#that he was a brave kid who managed to break the monster’s control on him multiple times on his own

[toobusybeingdelulu]

something something about billy teaching little kids how to swim, and being good at it (otherwise their parents would have not let him); something something about his tendency to keep throwing good advice at people even while being a dick about it (max and steve, for example) something something about him apparently having a natural predisposition for helping people out and-

[metalbvcky]

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key:  ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 |  Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic  - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

[lia-bones]

Stay with me forever

Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: After a full moon night, (Y/N) takes care of her friend and answers important questions.

Warning: fluff💕, Injuries, Self-doubt

(Misspelling, Grammatical errors, translation errors)

{please let me know if I have forgotten something.}

Words: 2305

Author note: Actually, I didn't want to upload anything else this week. But since today is the birthday of a good friend of mine and she wished that I would write this for her, I decided to publish it today. And since it's Valentine's Day today, too, it fits well.

(As always, I apologize for all misspellings, grumbling errors, and translation errors. English is not my main language)

I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

(not my GIF)

* * *

It was a full moon night. The wind drummed on the roof and the bright light of the moon shone into the little hut at the edge of the forest. Just a few more hours and the sun would take the moon out of its service.

It could seem romantic. The bright full moon, the twinkling stars and the calming rain.

But for (Y/N) (L/N) and her boyfriend, Remus Lupin, epidemic nights were far from romantic. Such nights were characterized by fear, worry, pain, injuries and tears.

But even on these nights it wasn't just the shadow side. There were also small sparks of light. Consists of caring, tenderness, encouragement, soothing words, love and hugs.

While (Y/N) stayed at home, cooked, put the first aid kit ready and kept looking out the window at the wods, Remus was out there.

Not quite like himself. In the body of a werewolf, without control, waiting for the morning to break. There are potions that would give him control over his wolf. But they cost a lot of money, money that they didn't have.

So it stayed like that.

(Y/N) would wait and prepare everything for his return.

Remus would go to the forest before sunset and only come back after sunrise. Sometimes more, sometimes less injured. Hardly any memories of what had happened that night.

As soon as he was back, (Y/N) was ready to help. Every time again.

The moon slowly started to sink from the sky so (Y/N) made the final preparations. Hot water in a bowl next to the bed, a cup of tea, a first aid kit and of course chocolate. Everything was ready for the return of her boyfriend. She grabbed the cozy blanket from the armchair and stood by the window next to the door so, that when she saw him coming, she could come towards him.

It didn't take long before she saw the long figure of her boyfriend staggering towards her hut. Dressed in sweatpants and an oversized pollver, hunched forward and one hand on his ribs. (Y/N) moved quickly out the door and down the path towards her him. When she got to ther, she put the blanket over his shoulders and hold him up, on his upper arms. She looked into his scarred face, a few fresh wounds had appeared, and carefully ran a finger over a place of uninjured skin. "Hey love, come on let's go inside. Let me take care of you." she whispered in a soft voice and gave him an encouraging smile. He just nodded slightly, so she put one of his arms over her shoulders to support him. He briefly made a hissing noise, but then clutched her cardigan with his hand.

"You okay, darling? Do I hurt you?" the much smaller woman asked concerned and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"No ... it's okay ... it's just my ribs." he explained through gritted teeth.

She changed the position of her arm around his upper body a little so as not to touch his ribs and with the other hand she grabbed the wrist of his arm over her shoulders so that it would not slip away on the way in.

As soon as they made it to their bedroom, Remus' girlfriend helped him sit down on the bed with his back against the headbord.

"So let's take that sweater off so I can take care of your scratches and ribs." instructed (Y/N) and grabbed the hem of his top.

Remus started laughing slightly, which soon turned into a cough and gave her a tired smile. "Admit it. You just want to see me half naked."

(Y/N) suppressed a laugh and bit her lip. But it didn't quite work out. The corners of her mouth curled up and she giggled muffled.

"I don't have to admit anything. We've been together for ten years. If I want to see you naked, I have plenty of other opportunities. So let's get started. You need to rest."

Her boyfriend gave her one of those gentle smiles that made her heart melt over and over again. He leaned forward, so that she could pull the sweater over his head and then let himself fall back against the headboard with a sigh.

"Well, it doesn't look as bad as last time."

noted (Y/N) with relief and stroked gently under a wound, along his collarbone.

Remus muffled to agree and closed his eyes.

(Y/N) immediately started her work, cleaning the wounds, a little diptam essenz and bandage. Fortunately, that full moon didn't seem too bad. A few small scratches on his face, a couple on his upper body, and one on his forearm. The worst seemed to be his ribs, of which, as (Y/N) found with a quick spell, two were broken.

(Y/N) took the vial of Skele-Grow and held it in front of Remus' face.

"Broken ribs. So, bottoms up."

He screwed up his face and turned his head to one side. "I don't want to drink that stuff. It tastes awful." he protested.

She shook her head in amusement, put a hand on his cheek and turned his face back to her. "You know, sometimes you'r like a little kid. You've taken this stuff so many times. This time you can do it too. Then there is tea and chocolate and you can sleep." he sighed in resignation and then nodded. "Brave wolfi" (Y/N) giggles and pulled the cork out of the vial. Remus rolled his eyes but opened his mouth as she held the glass roll to his lips. She poured the contents into his mouth and he swallowed with narrowed eyes.

"Disgusting." he brought out and ran a hand over his mouth.

"Here, eat your chocolate."

(Y/N) held a piece of dark chocolate in front of him. He willingly opened his mouth again and managed to smile at the same time. His girlfriend giggled and put the piece on his tongue and then kissed the corner of his mouth.

While Remus continued to eat his chocolate, (Y/N) stroke with one hand through his mousey brown hair in which the first gray strands were slowly recognizable.

Not due to his age but to the pain and stress he had to go through every month.

He had been through so much in his life. At school and in the years after that he had his three best friends who had accompanied him during the full moon. From the moment she found out about his lycanthropy , she lay awake those nights and waited for the sun to rise. As soon as the sun rose she was on her way through the castle to the hospital wing, where she would wait for the four Marauders to arrive. She took care of him or just kept him company and stroked his hair. Just like now.

Not quite like now. She reminded herself.

He lost his best friends four years ago. One, James, killed by Voldemort along with his wife, Lilli. Ther son, Harry, with his terrible aunt and uncle. The other, Peter, murdered in cold blood by the third, Sirius,who is now sitting in Azkaban forever, because he had betrayed them all and killed muggles.

Now it was just the two of them.

He alone in the forest on full moon nights.

She l alone in the little cottage , waiting for his return. Always hoping he wouldn't hurt himself too badly. Taking care of him and stroking his hair as soon as he was back.

And she would always wait. Because she loves him.

When his chocolate was empty, she kissed his forehead and smiled against his skin. "You should sleep now." she whispered in a soft voice.

"Lay down with me" he whispered back and stretched out in bed, his head buried in the pillow. "Of course, always." she said in a low voice and circled the bed. On the free side, she lay on her back and turned her head in his direction to look at him.

He, too, had turned his head in her direction and looked at her through tired eyes.

"Can I put my head on your chest, hear your heartbeat." he asked softly in a hoarse voice.

"Sure, you don't have to ask." she answered, moved closer and stretched out her arms to him. He rolled over his shoulder, so that he was now lying on his stomach. One leg and arm crossed her body and his head on her chest, right above the point where he could best hear her heartbeat.

It was quiet in the small bedroom. Only the breathing of the two and the wind in the trees outside could be heard. The sunlight that came through the window enveloped the room in golden light, so that dust particles could be seen dancing through the air.

(Y/N) continued to run one hand through his hair and the other over his forearm. He was breathing steadily with his eyes closed. She thought he had fallen asleep when a quiet whispered question came from him: "Why are you doing this? Why are you staying with me? I'm a god damn monster. You should be scared of me and run away.You deserve something so much better. I have no money. I'll never get a real job. I will never be able to buy you jewelry or go to expensive restaurants with you. You should be with someone who can offer you a better life. Who doesn't turn into a bloodthirsty beast once a month." She could hear the tears in his scratchy voice, noticed how his hand craned into the fabric of her T-shirt and he pressed closer to her. She ran one hand over his wet cheek and took a deep breath.

"Because, I love you, with every fiber of my being. Because, I feel lonely without you. Because, I like to have you around, feel safe and protected with you. Because, you make me infinitely happy and every time I see you I have the feeling that my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I don't care if you have money or not. I don't care if you have lycanthropy or not. I love you because you are you, Remus. I don't want jewelry or expensive food that doesn't even taste good. All I want is you. Just you, Remus Lupin, now and as long as my heart beats. I will always take care of you because you do the same for me. You are not a monster, you are my Remus. My lovable, clever, silly, strong, polite, shy, generous, Remus. I love you for all that you are. Please don't forget that. Always." she explained in a calm, low voice and finally kissed him on the head.

It was quiet for a moment. Her spoken words hung in the room. Time passed and she was starting to get nervous while waiting for his answer.

"Stay with me forever." he whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric of her T-shirt. "Stay with me forever. Marry me and stay forever. I love you more than anything else in the world. You are the only person I have left. You are already my family, my home. I am ready to give you everything I have in the hope that it will be enough for you. So please marry me and stay forever."

(Y/N) was amazed. She had dreamed of marrying him one day. They had already shared ten years of their life together and she was ready to spend all other years with him as well. She smiled from ear to ear and now tears were running down her cheeks too. " YES YES YES. Of course I will." she replied happily her voice mixed with a happy sob. Remus propped himself up and brought his face over hers. "Yes?" he asked again and she nodded vigorously and put her arms around his neck. He too smiles happily and pressed his lips to hers for a kiss full of love.

"Thx" he whispered against her lips, and continued kissing her with all the love he felt for her. After a few seconds, he pulled his head back a few inches to look her in the eye and admitted, "I don't have a ring."

She giggled slightly and put her hands around his face. "I don't need a ring. Just you."

Remus smiled down at her and kissed her whole face, lastly her lips, on which he got stuck.

They just kissed for a while, the taste of tears, chocolate and tea on their lips, surrounded by their love for one another.

After a while they parted the kiss. Remus put his head back on her chest one arm and one leg over her body and pulled her very tightly against him. "My future Mrs Lupin. I love you." he whispered to her with a tired voice. It was time to go to sleep. He still wasn't recovered from the night he'd been through. But that was okay with him. Now he was engaged to the woman who loved. It was worth the loss of some sleep for him.

"I love you too, my future husband." she whispered back and put both arms around him. One of her hands brushed his hair again. Not long afterwards they both fell asleep. Both with a satisfied smile on their lips, snuggled very close to each other.

Both ready for what the future may bring as long as they had each other.

* * *

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode. 

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished. 

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan. 

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably. 

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time.  WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive. 

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one.  As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.  

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple. 

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out. 

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover. 

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover.  Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly. 

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move. 

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm. 

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier. 

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.  

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.  

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..  

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.  

Dad To The  Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble. 

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.  

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.  

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible! 

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart

[autumnblogs]

Day 32: Through the Looking Glass

https://homestuck.com/story/4116

So right out of the gate, we learn a few things about the Scratched version of the universe, aside from the obvious fact that the new heroes are the previous guardians. Everyone is a little more mature, and identities are a little more fully-formed.

Jane’s name is already set in stone. Notably, the definition between the audience and Jane is also a little clearer here than usual - the Narration implies a distinction between us and Jane. Could be because we’re not controlling her yet - but as we get into Act 6, we will find a lot of cases where audience participation happens as part of the mechanic of narration, and this distinction will be called to a lot more.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/4117

So let’s unpack Jane’s interests and relation to pre-established parts of the Homestuck Universe, and see if we can’t start making guesses about Jane.

First thing’s first is that while we could read Jane’s affinity for these mustachio’d funnymen as being purely an attraction, she roleplays like John does - as a bit of a prankstress herself, and one who dons a fake mustache for one of her disguises, Jane roleplays as these men immediately suggesting to us that she looks up to them, and wants to be like them, rather than that she’s attracted to them.

(Though she certainly could be.)

Second thing is that Jane’s position as the Heirress parallels her not to John, but to Feferi. Like Feferi, Jane is a sweet girl who is the heir to a position of abominable power, and because she is beholden to the shape of that power, as long as she remains wedded to that shape, she will not only struggle to do anything productive with it, but in the course of the story, be subverted into a villain, at least for a little while, and it’s clear from the way that Crockertier Jane’s situation is communicated to us that she is an accomplice to her own brainwashing, and that the actions she takes in that form are meaningfully hers.

On another note, I think it’s interesting that on this side of the scratch, the Condesce has reimagined her empire as a megacorporation.

https://homestuck.com/story/4120

What do we learn about Jake right out of the gate? He likes movies - adventure movies. Jake, like Tavros, the other page, loves to bluster about subjects that he actually has relatively little affinity for - and in both cases, their lack of affinity can largely be described as performing their culture’s ideal of public personhood - warrior virtue. While Jake has all of the outward signifiers of masculinity, and is actually a pretty brave and technically skillful fighter by the standards of the real world, up until the Hopesplosion, he is outclassed by a lot of his friends, and ultimately, the cases where he most embodies warrior-manhood, Jake is being forced into it by someone who wants to take advantage of him.

We benefit from most of this knowledge with hindsight. It’s not actually there in this opening section, but the main thrust of Jake’s interests is his love of adventure and his love of wrestling, and I’m principally interested in Jake’s physicality in addressing his interests - he’s a very physical kid.

https://homestuck.com/story/4121

We’re hot off the heels of Terezi’s fake choice, and a lot of conversation about free will and fake choices in Act 5 - and here we’re presented with one almost immediately. We can pick either option, but the outcome will be the same whatever we do.

https://homestuck.com/story/4124

I’ve always thought the Condescension’s relationship with Jane is deeply fascinating. There is something about the prospect of cultivating an heiress, someone to take over her legacy, that brings out something tender and maternal in her, I think, even if it only manifests in a twisted way. She’s a bit of an enigma to me.

https://homestuck.com/story/4126

Well, Jane is certainly interested in Foxworthy, so I rescind my earlier comment.

We’ve barely been introduced to her and she pretty much immediately starts showing off her paternalistic disdain for rural and vulgar people through the narrative’s language, and her nostalgia for Problem Sleuth characterizes her enjoyment of its sequel.

Jane has an aristocratic mentality, and conservative leanings in the media she appreciates, and the way that she appreciates it. If Andrew’s commentary that he continued to examine the themes he started with Feferi in Jane, I think what we should take away is that Feferi’s concern for the lowly comes with a heaping helping of...

Wait for it.

Wait for it...

Condescension.

B)

https://homestuck.com/story/4127

Jane’s disdain for the vulgar - low culture, low classes - also shows itself pretty quickly. In stark contrast to the other two leaders - John and Karkat - Jane isn’t much of a movie watcher at all (Jake gets that attribute in his session) and her attitude toward’s Jake’s movies is one of snobbery. Both of the other two movie watchers have a playfully self-deprecating attitude toward their own bad tastes in movies, but they still enjoy those movies sincerely.

Her relationship of passive-aggressive one-upsmanship also distinctly recalls Rose’s relationship with her mother, suggesting that Jane shares some of the underlying pessimism and mild hostility that Rose struggles with.

Also, as a symbol Swanson is a representative of the sort of anti-government animus that characterizes the politics of Trans-Mississippi America outside of the heavily populated West Coast, where the wedding of big business and state planning have created a lot of disaffection toward the distant and disinterested corporate landlords and bureaucratic apparatuses that govern huge tracts of federal land and private property in the west. Pawnee Indiana may not actually be on the other side of the Mississippi from Washington, but having grown up in Montana for at least a part of my childhood, Swanson’s politics are immediately recognizable.

Unfortunately, this anti-state animus has manifested not in the form of a renewed commitment to emancipation, but to the uniquely American, get-off-my-lawn form of Right-Wing populism practiced by the short-lived Tea Party, and smug “It’s just basic economics” Reagan-worshipping conservatives.

What I’m trying to say is, Jane would probably be a Ben Shapiro or Steven Crowder fan in the modern day.

https://homestuck.com/story/4136

Jane’s skepticism prevents her from listening to her friends when they tell her about the extraordinary things that they do, but it’s also not exactly a kind of scientific skepticism, and more of a dogmatic realism - she has a narrow vision of what the world is like, and is dismissive of ideas that are outside of her bubble.

Quick Note that while Jake makes only an off-handed remark about it here, he is sensitive to the hostile, toxic relationship between the AR and Dirk in a way that neither of the girls really is, and while that may seem uncharacteristically emotionally intelligent of Jake, I think he’s a lot more aware of his surroundings than he lets on.

https://homestuck.com/story/4142

Now as long as we’re talking about Right Wing Populism and comparing Jane to John there is an extremely potent assertion.

The USPS, and the idea of privatizing it, is as much a symbol of the war of corporatists and authoritarians against social democracy as anything is, and because of the way John is associated with Mail in general as a Hero of Breath, Jane is almost immediately setting herself up as a foil to John.

https://homestuck.com/story/4144

Calliope is so cheery that it’s easy to take everything she says in stride, and yet, with all the horrors Sburb has to offer, in terms of the way it destroys planets, and traumatizes its players, her optimism toward the game is at least disquieting.

Sure, the Null Session isn’t going to destroy the kids’ session, but her language is contrasted against both Kanaya’s and Karkat’s when they berated Aradia and Jade respectively. Both Karkat and Kanaya rue the effects of the narrative on their lives, but Calliope is a superfan.

https://homestuck.com/story/4156

I know I’m spending a lot of time ragging on her here, but like, as long as I am; Jane is sure openly hostile to her best friend, in a way that comes as kind of surprising even given the precedent that we have to work with.

https://homestuck.com/story/4160

Poirot is from Belgium.

I wonder if Andrew or Jane is the one committing that error?

https://homestuck.com/story/4168

Jake is full of little contradictions like this. Likes Adventure, terrified of monsters. Not even ambivalent about them, certainly not excited by them. It’s like the opposite of how little kids are usually super into Dinosaurs.

https://homestuck.com/story/4171

So what is the deal with Jake and his fascination with Blue Women? Aside from the metaphysical connection with Vriska and Aranea (and to a lesser extent, Jake), like... what’s the meaning of it?

I think a possible answer to the question lies in the process of the initial portraits becoming blue - leaving them out in the sun to fade - and the relationship between that, and the way in which he likes mummies and suits of armor, and so on and so forth - and even his stuffed trophies.

Maybe this suggests that Jake is, on principle, far more comfortable with the idea of a thing, than with the thing itself. Jake’s Blue Women are comfortably static. They have ceased to change a long time ago, and now exist, preserved in perpetuity, without the need to worry about adapting to suit them.

https://homestuck.com/story/4175

While a lot of Jake’s guesses are incorrect, he’s still clearly spending a lot of time pondering over the mysterious time shenanigans - he just hasn’t quite put it all together.

https://homestuck.com/story/4177

The same way that Dirk’s fastidious organization is equated to his complicated and demanding modus, and the way that John being a big impulsive himbo is equated with his inability to manage his fetch modus, constantly getting distracted from his goal by the card on the surface, Jake’s Modus has an enormous capacity, but most of it is preoccupied inefficiently.

https://homestuck.com/story/4184

The Autoresponder continues the conversation that Andrew has with the audience about the distribution of the self - Dirk does this more generally, but the particular thread the AR tugs on is the question of where a person’s self really stops - just as the question lingers in the air because of John’s disposition toward Davesprite, the question of whether the AR is really a separate person from Dirk, or a part of him, is posed continuously just by the fact that it exists.

https://homestuck.com/story/4192

To be fair to Dirk, who I will have a lot of kind-of-sympathetic-antipathy for, I had forgotten that it is, in fact, the Autoresponder who sets up this particular challenge for Dirk.

The parallels between Dirk and English are nevertheless being set up through this conversation nevertheless - by sending him the parts and getting him to assemble the robot, Dirk makes Jake complicit in his own humiliation, even as he attempts to build Jake up into an ideal partner.

https://homestuck.com/story/4196

Already we’re seeing indications that this segment of Homestuck will deal with different themes of growing up than the first half. Which is already kind of obvious, but we’ve moved decisively out of Part 1: Problems, and into Part 2: Feelings. The second half has moved out of the territory of other humans and their emotional situations as somewhat idealized problems (somewhat) and into this situation where everyone is a moving body, complicated and the characters are each others’ biggest obstacles, and their own biggest obstacles. That’s a bit of a reductive way of describing it, but I think it rings true.

https://homestuck.com/story/4256

While I am willing to concede that Dirk is not literally responsible for siccing the Brobot on Jake today, he more or less assents to AR’s sexual harassment and physical abuse of Jake.

In addition to his vicarious physical abuse, Dirk’s persona as the Prince of Heart calls him to suppress the uniqueness of the people who are around him, moulding them like clay into shapes that better resemble him. Jake and Jane need to be more like each other in his eyes - which is to say, they both need to be more like Dirk.

We also get some insight into Dirk’s sense of humor here - it’s not just about the irony. I think there is an extent to which at the base of the thing, Dirk’s sense of humor is about simultaneously denying and affirming a thing’s meaning - making fun of it while cherishing it. Having a thing be incredibly silly - while also being incredibly serious business. He cherishes the absurd.

I wonder if he’d like Kojima’s stuff.

https://homestuck.com/story/4257

The way that Dirk identifies with logic and reason recalls the sort of “enlightened by my own intelligence” New Atheist jerks who were known to prowl the internet in the early half of the decade, and to some extent, still do. Like Libertarians, these folks have often in the present day gotten caught up in Right Wing Populism. Maybe it’s something about the way that Right Wing movements increasingly identify as a part of counter-culture even though they advocate reactionary policies.

https://homestuck.com/story/4273

This is extremely silly, but Jake is in mortal peril all the time, and I expect even at the best of times he might be uncomfortable being touched.

https://homestuck.com/story/4284

Here we shall pause.

Sorry for the late post. Early work was quite busy, and once the rush was over, it was already quite late.

So the first Act of Act 6 has been very informative! Compared to the first Act of Homestuck, we’ve been introduced already to all our Dramatis Personae!

Tune back in tomorrow to here Cam Say,

Some variation on Alive and Not Alone.

[nanayoungishere]

History Repeats In Mysterious Ways AU

The most self indulgent AU I can think of. 

Basically it’s a universe where Izuku has a twin (who eventually becomes evil but more on that later) who ends up getting One For All. Izuku, meanwhile, accidentally stumbles upon a half-dead All For One in some filthy alleyway and ends up getting All For One’s Quirk foisted upon him before the evil bastard dies. 

You see in this AU, the final battle between All Might and All For One happens super early. As in, several months before the series originally starts. And since it happens so early, All Might still has his quirk and was able to fare much better in the final battle. 

Moreover without the added stress of trying to rescue a kidnapping victim, the rest of the heroes were able to take care of All For One’s forces much better than they did in canon. All For One’s organization gets dismantled, the Nomus are gotten rid of, the Doctor is arrested and his research is destroyed in the struggle, Kurogiri disappears to parts unknown, and Tomura dies in the crossfire. 

Basically All For One is not having a good time in this AU. Everything he worked for, all the preparations he made, were basically made pointless. He has no legacy, no successor, nothing left. And while he was able to drag himself away before getting brutally killed by All Might, he knew he didn’t have much time left. He was fucked and he knew it. 

He only had one thing left in him: the ability to pass his quirk on to someone else. It was something he and the Doctor had been working on for some time now, a way for Tomura to finally succeed him as the Symbol of Fear. Because of All Might’s constant and unrelenting pressure on him, All For One hadn’t gotten around to switching his quirk out for a copy. He made enough adjustments so that he could switch it out, but didn’t get the chance to before All Might busted in and started kicking his ass. 

So when Izuku happens to stumble upon him while he’s bleeding out in an alleyway, he takes the chance to foist his quirk on him as a last ditch effort to keep his legacy alive. After all, all quirks have an imprint of the user hidden within, and All For One’s imprint on his quirk is basically a second him. He figures that, given enough time, his imprint will be able to take over Izuku’s body, giving him a second chance at life and revenge. 

So that’s how Izuku ends up with an absurd quirk, along with an evil voice in his head that tries to take over his body/tempt him into villainy. He also has to deal with all the other voices of the many, many quirks All For One stole over the years, as well as all their conflicting memories and feelings. 

A huge portion of the story is just Izuku struggling to stay sane and in control even as All For One tries to mindfuck him into surrendering his body or becoming evil. There’s also the fact that a lot of All For One’s quirks are too much for his teenage body to handle, so he ends up having to keep himself from ripping his body apart like in canon. There’s also all the suspicion from everyone else, All For One’s old minions showing up and pledging their allegiance to Izuku, villainous rivals challenging Izuku for territory, and much, much more. 

Basically, things aren’t going well for Izuku in this AU. And that’s not even going into his (future evil) twin. 

Izuku’s twin (whom I will be calling Zukin for now) is considered to be much better than Izuku in the eyes of others. He has a telekinetic quirk that allows him to control, manipulate, and enhance fire/heat so long as he has a prior heat/fire source. He’s very outgoing and overtly friendly to others. He’s selfless and makes a point to reiterate his love for heroes and how he wants to be one. He constantly looks out for his quirkless brother, protecting him against bullies and thugs. He’s considered by many to be Bakugou’s rival of sorts, even by the kid himself. He’s athletic, strong, skilled -- pretty much perfect in the eyes of others.

He does, however, have one main flaw: his need for external validation. 

See, a large part of the reason why Zukin wants to be a hero is because he wants to be validated by others. It’s something he’s always felt, ever since he was young: a need for positive attention. He wants it all, all the praise and respect and love from the people around him. It’s not enough that a few people like him; he wants everyone to like him. He has a need for it, a craving that won’t go away. And since everyone treats heroes like living gods/celebrities, he quickly decided that he needed to be one too. 

Which in of itself isn’t too bad. Craving attention from others is something everyone feels, and wanting to go into heroism for your own personal goals isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If anything, it’s normal. 

But Zukin often allows his need for validation to get in the way of doing what’s right. Which is how he managed to get One For All. 

In canon, Izuku managed to get One For All by risking his life to save Bakugou from the Sludge Villain even after All Might himself told him he couldn’t be a hero. In this AU the exact same thing happens -- only Izuku gets mistaken for his brother and Zukin is the one who gets attacked. 

Basically, when Izuku latches onto All Might and asks if someone quirkless can be a hero, he uses very vague terminology and wording that implies that he’s talking about someone else. Part of the reason why is nervousness -- he’s talking to his idol after all and the stress of almost dying ends up making his kinda delirious. 

So All Might gives him the no and Izuku walks off. The Sludge Villain gets away and ends up attacking Zukin while he’s walking home with a friend of his. Zukin, shocked by the sudden arrival of a villain, panics and ends up pushing said friend into the Sludge Villain’s clutches and makes a break for it. The villain snatches him anyway and in his blind panic, he uses his quirk to no avail. It just makes everything worse, just like it did with Bakugou in canon. 

Izuku arrives just as the Sludge Villain is about to suffocate Zukin and his friend. He jumps in, tells his brother to snap out of it, and manages to free the friend just as a crowd and the heroes arrive. 

So the thing about Izuku and Zukin is that they look exactly alike, down to the freckles. Sure Zukin is a bit more buff than Izuku, but you wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, especially in their school uniforms. So when the heroes arrive and they see one bother bravely saving the other and their friend -- and when they later find out that one of the brothers is quirkless -- they immediately believe that the one with the heroic/powerful quirk was the one who saved the day. 

And Zukin goes along with it. Partly because of the whole external validation things, but mostly because of shame. Shame that he panicked, shame that he pushed a friend towards a villain to escape, shame for his own cowardice. He knows he didn’t act like a hero in that moment, that he acted like a selfish coward and he hates himself for it. And the thought of other people hating him too -- the thought of everyone whispering about how much of a coward he is -- makes him panic. So he takes the credit for the save before he can really think about it. 

And because both Izuku and Zukin’s friend sustained a good amount of brain damage during the struggle, they can’t exactly remember what happened during the fight or even what happened that day. So when Zukin says he saved them, they believe him. 

So everyone heads off to the hospital and that’s when All Might meets up with Zukin. The kid’s awestruck but more than a little confused when All Might makes a casual mention to his and Izuku’s conversation. He quickly realizes that Izuku and All Might must have met before though and -- not wanted to out himself as a coward in front of his idol -- acts as though he was the one he talked to. He talks about his brother, how he’s quirkless, and and says that he just wanted to see if it was possible for him. 

All Might smiles, makes a big speech about how he’ll make a good hero one day before offering to train him. And Zukin, struck by hero worship and a rising sense of glee, immediately agrees. 

He feels bad about it later, when he tells Izuku and realizes that he essentially stole All Might’s training from him. He justifies it by saying that it’s for the best; Izuku is quirkless after all and that sorta training would be wasted on him. Zukin is the one with the best chance of going to US and being a hero. Izuku just needs to face facts: quirkless people can’t be heroes. The sooner he realizes this, the better. 

So Zukin trains with All Might and, eventually, gets offered One For All. Zukin immediately thinks of Izuku and how by taking credit for his actions, he essentially stole a quirk from his own brother. Izuku’s one chance of getting a quirk and Zukin stole it. 

It makes him feel so, so guilty. But not guilty enough to turn down All Might’s offer and admit the truth. Because the thought of his idol realizing how he lied to him -- the looks he’ll probably give him -- makes him swallow back his words. 

He takes One For All and vows to make it up to his brother later, ignoring all the guilt and the voice in the back of his head that calls him a liar. 

So a huge part of Zukin’s story is his decent into selfishness and cowardice, how the residue guilt and paranoia ends up turning him into a monster. Because taking Izuku’s spot as the rightful user of One For All isn’t the only shitty thing he does. Over and over again he does shitty things in order to maintain his image as the perfect hero, to live up to the legacy All Might has given him. Zukin acts like he can handle the pressure, the responsibility, but it becomes increasingly clear that he can’t. And eventually, it turns him into a villain. 

So that’s the main idea of this AU:

One brother given one of the most heroic quirks in existence, surrounded on all sides by heroes and heroic personalities, mentored by one of the greatest heroes in history, and who still ends up becoming a villain due to their own choices. 

Anther brother, spat on by society and the world at large, forced to use a villainous quirk that he never wanted, with an ancient villain whispering within his mind, surrounded by all sides by villains and villainy, and who ends up becoming a great hero despite it all. 

A heroic All For One vs a villainous One For All. The irony of it is delicious. 

[jordanrosenburg]

Big Mouth Season 3 - Very Much Still Important

Review of Season 2 and 1 , major spoilers ahead

Alright, I finished watching season 3 the other day, and I have to say bravo to the writers, because they always manage to leave us wanting more. What truly awaits these pre-teens this summer? I’m happy that they’re done with seventh grade, but will the next season be about summer vacation, or will we get to see them go right into eighth grade? There’s been news of a spin off about the world the hormone monsters live in, will that be what holds us over until season 4?

Right from the first episode, I knew it was going to be a good season. The show continues to have a good balance between what is happening to both girls and boys at this age. I remember being in the seventh grade, and second guessing every single fashion choice I made. I didn’t really have a figure until ninth grade, but there were other girls that were already blossoming, and I felt self-conscious. Was I pretty enough? Am I frumpy? Is my hair too frizzy?

This season did another great job of showing not only what boys are going through at this age, but also the girls. Because the boys can’t control themselves, and because no one tells them to, the girls are forced into an absurd dress code by this scum bag:

I think we have all had a Mr. Lizer in our lives at some point. The guy who comes off as nice and caring is really just misogynistic and creepy. He mutters under his breath about he hates the girls, especially Jessi. Not to mention that he made Lola think the foot rub was all on her. At 13 of course she would think, how would she know any better? What he did was disgusting and wrong, and I’m glad he got fired. 

I’m proud of the girls for taking their bodies back. It was brave of them to take a stand and show that the dress code was stupid. They may not have done it in the best way, but they still proved a point. 

Nick and Andrew are a topic I’d like to discuss. We’ve know since season 1 that these boys have been best friends for a long time. We also know that they’ve been growing apart since season 1. Andrew was the first to go through the hormonal change, and Nick was left to catch up. In season 2 Nick went through three different hormone monsters while trying to figure things out with a girl he liked. Andrew stayed hung up on Missy, and somehow got involved with Lola, which just messed up everything else for him. He slowly started to realize that he was becoming a lot like his father. This season Nick got obsessed with his phone, and even though Andrew made many attempts to talk and hang out, he realized that Nick really is just a douchebag. They had their seasonal fight, and instead of becoming friends again, Andrew expressed how he really felt. Nick stopped being there for him. I don’t think Andrew is in the right, but he did recognize that their friendship had become toxic, and enough was enough. 

The only time Nick was there for Andrew this season was when Andrew started to lust after his cousin. I’ll say it - that shit was messed up. I was grossed out that they went there, but this could be some real shit that boys go through, idk. And Nick kind of encouraged it and didn’t at the same time. The whole thing was weird. 

Nick was wrestling with the fact that Jay was basically living in his house. That’s a major change to go through. He also betrayed Andrew by kissing Missy, and then lying about it. Andrew doesn’t own Missy, and she can do whatever she wants, but neither one of them thought about how the kiss would hurt the people around them. And then when Nick realized he didn’t like her like, he just cast her aside. 

Missy went through a lot this season too. She finally got a hormone monstress.

Side note, did anyone else feel sad that Connie didn’t say bubble bath once this season? No one else? Okay, moving on. This new monstress pushes Missy out of her comfort zone. Missy is able to keep some of her boundaries, but something about acting in that play opened something up for her. I loved when her and Jay wrote the fan fiction together. I can’t remember when I first started reading fic, may have been in seventh or eighth grade, and I always thought it was weird thing for me to like. Then I had mentioned it to a friend in ninth grade, and she’s still my best friend ten years later! I was happy to see that Jay didn’t make Missy feel weird or ashamed. I wished we could’ve seen more of this new friendship. AND Missy was the one to get the uniforms disbanded by wearing her same old clothes. I hope she’s able to find a balance with her newfound self. 

And poor Jay, he is one of the funniest characters on this show. You never know what he’s going to say, but it’s usually obscene. I lost it when he said something like, “my balls are going to shit”. 

We get another close look at Jay’s home life. His family leaves him at home for spring break, and he tries to not let it bother him. He embraces Nick’s family, and becomes a better person by living with them. They discover that he has ADHD and just needed aderol. Unfortunately, Jay sells his medication to his friends, which makes him go back to the way he was. TAKE YOUR MEDS MY FRIENDS! Jay eventually goes back home, and shows what he can add to his family, and they finally accept him. Jay too also comes to terms with his sexuality, and discloses to everyone that he’s bisexual, and he’s okay with it. But no one takes him seriously. He has a heart to heart with the new girl Ali, who told everyone she was pansexual. I know Andrew Goldberg has apologized with how he went about this, but I’m just gonna say that Ali came on a little too strong. All sexualities and gender are valid, periodt. 

Jay also called out his friends for fetishizing the fact that it’s “hot” that Ali likes everyone, but it’s not as cool when he comes out as bisexual. He felt hurt and unvalidated. We see you Jay! 

Now it’s time for our girl Jessi. 

This girl CANNOT catch a fucking break. I was happy to see her figure her body out. That can be straight up awkward, and it can make you want to give up. I love how they showed it with a water rapid, good use of metaphor. And she has been such a good friend to Matthew, covering for him with Adrian. But who is there for Jessi? At one point it was her, Andrew, and Nick, and one of them said, “At least we have each other. Virgins til college”. At that age I can see how that might be a bad thing, but I know a lot of people who were virgins in college. They didn’t graduate that way, but they came in that way. That was the most I saw of the three of them really interact this season. It’s crazy that these last three seasons are all things that happened over the course of a school year. 

I need space to say, I am fucking done with Jessi’s mom. Jessi has been more than gracious with letting her mom become who she is. Shannon should be able to explore, and it’s okay that she got divorced, but she has not gone about anything in a good way, and now she’s just starting to be selfish. When Jessi hears her mother orgasm, is it hilarious for us as the audience, of course, but as a 13 year old girl, I would be so mad and mortified. Not only does Jessi have to deal with Shannon and Cantor Dina breaking up, but her dad has begun to see someone new, and now her mom wants to fucking move?! I would have been so pissed off. Again, Shannon should be able to live her life, but she has a young daughter. Couldn’t she wait to go to the city until Jessi is at least in high school? College? Why not let Greg move back in to live in the house with Jessi? 

Jessi comes to terms with it at the end of the season, and I think that’s really big of her. I’ll be sad if she ends up getting uprooted. That damn depression kitty needs to leave her alone too. Not one of her friends bothered to check on her about it either, and Nick and Andrew knew she was depressed! That shit doesn’t just go away. 

THE FAB FIVE

I was living, henny! I didn’t know which episode they would be in, but this was just amazing. I am so glad they all made voice cameos for this. JVN stole the show of course, and it was so funny to hear they all swear. When Bobby went off about how little the other guys do while he did a whole “fucking” room renovation??? HE WAS RIGHT AND HE SAID IT! And the bird noises Antoni made??? Incredible. Would have loved to see him shrieking into the microphone. I do think the funniest line was when JVN said, “the dumb ones pound the hardest, henny”. I fucking died. They really lightened the mood, and what a great redemption for coach Steve! I am so glad he got his job back. 

There are many other things to get into with this season, but what I’d like to end on is that the kids really grew up. People don’t stay friends forever. I had friends in middle school that I did not stay friends with in high school. Even high school I didn’t keep the same friends. Obviously we want to see these kids make things work, but I still think it was very grown up of Andrew to tell Nick he forgave him but didn’t want to be friends anymore. I think when we’re kids we stay friends with people, or keep ourselves in certain situations because we want to be around cool people. I’m very curious to see where this show takes us in season 4. They all went through a lot, and 7th grade really is the most awkward year of them all. So who knows, maybe 8th grade will be better. They’ll have had a whole year of new hormones under their belts. What do y’all think is in store for our friends next? 

[wat-the-cur]

The awesome monster bashers for the break down?

Hold onto the rail, buddy, here comes the wave!

Edgar Frog

How do I feel about this character: It should be noted that some of the things I say here, also apply to Alan. These two are like mash and gravy, they go together. So, I got into the Frog brothers, when I watched TLB at quite a troublesome time. I had just watched “Stand By Me” for the first time in years and really enjoyed it, so when I found out the actor who played my favourite character in that film (Feldman) was in TLB, I really wanted to watch it, again. I took immense joy in watching the Frog brothers and I felt immediately inspired by them. Most people who love TLB find the can relate most to the vampires. I fell on the other side of the fence and found I related more to the hunters. 

I was not a life long home-ed kid, but I was home educated for a number of years. These two really brought back memories of living alone inside my own head and meeting other odd little outsiders at meet-ups. I love how they use their favourite media and characters for confidence, not caring what anybody else thinks about them for it. I love their clumsiness and their social awkwardness. Most of all I love that they have that idealism and self-confidence that comes with being young. They are completely certain of what they think is right. In spite of their size, they went into that cave, assured that they could take on four grown men with inhuman strength. Even after they saw Max shove Michael aside, they still tried to stop him without hesitation. Their upbringing seems to have forced them to grow up early in some ways, but in others they have maintained an innocence that it honestly quite lovely. They are what made me take an interest in the role of kids and young adults in horror, as the first to see the evil and the ones to put up the best fight against it. 

As for Edgar himself, if I had to choose between them (which I don’t like doing), I would have to say that he is my favourite. He is obviously quite an awkward sort of kid, but he is not afraid to express himself, or speak his mind. I love the hints of protectiveness we see from him, when he’s holding Sam steady in the caves, or hugging Alan close to him, or standing by Lucy with a raised stake. He really seems like the type who would march into hell armed with a spork, to save his loved ones. It goes without saying that I adore his style. The fluffy hair, the bandanas, the camo. Fantastic! I also thought that his wearing a choker for most of the film was quite unexpected and cute. His outfits seem to mirror his mother’s a few times, which is funny and sweet. 

All of the people I ship romantically with this character: I’m going to be honest, I don’t really ship him with anybody. I will happily read a Sam/Edgar fic, so long as it’s smut free. I have read some super sweet ones. I’ve read some cute Edgar/Zoe ones, too, but I would probably appreciate them more, if I had actually watched the sequels. 

My favourite non-romantic OTP for this character: I tend to think that Edgar sees Alan as his other half (no, not in an incestuous way). A bit like how characters like Spock and Bones act as the two halves of Kirk, I think that Edgar and Alan are two halves of a whole, too. They are not twins, but I believe they are as close as. They likely lived in their own little world for years, before Sam came along. I also really like the friendship between Edgar and Sam, they are just best friends. He would die for that rainbow child. I also think he would be good friends with Lucy and maybe Star. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: Hm, only two that I can think of right now. First of all, he is not controlling. I see so many fan fictions that portray him as a control freak, who doesn’t consider anyone else’s feelings, including Alan’s and I hate it. He is a natural leader and he is very protective, but he never tries to control anyone else’s life, least if all Alan’s. The other thing is that I headcanon him as coming out as asexual, later in life. This is only unpopular, because I have never seen him interpreted as asexual anywhere else. 

One thing that I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: This sort of goes for both of them, but I would be curious to see what their home life is like. How they interact with their parents, what their room looks like, what their other hobbies are, that type of thing.

I like the concept of Edgar being ordained, that exists in the sequels, so I sort of wish there was a little bit about his faith and how it affects his every day life. 

Alan Frog

How I feel about this character: As I said, a lot of this was covered in the section that applied to both of them. Although I gravitate more towards Edgar, I think it is because he is who I wish I was, rather that who I actually am. I can relate to Alan a lot more than Edgar. I love how spaced out he is a lot of the time and how much he stares at the people around him. I feel like he is daydreaming all the time, which is something I do a lot. He seems to have more of a sense of humour than Edgar, and he seems a lot more boyish and cheerful which is really sweet. He is one of those people who has you on edge at first, but you’d be glad you got to know him, later. Although they both seem to be running on scripts, imitating TV/film characters, Alan seems to be trying to give the impression of being a cool character. Of course, we realise later that he is not cool at all, he is actually super goofy and I love him for it. Again, great fashion sense. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I do ship him with Sam. They are both huge nerds, who make terrible decisions, but they balance each other out really well. They have massive “Hey, that’s my boyfriend, you numpty!” vibes. 

My favourite non-romantic OTP for this character: Edgar, as explained previously. I also think he would forge a strong friendship with Laddie, too. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: I see him as the eldest Frog brother, rather than the youngest. He is sometimes interpreted as being quite a depressive character, which is valid, but I see him as just being more introverted. I think he is a generally happier lad than Edgar. 

One thing that I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: Okay, I am not 100% against the idea of Alan being turned as an adult, but I haaate that the sequels handled it by having them just split up, rather than stick together. I would have loved to have seen a sequel where the Frogs are still Monster bashers, but they have to deal with Alan’s vampirism. I think it would have made for some great character development, but it also could have been pretty funny. 

Sam Emerson

How I feel about this character: I do not talk about this lad, nearly enough. He is such a cool kid, but also a realistic one. I love that he is more open about his fear of the situation than the Frogs, but he was still fantastically brave. It is brilliant and hilarious that he was actually more use than Michael, despite being so much younger. He was the one who saw that Michael was becoming a vampire, he was the one who called in reinforcements, he was the one who worked out why Max could have been the head vampire, he drove a car full of sleepy vampires back to his house from the caves, he was prepared to fight Max to save his mother knowing it was hopeless and he actually managed to kill Dwayne all on his own without the aid of the Frogs, Michael, Nanook, or sleep. This boy is golden! I love his sharp wit and his no nonsense attitude, but also his fiercely loving nature. I also like how open he is about expressing himself. Even as the Frogs scrutinised his clothes, he was absolutely confident that he looked cool and I admire that. Despite his more mature, he is still very child-like, innocent and bouncy. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Alan, as stated before. I also like the idea that he had bit of a crush on Edgar for a few months early in their relationship, but it faded out and they just became best friends. 

My favourite non-romantic OTP for this character: My favourite relationships of his are with Nanook, Michael and Edgar. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: This is a bit of an odd one, I guess. I tend to imagine him as being quite chubby as an adult. This is for two reasons. For one, I got super annoyed when reading the downright nasty things said about Haim, after he put on weight. I am not in the habit of getting angry on the behalf of other people, especially as I was not sure of the circumstances that lead to his weight gain, or how he, himself felt about it.  That said, I hate this culture of picking apart celebrities, simply because they age and change like everyone else. The other reason is that I, myself am a comfort eater. This is something that I ended up headcanoning both Sam and Alan being. While the habit is not at all healthy one, it is nice to have characters you can relate to in this way. It gives motivation to try and break the habit. I think that Sam would eat more comfort food, to cope with the stress of dealing with monsters as an adult. I don’t mean for this to be dark, or upsetting at all, but I thought you might be interested to hear it. 

One thing that I wish would happen/had happen with this character in canon: I would love to have seen Vamp Sam team up with Frogs, to reform the trio. I think he would have made an absolutely iconic vampire. 

[tigerkirby215]

5e Nunu and Willump, the Boy and his Yeti build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

You've got a friend in me; you've got a friend in me!

When the road looks rough ahead and you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed... You just remember what your old pal said:

Boy, you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me!

GOALS

Every adventure is better with a friend! - Nunu is as much a boy as he is the friend of the Yeti.

It's a sword called Svellsongur! - The heart of a child can save the Frejlord, and in his heart is a song.

Gigantulossal snowball! - Ice can be nice, and it’s all in good fun to throw snowballs around!

RACE

Nunu’s a human... but he’s also a small child so we can instead make him a Halfling! As a Halfling your Dexterity score increases by 2. You have Halfling Nimbleness to move through the space of a creature that is bigger than you, and are Brave for advantage against being frightened. But most importantly you are Lucky: if you roll a 1 on a d20 you can reroll the dice! Consider it the yeti magic protecting your childlike innocence.

For subrace Lightfoot Halflings get a +1 increase to Charisma, and they are Naturally Stealthy and able to hide behind creatures that are one size larger than them. Want to play hide-and-seek with Willump? Hide behind him! He’ll never see you!

If you want a bit more magic in your life Lotusden Halflings from Wildemount get some innate (Wisdom-based) spellcasting. Most of it is nature based which isn’t too in-flavor for Nunu, but it’s fun!

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You managed to tame the fearsome yeti with nothing but your young innocence!

14; CONSTITUTION - More of Willump’s Constitution than your own, but the two of you share a health bar after all.

13; WISDOM - Nunu learnt many a lesson about the Frejlord from his mother, and always knows deep down how people feel.

12; DEXTERITY - Along with our racial improvement this is more than enough DEX; you’ll be riding Willump anyways, and he’s kinda bulky.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re a kid with child-like naivety, even with your big best friend helping you.

8; STRENGTH - It’s on Willump to do the heavy lifting; not you.

BACKGROUND

Nunu travels around the Frejlord, helping people out and fighting monsters. That’s a Folk Hero if I’ve ever seen one! As a Folk Hero you have Animal Handling proficiency to help Willump, and he has Survival proficiency to help you! You also get proficiency with Land vehicles as well as a tool of your choice. (Any tool will do but maybe keep away from the Brewer’s Supplies? You’re underage!)

Your feature Rustic Hospitality is there for people to help a boy and his yeti. Commoners will always be willing to help you, as long as you aren’t mean and no one mean’s looking for you.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARD 1

Of course you’re a Bard! As a Bard you get proficiency with 3 musical instruments, as well as any three skills! A Flute is MANDATORY as Nunu, and I’d suggest the other two wind instruments (Pan Flute / Shawm) as well, but of course pick whatever instrument your mother would teach you. As for skills Persuasion comes naturally to a kind-hearted boy, and your mom taught your plenty of History. You can pick whatever you think will be useful for your third skill but I opted for some Arcana knowledge thanks to Willump.

The main feature of a Bard is Bardic Inspiration. If your friends need a little help you can encourage them with a song on your flute to give them a d6 to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw. You can inspire people a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier, and for now your inspiration comes back on a long rest.

But of course the other important part of being a Bard is spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list: while it isn’t cold damage icy words from Vicious Mockery will let your enemies know that you’re here to defeat them with your big best friend! For some more fun magic Prestigitation will let you do all sorts of fun stuff! Fireworks! Cool pictures! Fire-wait fire? Regardless read the spell over to see all its effects.

For your leveled spells Animal Friendship is good to stop the big bad wolves from harming the townsfolk. Getting Willump to Detect Magic would be helpful, and while healing isn’t something you can normally do everyone appreciates a Healing Word! And for your final spell why not have a good laugh? Tasha’s Hideous Laughter forces an enemy to fall over laughing! All in good fun!

LEVEL 2 - BARD 2

Level 2 Bards get Jack of All Trades, letting you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill check you aren’t proficient in. You’re just a kid, so why not try EVERYTHING?

You also get Song of Rest. When taking a short rest you can play the flute to let anyone who’s recovering health with hit die recover an additional d6 of health. Nothing like stories by the fire.

You also get another spell at this level and there’s nothing like a bit of Heroism to keep fighting until the job’s done!

LEVEL 3 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two skills: Animal Handling will be the best to take care of Willump, and Persuasion will be the best way to unite the Frejlord!

You can also choose your Bard College at third level. Ugh; school? Regardless the College of Valor for a warrior who they sing songs about! As a Valor Bard you get proficiency with martial weapons, shields, and medium armor; that’s why I told you to keep your DEX at 14! Grab medium armor and a shield to keep yourself safe while Willump fights! You also get Combat Inspiration, letting your allies to add your Bardic Inspiration to their AC or their damage die with their weapons, which were basically the only two things you couldn’t add inspiration to before.

You can also now learn second level spells: freeze an enemy over with Hold Person to let your allies pelt ‘em with snowballs! ...Arrows work too...

LEVEL 4 - BARD 4

At fourth level you get an Ability Score Increase: naturally you should increase your Charisma for better Bard stuff! You could also learn another spell but for now I’m going to hold out until...

LEVEL 5 - BARD 5

At 5th level your Bardic Inspiration increases to a d8, which is great because you also get Font of Inspiration to get your inspiration dice back on a short rest!

And we’ve got a lotta magic to learn: one cantrip and two spells. For your cantrip have Willump make some Dancing Lights! For your leveled spells Leomund’s Tiny Hut is a good way to get a good night’s rest. (I feel like now would be a good time to mention that Bards can cast Ritual spells.) For a ranged Absolute Zero try Hypnotic Pattern to incapacitate everyone in a 30 foot cube.

LEVEL 6 - BARD 6

As a Valor Bard you get an Extra Attack at 6th level, allowing you to attack twice. Shame you won’t really be attacking much, but you can grab a sword if you want.

Back to magic! Enemies Abound will make an enemy think their friends are their enemies! I know it sounds confusing but basically they’ll hit anyone who’s close to them, so keep away!

Oh and right: you get Countercharm too. You can use your action to give an ally advantage against a charming or frightening effect. I suppose it’s helpful, and in-character.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 7 - BARD 7

7th level Bards can cast 4th level spells: why not make your own winter wonderland with Hallucinatory Terrain? You can make the terrain in a 150-foot cube in range look, sound, and even smell like some other sort of natural terrain. A snowy landscape is fun and all but this is a really crazy spell that you can do some awesome stuff with: make an enemy fall into a lake that they think isn’t actually there, or make them run around a lake that they think is there. All it takes is a little imagination!

LEVEL 8 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get an Ability Score Increase, so cap off your Charisma to be the best leader of the Frejlord a little boy can be!

You can also learn another spell and to create some more confusion how about the spell Confusion? Each creature in a 10-foot-radius sphere centered on a point you choose within range must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw when you cast this spell or be affected by it. When affected by confusion, they have to think really hard about what they’re doing! Roll a d10 to see what they do, and read the spell yourself to see what it can really do.

LEVEL 9 - BARD 9

9th level Bards see their Song of Rest increase to a d8. Does this ability scale really poorly? Yes!

You know what doesn’t scale poorly? Some 5th level spells! There’s a lot of great spells at 5th level but I’d like some more Absolute Zero. Synaptic Static is one of my favorite spells, doing a ton of psychic damage and also making it harder for enemies to fight!

LEVEL 10 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get a d10 Bardic Inspiration die, Expertise in 2 skills (honestly pick whatever since it’s unlikely you have many skills to choose from), and a new cantrip. (Mending would help if you accidentally break your flute.)

But most importantly: Magical Secrets! I’ve been mentioning Willump a lot but we’ve yet to get our furry friend. Well 10 levels later we can finally grab Find Greater Steed! You can summon any of the spirits listed to act as a mount: they have the statistics provided in the Monster Manual, though it is a celestial, fey, or a fiend instead of its normal creature type. (Fey would probably make the most sense for Willump?) If it has an Intelligence score of 5 or lower its Intelligence becomes 6, and it gains the ability to understand one language of your choice that you speak.

You control the mount in combat, and can communicate with it telepathically if it’s within 1 mile of you. While mounted you can make any spell you cast that targets only you also target the mount. The mount disappears temporarily when it drops to 0 hit points or when you dismiss it as an action, dropping any equipment it was wearing or carrying. Casting this spell again re-summons the bonded mount, with all its hit points restored and any conditions removed.

So... let’s talk Willump: if going by the officially listed creatures in Find Greater Steed’s description a Dire Wolf would probably be the best imitation of Willump, though a Saber-toothed Tiger or even Rhinoceros would also make sense. But if your DM is a cool DM ask them if you could actually summon a Yeti with some of its abilities nerfed.

The rules for mounted combat say that an intelligent creature (which Willump probably would be classified as) rolls for initiative as well, and acts independently. Find Greater Steed mounts will obey your commands thankfully, but if you don’t want to take your turn over two turns then just opt to have the mount move on your turn.

Now here’s where things get a little... Beastmaster Ranger. You know how I made it really hard for you to actually fight in melee range? Ask your DM if your mount can do the attack action instead of you. The way I see it this doesn’t really break anything, and this allows you to get value out of your extra attack at level 6. I really suggest talking about this spell with your DM before you take it as its one of the more overwhelming spells in D&D. But this is the only thing in this build that’s really going to ask a lot from your DM.

Now that everything’s been said about Willump: how about a more simple spell? Cone of Cold is half an Absolute Zero, letting you blast creatures in a 60 foot radius in front of you with ice and snow! It’s a nice, icy trick up your sleeve for a Bard who’s been mostly supportive so far. Yeah: could’ve taken Snilloc’s Snowball Swarm because it has “snowball” in the name, but Cone of Cold is like, a thousand times more awesome!

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 11 - BARD 11

11th level Bards can learn 6th level spells, so how about you take a page from Sona’s book with Otto's Irresistible Dance. Choose one creature to make them dance! Your friends have advantage to hit a dancing enemy, and they have disadvantage on dexterity saves. They can use their action to try to make another save against the effect, but it’s such a fun bard spell!

LEVEL 12 - BARD 12

12th level Bards get an Ability Score Improvement and since our Charisma is maxed out now would be a good time to finally grab the Inspiring Leader feat to help your friends charge into battle!

LEVEL 13 - BARD 13

At 13th level your Song of Rest increases to a d10, but more importantly you can now cast 7th level spells like Mirage Arcane, which is basically just a better version of Hallucinatory Terrain.

LEVEL 14 - BARD 14

14th level Valor Bards get Battle Magic, letting Willump attack as a bonus action after you cast a spell. But more importantly you get more Magical Secrets!

Investiture of Ice from the Elemental Evil Player's Companion is perfect for a boy from the Frejlord. You get immunity to cold damage and resistance to fire and the ability to move across snow and ice without extra movement. Your Frozen Heart makes the area within 10 feet of you difficult terrain for anyone other than you (and I’d argue it wouldn’t be hard for Willump either), and you can use your action to toss some snowballs! Each creature in a 15-foot cone must make a Constitution saving throw or take 4d6 cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a success. A creature that fails its save against this effect has its speed halved until the start of your next turn.

For a more controlling Absolute Zero that won’t munch on your spell slots Sleet Storm will summon a blizzard to heavily obscure an area and make it very hard for an enemy to walk through the area.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 15 - BARD 15

15th level Bards get the most inspiration possible with a d12 Bardic Inspiration die! You can also cast 8th level spells but the truth is that the high level Bard spells aren’t too impressive. Regardless Power Word Stun will finally let you, well, stun people!

LEVEL 16 - BARD 16

16th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement but at this point you can probably invest in some more Feats. Lucky is always nice?

LEVEL 17 - BARD 17

17th level Bards finally see their Song of Rest increase to a d12... yeah this ability scales poorly...

But you get the ULTIMATE YETI POWER of a 9th level spell, and it’s about time for true Absolute Zero! Psychic Scream lets you force up to 10 targets to make an Intelligence saving throw. On a failed save, a target takes 14d6 psychic damage and is stunned. On a successful save, a target takes half as much damage and isn’t stunned. A stunned target can make an Intelligence saving throw at the end of each of its turns. On a successful save, the stunning effect ends.

Oh and their heads explode if this kills them. Just... felt the need to point that out.

LEVEL 18 - BARD 18

18th level Bards get their last two Magical Secrets and I think it’s time for some fun stuff:

Illusory Dragon lets you summon a giant dragon! When the illusion appears, enemies that can see it must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or become frightened of it for 1 minute. If a frightened creature ends its turn in a location where it doesn’t have line of sight to the illusion, it can repeat the saving throw, ending the effect on itself on a success.

As a bonus action you can move the illusion up to 60 feet. At any point during its movement, you can cause it to exhale a blast of energy in a 60-foot cone originating from its space. When you create the dragon, choose a damage type: acid, cold, fire, lightning, necrotic, or poison. Each creature in the cone must make an Intelligence saving throw, taking 7d6 damage of the chosen damage type on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

The illusion is tangible but attacks miss it automatically, it succeeds on all saving throws, and it is immune to all damage and conditions. A creature that uses an action to examine the dragon can determine that it is an illusion by succeeding on an Investigation check against your spell save DC. If a creature discerns the illusion for what it is, they can see through it and has advantage on saving throws against its breath.

And for your other Magical Secret... Wish. I think you know what Wish does, because it does anything you want! (Within reason.) My suggestion: Wish 1 get your mom back, Wish 2 make Willump your immortal best friend forever, Wish 3... ice cream!

LEVEL 19 - BARD 19

19th level Bards get their last Ability Score Improvement: again look into some good Feats you may want. My suggestion: give Willump some Toughness so you can have a total of 38 extra HP!

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 1

Ah I’m just screwing with you.

BARD 20

20th level Bards get Superior Inspiration, allowing them to regain one use of Bardic Inspiration as they roll initiative if they have none when combat starts. Is this a weak capstone? Yeah, but you also get more spells and stuff which is neat too.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Let's put the venture, in adventure! - For once this isn’t a multiclass nonsense build: just straightforward spellcaster levels. That means you get access to some of the strongest spells available, including Wish thanks to your Magical Secrets!

Battle is the song I came to sing! - You are the king of inspiration: a d12 that allies can add to ability checks, attack rolls, saving throws, damage throws, and their AC! With a d12 of extra AC even the Wizard won’t be hit, and an extra d12 to damage is never a bad thing!

Everyone knows heroes are brave - You are skilled in literally everything thanks to Jack of All Trades, and there’s pretty much zero chance any of your Persuasion checks will fail.

CONS

A Frostguard walks into a mead hall and... - Who would’ve guessed a child isn’t the brightest bulb? The only stat you invested in is Charisma, and while Feats are cool and all your saving throws are rather subpar. Jack of All Trades will still help you with skills but a -1 to Strength saves isn’t great, and a mere +2 to Constitution saves means you’ll drop concentration a lot.

Make way for the yeti! - Some of your spells, especially your lower level ones are fun but very situational. By the time you’re facing some really big bads Heroism and Hideous Laughter will be rather subpar.

Willump's not a monster - Controlling two characters can be hard, and a DM may not be completely okay with it. Be sure to cover everything with them before you go in and summon your yeti pall to fight by your side.

But heroes can’t do everything. I mean they can, but they’ve gotta struggle a bit! Hero’s journey! But a hero is nothing without their mighty steed, their trusted squire... and their best friend.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

[kumeko]

Title: umeboshi

A/N: For @pinkthespianlesbian, for the Fruits Basket SS held by @lgbtfurubanet. I don’t think I managed to fit all of your prompts together (and Momiji realizes she’s trans in this fic a bit earlier than your headcanon because I missed that line about 3rd year. XD), but I hope you enjoy this anyways!

…

…

…

…

i.

 “It’s a romantic story,” Momiji chirped, leaning back on the school steps. It was a cloudless, warm spring day and she was happy they were finally in their summer uniforms. Kicking her feet in front of her, Momiji leaned back and stared at the bright blue sky. “My parents met in Germany, when they were students.”

 “Oh.” Tohru clapped her hands excitedly. On another person, this would seem sarcastic, but every action she did was always painfully earnest. Her eyes were bright as she leaned eagerly toward Momiji, already knowing how the story will go and still wanting to hear about it. “Was it love at first sight?”

 “Da!” Tohru was infectious and Momiji’s smile grew even wider. She leaned closer to Tohru, until their shoulders bumped. There was something thrilling about being this close to Tohru, about this casual nearness that she could have that almost none of the other zodiacs could have. She felt a brief pang of pity for Kyo and Yuki.

“Oooohhh!” Tohru’s hand pressed against the steps as she steadied herself, her hand overlapping Momiji’s slightly.

 A jolt of electricity ran through Momiji and she swallowed. It was a very brief pang of pity for her rivals. As they said, all’s fair in love and war. Gathering herself, Momiji continued, using the story as an excuse to hold Tohru’s hand entirely. “The second their hands touched, writing appeared on their arms like vines! They were soulmates! They didn’t let go of each other once, not even when they ate.”

 Tohru stared at their clasped hands and squealed. “Awww, that’s so cute!”

 Momiji would practically see the hearts flying off her. She nodded sagely. “It gets better! They used the words as their wedding vows.”

 “Awwwwwww.” Tohru hummed, almost bouncing as she thought about it all. She didn’t let go, her hand radiating warmth that shot straight to Momiji’s core. “That’s such a cute story. Mom never found her soulmate but she and Dad were very happy anyways. Actually, right after they got married, Mom dragged Dad to the tattoo parlor and forced him to tattoo her name on his wrist.” She chuckled. “They got their own versions of the soulmate words.”

 “Really?” Momiji blinked. She liked that idea. Liked it a lot. The control it gave, the ability to chose, she liked everything about it. Breaking into laughter, she reached around with her other arm and hugged Tohru, careful not to let go of their clasped hands. “That sounds just like her.”

 “That’s what Uo-chan and Hana-chan said too,” Tohru said proudly, wrapping an arm around Momiji. “Though Mom told me the tattoos hurt more than expected and they both spent the week crying.”

 Momiji snorted. “Somehow, that also sounds like her.”

    ii.

A less romantic story, one that Momiji was reluctant to tell Tohru, was how her mother rejected her at a hug. How her mother had gone mad until the only solution was erasing her memories and erasing Momiji’s place in them.

 It was funny, now, that her mother’s touch would no longer transform her. That it was her father instead who turned her into a rabbit. Would her mother have kept her memories if she’d known this would happen? Or would she have seen that as another failure, another mark against her monster of a child?

 Not that it mattered either way. Her mother would never know. Instead, Momiji would wear her dresses and pad her chest and grow out her hair, each change making her look more and more like her mother. It was hard to hide it now; her father wouldn’t let her hang out at the company anymore.

 All that she had left was her name, Momiji, the only link to a family that no longer existed. Maybe she should change. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

    iii.

The school was brimming with life, the school fair bringing students and visitors through each of the classrooms and hallways. It was a dangerous time for a Sohma and Kyo was already hiding on the roof, both scared and angry with the horde that invaded his home. Not that it helped much, considering the mob of cats that swarmed the roof, catching everyone’s eyes.

 At least that made things a little easier for the others. Yuki didn’t have to hide in the back of every classroom even and Haru didn’t have to destroy everyone he bumped shoulders with and Momiji…

 Well, Momiji got to enjoy a date with Tohru. A kinda one-sided date, for now, but a date nonetheless. She bounced forward as she and Tohru strolled through the halls, taking in the other class’s events. “What do you want to see first?”

 “I don’t know.” Tohru smiled happily, her eyes jumping from one door to the next. There was a haunted house, a café, an art gallery—the possibilities were endless. And overwhelming. “They all look so fun! What do you want to do?”

 “Me?” Momiji slowed down her pace till she was walking side by side with Tohru. Her arms hung at her side, her hands barely brushing Tohru’s as they walked. A jolt of electricity ran through her at each touch and she swallowed. “Maybe we could do the haunted house first?”

 “T-t-the h-h-haunted h-h-house?” Tohru stuttered, her expression freezing. Stiffly, she squared her shoulders and marched toward it. “S-s-sure.”

 It was cute. Too cute. Momiji tried not to laugh too much and offered, “If you’re too scared, we can do something else.”

 “N-n-no, I’m f-f-f-fine.” Tohru smiled once more but it came out more a grimace than anything else. She looked like a robot as she moved, her knees and elbows locked into position. “L-let’s g-go.”

 Well, if Tohru was going to be so brave, Momiji couldn’t slack off either. Nodding, she reached out and grabbed Tohru’s hand. No more of that brushing nonsense. Her skin felt like it was on fire and Momiji was certain her ears were turning several different shades of red, but she’d done it.

 She’d grabbed Tohru’s hand. And if Tohru didn’t pull away, was still smiling at her brightly, she could take that as a victory, right?

    iv.

 Momiji washed her hands, letting the cool water soak into her skin. They still burned, even now, hours after Tohru let go, hours after they’d parted.

 Ok, it was about time she’d admitted it. To herself, at least, if to no one else.

 This wasn’t just a crush anymore. No, this was love. Momiji was in love with Tohru.

 She sighed softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead on the bathroom mirror. After all those months of teasing Yuki and Kyo for being dense, this all felt highly ironic. Momiji wasn’t even sure if she was going to confess to Tohru (sorry for calling you a coward, Kyo) and even worse, there was Akito to deal with.

 Maybe Akito wouldn’t care as much. He’d hated it when Momiji had started transitioning but then it’d became a new cage for him to keep her in, a new barrage of insults to hurt her with. Suddenly, she’d realized just how much harder it was for Kisa and Rin.

 How much harder it would be for her, going forward.

 The cool glass didn’t make it any easier to think and Momiji’s hands were still burning like they’d been seared. Like Tohru was imprinted on them. Maybe she was. Lifting her hands, she stared at them blankly, taking in the small ridges on her knuckles, and the growing thickness of her fingers. The lines on her palm that turned into words, wrapping around her wrist—

 Words.

 Momiji blinked. There were words tattooed on her wrist. Her soulmate marks. She rolled back her sleeves frantically, trying to read the characters engraved on her skin. How had she missed this earlier? Had she bumped into someone at the fair? U-m-e-b-o-s-h-I, it said.

 Umeboshi.

  There was only one person that could mean, only one person whose soulmate words could be that.

“Tohru,” she murmured to her skin, kissing the mark softly. Momiji’s heart leapt to her mouth and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. Her soulmate was Tohru.

 She could fight Akito, if it was for Tohru.

 She could fight anyone, if it was Tohru.

 They were soulmates and Momiji would one day tell their adopted kids, It was a romantic story, a story about two people who stayed together and never forgot anything, even the bad things.

    v.

Or it would have been a romantic tale, if not for Tohru’s extremely puzzled look as Momiji asked her if she’d gotten her soulmate writing. She’d waited as long as she could, waited for class to end, for her bodyguards to go home (Kyo was harder to force away than Yuki), waited for them to finally be alone and sitting at their usual spot on the school step, before asking.

 All in vain, it seemed.

 “My soulmate marks?” Tohru blinked, confused. She glanced around as though to make sure no one else was around. “Me?”

 She’d almost forgotten how dense Tohru was. “Yes.” Momiji nodded eagerly, taking Tohru’s hands into her own. Rubbing her thumb against Tohru’s wrists, she was slightly disappointed the marks hadn’t appeared in the same place, but that was fine. It was rare enough to find one’s soulmate, let alone to find one with an identical mark. Her parents had been lucky. Quieting her mind, Momiji peered up at Tohru’s eyes and asked again, “Have you found any words on you?”

 Tohru frowned, thinking heavily on it. She twisted her lips, her expression growing sterner and sterner with each moment that passed. The moment she turned into a hardboiled detective, she sighed and shook her head. “Not one.”

 “Really?” Momiji’s heart plummeted to her shoes and she almost dropped Tohru’s hands in surprise. Was it possible to have a one-sided soulmate?

 “Yes.” Tohru nodded solemnly. “It would be wonderful to have a soulmate but I’m not sure I have one.” She chuckled sadly. “It might be too wonderful for me to have.”

 And maybe Tohru didn’t have the mark and maybe the umeboshi meant some other kind do-gooder or some guy with an obsession with pickles, but that didn’t matter. Momiji was used to life not going her way. Was used to having to choose her own path.

 Kyoko had made her own soulmate.

 Momiji could do the same.

 “You have a soulmate, Tohru,” Momiji answered softly, leaning closer.

 “I do?” Tohru’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who?”

 “Me.”

 She’d make sure to not tell their kids how awkward their first kiss was, how they’d bumped noses and laughed about it after.

    vi.

“And that’s how your grandmas fell in love,” Mitsuru murmured, ruffling the hair of her son. “It’s a romantic story, isn’t it?”

 Aki bit his cheek, taking it all in. He swayed side to side as he came up with his question. Because there was always a question with him; at four, there was still too many things he didn’t know. Mitsuru knew that, knew that she’d done the same to Momiji and Torhu when she was little, but that didn’t make it any easier.

 After a few minutes, he finally asked, “Granny didn’t have a mark?”

 “Actually…” Mitsuru laughed awkwardly. Leaning closer, she stage-whispered to her son, “It turned out, Grandma Tohru did have a mark.”

 “She did?” His mouth fell open in surprise.

 “Her face looked just like yours when she found out.” Mitsuru nodded. Reaching around, she patted her son on the middle of his back. “Right there. Just where the umeboshi in a onigiri is, that was where her mark was. So of course she didn’t see it herself—Grandma Momiji was the one who spotted it and told her.”

 “Umeboshi?” Aki jumped up and down. “Just like in her stories!”

 Mitsuru nodded. “Yeah, just like in her stories.”

 There was something fitting about that, when all was said and done.

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (5)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Five - Ambitions

You prayed your nifty little healing abilities would be enough to heal you from this but you knew it was still going to hurt like a bitch. The airplane grew smaller and smaller as you hurtled towards the ground and you bitterly thought back to the events that had led you to this.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Erlo must have have crept in to check on you in the middle of the night and left when he saw Bucky in the bed. If he could beat Bucky to the bed he would leap onto it and refuse to move, curling around you protectively. Most times there was a fifty fifty chance you would kick Erlo out of the bed and let Bucky in, but you found it really hard to admonish Erlo for his bad behaviour. But when Erlo pouted because he’d been beaten to bed, you couldn’t kick Bucky out either.

The sunlight streamed through the open window and you shot a wave of irritation at Erlo downstairs as the light woke you. You could feel the warmth of Bucky’s body behind you and the steady rise and fall of his chest and you turned over to look at him. His face was peaceful as he slumbered and you used the opportunity to just look at him, drinking in the sight.

You absent mindedly stroked your hand across his bare chest as you admired him and it must have woke him because his breathing changed. His eyes remained closed and you knew he was trying to pretend he was still asleep. You lightly dragged your nails across his chest and smirked to yourself.

When he didn’t react you changed the path of your fingers so your nails lightly scratched over his nipples and a low rumbling erupted from his chest and he opened his eyes to sleepily smile at you.

“Morning Doll.” He rasped.

“Morning.” You smiled, giving him a soft chaste kiss and laughing when his lips chased yours when you pulled away.

“So, now I’ve been fired I don’t have any plans today.” You told him.

“Is that so? That’s a shame, because I have lots.” He teased.

“Oh?”

“I have to go with Sam and Steve to get our suits tailored.”

“That doesn’t seem like a lot.” You mused.

“Why, did you need your sidekick today?” He asked.

You giggled and his your face in his chest.

“So you saw that?” Your muffled voice enquired.

“Sure did doll.” He said, running his fingers up your spine.

You rolled onto your back and gave him the most suggestive look you could. He turned on his side and hovered over you, his hand running over your hip and down your leg. You sighed happily in contentment until he sat up and got off the bed.

“Well, don’t want to be pining over you so I should get ready for the day before you feel sorry for me.” He sarked.

You whined petulantly.

“You bastard. Robin would never blue-ball Batman!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his retreating form which he batted away before slipping into the bathroom with a laugh and locking the door behind him.

You groaned and spread out like a grumpy starfish on the bed.

You idly wondered what you were going to do today and realized that your dad was right, you didn’t have many hobbies or goals. The only things you could think off to do involved other members of the Avengers or The X-Men or Wade. There was aloud thump on the balcony as Erlo leapt onto it and padded into the room and rested his large head on the bed and blinked at you.

You felt his curiosity and concern for your current state.

“I need a thing. A me thing.” You told him.

He tilted his head as he thought about it and projected a feeling of helplessness at you.

“Don’t worry boy, it’s not your problem. Why don’t you go and shred some more of Bucky’s shirts for me?” You asked him and he bounded away, the sounds of material being shredded coming from the wardrobe shortly after.

You stifled a laugh into the duvet and went back to your problem. The only way to find something was to look for it you decided.

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

Cooking was NOT your thing.

The savoury muffins weren’t the worst thing in the world but they weren’t the best either and you were hot, sweaty, covered in flour and annoyed. You couldn’t imagine doing this every day, for fun. Thor seemed happy enough as he munched away at the fruits of your labour, after extracted a solemn promise from you that they were not laced with any kind of potion, truth or otherwise.

First Aid was absolutely not your thing.

You had begged one of the nurses in the medical wing to let you shadow her and after Bruce had signed off on it she had agreed, making sure you knew that you could watch with patients if they agreed and nothing else. After that she had given you and orange and some needle and thread and told you to practice sutures. You had managed to sew it to your sleeve, broken the CPR Dummies ribs when practising on it and accidentally knocked over a tray of equipment before you came to the conclusion that you weren’t cut out for it.

Training new recruits had not gone to plan.

None of them were brave enough to spar with you until you told them they could spar with you or with Natasha. They wisely chose you. Or not so wisely as it turned out. You left them nursing their bodies and their Ego’s after Steve stepped in to stop you insulting a young man by comparing his fighting technique to that of a drunk giraffe.

You were definitely not musically inclined.

You lined up youtube tutorials and tried your hand at learning to play the guitar but the stupid string kept breaking. It was only after your dad walked in on you strumming away and warbling at the top of your voice and actually paid you to stop that you gave up.

Being an assistant was a disaster.

You offered to help Darcy out with her tasks and she made you into The Avengers official coffee bitch, even making you get down on one knee so she could knight you with a rolled up bunch of blueprints. You got nearly every order wrong, broke the coffee machine and spilt coffee all over Darcy’s shoes and she promptly demoted you and threatened to find a real sword to lop your head off if you didn’t immediatley get online and but her new shoes.

Poetry was your Kryptonite.

You spent the better part of two hours hunched over a notepad, tongue between your teeth as you concentrated. You proudly presented your finished masterpiece to Loki who read it with a blank expression and then threatened to turn you into a slug if you ever, ever wrote poetry again.

I am like a cat

But a cat I am not

I am like a monster

But a monster I am not

I am like a demon

But a demon I am not

Do not fear me

I am a friend

I am like a hero

A hero I want to be

“I can’t do anything!” You whined to Erlo as the two of you walked around the grounds.

Affection was the only response he had for you.

“Ugh, and I have to go to School now.” You moaned to your faithful companion.

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

“Hi dad.” Your voice was dripping with disdain.

“Princess.” Logan greeted you with gruff

“So what are you teaching me today, how to sniff out Scooby snacks?” You asked him.

“Oh, no let me guess. We’re going to become one with nature as we meditate our way to inner peace.” You interrupted before he could respond.

“Excuse me, Miss Stark? Um Deathwave?” You turned around to look at the young girl who was addressing you timidly.

“Hi there, are you alright sweetheart?” You asked, smiling kindly at her.

She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen and was practically vibrating with nerves.

“I just wanted to say I saw your interview and I really liked it. I think your right and I really want to see myself as a Queen. I’m a survivor and I’ll try to remember that from now on.” She told you and ran off.

“Huh.” You and Logan remarked simultaneously.

“I saw it as well. Was a good interview. You did well.” He said.

You didn't know how to respond. His praise wasn't something you craved but it wasn’t unwelcome either.

“There are a lot of kids here who went through that shit, maybe you should talk to them. They might listen to you.” Logan suggested.

It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning.

“I need to speak to the Professor!” You announced and ran inside.

You were excited as you pounded on the Professors office door. This was exactly what you had been looking for. Something you could do, something you could be good at and something that would help people.

“Come in Miss Stark.” The Professor’s called out amusedly.

“Professor I want to volunteer as a guidance counsellor.”  You practically shouted as you burst into the office.

“No.” He said.

“No? Why not?” You asked.

“Several reasons, you aren’t qualified for such a position. And I believe that while you could be an invaluable help to these children, you can play a much bigger role in their lives.” The Professor answered.

“What kind of role?”

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

“You’re what?” Tony demanded.

“I’m a recruiter for The School. I’ll travel around the world, find these kids and help the adjust to life at Xavier’s. I’ll only be taking on the more extreme or difficult cases, dangerous mutants who are scared or suspicious of The School or in some cases, rescuing mutants who need it.” You told them.

You were met with an array of blank looks from the team.

“But you’re an Avenger....” Sam pointed out.

“And I will continue to be one. I’m not joining the X-Men. I’m working for Xavier as essentially a ‘buddy’ to help kids settle in. He’s also arranged for me to study to become a qualified counsellor.”You explained.

“But you’re still going to be an Avenger?” Clint confirmed.

“Yes. This is just going to be my day job. My thing.” You said happily.

Tony stood up and grasped your shoulder.

“I’m proud of you Kit Kat.” He said and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s the perfect thing for you Sestra, you will do so well.” Wanda added.

You met Bucky’s eyes as your dad released you and he was grinning at you happily, his eyes shining with pride.

“I’m glad you guys approve. Ok, I just stopped by to let you know.” You said, backing out of the room.

“Where are you going?”Sam asked.

“Um, Prauge. With... Logan.” You grumbled.

“You start already?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Eleven Days Later

The last though in your mind before your fragile body hit the ground was that team was going to murder you... once they scraped you off the ground that was.

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

Baby Stark has a job, a real job! What do you think of it?

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509 @chipilerendi@nerdy-bookworm-1998@ericasabe @gravedollie666@madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch@mywinterwolf@sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98@littledeadrottinghood

[robininthelabyrinth]

Eyestealer - ao3 link

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama (mostly gen, hints of other relationships later)

Summary: Hashirama really doesn't approve of the thoughtful way his father looks at his younger brother's bright red eyes. He's sure it doesn't mean anything good for anyone.

He's right.

A/N: I feel like I've at least mentioned this to @blackberreh-art, @kitsunesongs, @writhingbeneathyou and maybe @perelka-l

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

"What's wrong with him?" Butsama demands, fierce and threatening, his eyes glinting in a way that made Hashirama desperately want to cower away behind his mother.

But he's a big brother now, so he can't: it's his job to protect baby Tobirama, who doesn't know enough to fear their father when he's in a mood like this, and who doesn't even have the coordination to crawl away properly even if he did. He's only just barely managed some determined scooting forward on his belly so far, and even then Hashirama may have been helping a little.

Besides, Hashirama's nearly four; he's already started training to learn to fight and he'll be ready to go out to battle in another year or two, facing the Uchiha clan - red-eyed monsters that he's been told will happily kill kids like him and even baby Tobirama, the very thought of which makes Hashirama's heart break - and surely they'll be much scarier than Senju Butsuma.

...surely.

Hashirama's always been a touch doubtful that anyone would be scarier than his father, and he suspects he doesn't mean it in the way all the adults think he means it, as hero worship and adulation.

No, Butsuma is scary not for his extensive fighting abilities, which Hashirama is duly impressed by, but for the way Hashirama's brave and powerful mother, who fears no one outside the clan compound walls, goes quiet and meek in his presence lest he raise a hand to her (or Hashirama) again. And Hashirama doesn't like that type of scariness one bit.

He doesn't much like the way Butsuma is pointing scornfully at Tobirama, currently sleeping tucked into Hashirama's shoulder, either.

"The medics say he's healthy," Hashirama's mother murmurs quietly. Too quietly; she’s such a happy person when her husband isn’t around. "Thriving-"

"I meant the fact that he looks like a drowned rat," Butsuma snaps, his chakra blazing with the bad-hurt feeling Hashirama has been told is called killing intent. "Skin like an Uchiha, hair like a Hatake...did I get the father right, you bitch, or should I keep guessing? You wrote to me at the front lines and told me I had a second son, not - this!"

"The child is yours," Hashirama's mother says, then cries out when Butsuma strikes her.

Hashirama flinches and clutches Tobirama tight enough that he wakes up, surprised and gurgling a tentative whine, little baby fists reaching out blindly.

"Lie to me again, whore, and I'll snap the brat's neck and get started on making the next one before his body's even cooled," Hashirama's father says, and Hashirama tenses, preparing to flee.

He doesn't understand why his father's so angry, but he knows enough about snapping bones - necks - to understand the meaning of the threat. He won't be able to stop his father himself, he knows that, but he's fast and he's small and there's a hole in the back wall that he could wiggle through with Tobirama if he had to, and once he's among other Senju his father usually at least pretends to keep his temper under control, which will slow him down. Out through the wall, into the compound - maybe into the forest if the rest of the clan doesn't oppose Butsuma's plan - the rest he can figure out later, but he won't let his brother get hurt if he can help it, he won’t, he's the big brother, it's his job to protect Tobirama, his mother said so -

"He's yours, I swear it!" she cries, her hands thrown up to ward off another blow. "There's no one else, and never has been!"

"Do you think I'm blind? You're as dark as me, skin and hair both, and your parents and grandparents the same -"

"Hashirama, sweet one, show your father your brother's eyes," his mother says, not taking her eyes off her husband (you keep your eyes on the enemy at all times or else you die, Hashirama's fighting instructor said, but when a wife would start to consider her husband, her clan head, an enemy, Hashirama doesn't know).

Hashirama would rather run, but he also doesn't want to leave his mother behind, so he obeys, turning Tobirama around and tilting his head up with a finger under his chin.

"Red eyes," Butsuma says, lips twisting to a sneer even more disgusted than before. "Sharingan red. Uchiha, then. Don't tell me you're pleading rape of all things -"

"He's an albino," she says. "White hair, white skin, red eyes - like the Nara's sacred deer. It just happens sometimes, an act of nature; that's all. The child is yours; I swear it on my life - on Hashirama's life."

Hashirama doesn’t really think his life is hers to swear on and all things considered he'd really rather she didn't, but if it makes Butsuma less angry, less likely to hurt them, fine.

"A rat like that, mine?" Butsuma scoffs, though the terrible killing intent is fading away. "Wonderful. You would have me be the father of a sickly, deformed runt, then, instead? Worthless!"

"It's true that albinos are sickly, my lord; eyes weak to light and skin liable to burn too easily, but that is not all that he is. All the medics say he's doing very well – they say he’s very healthy - they even say that the signs point to his having a powerful chakra -"

Butsuma snorts, crossing his arms. "It’s impossible to tell anything about chakra at all before the age of two at the earliest. Soothsayers are always predicting great power, and they’re rarely saying more than what the parents want to hear. He could have none at all!”

"Or he could turn out like Hashirama," she counters. Hashirama is unusually strong for his age, though he would very much like to be left out of this conversation. He focuses on hushing Tobirama, who appears to be considering crying, and on edging backwards towards his chosen escape route. "Another credit to the strength of your blood -"

Butsuma barks a laugh. "Don’t be ridiculous. A pathetic thing like that? There wouldn't even be any point in testing him for the Mokuton."

The Mokuton. Right.

Hashirama's shoulders ease a little in relief: the Mokuton means that his father can't kill little Tobirama even if he wants to. It's against clan law for any Senju child (and Hashirama's mother is Senju, too, from one of the more distaff branches, so there’s no question of it, even if her own mother was a Nara) to be killed before they get tested for the potential of one day having the clan's fabled but long absent bloodline ability when they ultimately come of age.

Hashirama doesn't even know what the Mokuton is - he doesn't like studying, far preferring to sneak out to the woods to make friends with the trees that sometimes like to whisper back to him - but for the first time he hopes he has it, because if he does then the clan will have no choice but to spare Tobirama even if only for the possibility that he might have it too.

"My lord -"

"Oh, stop whimpering, it doesn't suit you," he says. "I won't kill the puling brat, not yet. Bastard or not, albino or not, if he makes it to fighting age he'll at least be useful as cannon fodder, if nothing else."

"Thank you, my lord," Hashirama's mother says, bowing her head. “We thank you for your mercy.”

Hashirama’s not so sure Butsuma’s words are as merciful as all that. Doesn’t cannon fodder usually mean dead?

"You're not suckling it another day longer, though,” Butsuma continues. “I'm due back on the front lines soon, and I want to get you started on another one before I go - a proper spare, this time."

"Of course, my lord. Hashirama, take your brother to your room."

Hashirama is only too happy to go, though he lingers a moment longer, afraid for his mother even as she smiles (not the usual one, warm and happy, but the one she wears around guests she doesn’t trust) and nods at him to go.

Eventually his father notices that he's still there, though, and Hashirama flees before his glare.

"I hate it when he's mad," he complains to Tobirama, who was starting to sniffle despite having been very good about not crying so far - Hashirama's noticed that flaring his chakra in and out works very well to distract him, even though all the grownups say that chakra sensing doesn't develop until around the age Hashirama is now but what do they know they're clearly stupid, and he'd employed the technique to keep him quiet in the face of their father's danger. "When I grow up, I'm never going to get mad. I'm always going to be happy! Or sad, I guess; sometimes you have to be sad. But nothing else!"

Tobirama quiets down again when they get back to Hashirama's room and cuddle up with Spot the spotted cat, once Hashirama's favorite stuffed toy and now bestowed with great honor to Tobirama (though sometimes, on days like tonight, Hashirama still wants to hold onto him as well, a practice he justifies to himself as teaching Tobirama about sharing).

Once the familiar sounds start up from his parents' room - grunting, mostly, and the slap of flesh on flesh - Hashirama thinks it's over, that they're safe, that his father will forget about his second son (and, if Hashirama is unusually lucky, maybe be even his first as well) in favor of clan politics.

He’s wrong.

He wakes in the middle of the night, frozen by the knowledge that he and Tobirama are not alone in the room.

His father stands above him, dark as a shadow and just as indistinct.

"Red eyes," he murmurs. "Sharingan red. I wonder."

He does nothing else, just stands there for an endless few minutes more before departing, but Hashirama stays awake for a long time after, a frozen feeling in his belly and a certainty that something terrible was going to happen, though he wasn't sure what, fixed firmly in his mind.

He wasn't able to shake that feeling, not in the three weeks his father stayed at home, nor in the few months of peace they have after he leaves and before he visits again, or even the brief reprieves they have after that. Instead he made a point of being around Tobirama as much as possible, diligently practicing his vow of not getting mad (it’s hard, especially when Tobirama breaks something of his, though he perseveres by reminding himself that it’s inevitable for babies to have such accidents) and just as diligently training his fighting and running skills with a fervor he’s never had before.

He knows that he needs to get strong and fast enough to save his baby brother from the terrible thing that was coming for him.

Hashirama's mother thinks it’s cute at first, then concerning, but Hashirama persists, even taking Tobirama out with him to the forest to talk to the trees, which he'd never shared with anyone else before. He insists on sleeping in the same bedroom as his brother, and only agrees not to take him to his training if his mother promises three times over that she'd watch Tobirama carefully.

But all his precautions, all his vigilance, are still not enough to save Tobirama from their father.

"Where is he?" Hashirama screams, red in the face, having a tantrum like he hasn't had in years - arms flailing to every side, legs kicking, hands clenched into fists. "Where did he take him?"

"Baby - baby, sweet one, please, calm down -"

"I don't want to be calm!" he howls. He promised himself he wouldn't get mad anymore, doesn't want to be like his father, but for Tobirama he'll break any vow. Vows don’t matter, if only Tobirama is safe. "I want Tobirama! Where did the bastard take him?"

"Hashirama! You can't say such things about your father - your clan head - and who taught you that filthy language anyway?"

Butsuma himself had, saying it with a sneer any time he saw Tobirama, and Hashirama still isn't sure what it means but is pleased that his suspicions that it's some sort of insult have been confirmed.

Butsuma deserves all the insults under the sun, but Hashirama promises he'll never say another one ever again if only he brings back Tobirama unharmed.

He says as much to his mother, who looks suddenly older and more tired.

"Your father's trying to help," she says, but her words ring hollow in a way that suggests she doesn't believe what she's saying. "He took him away to try something....Hashirama, you know how I told you that there was a good chance that Tobirama would grow up to be blind?"

Hashirama nods, reluctantly calming enough to listen. She'd explained that the white color of Tobirama's skin and the redness of his eyes meant he was different from the other babies, much more delicate: that Hashirama needed to be vigilant about spreading the special goop the medics made just for Tobirama over his skin before taking him out into the sunlight, that they should try to stay in the shade of the trees, and, yes, even that Tobirama might not be able to see things like Hashirama does and that maybe, when he was older, he would end up not seeing things at all.

"Well, if what your father has planned works, Tobirama will see even better than you. So it's a good thing!"

"If it's a good thing, why have you been crying?" Hashirama asks accusingly. He doesn’t trust their father, who hates Tobirama, to have good things in mind for him. "Why is there only one medic involved, and why does he look so scared?"

"There's only one because this is a secret, sweet one, a secret your father is keeping even from the rest of the clan. Even you, baby, you don't get to know what exactly it is; that's why you don't get to be in there with him to keep him calm, even if that would make it easier. And -" she hesitates. "And the medic and I are only scared that it won't work right, that’s all."

"And what happens if it doesn't work right?" Hashirama demands.

His mother's silence is his only answer.

Hashirama goes back to screaming. When his throat goes hoarse - hoarse and tickly in the way that he's learned to associate with the way his cuts quickly scab over and disappear without leaving any scar - he stops, going quiet but not calm. Determined.

It breaks his heart to even think it, but he knows now that he can't trust his mother with Tobirama's safety: he left Tobirama in her care while he attended his lessons, trusted her, and she betrayed him. She gave him to Butsuma, who Hashirama is certain was hurting him even now. Maybe even killing him, and all the while Hashirama can do nothing but sit here, helpless to do anything to stop him.

Helpless.

Powerless.

He hates it.

His mother, seeing his tears and shouts come to a stop, tries to gather Hashirama into her arms, offering comfort, but he pushes her away.

He doesn’t need comfort. He needs power.

"Teach me a jutsu," he demands.

"What, now?" she asks, surprised. "You don't have to resume training until later -"

"Sensei says you were a front-liner before you married and you're in charge of the defense reserve now, which means you must know some. Teach me!"

"But -"

"Something mean," he says. "Mean and awful. Something that hurts."

"Hashirama -"

"I need to get stronger to take care of Tobirama," he says. He won't admit the possibility that his brother is dead, that he's failed in the first job he's ever been entrusted quite so badly. He can't even think that lest the Shinigami hear him and take adavantage. No, Tobirama has to live. He has to live, even if only so that Hashirama can make up for letting him down like this, can seek his forgiveness for not protecting him properly. "No one else will do it, so it had to be me."

His mother flinches like he's stabbed her. She looks at him, her eyes searching for something, but Hashirama focuses his gaze on her nose and mouth and forehead, the way he was taught to do when fighting Uchiha.

Fighting the enemy.

Her shoulders bow forward as if under some terrible weight and Hashirama wants to apologize for being so cold, wants to burst into tears and throw himself forward into her arms, but the thought of Tobirama - alone with their father, just a baby and even more helpless than Hashirama - makes him hold fast.

"Okay," she whispers. "I'll teach you."

Hashirama is what his sensei calls a natural - he's got loads of extra chakra, lots more than other kids his age, and he finds learning the right signs and chakra movements easy. So by the time his father comes back, he's already got the jutsu his mother taught him - Scorpion Sting, she calls it, and it's very nasty indeed - pretty much down and ready to go, no matter what the consequences that will fall on his head, if his father even thinks of saying anything other than that Tobirama is fine and ready to come home.

"We think it took," he says instead. "There's still a high chance of rejection until the implants settle, but things look good. The medic confirms that we won't know how much of it he actually got until he's older, though."

Hashirama doesn't know what that means, but a glance at his mother shows her relief and that means Tobirama is alive.

He doesn't yet believe that he's okay, not until he sees him with his own eyes (and does a check for genjutsu meant to hide injuries) and held him in his arms, but - alive.

"I want to see him!" he demands.

That's the sort if talk that would usually get him walloped, with a lecture about respecting his elders, but his father's in a good mood for once so he just shrugs and gestures airily at the door behind him. "Watch him for a while, will you, Hashirama?" he says, his eyes on his wife. "Your mother and I still need to work on getting you a little brother."

A real little brother, Butsuma means, because for some stupid reason he thinks Tobirama doesn't count. But Hashirama doesn't care about anything other than Tobirama right now, not even about how sick his mother was when her last pregnancy failed after only a few months or how the medics advised her against trying for another so soon.

Not that Butsuma cares what the medics say when it's contrary to what he wants.

Hashirama rushes into the other room, where the medic is holding a roll of bandages in one hand and struggling to get a crying Tobirama to calm down enough to apply them.

Hashirama ignores the medic entirely, leaping up to the blood-stained metal table and pulling Tobirama into his arms, flaring his chakra the way he knows Tobirama likes best.

Tobirama quiets immediately, screams turning into distracted whimpers, and reaches out for Hashirama's hair with his chubby little fists.

He likes Hashirama’s hair: it's his favorite toy to grab with his fingers or stick in his mouth to suck on whenever he can reach it, above even Spot, which is why Hashirama tries to keep it as long as possible. Butsuma usually chops off Hashirama's hair whenever he sees it getting what he considers to be too long for a boy his age, leaving it in a frankly awful bowl cut, but his dignity is a worthwhile sacrifice for Tobirama's gummy gap-toothed little smile.

"At last," the medic sighs. "Hold him still, will you? I want to bandage up his eyes for a little, give him the chance to rest and for his body to adjust."

Hashirama nods, remembering his mother's explanation of how sensitive Tobirama's red eyes were; he wouldn't be surprised if Tobirama's remaining whimpers are because of the bright light in the room. Darkness isn't a bad idea at all.

But even as he holds Tobirama's head still - Tobirama submits to it with ill grace and grumbles, but from the medic's expression it's still far more compliance than they'd been able to get without Hashirama’s help - Hashirama looks at Tobirama's face and frowns.

"Hey," he says. "Are his eyes supposed to have those swirly black dots in them?"

They look almost like the stylized pictures he's seen of the Uchiha, with the dojutsu unique to their bloodline: shining blood-red eyes that he's always been warned never to look into lest they kill him with their super-powered genjutsu.

"Forget about those," the medic advises, wrapping the bandage swiftly and efficiently so that Hashirama's brief glimpse is quickly covered. "Say, you're a bright boy, aren't you? Would you like to learn some iryo ninjutsu? I normally wouldn't, at your age, but you have so much chakra - and as his brother, you're probably compatible -"

"Healing?" Hashirama asks, interested. "What type of healing?"

"It strengthens the body's own resources," the medic explains. "So if your brother gets sick, you can use your own chakra to help him heal faster. I can even teach you a version to lower the possibility of host rejection - that is, something you can use to make his eyes get better quicker. Wouldn’t you like to help with that?"

"Yes! Teach me!" Hashirama exclaims.

All thoughts of the swirling black tomoe are forgotten.

[grimmseye]

A Little Evil — Chapter Two

Read on Ao3

How Venomous gets his favorite minion. 

Chapter Warnings: Violence (specifically against a child. Many people get hurt in this chapter). Negative Zones are run by villains and don’t have good moral standards. 

-----

The Meeting

He is six months into his quest to engineer the perfect minion. 

Six months is a longer struggle than he’s faced in a long, long while. Ordinarily a challenge would be exhilarating, something to finally pour some passion into. He craves anything that would occupy his mind, but for once the challenge is unwelcome. Venomous has made no progress. 

Rats, cats, birds, lizards, snakes, plants, a few dozen other bases, all have amounted to a waste of time and resources. He’d even taken humanoid embryos to treat, but none of them survived a few days out of their tanks. They didn’t exhibit the necessary sophistication and were duly discarded, or their organs began to shut down, their cognitive functioning regressed. Nothing was working. 

Venomous, apparently, still lacks the ability to create life with just his own hands. The moment he starts toying with strands of DNA, programming nonlethal viruses to rewrite the genetic codes in every last cell, something goes horribly wrong. 

He’s probably going to end up disposing of yet another half-grown creature tomorrow. Somehow, the thing’s cells managed to induce the virus’ lytic cycle, and its cardiac cells are rapidly lysing at this moment. Another failure amid all of its predecessors, and this marks a brand new problem for him to decipher. 

It isn’t working. He’s hit a roadblock. Can’t make his powers stronger, can’t bring them back, can’t even build his own minion from scratch. All his failures have compounded to him having no powers and no strength and no friends and no name and no no no fucking nothing — 

Venomous snarls to himself, grimacing down at the sidewalk. He’s tired of venturing into these negative zones. The next villain to try to jump him is going to be on the receiving end of his newest creation — the result of octopus tentacles treated with special steroids and given an independent neural network. Given the right stimulation, they grab, crush, and tear whatever is in their grasp — the more struggling and screaming, the more aggression behind each move. 

The thought makes him smile and give a soft laugh. That would be fun. He hopes someone might try it now. He just needs to determine how to clearly exude both weak and wealthy to lure someone — 

The thought is interrupted by a sudden scream of pain. It’s a common sound here, and Venomous doesn’t so much as bat an eye while continuing down the block. What does catch his attention, though, is the cacophany that follows — shouts, angry, “Get that fucking brat!” 

A kid? His eyebrows rise. Venomous veers towards the noise instead of away, telling himself it’s idle curiosity. Maybe something opportunistic rearing its head, yes, that’s it. He can always use more humanoid blood samples. An impromptu spinal tap may be in order as well. 

He saunters around the perimeter of a large building — some kind of laboratory, though its exact field isn’t clear from the outside. There’s an undignified yelp, a man screaming “ I can’t fucking see!” in a way that suggests he may have just lost an eye. Venomous feels a smile creep over his mouth and kicks up the pace, very much wanting to see the carnage now. 

There’s a high-pitched, furious shriek that splits the air, all senseless noise. It nearly drowns out the bellow of “I’m gonna break your fucking neck!” 

The screaming is suddenly choked off. Venomous rounds the corner. 

Out here is what seems to be a collection of guards wrangling a small child. A shock of white fur and washed-out pink hair is flailing in one’s grasp, a hand closed around her neck. Squeeze too tight, and those tiny vertebrae would crack. 

Now, Venomous is probably certifiably evil at this point, may even show up on a POW card of his own soon, but he’s not a monster. Kids can be put down, knocked aside, those rookie heroes need to be driven back from the scene before they get any significant power. But he’s never had patience for those who go too far. World domination sounds lovely, but there is a line. 

Venomous pulls a ball out of his pocket and a bottle of water, dousing the dark-green orb. When he feels its smooth exterior start to squirm, undulating in his grip, he gives it an underhand toss. It sails over the heads of these goons in a smooth arc, bouncing twice on the concrete before erupting into a mass of tendrils. 

Shrieks ring out. Venomous strolls forward, lifting his palm to his mouth to sink his sharpened teeth into the meat of it. Blood bursts around his fangs and pools over his skin. Most of the goons are lucky enough to tear themselves away with little more than some bruises, maybe a sprained ankle or a dislocated arm as the tentacles try to seize their prey. Two get caught in the thick of it, a series of cracks sounding amid their wails of pain as their legs are engulfed and constricted. 

He’s not necessarily a sadist, but he can appreciate someone getting their just desserts. Attempting to murder a child — that’s far beyond villainy. 

And speaking of the child. She drops, not even enough breath to scream. Venomous breaks into a jog before his creation can seize a new thing to break, casting his wounded hand out in front of himself. The taste of his blood has the tendrils calming and parting for him, letting him pick his way through without complaint so he can scoop the creature up out of harm’s way. 

She’s tiny. Fits into the crook of his arm, her white fur stained bright red around his mouth and paws. Her breath comes shallow and quick, face pinched in abject terror. As Venomous extracts himself from the tendrils, leaving them to finish off their prey, red eyes snap open. Albino, then. 

She squeaks, and then bares her teeth. Before she can try to bite, Venomous pushes her head down, fingers safely tucked away from her mouth. “None of that,” he scolds. “I just saved you, you shouldn’t be so rude.” 

“Down!” She screams — or tries to. Her voice is cracked, and the sound makes her gasp and cough. A frown pulls at Venomous’ mouth. 

“Shhhh,” he soothes, kneeling down. The last of the screams have been smothered at last, leaving them in blessed quiet. Those out on the street are likely and rightfully minding their own business. “You’re bruised at a minimum, don’t strain anything. That was very impressive though, kid. A bunch of tough grown-ups, and you send them screaming.” 

Even in her exhausted, terrified, angry state, that gets a smile cracking briefly over her mouth. Venomous chuckles at her weary glee. He sets the child down in front of himself, remaining on his knees. He supposes this is it, then. His heroics for the day are over — he has places to be. 

The child rubs her throat with a paw, wincing. “Why’d you do that?” she croaks. Her eyes narrow, mouth stretching into a sneer. “You a hero?” 

Venomous gives a faint shrug. “Nah, not a hero. But those guys were just…” He pondered the right explanation. “... the kind of people I really wanted to see suffer.” 

Her eyes go wide. Not fear, as he might have expected. They’re shining. 

It’s a look he hasn’t faced since the death of Laserblast. Something curls in his chest, not a bad thing. 

He tamps it down, clearing his throat and getting to his feet. “Well,” he says, awkward. “... Bye.” 

Venomous turns to head back onto the main drag, hands sliding into his pockets. He needs to pick up a new shipment of illicit materials if he doesn’t want his next commission to be late. Someday he’ll figure out how to get shipments into the neutral zone, but until then it’s regular flights here and doing the smuggling himself. 

He’s two blocks down when he realizes he’s being followed. There’s a soft, “Watch it, brat,” that catches his ear. Venomous halts, head swinging, just in time to catch the little rat child ducking behind a newspaper dispenser. 

Oh hell no. 

A frown twists his mouth as he picks up the pace, crossing another street (no actual signals, just firing a laser gun into the road until the vehicles stop trying to hit pedestrians). He turns his head. There she is, pretending to study a sign. Another block down. Turn. She ducks into an alleyway. 

Venomous grimaces. He could just ignore her. She could follow him all she wants, eventually he’ll just get on a plane and she’ll be out of his hair.

Something has him pacing back towards her. He comes to the break between buildings, finding the alley she’d ducked into. There’s a dumpster back here, open — and a frizz of matted pink hair peeking over the rim. 

It twitches as he comes closer. “What are you doing,” he drags out, watching the fluff jump before her head pokes up. 

“Nothin’,” she rasps, glaring as though to dare him to argue. She clutches a tattered-looking doll in her arms. Doll is generous. It seems to be scrapped together from garbage. 

“Following me, you mean,” Venomous corrects. 

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, or tries to before even that little movement makes her wince. She glares at him. Venomous stares back. He raises an eyebrow, their gazes locked for several moments before she cracks. Stubborn. Brave. 

“Fine!” She spits. “I wanna see you — you’re strong! I wanna be strong. Then no one’ll mess with —” She gasps and breaks into a coughing fit. It looks agonizing, her paw clutching her throat and her eyes brimming with tears when she’s finally able to wrangle it into control. 

She’s got spirit. She’s a fierce little beast. She’s smart enough to speak coherently when he’s certain she’s had no formal education. She follows him for the purpose of observation, learning.

Venomous gets an idea. 

“... Okay,” he says, already feeling like he’s going to regret this. “Tell you what, kid. I’ve been needing a minion.”

Her eyes narrow, but she inclines her head for him to continue. He smiles as he says, “You want to learn how to be like me? Come with me. I’ll teach you everything you want to learn. How to read, write,” she makes a face and he changes his tune, “and just how hard a big man can fall.”

Something shifts in her hair. He wonders if she has ears to match her whiskers and tail. There’s that glimmer in her eyes, but it hardens again, glowering at him. Distrust. Clever, too. “What d’you get outta it?” 

“A minion,” Venomous says, and shrugs. “Someone to help in the lab. And look at me,” he gestures to his skinny frame. “If a big guy grabs me, and I can’t reach my weapons? I need someone to save me.”

And that’s what seems to do it. The mistrust melts out of her face. She’s just a little kid, after all. She’s exhausted, hurt, scared. Venomous offers a hand, even if his skin crawls looking at the garbage she’s perching in. “So — what do you say, kid?” 

She stares at his hand, at his face. A smile cracks across her mouth. Her eyes are glossy, and he does not know what to do if she cries. But her paw clasps his hand and she beams, voice hoarse and shaking as she says, “You’ve got a deal, boss.”

[aces-to-apples]

DVD commentary meme! Whatever part of Family Before Honor you'd like to talk about, please!!

Alrighty, since there isn’t much of it posted and chapter two isn’t very long to start with, I’ll just do that then. Author’s commentary on chapter two of “Family Before Honor” beneath the cut:

Two Months

Domestic: 1) of or relating to the home, the household, household affairs, or the family. 2) no longer wild; tame.

I suppose the first thing to note is the pattern of the chapters and summaries—each chapter, and there’s only going to be three, is titled based on how long it’s been in the fic since Cut’s death and each summary is the theme on which the chapter is built. “Two Months” is more meant to bridge the gap between “Two Hours” and “Two Years” and is based around Rex making the transition from military life to civilian life. Settling into a rhythm with Suu and the kids that works for everyone.

Rebuilding the La’Cuane farm is an undertaking both larger and smaller than Rex had first estimated.

Ah, yes, “La’Cuane”. Because fuck Dave Filoni. Before I watched The Deserter, I was under the impression that Lawquane was most likely pronounced more like “lah-kayn” but, as is my custom, when I learned the “official” version I said “nah, fuck that” and came up with my own. So, “Lawquane” is a mistranslation as so many Basic Twi’lek names are. Because fuck you, Dave.

The first few days are an unending game of hurry-up-and-wait: for Republic forces to finish routing the Seps, for Jesse and the boys to come back to retrieve him when he didn’t answer their comms, for Suu to sniffle and stutter her way through the story they’d cooked up to explain his ‘death.’

I just don’t like “Seppies”, okay? I just don’t. “Covies” I’ll accept from Halo, because Marines, but “Seppies”, “tinnies”, and “shinies”? Mmm, how ‘bout the fuck not?

Then waiting for various scans of the remains to come up positive for Fett’s genetic material, for ‘his’ chip to come up too damaged to ping as more than simply present, for Kenobi—well, it turns out that Kenobi had a softer heart than Rex had ever thought. From what Rex spies, he looks damn near devastated for a few heartbeats after Suu tells him the news.

Departing from @norcumii’s version, “Dead Men Tell No Tales”, I decided that it’s too early in the war for Rex and Obi-Wan to have actually started a romantic relationship and kept it as more of a “what if” kind of thing for them to regret. More pining, that way ;)

Then the children march up to him and Jesse, carrying Rex’s armor in their undersized little arms, and Jek loudly proclaims that they want to keep Rex’s bucket. “He was like a, a superhero,” Jek says earnestly, and next to him Shaeeah nods vigorously. “He was so brave and he saved us from the monsters and we’ll take really good care of it.”

Listen, the La’Cuane kids are just insanely cute, okay? And according to Legends (I think?) they were aware enough that they had several million uncles out there in the universe that Shaeeah wrote a book about it, so they absolutely grew up with stars in their eyes about their extended family.

Suu makes a little scene of chastising them, calling it disrespectful, saying that his brothers should have his helmet, it was only right. Rex is dazed by the layers of manipulation they all go to just for him to keep his face; he’s even more dazed by how well it works.

Kenobi clearly melts at the display but looks to Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase for the final decision. Rex can read the silent conversation between them as clear as day. When Jesse crouches down to gaze intently into the visor of Rex’s helmet, he knows the children have won.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jesse says decisively, and it’s settled. Quieter, he adds, “I think he’d like that…”

If Rex wasn’t so traumatized right now, he’d be absolutely indignant that Jess just blatantly lied like that. How dare you slander the good name of Captain Rex, good Lieutenant, by implying this small child whom he only knew for a few hours and “died” to protect should keep his face when Kenobi is standing over there trying not to cry. Come say that to his helmet, coward!

Rex doesn’t think about where Cut’s bucket had ended up.

I like throwing out lines that if you think about them for longer than it takes to read them then they might become incredibly depressing. What did happen to his helmet? What happened to his armor?

Jek clutches the helmet to his chest in victory and Shaeeah smiles sweetly and Suu has this fond, exasperated look on her face that Rex assumes comes standard with being eyn buir. The children magnanimously offer the rest of his armor to the men, stacked as neatly as they could manage. Rex stares as Kenobi helps pack it away with the supplies for safekeeping, subtly pocketing his left vambrace as he does.

I’m gonna be honest, at this point canon and fanon have merged so much for me that I don’t even know what’s true and what’s not. Just go with it.

Rex doesn’t think about maybes and what-ifs.

Then Kenobi turns back to Suu and his gaze goes past her to the ruined farmhouse and Rex gets the feeling that Kenobi’s about to do one of those terribly un-Jedi-like things he had never, ever admitted to sometimes doing. He pulls out a credit chip and Rex knows.

He has to turn away from the scene and take careful breaths. Kenobi wasn’t perfect—Cody has spent hours venting to Rex and Wolffe and whoever else managed to meet up at once about his hypocritical, sanctimonious Jedi—but just like Skywalker, just like Tano, just like Windu and Yoda and Secura and every other Jedi, he had his moments of breath-stealing goodness.

Listen, I love some Jedi characters to death, but I have—had, now that Tumblr filters out posts with words like “fuck” and “wank” in the tags when you search for them and pretends they don’t exist—a #fuck the jedi order tag for a reason. The narrative tends to frame both the Jedi Order and most Jedi characters as Righteous and Good, while also having them commit pretty heinous acts and tossing the audience horrific implications/pieces of information at the same time. I’ve said it somewhere before, but The Clone Wars wants to have its “deep, edgy, grimdark exploration of war” and eat its “fun, wacky space adventures” too and while we’ve all noticed the tonal whiplash that the show gives us, it plays hell with the narrative itself. Unspeakably bad shit happens in one arc, and nobody ever mentions it again. The Jedi control a slave army, and that’s Bad, but we’re told that they care about their troops and want to help them Later, which cancels out the Bad and keeps them Good Guys. In universe, it absolutely doesn’t work. We all know the Jedi pull some fuckshit every two weeks, so you bet your ass the clones know it too and routinely get sauced and rant about it to each other where no one can hear them. But they also can be extremely helpful and empathetic between three to five every other Thursday. Sorry, just mentioning #fuck the jedi order sends me off into a rant and I actually deleted a lot of other stuff from this part because Not Important.

Rex should’ve known his last act as a captain, and his first act as a free man, would be finally witnessing one of those moments.

And then Kenobi is gone, his brothers are gone, and the work begins.

- - -

It’s slow-going, and at times back-breaking, and it quickly becomes apparent that the nerve-damage Kix had warned about has set in good and proper. After the children have gone to bed, Rex and Suu go outside to have a rousing argument about what to do—the first of many on the horizon.

I know, I know, it’s common wisdom that disagreeing with your partner are normal but knockdown drag-out arguments Are Not and while I absolutely understand that, I come from a family with an absurdly large number of siblings that subscribe to the Taika Waititi School of Siblings and therefore it’s perfectly reasonable to shout yourself hoarse about some nonsense or other and get mad and stomp off and then two hours later throw a pillow at the other person’s head and say “hey dickhead come look at this funny post what’s for dinner later”. And as such that’s how every sibling relationship I ever write will function because I genuinely don’t understand siblings who don’t drag each other at every opportunity and then pop up around a corner like an awful gremlin to scare them at 2:30 in the morning just to fuck with them.

Suu demands they use part of Kenobi’s credits to pay for surgery to remove and replace the dead arm; Rex counters that he can function with only one arm, but none of them can function without a roof over their heads and walls to shield them from the elements. Suu says that they will contact a doctor she knows on the other side of the planet tomorrow and that’s final; Rex blinks, says understood, sir, and stands down.

The next morning, between frying eggs and waking the little ones, Suu apologizes for 'pulling rank’ on him. Rex can tell the words sit strangely in her civilian mouth. He accepts her apology and says nothing about how he hadn’t even noticed his own automatic reaction to her tone the night before, but. That was exactly how he’d reacted, wasn’t it?

When next they argue, about him ‘overdoing it’ and ‘exerting himself too much’, he’s ready for the gut-punching Commanding Officer Voice and shouts back when it’s his turn to talk. It works for them.

Listen, I don’t know about you, but when I hear certain tones of voice I automatically respond in certain ways. Like the vocal version of being full-named.

- - -

“White is death,” Rex explains once the final layer of base paint has settled on the plastoid. He runs his hand firmly down the prosthesis in its finalized form, from the ball of the synthetic shoulder to the tips of each finger. It’s as much to test that the molecules of paint bind properly as it is to get himself used to the difference. “White is the bones of those long gone. White is the snow that covers the fields in winter. It… stifles, and kills, but it’s also. Possibility, I suppose. White armor is shiny and new, but that just means it has yet to prove itself. You never know what you’re gonna get when you scratch beneath the surface.”

I had a lot more of @izzyovercoffee’s Mandalorian color theory stuff that I ended up cutting just because it didn’t really fit, but you should check them out because they’re suuuuuuper interesting. I love cultural worldbuiding shit like that.

Hanging on his every word, Jek and Shaeeah nod breathlessly. They watch as he picks up a foam brush and dips it into a small pot of 501st blue. He sets it to the very top of the arm and brings it down in a smooth, careful, practiced motion.

“Blue is reliability,” he continues. The unbroken line he draws down to the wrist is thinner than it was on his armor, but copying his armor isn’t the point; the point is to create something new out of its loss. “It’s faithfulness, and consistency. It’s the sky—the very air—and you can always in trust that.”

Listen, if you want subtlety, go read deadcat’s stuff. If you want to get bashed over the head with this shit, you’ve come to the right place.

Lastly, he picks up a fine detail brush and dips it into a second pot.

“This one is different,” he says eventually, gauging his little cadets’ avid expressions. “You use red to honor a parent and the word for ‘red’ in Mando’a is ge’tal—literally, ‘almost blood.’ It’s a complicated word, because to Mando’ade, your family isn’t always going to have the same blood as you. It might not be red at all—it might be green, or blue, or something else entirely. But with family, you’re always ready to spill others’ or your own in order to protect them; it’s about honor… and love.”

“Mom,” Shaeeah deduces, her voice quiet as a mouse as they all gaze at the sharp, cutting magenta that coats the brush.

Rex nods.

“Just so.” He twirls the brush around and offers it to them. “Now, what should we do with it?”

Listen, it’s very important to me that we cut that toxic masculinity shit out of Star Wars, stop linking pink to femininity, more important stop linking femininity to weakness, and ultimately I want to see more clones wearing pink. Pink flowers and curlicues mixed in with 501st blue on Rex’s sick robot arm? Sign me the fuck up.

—

Aaaaand that’s the Author’s Commentary on Chapter Two of Family Before Dishonor, hope you enjoyed!

[sher-soc-the-famder]

MIRACULOUSLY THEIR OWN- CHAPTER 8

Not Every Card’s A Trump Part 7

Word count: 5904

Pairings: Romantic Royaltiy, Platonic LAMP

Warnings: Child abuse, Homophobia, Violence, Racism

Notes: I’m totally slaying at this being productive at writing thing lately, have yet another thing from me XD This chapter’s a dozy so feel free to come scream at me on the Discord that Milo set up! They also drew an awesome banner that y’all should also scream about! Art by @the-pastel-peach? yeah that’s relevant now

ANYWAYS huge thanks to @wisepuma23 for being best Alpha and @my-happy-little-bean for being best beta! Enjoy!

Read On AO3

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The lobby stood silent. Roman just breathed for a long moment, glaring down at Ms. Trumpbull. Dillan's hand still touched his arm lightly, and it was only years of working with the man that kept Roman from shrugging it off in his anger. Lauren's hand covered her mouth, Kai on the other hand looked darkly satisfied about the outcome.

"Assault!" Trumpbull screeched, breaking the silence. "This is assault! How dare-!" 

She took a step towards Roman, who bared his teeth, more than ready to accept her challenge to throw down. Dillan's hand on arm increased in pressure before Dillan moved to stand in front of him. Roman breathed deeply, staring at Dillan's dreadlocks rather than the accursed woman.

"Hey, hey, let's all calm down," Dillan suggested. Roman couldn't see it but he knew the mild smile that would be on Dillan's face. One that wouldn't quite reach the anger in his eye. "We wouldn't want the manager to get involved." 

Kai snickered from Roman's left. "Oh, please. Let's get that bastard involved with the bitch. You could sell tickets for the ensuing cat fight." 

Lauren elbowed him in the side. Roman felt some of the anger and stress flow off of his shoulders at the familiar banter. No matter what came of this, his theater crew- apologies Kai- Pirate Crew would have his back. Kai smirked at Roman, and Roman felt his lips twitch into a real smile at the action. 

"No!" Trumpbull shouted. "Let's do get the manager involved! I demand to speak with the imbecile in charge of a circus like this!” She pulled herself up to her full height and her arms clawed through the air, not so different from the dragon he had compared her to once. “How dare you speak to me like that, boy! How disrespectful! Who’s in charge of this place? I demand to speak with him!" 

Roman could see the tension along Dillan's back at her words. His blood boiled, and it took all he had not to snap back at the woman. He could get away with so much more than Dillan and Roman knew that. He had already taken advantage of that already. Violence now could get Dillan in trouble. That and Rebecca's arm ghosting over his right arm as she entered the scene held him back. 

"Dillan," Rebecca said softly, "Larry wants to know why he's missing half his cast with only fifteen minutes until opening curtains." 

Dillan didn't look away from Trumpbull. He swept his hands out in a 'look here' gesture.

"Well we have a rather rowdy audience member," he said in the same smooth tone. "She wants to see the manager of 'this circus' is how she put it?" 

"Ah," Rebecca said. Her shoulders straightened as she turned to face Trumpbull. “I am a manager. What can I do for you tonight?”

“You?” Trumpbull screeched. Her eyes racked down Rebecca, catching on her hijab. Roman’s eyes flickered between the two women. “You’re a manager? No wonder this trash heap is falling apart if someone like you is in charge.”

Rebecca quirked an eyebrow up and Roman heard Dillan whisper from next to him, "Oh shit. Don't forget to leave something to bury 'Becca."

"Not the manager I was thinking of, but tear her to fucking pieces Rebecca!" Kai shouted, crossing his arm. Lauren hissed something at him; Roman couldn't catch it through his pounding heartbeat. Dillan reach down to grip his wrist and Roman almost wanted to cry.

He hadn't meant for this to happen. He should have been able to control himself. It had been years since he lashed out at anyone, and god, Patton was going to be so disappointed in him. They were never going to let them see Logan again. Any progress they made was chucked right into the bin because Roman couldn't hold his emotions back for a full stupid thirty seconds.

"I have to ask you to refer to this work space and the employees that work here with respect ma'am," Rebecca's calm voice cut through his thoughts. Her eyes flickered over to him for a moment before returning to Trumpbull, "We accept people of all walks of life here, being a community theater. I am more than happy to speak to you about your complaints, but if you continue to yell I will have to ask you to leave the premise."

Rebecca paused, a shark scenting blood in the water. "There are children present after all."

Trumpbull's heavy breathing echoed through their lobby. One brave man inched past her with a look of contempt as he went to his seat. Her hands opened and closed into fists and Roman tensed up again. If she attacked Rebecca then he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions.

Rebecca, on the other hand, looked unruffled by the threatening actions. She stood her ground, waiting for Trumpbull to speak.

"Your employee–” Ms. Trumpbell shot a sharp glare at Roman– “assaulted me. I demand that he be dismissed on the spot for this transgression!" Roman thought he could hear her teeth grind from the way Trumpbull growled out her words. She pointed at him and he stiffened.

"He attacked me out of nowhere, and having such a violent individual on the premise has to be a danger to your customers!"

Rebecca nodded, and Roman's heart sank. 

"You have a point," Rebecca said steadily. "And we do have procedure for dangerous individuals." She turned, winked at Roman and then addressed-

"Kai, could you, perhaps, tell me what happened here?"

"Excuse me-!" Trumpbull's screeched, and Rebecca turned back to look at her with a hard stare. Trumpbull's jaw clenched in frustration but her volume dropped. "Are you saying that my word isn't good enough for you?" 

Rebecca waved her hand in a soothing motion. 

"I am simply getting the full story," she said, her eyes glittering with something fierce and steady. Roman had seen that look directed at him once. He tried not to let it ever happen again. "We wouldn't want there to be a misunderstanding, would we?" 

Trumpbull whole body shook, and it took everything Roman had not to step in front of Rebecca. He trusted that she could take care of herself, but he was never quite satisfied with that. Not when Rebecca and Dillan tended to walk home together for safety, and not when Trumpbull looked ready to throttle someone.

“No,” Trumpbull gritted out. “No, we wouldn’t.”

Rebecca nodded sharply and turned back to Kai. He looked over the scene with lidded eyes, a cat having found the perfect moment to pounce.

“I have no fucking clue what the bitch is going on about,” Kai said lazily. “All I saw Roman do was make a bomb-ass kid’s night with Lauren’s makeup.”

“I would say it was more than the makeup,” Lauren said with a grin. She nudged his side before threading her fingers through his. Roman stared at the two of them, confused, but heart fit for bursting anyways. “Just because you refuse to acknowledge their acting doesn’t mean it’s not here.”

“So you didn’t see anything?” Rebecca pressed.

“Will it get you off my ass if I say I did?” Kai asked dryly. Rebecca shot him a hard look before turning to Dillan, who leaned into Roman’s side. Fuck, what did he do to deserve friends like these? Dillan clearly didn’t need any more prompting from Rebecca, opening his mouth right away.

“I came in later, but all I know is that Ro’ was upset. He’s a chill gay- I mean guy, you know that ‘Becca. Anything that can get him riled up isn’t good in my books.” He waved his free hand, face incredible steady for what Roman knew was a bald faced lie. Roman got worked up over everything and everyone. “I just wanted to defuse the situation because high emotions can lead to bad acting.”

Rebecca stared at them all for a long moment, and Roman could have sworn that her lips twitched upwards before settling back into her smooth unworried expression. She turned back to Trumpbull.

“Unless you can find someone to collaborate on your story, ma’am, I am inclined to believe that you are making things up in order to harass one of our employees,” Rebecca said, hands folded in front of her. “Which, I should point out, is grounds for us to remove you from the premises.”

Trumpbull gapped at them, mouth opening and closing as her face turned back to an angry red. She pointed at Kai with a shaking finger, then Dillan, then Roman, and then back to Kai. Roman wondered if her head was literally going to explode.

“You’re all lying!” She shouted, eyes wild. “Slander! They want to slander me with these lies! It’s all a conspiracy! You just want- want to attack me because you think that he-” She jabbed her finger at Roman again- “is an actual decent person! He’s a monster! A- a- a-”

She cast her eyes about, skittering away from their stone cold faces. Roman fought against the urge to bite his lips. The Crew would support him no matter what, but he didn’t know about the audience. They could fall either way.

Then, very quietly, from his side, the mother of the boy he had been talking too spoke up.

“Excuse me? Ms, uh, manager, ma’am?” The woman stiffened as all eyes turned on her, but she threw back her shoulders. “He was only talking to us when she came up to harass him. I didn’t see anything… untoward happen to her, only to him.”

Rebecca smiled at the woman, as an agreement rippled through the remaining crowd. Roman’s chest ached as he caught sight of the mother’s gentle smile, and he looked away before he did something embarrassing like burst into tears then and there. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this.

“Then that it is all I need to know,” Rebecca said gently. She turned to frown at Trumpbull, steel in her eyes. “We don’t welcome people like you here. Please vacate the premises before we are forced to take drastic actions, such as calling the police.”

Trumpbull stared at them all. Roman’s shoulders crept upwards the longer that Rebecca stared her down and the matron didn’t move. Trumpbull sent him one last nasty glare, her black eye just starting to turn purple before turning on her heels and storming out of the building.

“Please let the door hit your ass on the way out!” Kai shouted after her, and Lauren snickered. Dillan’s hand slipped down to grip Roman’s. Roman could see Patton hurrying towards them through the crowd, worry clear on his face. Rebecca tsked under her breath.

“Such an unpleasant woman. I hope there isn’t anyone like that at Daliah’s new school.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so,” Roman agreed through his tight throat. Rebecca grinned at him, fleeting and bright before clapping her hands together.

“Five minutes to curtains, let’s get a move on actors!”

Patton threw himself into Roman’s arms. Roman pulled him tight against his chest. He buried his face in Patton's hair, taking comfort in the familiar scent and feel. He would have loved to stand there with Patton forever, but it was almost curtains.

“I have something to tell you,” Patton said quickly as Roman pulled back. He hesitated.

“Later,” he said, gesturing to the stage. “I have to-”

Patton squeezed his hands. Bright eyes searched his own. Patton gave him the sweetest smile before nodding.

“Later then.”

Logan tried to enjoy the more relaxed atmosphere that was around the group home that night. Trumpbull had gone to do something on her day off and the relief of the other children was an almost physical thing. Logan wanted to enjoy it like they did. He wanted to read his book in true peace while he had the chance.

Only his peace had been shattered and Logan wanted nothing more than to scream. Scream or cry, he wasn't sure quite yet. He wouldn't. He refused. He wasn't going to let anyone, let alone an adult, control his heart. He struggled to keep his attention on the book in front of him, shoving thoughts of Pat- adults away.

His eyes scanned over the words, not quite processing them. He stared at the picture of a family before shaking his head violently. He slammed the book shut, glaring at the far wall. Shrieks and shouts from the other room drifted through his open window. He didn’t need a family. He didn’t need anyone.

Logan stood up stiffly, and shoved the book back onto the shelf. He winced at the soft thunk and ran a finger over the spine in quiet apology. It wasn’t the book’s fault. He probably shouldn’t have been reading a fantasy based plot anyways. Tuck Everlasting was nice, but wouldn’t help him in the future. He needed to set aside fiction to be the best he could be.

Logan would need it to get out of here as soon as he could.

He swayed towards the wind that blew through the window. His eyes drifted to the flag that he knew marked the local school. Only a month and a half until he could return to the only place that felt marginally safe in his life. He would impress whatever new teachers he had and maybe, just maybe he would be able to get them to move him up another grade.

Logan leaned against the windowsill. He tried not to put too much weight on his cut arms. They had only just reached the point he didn’t need to bandage them anymore, and he would rather not have to come up with an excuse for more. The stock that he kept stashed in the back of his closet was starting to run a little low. Logan made a mental note to make his way to the nurse to swipe a few more when he had the chance. It was better to be prepared than to be caught off guard and have to come up with an excuse as to what had happened.

He closed his eyes and let the breeze ruffle his hair. His shoulders felt tight enough to snap, but Logan was determined to at least enjoy the last of the time without Trumpbull before she came back. He needed to center himself, to be ready for whatever came next.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled, raising as a heavy weight settled on his chest. Logan opened his eyes, and he blinked, looking around for the source of his discomfort. His eyes landed on the subject of his thoughts, Trumpbull, glaring at the window he was in before storming into the group home.

The hair on his arms joined his neck in standing up straight. Logan shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. He took a shuddering breath, hoping that she wouldn’t come up to find him. It wasn’t likely; it was foolish to expect anything else, but Logan wasn’t ready. He frantically wracked his brain, searching for what he could have done to set her off.

He had time to hide. The thought was a selfish dangerous one. She could end up even angrier at him for avoiding her. She could take her anger out on a different child who would turn the rest of the home against him. She could find him and punish him for avoiding what he had done to avoid discipline.

The closet taunted him.

Logan whimpered, biting down on his lips. So much for ignoring his feelings. He could feel the pounding of his heart beat against his chest, the way that his hands twisted in his sleeves to keep from shaking. He didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He didn’t know.

Logan hated not knowing. Power was knowledge, and power kept him safe. Knowledge and learning kept him safe. If he knew her habits, he could avoid the worst of her. If he knew what set her off, he could brace himself every time he broke one of her rules. If he knew, then he could act.

Logan felt his shaking increase. He hadn’t spoken back to her. He hadn’t sasses another matron, hadn’t been with anyone so he couldn’t have failed to live up to her expectations. His nails dug into his arm. He had done his chores. He had kept curfew and had put all books away at the time she had wanted him too. He had followed all her rules to the letter.

The shouts from the room over fell silent. Logan could hear the footsteps approaching his room. He backed up, shoulder slamming against the open window. He flinched and scrambled to close it. His fingers fumbled at the latch, his brain screaming at him that he was taking too long, he was taking too long, he was taking too long-

The window fell shut with a click. The door knob rattled. Logan struggled to swallow, his heart pounding in his ears.

The door slammed against the wall; the only noise along the entire hall. It echoed in Logan’s ears as his eyes zeroed in on Trumpbull. He couldn’t feel his fingers twisted in his sleeves. He could see the way her chest heaved. He bit his lip. He traced the way her hands flexed.

He couldn’t breathe.

Logan waited for the usual mocking words, the ones that would let him know what he had done wrong. He would be able to go from there. He braced himself, digging his nails into his arms until the cuts hidden there stung. His eyes caught on the bruise that bloomed blue and purple across her cheek into her eye.

He only had a moment to wonder what had happened before his head snapped to the side.

Logan could feel the heat bloom on his cheek from the slap. His hand flew to the spot in surprise as he stared at Trumpbull with wide eyes. Her face twisted, her eyes glittered with anger, and Logan’s feet tingled with nerves. She hadn’t said anything.

She had never hurt him without telling him why first.

Trumpbull wanted to feel like she could teach him to be better. She never shut up about how it was for his own good. Logan had taken comfort in the fact he could predict her most days because of how much she ran her mouth. He had thought silence would be a good thing. He would have thought it meant he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Terror crept into his chest and made its home there. He couldn’t stop his shoulders from trembling. He tried to shuffle a step back to give himself time to put his scattering thoughts together. His heel bumped against the bed frame. The bed rattled, just enough to draw attention, and Logan closed his eyes in horrified resignation.

The taunts he expected didn’t arise. Her hand snapped out, wrapping around the hand still cradling his face. She wrenched it away and Logan tripped over himself as she dragged him towards the door. He twisted in her grip. His skin pinched at the action, and Logan felt tears gather at the edges of his eyes. He couldn’t fight her, not really, but it gave him a false comfort to try.

He hiccuped, trying to hold his sobs back. Trumpbull shot him a glare. Logan brought his free hand up to try and muffle the sounds he was making. He hoped that one of the other matrons came to check on him. They never had before – not when he had proven to be perfectly independent on his own – but the terror making itself known in his chest cried for the opposite.

Her nails dug into his wrist. Their footsteps echoed in the halls. Logan thought he caught sight of some of the other kids scrambling to get out of sight. One almost met his eyes before slamming the door shut. Logan wanted to blame them. But he would have done the same in their place.

He squeezed his eyes shut as Trumpbull dragged him towards the basement. She yanked at his arm. He yelped at the pain, eyes snapping back open as he tried to keep from falling over.

Logan stared at the door to the basement, biting back sobs as she hurled it open. The doorknob hit the wall with a deafening rattle. Logan shrunk back. He didn’t know what he had done wrong. He didn’t know what to expect.  

She yanked on his arm again, pulling him towards the gaping darkness. He tripped over his feet trying to follow the path she wanted. He reached out with his free hand for the rail.

Later, much later, Logan would guess that Trumpbull simply wanted him to hurry up. At least, that’s what he would always want to believe. That she hadn’t thought about what her action could cause. Even in his worst times, he didn’t want to contemplate the worst of that moment.

Trumpbull let go of his wrist. Logan took a single step down the stairs. A large hand pressed against his back and shoved.

The world spun on an axis; Logan had read that in a book, had learned that in a science class. He couldn’t keep track of which way it spun anymore as his fell. His heart leapt as his hands snapped out in an attempt to catch himself. He felt something crack as his right wrist hit the first stair. The air knocked out of his lungs from the pain, leaving him unable to scream.

His feet flew over his head. His hand flew out, scraping against the wall as he tried to grab the rail. Fire bloomed along his fingertips. Distantly, he saw the flecks of blood he left behind.

A crack rung through his head. The world exploded into the stars. Logan curled into himself. His good arm coming up to protect his head as he rag-dolled down the rest of the stairs. His stomach twisted, and Logan had to fight down the urge to throw up as he slammed against the door at the bottom of the stairs.

His shoulders shook, and the smallest motion sent sparks up his arm and head. He sobbed, curling even more, until he was the smallest ball he could manage. He cradled one hand to his chest while the other covered his head. Blood dripped down his temple and Logan tasted tears on his lips.

Trumpbull’s calm steps down the stairs echoed in his head, doubling and tripling like his sight. He watched her descend with growing horror. The fire in her eye hadn’t dampened in the slightest. That, at least, he knew. She wasn’t done yet.

He couldn’t force himself to move.

“You could have killed me,” he whispered, the sound almost non-existent, a simple movement of his lips. “I could have died.”

Trumpbull leaned over him. The door to the basement unlocked with a soft click. Everything in Logan screamed as she stepped over him, calm as her normal days. He thought that he had seen the worst of her. He had thought that he would finally escape, that Patton and Roman would take him away.

Her hands reached down for him, and Logan tried to stop thinking at all.

It was warm. The summer stars shone overhead and Logan traced constellations against the window. A paradox of something that felt completely natural to do, almost mindless, and something that he needed to think about in order to make sure he got them right. Hercules, Libra, Big Dipper, Little Dipper.

He hissed as his left arm jostled his right. Pain radiated along the length of his arm and he curled into a tighter ball in an attempt to alleviate it. It wasn’t rational. It wouldn’t actually help. It was simply his body trying to protect his most vulnerable parts. The way his ribs ached with every breath declared that it had already failed at that.

He breathed, shallow and pained, squeezing his eyes shut until he could gather the energy to peel them back open. His hand shook as he turned back to tracing the constellations. If he wasn’t thinking about the way his arm had cracked against the wall when-

His breath shuddered. Logan glanced away from the window. He tugged his legs up to his chest carefully, biting down on his tongue as his ankle protested the movement. The crackling of his dried blood sounded all too loud in the silent entrance. But he could prop his right arm up against his legs, allowing his shoulders to finally relax.

Even if relax was a bit of a… hyperbole.

For all that Logan tried to occupy his mind, he still flinched at every noise. The crickets outside refused to fade to white noise. The wood of the group home groaned with the changing temperature. His ears strained as he thought he heard someone shuffling in their bed. His fingers on the window pressed down hard enough to turn white.

The cuts from the closet caught the moon light and Logan jerked his hand back. A sob caught in his throat. He brought his good hand up to scrub at his face. He winced as the action pulled at his black eye.

Logan didn't know why. Trumpbull always had a reason, but he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t figure out why, after being so careful, she would hurt him so obviously. His ears rang, and bile clawed at his throat. His thoughts had scattered from the moment she had thrown him down the stairs and it had only gotten worse after-

He squeezed his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it could fully form. He already knew that shaking his head was a bad idea. Logan wondered if he should have read more about head injuries.

More tears welled in his eyes and he scrubbed even hard despite the pain. Tears only brought more pain. Logan’s breath stuttered in his chest, his ribs screaming in protest at the action. He shouldn’t cry. Crying only made things worse.

He pressed his hand against his face, struggling for control.

A single thought crept through his mind and Logan shied away from it on principle. Maybe Trumpbull was right. He bit down on his lip, shoulders shaking even more. He hated the very idea of agreeing with her. She was a monster, inhuman, an alien, anything that lacked compassion and empathy.

-- But where had compassion and empathy gotten him?

Anger flooded his chest, washing away his pain for a glorious moment. It wasn’t fair. He tried and tried and tried. If he was too smart, they hated him. If he was too dumb, they hated him. Too loud, too quiet, too unnerving, too normal. No matter what he did the world hated him. Well he was done.

They wouldn’t make him play their games anymore.

Not when it was such a stupid one.

Logan’s hand dug into his chest. He didn’t want to feel anymore. Caring only got him hurt. Anger was useless when he couldn’t stand against the people who made him feel that way. Dreams were only his brain compressing memories from the day. Love only set him up for failure. There was no rational reason to keep hoping. To keep extending his pain the way he had all this time.

The wood of the home creaked above him, and his anger fled. His shoulders slumped and he leaned his head back against the window frame. He closed his eyes and could imagine the gulf that he stood over. No one would catch him if he fell.

Fine then. He’d been catching himself this long.

He tipped over, letting his heart disappear into the void below. He wouldn’t need it anymore. From now on, Logan would focus on what was logical; on what made sense and could be predicted. He’d protect himself by getting rid of the reason he needed to be protected at all.

A door opened, squeaking with unoiled hinges. Logan's head snapped up, eyes scanning the hall for whoever would be approaching him. Trumpbull had never come back after her "discipline" but then again, she had always said something and she hadn't. It was reasonable to assume that with so many of her other habits, her own little rules broken, that she would break even more. 

Or it could be one of the other children. 

There was always one on the Bad Days. 

Logan's shoulders relaxed at the small footsteps, not heavy enough to be an adult. Which meant that he was safer -- not safe, never safe, but at least in no danger of getting hurt more -- until the morning. They only came to check on him once Trumpbull's snore started to echo down the halls. 

Logan turned to stare out the window, trying to come up with what he would tell them this time. The world had shattered beneath his feet. What could he possibly tell them to explain how different things were? Seeing was believing but Logan didn't think that they'd believe him even with the blood caked along his neck and temple. 

He'd always been the exception after all. The one that made Trumpbull's blood boil over no matter what he did. He was never going to be enough- 

Logan shoved the thought and the feelings that came with it back down. He wasn't going to feel anything any more. It didn't matter. He needed to focus on the coming days. 

A small head peered around the corner. 

"Logan?" Emmet whispered. He inched closer and Logan watched him dully. Emmet shuffled his feet, eyes glued more on the door than Logan himself. 

"You wouldn't make it far," Logan said dully, thinking about his own wish to run away. They were too young to not attract attention. Nine and eight. Someone would notice; someone would call the police for their reputation if nothing else. 

"O-oh," Emmet startled, eyes glancing wildly around the dark, "I was just- I mean, you know that-" Emmet drew up short and stared at him with wide eyes. His freckles stood out on his pale face. His whisper dropped to more of just his lips moving. "Are you alright?" 

Logan shrugged his shoulder, biting back a whimper as it moved his right arm. Emmet flinched at the noise, wringing his hands together. 

"Ri- Right, stupid question, uh, right, stay there,  I'll just-" Emmet spun on his heels and ran back into the hallways. Logan watched him go, blinking slowly. Because of course not even the other children could behave the way he expected them to. He had just about figured out what to say too. 

He leaned his head back again, listening to the flutter of a bird outside. 

Whispers echoed down the hall, overlapping the pattering of feet. Logan sighed. They would have been quieter coming in one by one. He wondered if they were even bothering to avoid the louder floorboards. Not that it mattered with the noise they were making already. If they were lucky, the matrons were as exhausted as they normally were and would sleep through it all.

Emmet's head reappeared, and he gestured at whoever was behind him before hurrying over to Logan. He hopped over the one floorboard that they all knew creaked too loud, landing lightly on his feet before stopping in front of Logan. He chewed on his lip; Logan stared at him dully before turning to the other.

Amelia caught his attention immediately, whispering to one of the younger girls and adjusting the box she carried. Half a dozen kids spilled into the entrance and a familiar voice broke the near silence. Logan blinked. 

"So bookworm," Edgar snapped, stalking closer to him, "What's this about you finally getting the Bull to snap?" 

"Does it count as snapping if she's been on the edge for years?" Logan murmured, and blinked again at the silence that reigned. Logan glanced up as something flit through Edgar's eyes. Edgar sighed heavily, scrubbing at his hair. 

"Oh fuck you," Edgar said, flopping down to sit next to Logan. Close enough that Logan could feel his body heat but not quite touching. "I don't know why I bother with shit- don't look at me like that Sarah, a few curse words aren't gonna hurt the younger ones more than the Bull would." 

A couple of the kids giggled. Edgar cut a glance at Logan, who stared back at him. Edgar sighed and Logan wondered why he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck bookworm, at least tell me that you learned something useful while being beat to all hell and back." 

"No," Logan replied. 

Everyone froze. Edgar's teeth grit almost audibly. Logan idly hoped that his teeth would crack from the force of it before reminding himself that hope went nowhere. Statistically though, grinding teeth ended in damage, and Logan let his mind drift in that direction. Someone snapped their fingers near his face and Logan jerked back. 

"Hey Ed, I don't know if now's the best time-" Amelia started to say. Logan's eyes drifted from Edgar's hand to Amelia's face. She clutched the box in her hand tightly, knuckles an almost glowing white in the dark. 

"If we don't talk to him now, he won't remember anything in the morning," Edgar snapped. "He may not have the sense to stay on the Bull's good side, but I'm not going to be the reason more kids end up like him!" 

"You might not have a choice," Logan whispered. Edgar's head whipped in his direction. 

"What did you just say?" Edgar demanded. 

Logan's body trembled, and he tried to will it to stop. His control slipped from his fingers, his attempts to not think about what had happened falling through his barricades like sand. The whispers of the other kids sounded too distant and unreal. They didn't understand. They couldn't understand. 

Their reality was about to get so much worse. 

"I said," Logan croaked out, "you might not have a choice." 

"Bullshit," Edgar snapped. Logan leaned back as Edgar leaned in even closer. Edgar's eyes looked him over, slowly almost like he cared which Logan knew was a lie. He was like a book to Edgar. Useful for his knowledge and nothing more. Edgar scrubbed at his face again. "Let's just get this over with, bookworm. The faster you talk, the faster the others can feel good about themselves by wrapping you up like a mummy." 

"There isn't anything to say," Logan said simply, and plowed forward when Edgar opened his mouth again. "She certainly didn't say anything." His trembling worsened. "She didn't say anything. I don't know- I don't- I didn't do anything-"

He sucked in a sharp breath and ignored the clattering of Amelia's box falling to the ground. He shoved his emotions back into a small box. He could control himself. He chucked the box at a metaphorical wall and let his voice fall back into a near monotone. 

"She's not following her own rules." Edgar's eyes pierced through the dark, intent and determined at Logan’s words. "It's like she's so mad that she just doesn't care anymore. There- There's no more cheats or shortcuts. She doesn't- doesn't care." 

Logan's good hand snapped out to grip Edgar's arm, willing the older boy to understand. 

"There are no rules anymore."

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[imagine-darksiders]

Blue-eyed monster.

What’s this? A jealous War fic? With a part 2 on the way???

Love you guys <3

------

There would never be an easy way to do this...

War glares resentfully at the flimsy door in front of him, at the little nicks and scratches that mar the white paint around the frame, revealing the splintered wood underneath. Each mark alludes to a time in the past where he’d squeezed through the relatively tiny, human-sized doorway and ended up taking most of the damn thing with him as he shoved and bullied his way inside your apartment. He would always spend an inordinate amount of time picking flecks of paint off his broad shoulders and watching you sweep the remnants of your doorframe from the carpet. 

War’s proud, blue eyes narrow to slits, his gauntleted fists clenching and unclenching as he considers the problem. He remembers that, a few days ago,  you’d very casually asked him to please be more careful whenever he enters and exits your home. Had is been anybody else, War would have laughed brazenly in their face and done as he pleased. 

But you are not ‘anybody else.’ You are his friend. One of the few - if not the only - friend he has. And, at some, undetermined point in your journey together, you’d unwittingly found yourself promoted from War’s tiny ally to his tiny charge, and if his charge’s only request was that he not scuff his armour against the sides of the door, then he’s willing to comply. A courtesy he saves only for you. 

Strife had accused him of going soft when he first witnessed War interacting with you. The youngest horseman showed his brother just how soft he’d become...by introducing the full force of the Tremor Gauntlet to Strife’s helmetless head. It’s been several weeks since then and that bruise still hasn’t completely faded.

Deciding that he’s stared down your door long enough, War rolls his mighty shoulders, the pauldrons clanking noisily, and reaches out with two fingers to delicately grasp your flimsy, brass doorknob......

And promptly freezes in place, his eyes going wide and ears straining to hear through the thin wood. 

There’s a voice. Nothing exceptionally unusual about that - except, it isn’t your voice. War’s fingers tighten of their own accord, inadvertently pressing dents into the metal knob. This goes ignored though, the horseman too preoccupied with the new voice. 

It sounds male..No, there are two males speaking now. And two females. To his disquiet, he can’t pick out your voice amongst the dim, muffled chatter. 

Now, War has always been a strategist. Pragmatic to a fault, he is not prone to random surges of alarm or worry. And as a tactician of the battlefield, his mind reflexively speeds through every possible scenario that could be occurring in your kitchen right now, each becoming progressively more disturbing than the last.  

You’ve moved out and these strangers are your familiar apartment’s new residents. 

They’re burglars who waited until you left for a few hours before they started ransacking your home....

..Or maybe they had a more....malicious intent. War’s heart lurches at the thought and he bares his teeth unconsciously. What if they’re kidnappers? You could be sitting there, helplessly bound to a chair with a filthy rag stuffed into your mouth so you couldn’t call for help!

The beast that forever lurks dormant between War’s ribs, suddenly growls, the sound rumbling out of his throat between clenched teeth like rolling thunder. 

He dwells on the last thought, caught in its swell, drowning under the gruelling, haunting images it pushes insistently against his mind’s walls. He won’t wait any longer, not while your safety is compromised. 

Throwing aside any previous hesitancy about damaging your door, War lowers his head, lifts up one leg and throws it forwards in a kick so powerful, it’d make Ruin proud.

The door buckles under the force of a titanic horseman’s murderous rage and shatters into mere splinters as he shoulders his way through the low frame, amour screeching in protest when it’s dragged against your walls. A cacophony of screams greets him on the other side, along with shouting and a voice - a blessedly familiar voice - exclaiming, “War!?” at the same time as a man screeches, “What the fuck!?”

Tugging himself into the apartment fully, War stands to his full, impressive height and hurriedly takes stock of the room, eyes flashing dangerously. 

To the right is your little kitchenette - kettle, stove and all the familiar things that War’s become accustomed to seeing are still in their respective places. That’s good. On his left, the living area, adorned with a large, well-worn sofa and matching armchair that frame a modest coffee table, beyond which sits your television. It’s still there too. Again, good. Strife and Fury will be pleased. 

There are also at least five humans here. His attention flits from two wide-eyed girls squashed together at the far end of the sofa, to one of the males, who’s frozen halfway between sitting and standing in front of your chair. War’s eyes then snap to the ground where the remaining male sits, cowering behind the coffee table and next to him, the horseman’s main target. 

“War!” you repeat, leaping up off the floor and throwing your arms out in front of your friends, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing!?” 

Gradually, like steam seeping out of a pressure valve, War loosens his grip on Chaoseater’s hilt and lowers a vibrating Tremor Gauntlet, shoving down the weapon’s carnal lust to crack a few skulls and willing his own thundering heartbeat to still. Eyes of impossible blue meet yours and instantly, the tension behind them dissipates. 

In a blink, he’s storming across the room towards you and stuffing his sword into place on his back. The other humans scatter backwards, some even hop over the sofa in a bid to get away from the danger but you bravely stand your ground, jutting out your chin and balling your hands into fists, glaring up at him with a mixture of exasperation and defiance. War dully notes that he’ll have to commend your bravery later. Most would have backed down under the approach of a charging nephilim. 

He easily shoves the coffee table aside using the back of his knuckles before, jarring to a halt in front of you and bringing his large hands up to hover protectively at your sides. There are no ropes around your wrists or ankles, no gag, no marks that indicate injury....

Movement snatches his attention and he whips his head down to the boy on the ground who raises his hands in the air, acting on bare instinct. “H-hey! Cool it, man! Just chill!!” 

War sneers down at him distastefully. In a threatening growl, he gruffly demands, “Who are you,” sweeping his burning gaze over each of their faces. 

With a hefty sigh, you push one of his hands down and rub at the skin beneath your eyebrow. “It’s okay, guys. You were bound to meet him sooner or later. This is War - and I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise, he isn’t going to hurt us.” 

Nobody - the glowering horseman included - looks convinced. 

“Are you, War?” you snap, jerking your head at the people behind you, “These are my friends. From before the apocalypse.” 

Chest heaving, War surveys the group of unfamiliar humans, finally registering that they’re all staring at him, petrified. Which wouldn’t be a first, but frightening humans who look to be around your age is nothing to be proud of. Drawing himself up, he flares his nostrils once in an exhale and swivels his hooded face to fix you with a stern glare. “You didn’t tell me they were coming,” he mutters. 

Your eyelids flutter incredulously. “Er.. I don’t have to tell you every time my friends come round. Besides! You didn’t say you were coming either! A-and why does that mean you should break down my door and scare everyone to death!?” Gesturing at what’s left of it, you whine, “It took me ages to repaint that after last time.”

Around you, your friends slowly begin to move towards you and War, their fear dissipating, overridden by natural human curiosity. The boy on the ground staggers to his feet, grabbing the hem of your pyjama top to steady himself, although he immediately snatches his hand back at the sight of the red behemoth’s curled lip that shows off a pair of gleaming fangs. “Holy shit...You weren’t kidding,” one of your other friends - Jessica - whispers, sidling up to your shoulder, “he’s huge!” One after the other, the small group of humans venture closer to War. He stiffens at their approach, his instinctive neural responses warning him that he’s being surrounded. Covering his massive, metal-clad chest with both arms, the horseman watches them warily whilst they gather around him and shoot questions at you, rapid-fire. 

“What is he doing here!?” 

“Does he always come through doors like that?”

“He looks like he wants to eat us!” 

“Isn’t he a horseman? Where’s his horse?”

Groaning, you run your hands down your face and snatch the remote control up off the table, pausing the film you’d all been in the process of watching. It isn’t that you don’t want War here. Normally, you’re delighted anytime one of your strange, otherworldly friends comes to visit. But tonight was supposed to be a night for you and your human friends. This is the first time you’d all managed to get together since the resurrection of your species and you had a lot of catching up to do. 

You’d missed them, immensely. Surely it isn’t that selfish of you to want a little time just being an ordinary human again. Hanging out with your friends, watching some terrible horror movies and eating as much junk food as you can handle sounds like a godsend after living rough on the demon-infested Earth with only a ferocious horseman of the apocalypse for company, surviving on energy bars and boiled water. 

Tom - a boy you’d only really been friends with because he lived in your area - is bold enough to grab your arm and hiss in your ear, “So, uh..What happens now?” 

War’s frown deepens at the sight of Tom’s hand on your skin.

“Now...” You puff out your cheeks. “I...guess I introduce everyone?”

War, for his part, couldn’t really care less who any of these humans are. Truthfully, he’s still on edge, wound up from the anticipation of a fight. What matters most is that you’re not in any immediate danger, so he supposes he can allow this customary introduction...for now, though he still doesn’t like how intimately that other human is touching you. 

The horseman’s brow furrows in response to an odd sensation swimming around in his belly and, out of the blue, all he wants to do is rip that hand off your arm. If he didn’t know any better, he’d liken it to jealousy. But that’s impossible. He is War. Jealousy isn’t his jurisdiction, it’s more Strife’s. 

Setting his jaw and squashing the ugly feeling down into the very soles of his boots, War listens disinterestedly as you point at each friend respectively, telling him their names. 

“This is Jess.” A girl with dark hair, a friendly but timid face and a pair of thick, round glasses averts her gaze, swallowing thickly. For your sake, the horseman grunts, acknowledging the shy human. 

“And uh... this is Beatrice. Say hi, Bea.” You indicate the woman clutching a pillow to her chest. She appraises War suspiciously, offering a quick, “Hullo,” and a hesitant nod. Satisfied with that, you turn to the boy next to her. “Here, we’ve got Jack...” 

The human; a slight, weedy little thing that’s at least a few inches shorter than everyone else in the room ducks behind ‘Bea’ when War tilts his head towards him. “Hey,” he wheezes, glancing uncertainly at you. At last, you lift your elbow - the one Tom is still clinging to - and jerk your thumb back at him.  “And this is -” 

“Tom,” the remaining human interrupts, matching War’s scowl as best he can and edging in front of you minutely, “You usually go around kicking in people’s doors, huh big man?”

“Tom,” you urge him back quietly, all too aware of the subtle challenge he’d just issued a horseman. What Tom forgets is that War is not human and he reacts to challenges like a bull to a red rag. As you expected, the horseman’s eyes harden and you can hear his leather straps creaking under the strain of his flexing muscles. 

Desperate to placate the horseman and keep your friends reassured, you step right out of Tom’s grasp and move to stand next to War, failing to see the look of surprise flicker across his shadowed face. “Listen, this is...unexpected, sure.” You shoot War an extremely pointed glare. “I mean, I’m gonna have to rebuild the door. But it’s done now, so. Let’s just get back to watching the movie, yeah?” The others shift on their feet and nod uncertainly, slowly sinking into their previous positions - all but Tom. 

“Will uh...he be joining us?” he asks, roving his eyes up and down the horseman a few times, no doubt sizing him up. 

Skeptical, yet hopeful, you cock your head at War and admit, “I don’t know. War, would you like to watch TV with us?”

Watching your eyes light up with a smile, War almost feels bad for roughly growling, “No.” 

Your four friends flinch at the animosity he’s packed behind the small word. You however, just shrug and roll your eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself, stand there all night if you like. But we’re watching a movie.” With that, you leave him to go and plonk yourself down on the sofa, sandwiching yourself between Jack and Jess. Tom follows suit, though when he reaches the sofa, instead of sitting on the end, he stares with raised eyebrows at Jack, who holds his gaze for a few moments before sliding up, away from you. 

Anger rears its head as War sees the uncomfortable way your lip pulls to the side at Tom’s action, a clear indication of your displeasure. So when the boy falls into the sofa and goes to toss his arm casually over your back, you immediately shrug it off and fix one of your withering stares on him. There’s that billowing swell of pride filling up War’s chest. 

For a time, he does exactly as you’d suggested. He stands in place for a good chunk of the movie, taking nothing in because he’s too busy glaring daggers at the side of Tom’s head. He’d made up his mind. The other humans are...tolerable at the very least. They seem harmless enough. But this one...Something about him feels....off. He’s like so many young Nephilim that War can remember, and like those young Nephilim, he’s aggressive. Confrontational. Cocky. Doesn’t know when to back down from a fight. Why you’ve placed any value on your friendship with Tom, War will never know. 

Another half an hour later and everything goes to pot. 

Tom, making sure to catch War’s eye, stretches loudly, yawning with his mouth obscenely agape and then, to the horseman’s outrage, he lowers his hand down your back, snaking it around your ribcage and brushing his fingertips over the soft skin of your stomach. War sees your face, sees the way your eyes widen, livid. He registers the soft flash of your throat as you swallow down an angry lump. You open your mouth to tell Tom to get off, but before you get a word out, he’s suddenly yanked from his seat at your side.

War had cleared the room in three strides and taken a hold of Tom’s forearm, drowning it in his enormous gauntlet. He squeezes the human’s flimsy wrist, teeth gnashing and eyes blazing wildly, not enough to cause a break but definitely enough to hurt him. 

In an instant, you’re on your feet as well and once again trying to stop a fight from breaking out.“War! Stop it! Put him down!” As you speak, the others all rise as well, looking at each other, unsure of how to help.

War ignores you, lifting Tom off the ground and snarling in his - now rather pale - face. “You will not touch Y/n,” he seethes. Something latches onto his arm and he snaps his gaze down to see you tugging on the heavy limb insistently. “Let him go, War.” 

“He touched you. You didn’t want him to,” he says, as though you had no idea. 

Looking back at your other friends, you lower your voice to a hoarse whisper, wincing when Tom begins to thump the horseman’s hand in an attempt to free himself. “He’s just being an idiot. You think I can’t handle that? I’ve been handling stuff like that a lot longer than you have.” 

Apparently, War doesn’t quite grasp the subtle concept of whispering. The human dangling from his grasp lets out a shrill yelp when the hand twitches and the pressure around his arm increases. “This human has touched you before?” he all but bellows, “Where?” 

Heat rushes into your cheeks. “War, please,” you hiss back, “you’re embarrassing me! Just put Tom down and go! I want to have a nice, quiet evening with my friends.”

“You are my friend,” he rumbles, jostling Tom with a shake of his fist, “Mine.” 

As annoying and pushy as your old neighbour can be, you have no desire to reset a broken arm tonight. Furiously, you land a vicious slap to War’s gauntlet, tears springing to your eyes from the pain of hitting metal. “If you don’t let him go right now, I won’t be!”

Silence, broken only by the film credits now rolling in the background, descends upon the room. You stand there, heaving and panting as the horseman stares down at you, searching your face for a hidden lie. You hadn’t meant that. Surely? 

A few more seconds pass by before War finally opens his hand and drops Tom unceremoniously to the floor. You don’t move to help him up. 

“...Maybe we should all just go,” Jack suggests after the room feels as though it’s been still for far too long, earning a few murmurs of agreement from the others. 

Turning away from War, your eyes grow round and you plead, “No, wait, it’s okay! I - he’s not gonna -”

“Y/n,” Jess whispers, fearfully eyeing the giant man, “You know we love you, but this guy is bad news! I - I already died once..” She trails off, looking at you with remorse and shaking her head. Then, without taking her eyes off the horseman, she bends down and snatches up her phone and bag, fleeing out of the door while you can only watch on helplessly. 

Beatrice gathers her own things off the floor. Slinging her sleeping bag over a shoulder, she smiles at you, though it looks more like a grimace in this light. “Sorry, Y/n. Talk soon.” And with that, she too has gone. 

Meanwhile, Jack has managed to lift Tom off the floor and he’s thrown the other boy’s good arm over his shoulders. “M’gonna take Tom home,” he breathes, voice trembling. Your shoulders slump as you watch him shuffle out of the destroyed doorway, dragging the moaning boy along beside him. 

Once more, the apartment is plunged into uncomfortable silence. It feels so much emptier, even with the hulking juggernaut of a horseman taking up ample space. War regards you softly for a while, relishing the steady rise and fall of your chest and the sound of your quiet little breaths. Suddenly, you suck in a deep lungful of air and hold it, ceasing all movement as you turn a hurt and rightfully livid look onto the horseman. 

Sighing, War takes a step forward, reaching out a hand. “Y/n-” 

You don’t give him the opportunity to finish. Instead, you jab a finger in the direction of your broken, apartment door and utter two, dangerously quiet words. “Get. Out.” 

Then, spinning on your heel, you march over to your bedroom at the other end of the apartment and throw the door open, disappearing inside. Despite his battle prowess, War still flinches at the power with which you slam that door shut again. 

War takes one look at the unprotected entrance to your home and recalls the missives that Azrael had sent out, of demons still rumoured to stalk the sewers below your city. He doesn’t leave, of course, choosing to remain on guard in your apartment until the early hours of the morning, only standing down and traipsing reluctantly out of the building when he heard the first stirrings coming from your bedroom.

---

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the last time War felt the stinging buck of jealousy.