journal pages/memories. * I snagged this line from Winter Soldier #12 by Ed Brubaker

August 1

I had the dream again. The whole dream. It comes back to me again and again. Sometimes if I’m lucky I wake up and the whole memory doesn’t replay in my head like a broken record. When I’m lucky I don’t wake up with her voice in my head begging me for death, absolving me of the thing I could never ask forgiveness for.

Every time I wake up, I remember pulling the trigger.

She had been sick for days, I mean really sick. I told her every story I could think of just to keep her conscious. I asked her questions I already knew the answer to so I could gauge whether she was delirious. I begged her to eat but it was pointless, she couldn’t keep anything down. Eventually they’d taken her away. All I could do was worry about her, and do all the things she would have encouraged me to do to survive, hoping she’d come back.

She never did. Instead they came for me a few days later, shoved a gun in my hand and pushed me into a bright room. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that room now that I remember it again.

I blinked against the bright spotlights that somehow made the dingy cement seem to glow. Rooms like this weren’t unfamiliar to me. Rooms like these dominated my life here. It was where they filled my head with words that turned my body into a machine I didn’t know how to operate. It was where they tested the strength of those words with increasing cruelty. It was in rooms like these where my nightmares became a reality, or rather I became the nightmare

This time though, there was only a woman in the room, clearly another prisoner. She looked so incredibly frail. She was just skin and bones, and her skin had that thin ashen blue tint that’s almost always the calling card for death.

She looked at me and I will always be haunted by it. Though her heart still beat, and I could see her breathing, it was a ghost who looked back at me. A ghost with tired eyes that reflected only an immeasurable well of anguish.

Worse still, when her eyes flickered over me and she glimpsed the metal of my arm glistening under the harsh light and the dark metal of the gun in my hand she seemed… relieved.

“Bucky,” she rasped and stepped closer, a warmth gathering in the pools of her eyes. The second I heard her voice I knew it was her: the woman in the cell beside mine, my only companion and friend, my solace and sanity when this place and these people tried to take it from me.

I’d never seen her before, but she must have recognized me for the metal arm. I whispered her name when she moved even closer and lifted the cool metal into her own hands, those small hands that I’d only seen pushing through a drainage pipe in my wall to offer me support. I spun the metal hand over to hold onto her, not daring to lift my right because for a moment she looked comforted and the cool metal handgun I was holding at my side would surely bring an end to that.

“Test P2405 to commence in Chamber 4b.” A voice rang over the speakers. I looked around, spotting the theater of lab coats above with a row of guards, their rifles trained down on us.

“Bucky, listen to me,” she urged, her fingers sliding higher up my arm. Her hand tentatively settling on my chest brought my attention back to her face.

“Test subject: Winter Soldier,” the voiceover continued.

“This is a trial for you, not for me,” she sounded urgent, like this was the only thing that mattered to her on earth.

I only shook my head, refusing to accept the reality in front of me. I wouldn’t be able to do it. “They want me to hurt you.”

“I know, Bucky,” she soothed, “But you won’t. I’m already hurting, don’t you see?”

Her hands gripped my metal arm tighter and I forced myself to look at her again. I knew it was true. They’d hurt her the second they dragged her from her home and destroyed her village. Every time she left her cell meant more pain. She’d been brave and strong, and now here when she had no way out, she still used that pain to ease my own.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the words begin to echo through the room.

“Желание. Pжaвый”

“It’s a gift Bucky,” she tried again when she heard the anguished growl from me, trying everything I could think of to hold it back, this monster they’d put in my head. “It’s mercy. You can… you can do it quick?” she asked, voice trembling, I looked at her despite the pain squeezing my chest and the knot in my throat. She was trembling all over.

“Добросердечный.”

Shit. I don’t know how they got so far so fast. I could feel a shift, it was happening despite everything in me screaming for it to stop. My voice was raw. I must have been actually screaming until I felt her ball her fists into my shirt and press herself even closer against me.

“Bucky, listen to me,” she urged, sounding stronger than I thought possible by the look of her. “I’m dead either way. You will be the one to suffer if you don’t do this, not me. Just--”

“You think I won’t suffer if I do this?” I asked, gripping her by the back of her neck, trying to be gentle with her, but needing to feel her, needing to feel something that wasn’t iron and ice. I needed to hold on to something soft and warm for as long as I could.

“Один.”

“You have to be the soldier, Bucky. That’s the best you can do for me now,” she was pleading with me, tears streaming down her cheeks now, “Be the soldier, be efficient, and let the blame fall on their shoulders.” Her eyes darted to the gallery of monsters before flitting back to me, pleading and sad. “Please.”

She kissed me quickly, clinging to me, needing her last memory to be something less ugly than the life we’d both known the last several years. I would have held onto her like that for a lifetime if I could.

“Грузовой вагон.”

I could only watch her breathing pick up pace, like she was struggling for every ounce of oxygen as my body shifted, releasing her and rising to a rigid position. I wish there had been any way to convey to her that I was sorry, that I didn’t want to do this, that I wished I could have protected her, but I was a prisoner in my own body.

“Mercy is a gift,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the harsh commands coming my way. Maybe she didn’t want to remember me like this. Maybe she didn’t want me to remember her fear. I can’t forget it though, she may have closed her eyes and stood as tall as she could in that weakened body, she may have given me permission and called it mercy, but I remember.

“Cолдат?”

“Я готов отвечать.”

“Убей bаша девушка.”

That’s the thing about being under mind control that nobody talks about… You’re still in there. Some small piece of you is awake… watching. Like being a passenger in your own body. You struggle to break free… but you lose… over and over again… you lose.*

I lost everything watching my body take an aggressive stance, watching my arms rise, gripping the gun with the familiarity of an expert and press it to her forehead. She was still so close. I don’t know if she was too afraid to move, or if she really didn’t care in the end. I guess it didn’t matter because she was dead in an instant when I pulled the trigger.

The worst part was watching her body crumple to the floor while I stepped back and handed the gun to a guard. I knew they were displeased by the tears on my face, but even in this state there was nothing I could do to stop them. There was no one else there to mourn her, to remember her, to scream at the injustice, to weep at the loss. And she deserved at least that.

She was my first kill as the Winter Soldier and I’ll never forget her. I’m unable to forget the awful things, but I make myself remember the good about her. She deserves that, too.

Three weeks later on another late frittata night, Tony had excitedly slid Bucky a large legal envelope with her name written in the corner in Tony’s small, efficient hand.

“I found your girl!” he told Bucky around a mouthful of egg and bell pepper. “But I gotta ask, is she…?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed heavily, holding the package in his hands like it was a bomb that might set him off if he opened it too quickly or too roughly.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to chase this down?” Tony asked, skeptically. “I mean, I think we both know from experience here that her family might not want you--”

“Her family’s gone.”

Tony nodded, not quite sure what that meant. For all he knew they’d also met their end at the hands of the Winter Soldier, but that wasn’t the man before him. The man sitting at his counter was hunched over a relic from the past, pained and lost.

“This one haunts you, huh?” Tony probed gently.

“More than you know.”

Only days later the pair of dysfunctional Avengers wound up in a rented car from the mid 1990s driving through an endless sea of uncultivated fields somewhere in northeastern Europe, looking for a village that the world preferred to forget.

“I don’t think this is right,” Tony sighed, completely flustered that his technology had no record of their destination, nor of this road, if you could call it that. “There’s nothing back here but more dirt and grass. We haven’t even passed a potato in like, 5 miles, there are no villages here.”

“Not anymore,” Bucky agreed, “But we passed that oak tree by the river, this has to be right.”

“There are trees by every river, Barnes, that’s what they do.”

“There!” Bucky pointed to a small cluster of old buildings in the distance, the wood greyed with age and buckling under their own weight with rot.

He stopped the car and climbed out slowly, taking the envelope with him. He walked cautiously at first, with his hand outstretched over the tall wheat colored grass tickling his palm. Tony followed at a distance, for once, not saying a word.

Bucky ran his hands over the wood trim of one of the buildings, feeling the smooth worn grain of it, as he imagined her hands in this exact spot, at home, laughing as she chased down that chicken that had gotten loose. He’d told her about every detail of this place and he’d built a picture in his head, but this… was an echo, a skeleton of the life it once held.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, an overwhelming sense of loss taking hold of him, not just for her, but for all that HYDRA had taken from this place. The warm sun on his shoulders, and the rich earth at his feet reminded him with distinct potency of the magnitude of war.

He took another breath, memorizing the smell, earthy and simple: warm thick air, dry wild grass, cool black dirt. It’s what she should have smelled like, here, in her home, away from the harsh chemicals constantly in and around her body, the taste of blood staining her lips and iron hemming her in. It’s what she should have smelled like without the stench of HYDRA.

“Hey, I think I got something.” Tony’s voice was gentle, like he didn’t want to disturb a single speck of dirt.

Bucky walked over to meet him. In the apparent center of the abandoned village stood a series of boulders with names carved into them. He knelt in front of one of the stones and ran his fingertips over her name.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

Bucky nodded, unsure how to answer. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find here, but it was crushing to see her name on this stone, in a list of so many others. He wondered how many had gone with her to the same base in Siberia where he’d met her and how many had never made it past the walls of this small village.

A part of him was relieved. He was glad someone had remembered her, had grieved for her when he’d been unable, and had memorialized her like this. His own instability following her death had lead HYDRA to begin their crude efforts to clear his memory. He hadn’t remembered her at all before Wanda had begun digging in his brain to remove the triggers. Now he couldn’t get her out of his head.

“I just can’t let her go.”

“Goodbyes like this don’t happen overnight,” Tony suggested, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder. “If you’re hanging on to her memory, there’s gotta be something there you still need to work out.”

Bucky nodded, taking Tony’s outstretched hand and pulling himself back to his feet. Tony reached into his pocket and took out a piece of scrap paper and a piece of charcoal vine that he’d snatched from Steve and passed it to Bucky.

“What’s this?”

“How old are you?” He couldn’t resist the urge to tease a little, “It’s a rubbing, here.” He snatched the paper back and covered her name with the paper and pressed the charcoal against the engraved stone, brushing back and forth until her name appeared clearly in white against the black background.

Bucky stared at the paper in his hands, transfixed. It was small, and messy, the charcoal already staining his fingers, but it was her.

“Put it in your notebook,” Tony advised, “Be careful not to smudge it until Steve can get some fixative on it, that charcoal will smear, but it leaves a clearer print.” He patted Bucky on the shoulder harshly before turning back towards the car.

“You’ve done this before,” Bucky observed.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone.” Tony turned with a raised eyebrow. Bucky followed him back through the grass, smearing black coal across the edges of the page he still wasn’t ready to relinquish.

“Know what? I learned something pretty valuable on this trip,” Tony mused, talking over his shoulder as they meandered through the field.

“What’s that?”

“You’ve been holding out on me. I’ve been making us frittatas every night, but you can make some killer latkes!” He teased, and Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his chest. The last sound he expected to hear in a place like this, much less from his own lips, but it felt right, like this place had a life and a voice for even a fleeting moment before it returned to its solemn memoriam.“We’re trading off from now on.”

“I can live with that,” Bucky agreed. “It’s her recipe.” He laughed softly a long moment later, enjoying the idea. “After a few years we ran out of interesting things to say so I told her about my mom’s meatballs and how I never learned to cook and she told me how to make her grandmother’s latkes.”

“Latkes it is then,” Tony smiled, sliding into the car and propping his feet on the passenger seat, spinning the dated paper map in his hands. “Now how the hell do we get out of here? I think I’ve developed an arrhythmia from the lack of wifi.”

Everything Tags: EVERYTHING TAG LIST IS CURRENTLY FULL

@blacwings-and-bucky-barnes  @creideamhgradochas  @johnmurphys-sass  @nykitass  @learisa  @4theluvofall  @aelin-blackstairs  @ailynalonso15  @amrita31199  @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch  @bethy-sue  @brandnewberettaa  @caitsymichelle13  @calaofnoldor  @callamint  @captain-amelia-bradley  @canumoveyourseatup-no  @charlesgrey1875  @cojootromuelle  @denialanderror  @dracsgirl  @dreamtravelerme  @ek823  @emilyinbuffalo  @epicbooklove  @explodingzombiesyndrome  @feelmyroarrrr  @forgottenswan  @ginamsmith  @givemethatgold  @glittervelvetandlace  @haleyloveshugs  @heartsaved  @hellomissmabel  @-hiddlesdweeb-  @hollycornish  @iiharu-kunii  @imheretomarvel  @indominusregina  @ishipmybed  @james-bionic-barnes  @jurassicbarnes  @justreadingfics  @just-call-me-your-darling  @kapolisradomthoughts  @k-nighttt  @kaaatniss  @rosegoldcherub  @langinator  @larry-pringles  @lilasiannerd  @lovelyladylilac  @luckylundy13  @marvelatmytrash  @mcfuccfairy  @melconnor2007  @rotisserierogers  @movingonto-betterthings  @mrs-lamezec  @midnightloverslie  @morduniversum  @mrs-brxghtside  @nikkitia7  @nikkisprojectoflife  @nicmob  @omalleysgirl22  @palaiasaurus64  @pcterpvrker  @psychicwitchphilosopher  @rockintensse  @rrwilson66  @sammysgirl1997  @science-of-deduction-sh  @saharzek  @sebbytrash  @secondstartotheright-imagines  @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th  @shifutheshihtzu  @simplyashley95  @sociallyimpairedme  @sophiealiice  @tequilavet  @thatgirlsar  @thebitterbookeater  @theliarone  @the-witching-hours12-3  @thelastxgoodthing  @unlikelygalaxygiver  @w1nterchild  @wingtaken  @winterboobaer   @xnegansgirlx  @zoejohnson8  @cassandras-musings  @decemberftw  @tired-alpaca  @sapphire1727   @spookymaddie  @whyisbuckyso  @you-didnt-see-that-cuming

[prosciuttoe]

Hi! When you have time, can you please do a Bellarke fic with the prompt "I just moved in next door and I’m like 99% sure you’re insane AU" involving pranks. Thanks!

Funnily enough, Clarke only gets acquainted with her neighbour after he dumps a bucket of ice-cold water on her.

Granted, she would probably have found it a little funny if it hadn’t occurred at the end of a disastrous day, or maybe if she had been the intended target in the first place (look, it’s not unlike her to appreciate a prank) except she’s pretty sure she hears him yell, “Suck it, Murphy!” through the walls the second the bucket clatters noisily to the ground, leaving her soaking wet and shivering on her doorstep.

She’s not sure what’s more insulting, really: the fact that her neighbour at apartment 5B remains blissfully oblivious to the fact that she’s moved in for a week now, or that she fell for a prank that involves balancing a bucket on top of a door.

Still, it’s hard to summon the urge to confront him when she’s cold and wet and possibly sleep-deprived, so she puts it off in favor of a hot shower instead. He’s her neighbor, after all. It’s not like he’s going anywhere. She can talk to him about boundaries and stupidly simplistic pranks anytime.

Except he’s not home the next time she rings at his doorbell, and apparently she’s not over the whole situation like she thought she was, because the next thing she knows she’s smearing Vaseline all over one B.Blake’s (according to the nameplate by his mailbox) doorknob.

It’s only fair, okay?

She’s making a sandwich when she hears his key catch in the lock, a low string of curses following shortly after. It takes every bit of her willpower to keep from bursting into laughter at that, her shoulders shaking with the effort as his voice rises in pitch.

He must eventually get the door open though, because he pounds once against their connecting wall in what must be triumph, and faintly, she registers a smug, “Nice try, asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” Clarke mutters, glaring at the single, thin wall separating them, “you too. Dick.”

(That, as far as she’s concerned, is the beginning of the end.)

He douses her doormat with the honey the very next day, effectively ruining a pair of her favorite pumps. She retaliates by shoving every random catalogue and flyer from her mailbox into his instead, making sure to arrange it in the most haphazard and inconvenient way possible. He gets his revenge in the form of shaving cream smeared all over doorknob while she opts for planting gummy cockroaches all over his doorstep instead.

It’s passive-aggressive and childish and quite possibly, the most fun she’s had in years.

It’s mostly why she decides to keep up the ruse; forcing herself to stay in her seat instead of peeking at the peephole whenever she hears him at the door, or skittering out only when the hallways have gone quiet. It’s easier than it seems, considering her erratic hours at the ER. Besides, there’s no way that she’s ruining a perfectly pleasant feud, especially now that they’ve gained momentum.

She’s checking her mail and contemplating how mad B.Blake might be if she duct tapes an airhorn strategically to the side of his mailbox when a guy comes bounding up next to her, shooting her a brief, distracted smile before fitting his keys into the slot.

The slot to apartment 5B’s mailbox.

Gaping, she looks away, a flush working its way up her cheeks. It has to be some sort of karmic injustice that he’s here, going through his mail oh so casually when she’s standing right next to him. At this point, she has several options. One, sneak away. Two—

His gaze snaps over to her then, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Hey. You’re new, right?”

“Uh,” she manages, and yeah, it definitely is some sort of karmic injustice that B.Blake is stupidly hot; all messy hair and dark eyes and arms straining against his shirt. Ducking her head instinctively, she continues, “Not really? I’ve been here for about a month.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know there about the vacancies but apparently a lot of people have been moving out lately.” He says, wry, fingers sorting idly through the stack of envelopes in his hand. “I’m not exactly sure why, considering you have to pay an exorbitant amount of rent and deal with some pretty fucking difficult residents in this building, but I guess it’s good location-wise.”

Wetting her lips, she wipes her slick palms on the fabric of her jeans. “And by difficult, you mean…?”

“Oh,” he ducks his head on a laugh at that, shaking his head ruefully. “Okay, fine, to be more precise it’s just been one so far. John Murphy? Over at 5A? The guy has had it out for me ever since I told him to clear his takeout boxes from the hallway because it’s a fire hazard. Bastard’s been pranking me ever since.”

“Yikes.”

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs, and this time she’s rewarded with a flash of teeth. “I have to give him some credit. He’s pretty inventive.”

“Wow,” she says, tilting her chin in mock consideration. “So, inventive like you with the whole bucket above the door trick?”

That pulls a frown out of him, brows furrowing together quizzically. “You heard about that?”

Well, the jig’s up. Taking a deep breath to brace herself, she raps her knuckles against her still-open mailbox, tapping a nail against the 5A painted by the side. “I was there, actually.”

There’s a beat as he seems to process this. Then, haltingly, “Wait— don’t tell me—”

“That Murphy moved out a few weeks back, and that your stunt actually doused me instead? Yeah,” she says, biting back a smile, “that’s exactly what happened, actually.”

He groans, falling back against the wall. “Fuck.” Then, narrowing his eyes over at her, “Why didn’t you say something? If I knew, well. Shit. Fuck.”

“I might have been enjoying myself a little too much by then.” She admits, the rest of her words trailing off into a laugh at his skeptical expression, “Oh, come on. You’re telling me that you didn’t have fun soaking my doormat in honey?”

“Only because you put Vaseline on my door.”

“Because you dropped a bucket of water on my head,” Clarke reminds him, grinning. He returns it; his smile wide and sincere, and the sight of it sends a rush of warmth all the way down to her toes. “You started it.”

“Unintentionally,” he points out, mock-solemn. “And honestly, I would have enjoyed myself a lot more if I knew that I was pranking a cute girl instead of Murphy.”

“Wow, that was very smooth.”

“I try,” he tells her, extending his hand out. “I’m Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.”

“Clarke Griffin,” she says, taking it. His palm is warm and dry in hers, nice, and yeah, Clarke thinks she has a pretty good feeling about him, “and, uh. Now is probably the time to tell you that I put gum in the keyhole of your apartment door.”

(He gets her back later by taking out the screws from her bedroom door, so it makes them even, really.)

[cxramel-cat]

POSSESSION - chapter 08

Chapt. 01 ◾ Chapt. 02 ◾ Chapt. 03 ◾ Chapt. 04 ◾ Chapt. 05 ◾ Chapt. 06 ◾ Chapt. 07 

Other links: AO3 | Wattpad 

( INJUSTICE: GOD AMONG US VERSE ) 「one minute    one life change    one decision    one action 」 ────────── ❝ Why? ❞

The question wavered through Kal’s mind. He threw away the corpse he was holding. His attention settled on the boy who had witnessed his every action. His original plan was to kill the young Bruce Wayne from existing in the future. Joe Chill was making Kal’s job easier. The man was going to do the dirty work for him.

He could change things back, to the way they were supposed to be. No deaths. No betrayal. No Batman.

Mature Content: Wet dream.

He was trapped on the bed. Paralyzed. Kal glanced over his cuffed wrist. His eyes narrowed as he shot a laser beam against the metal. The heat did nothing to the cuff. No matter how much he pulled, he couldn't get his hands free.

"Surprised, Superman?"

There was the sudden addition of weight onto his abdomen. Kal shifted his attention away from the cuffs he was still yanking at, and towards the figure in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise at seeing the person who straddled him.

Bruce Wayne.

However, he looked younger than Kal remembered. Younger than Kal could ever remember him being. The streaks of silver hair were gone. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone. He looked full of energy and strangely joyful. It almost seemed as if he had never lost his parents, as if he'd grown up to become the complete opposite of the man Kal knew.

Bruce leaned down. He trailed his tongue over the line of Kal's neck before he suckled sharply at a spot. A stiff moan left Kal's lungs. The human's hips moved. His bottom ground against Kal's crotch with purpose, creating friction. As much as Kal wished he could push Bruce off him— despite his prone and vulnerable position, the friction raised his arousal.

Fingers suddenly dipped to the front of Kal's trunks and tugged them down.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kal growled in warning when there was no response.

"Shh," Bruce whispered against his ear. Hot palms ran up Kal's thighs. Long fingers gently wrapped around the base of Kal's cock and stroked him once. Again. Again.

Though he fought the urge, soon enough Kal's chest began to rise and fall with his repressed breaths.

"Just enjoy this, Superman." Bruce dipped down, stray strands of gelled hair falling across his forehead, ends brushing his shoulders, framing a slender neck. His lips trailed over the veins of Kal's cock gently, caused Kal to shiver. Once he'd teased enough— once Kal's flesh had quickened under the forgotten sensation, Bruce opened his mouth and took the head of Kal's cock in. The human sounded delighted by the preemptive gasp from Kal and the long, guttural moan after.

Kal shuddered. It felt incredible. Nothing hurt. It was just pure pleasure— Hot, wet and amazing.

He gazed down, over his chest and abdomen and the black thatch of his pubic hair. He was met with the sight of Bruce's piercing eyes; bright, cold blue watching him with intensity. Bruce's mouth was full and busy. But those seductive eyes watched his every moment— Every twitch, every bitten lip. Every vain attempt at holding back, staving off. The slow sucking was all-consuming. Passionate and wonderful and—

Too much for Kal.

"Don't resist." Again Bruce wrapped— elegant, delicious— fingers around his wet member, stroking it to release. "Call my name, Superman. I know you want to."

"Bruce!" he cried out. "I'm going to— Ngggh !"

   ★        

Kal jolted up from the bed. He was breathless, sweating and... wet.

Gingerly, he looked down and saw the spreading, moist spot on his sheets.

"Damn it..." He groaned.

A wet dream! He hadn't had one of those for years. He was an adult, not some horny teenager who couldn't control their hormones! And was that really Bruce in his dream? Seriously?!

He couldn't glance over at the child who slept next to him. He was disgusted at how easily he'd just fantasized about the boy's adult self.

Kal ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. He needed to clean himself up before Bruce woke in the morning. If the boy saw the visibly darkened patch on his jeans, he wouldn't know how to answer nor explain to the eight year old about his strange dream.

Still, why the hell was he dreaming about Batman, of all people?

It pissed him off. His first wet dream in years, and it was Bruce Batman-Wayne who had to be the star character out of all of the people he knew.

Seriously, dreaming of a guy, and that guy in particular? He wasn't even gay! Why would he have an erotic dream about a man?

Kal could only hope that the dream would end up being one of those dreams that faded away, only to be forgotten by sunrise.

He couldn't catch another glimpse of sleep that night. Unfortunately for him, the dream remained permanent in his mind— accompanying him throughout the night and making things extremely awkward whenever he looked over at the boy who slept next to him.

He wasn't a pedophile. Kal was confident about that. He didn't feel sexually attracted towards the child. To any children.

Yes, he may have dreamed of doing something dirty with the child's older self. He may have put his dream-self in a position where it was impossible to refuse the object of his lust. But Kal knew he cared and loved his little Bruce wholeheartedly, and in a strictly platonic way.

For now. He ignored that thought, buried it. He was over-tired. He didn't... Of course he didn't mean that.

The child gave him hope in humanity. Kal had also promised a bright future for him, and saw one for himself in the exchange. He allowed Kal to look forward to every day, watching Bruce slowly grow up. To grow into a fine soldier. The perfect soldier .

"Kal?"

He snapped out of his stupor at Bruce's call. Looking up from his meal, he feigned a smile for the boy. "What is it, kiddo?"

"You haven't touched your omelette. Are you not hungry?"

"Well... kind of." Kal glanced down, realizing he had been in deep thoughts to the point that he'd forgotten to savour the homemade omelette cooked by Alfred. He could barely remember tasting it. "Do you want extra? I could give you mine."

"Really? Thanks, Kal!" Bruce gave him a bright grin as he stuffed another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. Kal felt relieved when he saw Bruce smile. Relief... It always unnerved him. He brushed his hand through Bruce's hair gently and felt the warmth swelling within him.

My Bruce.

He wanted to give as much as he could to Bruce, just to see that smile. He wanted to give Bruce freedom from the life he might have in the future. He wanted Bruce to be free from the fate of his life: miserable, inferior, and alone. The life of a thief, a criminal, an assassin. The life of violence.

The life of a liar.

"Kal-El."

Upon seeing Diana standing on the doorway, Kal's smile curled down and flattened. Ever since their last conversation, which had ended with him rejecting her from his bed, they had been in an awkward middle-zone. They no longer shared any intimate moments. Her tone when she spoke with him was indifferent, borderline insubordinate. They had kept a distance between themselves, neither making a move to soften the wall of ice.

It wasn't a break up . They were just having a cool down period, tired of each other for now.

"Sorry to interrupt your meal." Her eyes glanced over at the simple fare set on the table.

Bruce, noticing her gaze turning towards him, looked down at his meal and avoided any eye-contact with her. He didn't like her. She always acted like she disliked him and wanted him to stay out of her way as far as possible. She always seemed to be quietly threatening him. Her gaze was cold and unfriendly. And the words she'd said about Bruce on the first day he'd arrived in this place were still fresh wounds in his mind.

"Nightwing is awaiting you in your office, Lord Kal."

So what's supposed to come is finally coming. Kal glanced over at the large clear windows. He hadn't expected the time to come this soon. He was well-prepared though, for anything the teen might decide to throw at him.

"Tell him I will be there in three minutes." Diana nodded at his request and walked out. Not another sentence was exchanged between both of them.

"Bruce, I am going to leave for a while. I'll be back real quick." He caressed Bruce's left cheek, tilting the child from looking down firmly at his meal. He knew how much Diana had scared the boy during his first day around here. "Remember our promise? If something happens, just call my name."

Bruce hesitated a little, but he nodded. "Okay." He stuck out his pinky finger at Kal. "Pinky promise?"

Kal chuckled as he tugged on the tiny finger with his. "Pinky promise."

     ★          

When he arrived in his office, Damian sat on the corner of his desk, staring out at the view of Earth in front of him. The teen had always been a stubborn one. He held very little respect towards others, even Kal himself. However, Kal usually didn't mind when the teen didn't bite more than he should.

"I heard you brought in a kid," Damian mused. "Black hair, blue eyes. Sounded familiar, like someone I know."

"I found him on the sidewalk." Kal leaned back against his seat. His expression was indifferent. His tone stoic. "His parents died in a gun shooting. I decided to take him in, since he has potential. There are the makings of a good soldier in him." He didn't try to lie to the teen. He knew how sharp Damian was. Like the saying went: like father, like son.

Kal decided leaving out several pertinent parts of the story was better than trying to think up a brand new story and risk being caught in the light.

"Potential?" Damian's raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He leaned forward towards the older man— a little too close for Kal's comfort. But Kal saw how the thin line of the teen's lips slowly curled down to a deep scowl. "I call bullshit, Superman."

Nightwing knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Kal. All the same, his hands found their way towards the older man's collar as he pulled Kal towards him. Kal allowed it, amused to see where this was headed. The green eyes framed by the mask were filled with anger as Damian clenched his teeth."You think you can make a fool out of me? Everyone in the Regime is talking about how the almighty Superman kidnapped an orphan from the past! Everyone is talking about how you're turning insane and messing up the timestream! He's manipulating you , as usual! Your ways of thinking are being clouded by him!"

At the beginning of Damian's rant, Kal's eyes widened. Then, very quickly, his eyes narrowed down to a firm glare.

How dare they talk behind his back? Any of them! How dare they doubt his dedication in securing a safe world for humans?

"You won't be able to hide him from me forever, Superman. I know he is somewhere around here. And I will find him! I will skin that little runt alive by myself! Not even you— a Kryptonian, could stop me!"

This was the last draw. The teen had bitten off more than he could chew. Kal grasped Damian's wrists. With a quick movement, he twisted the human's hands and slammed him against the wall.

"I dare you." Kal growled low under his throat. "If you dared to touch him— even just a single strand of his hair — I will rip your head off and send it back to your father to show what a worthless piece of garbage his son was!"

"He had ruined you!" The threat didn't frighten the teen. If anything, it made Damian even more furious. It was confirmation of how much a carbon copy of his father from the past had managed to cloud the thoughts of Kal. "Look at yourself, Superman! What do you think you look like in the eyes of others? You look like a desperate, pathetic and sad excuse for living!"

"Enough!" Kal tightened his grip. The teen hissed out in pain as he felt his bones threatening to crack under Kal's hold. "Out of my sight! NOW ! Don't make me do what I just vowed, Damian. And if you attempt to even hurt him in the slightest..."

Kal withdrew slightly. His eyes glowed red. His jaw clenched.

Before Damian's mind could process what was happening, the burning spread, sizzling all along the nerves of his right hand. He roared in pain and sucked in a mouthful of air. The air smelled of burned flesh.

"I will make sure you regret being born on this world. Don't make yourself more useless than you already have."

   ★        

With a bit of difficulty, he managed to squeeze the damp cloth in his grip until it was dry. With a bloody, numb right hand, it was terrifyingly hard to use his strength as much as he wanted. The plastic bowl of water next to him turned red as he dipped his hand into the water. With a hiss, Damian pulled his hand out and wiped the wound clean of blood.

Kal had set this punishment as a warning to him. The burn wasn't too serious. It was a mild in his experience— only a second degree burn. It wasn't enough, he wasn't weak enough, for him to need being sent to the infirmary.

After he rubbed some antibiotic ointment on the wound, Damian leaned back against the wall and sighed loudly. This was the first time Kal had hurt him. Oh, he'd threatened before, but...

Damian was loyal , and he'd taken it for granted that Kal knew this fact. Normally, no matter how he managed to anger the man due to his behaviour, Kal would only shoot a glare at him. Nothing more.

Now, for the sake of a weak, worthless human child— who happened to be his father — Kal had attacked him. His wrists were bruised, his back suffering, a deep ache in his bones and spine and heart from the impact of wall and super strength. It was like the entire issue of 'favored child' replaying itself again.

Once he'd been replaced by Dick Grayson. There is no way Damian would let his own father replace him in his new home.

   ★          

He grabbed a handful of the mugger's hair, slamming the man face-first into the brick wall. The criminal screamed as he crumpled at Damian's feet. The small pleasures of bone crushing and the scream of pain wasn't enough to relieve Damian's anger. Without mercy, the teen grabbed the man up by his throat, in one hand. The criminal was starting to struggle again. His legs kicked out in panic. A hard fist punched into his jugular and the man fell limp. His breathing was laboured. Blood poured sluggishly from both nostrils.

It wasn't enough. Even if the burned wound from two hours ago was aching and bleeding, let it. Damian didn't care. His eyes were clouded, his emotions all he could see. He couldn't hear the pleas of the criminal.

He deserves this. For what he tried to do to an innocent old lady.

Just like Father. He deserves to die. He deserves to suffer for disowning me.

How dare he appear and ruin my perfect life now?

How dare he?

With a snarl of frustration, Damian punched one last time. The body lay limp on the ground. Damian wasn't sure if he had beaten the man to death or not. He didn't care. Kal hadn't set an idiotic rule of 'no killing' to him. Kal didn't mind him killing.  

For the greater good.  

He sensed the presence of someone approaching him. He would never forget the familiar, clanking sound of those heavy boots. He would never forget the familiar rhythm of those footsteps.

"What have you done?"

How long has it been since he heard that voice? Months? Or possibly years? He didn't remember. He didn't want to.

"Doing what you couldn't." Damian didn't bother to turn around.

He didn't want to see Batman's face. Looking at himself in the mirror every morning and seeing the spitting image of his father had been enough of a torture. He used to hate his mother's' eyes, staring coldly, always judging him from still reflections. Now, everyday he woke up hating having a face which held so much resemblance to his father. Every morning, he wished he could scratch off his face just to appear different than the father who didn't care for him. Who had abandoned him.

"This isn't right, Damian."

How many times had he heard this? The disappointment Father held towards him. Damian knew; if he turned around right now, he would be met with the gaze of disapproval, disgust and dissatisfaction from Father.

He didn't need this. Not when Father valued a dead corpse more than him.

"I don't need you to tell me what's right and what's not!" Whipping out his escrima sticks, he flung himself at his father. Batman instantly jumped away from the attack. Damian gave him no time to counter-attack as he drove at Batman with the desire to kill.

A gust of wind came from Damian's escrima sticks and he slammed them into Bruce's back like a sharp blade. Batman coughed out roughly as he stumbled. However, it took him only seconds to recover from the blow. He turned to glare at the younger.

Damian clicked his tongue angrily— the hit hadn't been enough to take down his father. In desperation, he aimed at the most fragile part of his father's body— the head.

Bruce moved before Damian could attack. He moved fluidly into a backwards somersault, came up too close. Inside Damian's reach, deflected furious blows with a dismissive glare. Batman stepped in, brushed the escrima sticks aside like twigs, and slammed Damian's face against the nearest wall.

"Enough is enough, Damian!" Batman growled out. He did not wish to fight his child. Even if he had disowned him, a part of Bruce— a large part, still cared for this boy. He was too young, and he was making a big mistake in his life. As much as Bruce wished he could convince his son to walk on the right road, he knew it was almost impossible now due to Kal's meddling and the boy's own stubbornness.

Why was Damian a split version of himself? Why must his son inherit all of his worst traits?

In the moment he was about to cuff Damian, he noticed the strong scent of blood among with the strange dampness of Damian's right glove.

"What is this?" He didn't bother to wait for the teen to reply. Instead, he held Damian's right wrist in a tight grip and pulled away his glove. When the bloody hand appeared, Batman's eyes widened.

"Let go!" Damian tried to pull his arm away. His lack of energy after having two fights in a row allowed him to appear more fragile than he'd ever wanted to in front of his father.

"Who did this to you?" Bruce demanded. His voice filled with anger. His eyes were wild. "Kal?"

"Why do you care?" Damian owed him no answers. His voice slowly grew shaky. "All along, you have only cared for Grayson! Grayson this, Grayson that . When have you ever looked at me as me? At least he is more of a father to me than you were!"

It was an ugly truth. Damian pushed Bruce away. He wanted to leave here. As soon as possible. Now.

He walked, almost ran away, vainly trying to pull the glove back over his shameful injury. He couldn't do this right now. Not when Bruce was showing concern, acting as if he cared. As if he hurt , as if he had ever showed hurt when Damian was hurt.

But he has... he did, didn't he? Damian ignored the small voice— it got easier with practice each day.

It was too much. His will was crumbling. He couldn't let Father see him broken and fragile.

This man was his enemy.

"Damian!" Bruce called out. The teen didn't answer. Bruce knew he was listening. "Damian, if it was ever too much to handle, you know you could always stop! There is still hope!"

"It's too late." His voice was breaking now, as he turned back to gaze at his father. "The day you lost Grayson was the same day you broke our bond, Father. You were always clouded by your own emotions. You never realize how hurtful your words are. Or how your actions could hurt me." He took a deep inhale, clearing his throat to make sure his voice was scraped of all emotion.

"I know, Batman. I wasn't the son you wanted. However, I am the son my mother wished for. And for that, I am proud."

To be continued.