#the idea of her being a pillar in her community. and being so tired.

[cashewally-sarcastic]

Bestie. Amos. Normal about her

I'm so normal about her every day I swear.

[sunniebabe99]

Dreams Turned to Nightmares

Sith!Obi-wan x Reader

Warnings; Yandere Obiwan! Sith obi wan! Character deaths and violence!

Summary: Y/n is a newly knighted Jedi. They are assigned to a mission with Master Qui-Gon and his padawan Anakin Skywalker. They were only supposed to guard the senators during a small gathering on the planet Chandrila. But of course, things did not go as planned when there is an attack on the building. Y/n is left by herself after being separated from Qui-gon and Anakin. 

Y/n cursed as they moved one of the party-goers back behind a giant pillar as there was laser fire coming from across the room. There was debris cast around the floor from the small bomb that had gone off previously. 

“Stay behind me!” they ordered the well-dressed man. They had no idea who they were but they were dressed like a senator. He looked in fear and moved back behind Y/n as the Jedi Knight moved her arm out and pushed back an approaching droid. 

“There is no way we will make it!” the man said, his Coruscanti accent ringing in their ear. They looked and started to form a plan. Seeing an open door to the stairs going up the building. “Alright listen. When I say to. Make a run to that corridor. I will shield you but you need to be quick ok?” Y/n said and looked over to the man. The fear dripped from his eyes as he nodded. 

Y/n moved and looked to the small group that had formed on the other side and then jumped out. Activating their lightsaber and blocking each laser shot at them.

“Go!” they yelled and the man scrambled and ran to the door. Y/n followed behind as they blocked the shots coming their way and finally made it inside. Closing the door behind them and locking it. The sounds of the gunfire were muffled as the two stood there. 

The copper-haired man looked to her and then to the stairs. Sighing at how many there were. 

“Well… nowhere to go but up I suppose” He muttered. 

“There weren't many of them so it would be wise to make it to the communication room…It should be on the fifty-fifth floor… My colleagues will find us shortly and we can call for reinforcements” They said and thought back to the small map of the building they saw in the lobby of the giant building. 

“How are you so sure they will even find us?” The man asked as he started to climb the stairs. Y/n followed behind him. 

“A feeling” THey answered and then they climbed and climbed. Soon they both looked a bit tired as they neared the twentieth floor. 

“Why couldn't we have taken the bloody elevator!” He yelled and sat down. Taking a small break as Y/n huffed and sat near him. 

“The droids cut off the power to the elevator before the attack…we are just going to have to deal with this Mr…um..sorry who are you?” Y/n asked and looked at the man. 

“Just call me Ben,” He said before standing up again and climbing the stairs. 

Now that Y/n could focus more on the man. There was something off about him. She couldn't feel his signature as well as others. Almost as if it was muted. 

“Are you a Senator?” They asked him. The man answered calmly. “No, I was just invited to the party,” He said.  Poor Y/n couldn't tell if it was the truth f sarcasm. 

“I see” They muttered. 

“I suppose this wasn't what you had planned when you accompanied your master here. It is rather odd to see a Master with two Padawans” he said and glanced y/n’s way for a moment. 

Y/n felt a flicker of annoyance when he said that. 

“I am no Padawan…I am a Knight” They said with a slight clip to their tone. 

“Ah my apologies,” he said and Y/n looked at him more. He was indeed quite handsome…for a man. Awkward feelings seemed to trickle into Y/n as they observed Ben. Something was off, but they couldn't put their finger on it. 

“I can feel your eyes staring holes into me,” He said as he walked. Y/n’s eyes widened before looking ahead. 

“Sorry I do not mean to stare…” They said to him. The man chuckled and stopped walking, making Y/n almost bump into him if they did not stop so soon. 

“You know for a Jedi you don't seem to hide your emotions very well…so you must be newly knighted” He commented. Y/n’s eyebrow raised in question and felt a flicker in the force surrounding them. 

“Jedi do not hide their emotions we simply-” They were cut off by a look cast their way from Ben. 

“I don't need to be lectured about how you Jedi work. I was simply observing…you seem to not be able to shield your fear very well…nor your attraction” He said as he turned more to Y/n. The young Jedi felt their heart jump at the look Ben was giving them. Like he was staring right through them. 

They backed up as the man took a step closer to them. Their back hit the railing as there was no more room. A small prey being cornered by a Loth-cat who enjoyed playing with their meal. 

“Mm yes I can feel it…such fear you have…it’s almost intoxicating,” He said and Y/n put a hand to their lightsaber that sat on their hip. 

“Step back now…Who are you really? Your signature is strange..” They said and the man laughed. 

“You haven't figured it out yet? You are slow my dear,” he said before taking a small device from his pocket and hitting a button. The color in his eyes turned from Blue to a sickening Yellow. It all happened so fast then. Y/n grabbed her saber and raised it, ready to attack but they were stopped roughly. Their arm froze in mid-swing. They struggled as the sith looked at her mockingly. Tutting them and wagging his pointer finger side to side. 

“We will have none of that my dear. You can't just swing first and then think later, hasn't your master taught you this already? I should hope so” He said and Y/n felt annoyance swell inside them. 

“You planned all of this…and for what? To kill some small planet Senators?” They hissed out and grunted as the man moved his wrist, making their arm pull forward and drop their saber into his waiting open hand. 

“Mm well, that was just a bonus. What I came for is something far more valuable” he said as he looked at Y/n’s weapon. It was a basic build for a saber and quite light. 

“There isn't anything here of value it's a hotel for kriffs sake!” They spout out and looked at the man with hate. 

“Ah ah ah, watch how you speak to me” he warned as they felt a sharp pain surrounding their body. They let out a small whimper and bit the inside of their cheek. The sith looked pleased with the noise they made and smiled slightly. 

“It is nothing to worry your pretty little head about..but maybe I have also found a nice little treat during this mission,” he said, it mostly sounded like he was talking to himself at the last part. He sighed and watched them struggle in the force hold he had them in. 

“What are you after?” They asked as the man looked them over with an unreadable expression. 

Even after his big reveal Y/n couldn't help but feel like there was something else about him. His tone of voice, the way he held himself…she had seen him before somewhere. 

“I can see you are still trying to put it together, maybe i can help speed up the process,” He said before moving closer to them. Moving a hand gently to their cheek. Pushing their wild locks away from their eyes before touching their temple. Y/n gasped as she felt all her previous dreams replayed in her mind. The mysterious man sitting with her in strange locations throughout her dreams. Always cloaked and they could never see their face. In their dreams, they would spend hours talking and becoming closer. They had thought he had just been their imagination. That was what their Master had told them.

“Its you-” They said and felt a pang of hurt. The man who they had known for so long, had shared so many personal feelings with…was a sith. 

“Yes it is my Dear One,” he said with a small smile on his face. Caressing their cheek gently. 

“I can finally touch you” He muttered before he could finally realize the hurt that was cascading around Y/n in waves. 

“How could you be one of them?” Y/n uttered and felt their invisible chains loosen as Obi-wan looked at her with slight pity. 

“Oh my dear, you still don't understand, the Jedi have stuffed you full of lies and only one way of the force. But being Sith is not as terrible as they make it seem..” He said before Y/n found the strength to pull their face away from his hand. Even though they longed to be touched by him. 

“The sith are nothing but evil, You kill and take everything you want and think you can do so without consequences” They hissed. Y/n was finally able to feel his signature and it wrapped around them like a snake. Making them struggle to breathe and feel a weight on their chest. 

“Just like how the Jedi forbid you to feel any emotion they deem unworthy? The Jedi are just as bad as the sith” He said to her. Not really wanting to get into an argument he has had many times in his life with many Jedi he had countered before. But he was patient, he did not just snap their neck right then and there, because…well…it was them. 

The person he had been anxious to meet since he first met them in his dreams. The mysteriously beautiful figure haunted him every time he would wake up from a dream. 

“You look different in person,” He said with a slightly amused expression. Y/n scoffed and glared at him, even though their instincts were telling them to blush and lean into the hand that played with their hair so gently. 

“Stop trying to be pleasant about this Obi-wan, what do you plan to do? You are stuck here with me, and the only exit is guarded by two other Jedi” They said and Obi-wan rolled his eyes. 

“Don't remind me, but it will be rather easy to take the little one down. The boy holds so much anger in him. As for the other…” he trailed off and thought of his previous master. He had changed so much from their last time together on Naboo. He was completely grey now and looked tired, probably tired from the long years of training that waist of space padawan he had taken on in Obi-wan’s place. He snapped out of it as he heard Y/n struggling. He sighed and waved his hand freeing them from his hold, but he still held onto their saber. 

“Come on. They are waiting for you my dear” he said and nudged Y/n forward. They moved forward and started walking. They felt Obi-wan’s hand on the small of their back as they moved along. 

“This won't work in your favor Obi-wan,” They said to him as they climbed the stairs. 

“Oh no you would be surprised at how many situations I have gotten me out of Dear one,” he said and then they turned quiet. Both cursed the architect of the building as they finally neared the fifty-fourth floor. One more to go. 

As they made it, they could easily feel the two Jedi from behind the door. Waiting and working on communicating the Order for backup. 

Obi-wan simply opened the door and pushed Y/n in. they stumbled and hit the ground. Qui-gon looked up in alarm and the Master Jedi activated his green saber. Anakin activated his blue one. 

He was ready to fight until he noticed the familiar face of his young lost padawan. 

“Obi-wan…you're alive? How?” He asked and looked to be three shades paler as he looked at the ghost of his padawan. 

Obi-wan looked to be over with his look of surprise as he twirled Y/n’s saber in his hands. 

“Revenge is a powerful tool for survival…Master” the word felt like acid on his tongue. 

“I looked for you everywhere! I saw you fall down with Maul!” He exclaimed as Y/n moved back behind the two Jedi as they spoke. Wanted to be away from the crossfire when the fight happened. 

“I did fall but we both survived, and he trained me in the ways of the sith…I have become more powerful than you could imagine, and now you will die” He said before activating his own saber and Y/n’s red blade contrasted with the color of Y/n’s blade. 

“Don't do this Obi-wan, there is still a chance for you” He tried to reason with his old padawan but there was nothing but coldness in the sith’s eyes. 

“I am far too gone for second chances…” he said before lunging at him. 

Qui-gon blocked him and pushed his two sabers back making Obi-wan stumble slightly. 

“...then I will do what I must..” he said, the pain in his voice as he readied to attack. 

Obi-wan couldn't help but smile, “You will try,” He said before the real battle began. Anakin, Qui-gon, and Obi-wan fought hard against each other. The two Jedi working swiftly and Obi-wan looked like he wasn't even breaking a sweat in his evening suit. 

“You are getting old Master” He commented as he noticed Qui-gon becoming slower. He elbowed Anakin in the face hard, knocking the kid out easily. Qui-gon looked to his padawan before moving in front to guard him before Obi-wan could deliver the finishing blow. He raised his saber and pushed against Obi-wan who looked down at him in calm rage. Obi-wan banged his saber against Qui-gons and then moved back. The Jedi master moved swiftly as he could and rolled to the other side of the room. He uses the force to throw a chair at Obi-wan who merely cut it down. Y/n felt useless as ever as they moved to Anakin, checking out his bleeding nose, and then looked to his saber. They grabbed it and activated it. Moving to the fight but then felt a push of the force. 

“My fight is not with you Little one,” Obi-wan said carelessly as he pushed them away. 

Then it was like everything happened so slowly as Qui-gon was left open, Obi-wan easily thrust his saber and plunged it through his lower abdomen. Making Y/n scream out at the sight of the Jedi master collapsing to the ground. Both Jedi were down. But one remained. Y/n looked at Obi-wan with hatred in their eyes. Obi-wan grinned. 

“Oh, I love that look in your eyes…Use that hatred Y/n” He said and then blocked the attack they threw at him. Y/n gave it their all as they wildly swung at him, using every form they had ever learned. It seemed fruitless as Obi-wan evaded every one of their attacks. Y/n was getting tired and they both knew it. Obi-wan then used his full strength to twirl the saber from their grip and kick them to the ground. 

“Now you know I hate it when we fight darling…but we must go home now!” He said as he kicked the saber away from Y/n. They scrambled to the open door of the control room and crawled away desperately. But Obi-wan simply watched and sighed. Following them lazily as they felt the pain from the kick Obi-wan had delivered on them. 

“Where do you think you are running off to? Do you think that Id let you go just after I finally found you? I think not.” He said before pressing his heeled boot to their leg. Pushing down to hold them in place before pressing harder. 

Snap. 

Y/n screamed out and cried feeling their leg break under Obi-wan’s boot. 

Obi-wan winced slightly before kneeling down and picking them up. They scrambled and screamed. Telling him to let them go. Obi-wan held them tighter and then with a gesture of his hand to their head.  They slumped, their head laying on his shoulder as they lay in his arms unconscious. 

“This could have gone a lot smoother if you had just cooperated” He sighed before walking to the exit. 

Part 2

[umichenginabroad]

Abhi in Paris

Week 7: A Week of Returning, Surprising, and Exploring

Hello everyone! I'm back again with my weekly update :) I'm back from my backpacking adventure of Spain & Portugal, super tired, but ready for what's next. Here's an update on this week of recovery & celebration.

Monday: Back to Routine (February 26th)

Monday was all about shaking off the tiredness from my recent travels and getting back into the swing of things at ENSEA. My communication systems class in the afternoon was my first dive back into schoolwork after the break. It felt odd to be back but also kind of exciting to see what the rest of the semester holds. After class, I went to see a piano performance at the Paris Philharmonie. It was a nice way to ease back into my Paris life, and a thrilling performance. I can't wait to be back at the Philharmonie again!

Tuesday: Sneha's Birthday Surprise (February 27th)

I had a full day of classes on Tuesday, starting with Signals & Systems and then a three-hour French class. It's my every Tuesday routine, but one that I definitely don't look forward to with all the classes I have in a row. But the real highlight of my day was heading to CDG airport to pick up my girlfriend, Sneha. It was her 21st birthday at midnight, and I had planned a surprise trip to Venice for her. She had no idea where we were going until we landed. We managed to check into our place and then went out to try some local drinks to celebrate her birthday. It was a great start to our mini-adventure for her birthday!

Wednesday: Discovering Venice (February 28th)

On Wednesday, Sneha and I explored Venice thoroughly. We visited St. Mark's Cathedral, marveling at its history and architecture. Wandering around Venice, we took in the sights of the Grand Canal and ended up on a romantic gondola ride, which was definitely a highlight. We celebrated her birthday with a nice lunch and some Italian drinks. It was an unforgettable day in a city that feels like it's straight out of a storybook. Venice is the most beautiful & perplexing city ever. It's an island structure, built on top of a lagoon a few miles off of main land Italy. In order to habit the area, the settler had to lay up thousands of wooden pillars in the lagoon, on which to build the city. This begs the question, didn't ancient Italians have something better to do than make an island. Anyway, for all their hard work, it was an incredible beautiful (albeit rainy) day in Venice.

Thursday: Heading Home (March 1st)

Our journey back to Paris on Thursday was long and a bit tiring. We caught a train to the airport via Trenitalia, flew to Beauvais Airport, and then took a bus and metro to get back home. It was a full day of travel, but the memories from Venice made it all worth it. We got back around 7pm, tired but happy from our trip.

Friday: Recovery Day (March 2nd)

Friday was my day to catch up on rest and get back on track with school. I didn't have any classes, so it was a good day to relax and reflect on the past week's adventures.

Saturday & Sunday: Weekend Routine (March 3rd - 4th)

The weekend was pretty low-key. I did some chores around my place, which reminded me that adulting can be tough. I also took some time to relax, cook pasta, and start thinking about where I might travel next. Despite the busy week, it was nice to have some downtime to recharge and plan for the future. This week was spent (for the most part) recovering from the crazy adventures of the past three weeks. But every week has it's own adventures. This week that was being introduced to classical music & trying to understand Italian :) Stay tuned as I continue my study abroad--next up, Geneva, Strasbourg, Edinburgh, and Cork here I come. A plus,

Abhi Athreya

University of Michigan, Aerospace Engineering 2025

ENSEA at Cergy, France

[cjsinkythoughts]

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

*************************

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right. 

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

*****************************

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

[pink-flame]

Like You Could Love Me

So...the Angry Flower Squad was making me SO soft over gifs and @mamirugbee wanted porch fluff with kissing and I remembered that @thedeathdeelers and @missjoolee liked my idea of using this post as a Juke prompt and here we are. I wrote this from 12-2am so it’s quite possibly incoherent and I’m not checking for mistakes until tomorrow so take it for what it is, a late night labor of love. Enjoy! 💜

Julie hadn’t slept for almost 48 hours. 

Her school was hosting a Los Feliz High After Dark event for the lower grades who didn’t get to attend prom. It was pitched as being just as exciting as the dance but in practice was known to be little more than a glorified sleepover in the school gym with PTA members for chaperones. Flynn had been determined that that year would be different, and had talked Julie into joining her on the planning committee. 

The good news was that Flynn had a real flair for party planning and decorating when she was actually invested (see the difference between the dance they tried to forget and the way she had helped Julie’s dad throw together an epic garage party in less than 24 hours). So by the time Julie and Flynn and the other volunteers were done the gym was fully immersed in a carnival theme full of cute booths filled with potential activities and cute backgrounds to take pictures in front of. It was definitely an improvement over the year before which had been an under the sea theme which had consisted mostly of a few blue streamers and Mr. Weaver walking around in an inflatable Nemo costume. 

The bad news was that it had taken a lot longer than they had anticipated and they hadn’t fallen into bed the night before the event until close to 2am. Julie hadn’t been able to sleep even after she slipped into bed next to Flynn and heard her best friend start making the small whistling noises that indicated she was out cold. Julie had been kept up with thoughts of what her bandmates were up to without her and if they had lingered a little longer on what Luke in particular was doing right then, well that wasn’t that surprising. 

She loved Alex and Reggie but neither of them had attempted to hold her hand and remarked on their “interesting little relationship” or suddenly developed the ability to touch her and instinctively joined her in reaching out to gently cradle the other’s face. 

No, Luke was different, not that she wanted to say that in front of him unless she was sure he felt the same overwhelming feelings she did Oddly enough she was much more concerned about the possibility that he didn’t than she was about the fact that he was still..well, a ghost. It wasn’t that she was unaware that his ghostly status could lead to heartache for her later on, of course she was. It just didn’t seem so important suddenly. After what had happened with her mom, what had almost happened with the guys only a couple of months ago...anything could happen at any time. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed anyway so why deny herself happiness now if she could have it? If she could have it. Because that was still the question. 

Because Luke obviously liked her but did he like her? That sounded so juvenile but to call it anything else...well, that was really scary. Evil ghosts and the looming possibility of their return had nothing on the insecurity that came with not knowing exactly how the boy you lo...liked felt about you. 

So Julie didn’t get much sleep that night, Flynn’s alarm seeming to go off only moments after she finally drifted off. She had dragged through school that day, trying to match Flynn’s excitement for the night’s upcoming festivities though her own enthusiasm had quickly drained out of her altogether along with her energy. In the end it had been as fun a night as it could be with Julie spending most of it in a semi-exhausted haze. She and Flynn had played some of the games they had set up, and danced to the music they both agreed would have been better if it had been either DJ’d by Flynn or performed by Julie’s band, and when Carrie had sneered something about how tacky the theme was even that had been half hearted and without any real bite. 

So it was a pretty good night all things considered and Julie was in a good mood despite her complete exhaustion by the time Flynn’s mom dropped her off early the next morning. Ok, so maybe part of her good mood was actually because of her exhausted state by that point as she found herself feeling giddy and her mind had gone sort of pleasantly fuzzy. That was her excuse for how she found herself half-skipping up the path towards her front door, singing to herself. 

We create...perfect harmony 

“Somebody had a good time.” 

Julie’s head snapped up to take in the figure of the boy who leaned against the pillar of the porch in front of her, a small smile bordering on a smirk tugging at his lips. 

Luke.

What was he doing there? 

Was he waiting for her?

She had to play it cool. 

She had to be normal. 

She had to not give away all the feelings that had been swirling around inside of her for the last couple of months since they first gained the ability to touch each other whenever they wanted and promptly both became too awkward to touch each other at all. 

She had to…

“I missed you,” She blurted. 

One of Julie’s hands flew up to cover her mouth as she took the last few steps up onto the porch, trying and failing to ignore the way Luke’s eyes widened even as that vaguely infuriating smirk grew larger. 

“I didn’t mean that,” She insisted once her hand had dropped back to her side. “I mean...I didn’t not mean it but...I just meant it would have been fun if you could have come. Any of you. All of you. Um...yeah.” 

Luke let her dig herself deeper, waiting until her stream of words had come to a complete stop. When they finally dried up he pushed off of the pillar with one of his signature little bounces, letting his momentum carry him to within a step of where she stood awkwardly on the porch. 

“Did someone spike the punch at this dance?” He asked her, amusement clear in his tone. 

Julie shook her head a little too fiercely, indignant despite the fact that she couldn’t exactly blame him for suspecting that she was drunk. 

She felt a little drunk. 

Not that she knew what it was like to be drunk but she was pretty sure it was similar to this. 

Not the point. 

“It wasn’t a dance it was a school sanctioned slumber party,” She corrected, focusing all of her energy on not slurring her words or otherwise embarrassing herself. “And nobody spiked anything. And actually nobody drinks punch anymore. Just so you know.” 

Luke held up both hands as though he were surrendering but that smirk of his was impossible to deny at this point, a fact that both made Julie incredibly irritated and simultaneously fighting the urge to lean up and kiss it right off his stupid face. 

Ok, that was not helpful. 

“Not a dance, no punch. Got it,” Luke said, his voice just soft enough to keep her annoyance more or less at bay. 

“Why are you out here anyway?” 

Julie hadn’t meant to ask that but it felt like any filter her brain generally had was long gone at this point. 

Luke tilted his head slightly and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

“Oh, you know, just taking in the view.” 

Julie frowned skeptically. 

“Taking in the view?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, gesturing out at the plant filled yard. “Just communing with nature you know? Honestly, I forgot you were even out last night.” 

“Oh.” 

Julie dipped her head a little so she didn’t have to look directly at Luke as disappointment rushed through her. She was pretty sure she was too tired to keep the evidence of that emotion from being completely visible. She was so frustrated with herself for caring at all. He wasn’t her boyfriend after all. Why would be be waiting for her?

“Julie.” 

She reluctantly raised her head to meet Luke’s gaze which was fixed insistently on her. His smirk had fallen away leaving behind a look at once more open and somehow harder to read at the same time. 

“I’m kidding,” He told her as he took a half-step closer to her, so close that she had to tilt her head up further to maintain eye contact. “I was waiting for you.” 

“Oh,” She said again, very aware that she seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else. 

She reached deep down inside and mustered up the strength to pull out one further word. 

“Why?” 

His eyes somehow managed to soften even more and his voice was oddly breathy when he answered. 

“Because I missed you too.” 

And Julie knew that the most prudent thing to do was tuck that phrase away as something warm, and happy and precious to examine more closely when she had slept and had the mental prowess to actually determine what it meant for their interesting little relationship. 

She knew that. 

But she was exhausted not only from lack of sleep but from months spent questioning where they stood. She was happy to hear him say that he had missed her, of course she was. But she also found herself feeling strangely...angry. 

How dare he look at her with those big soft eyes and stare at her like that if he wasn’t ever planning on actually putting her out of her misery by telling her how he felt or didn’t feel?

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” The words burst out of her without her permission. 

Luke was clearly taken aback by her words, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know,’ She hesitated, just enough awareness seeping back in to make her realize what a truly stupid thing she was about to say. “Like you could love me.” 

She watched as a whole range of emotions rushed over his face too quickly for her to decipher exactly what all of them were. 

“Julie…” 

“Forget I said anything,” Julie interrupted, turning towards the front door with every intention to flee the situation. “I’m just really tired.” 

“Julie!” 

He said her name more forcefully that time and she froze. She didn’t turn back to face him though, the pounding in her chest and the heat spreading across her face giving her all the incentive she needed to keep her head facing away. 

Luke wasn’t having any of that though. 

He reached out to gently tug her back towards him, one hand settling on her cheek while the other rested on her waist. 

If she hadn’t been blushing before she certainly was now. 

“Do you not want me to look at you like that because...because you don’t feel the same?” 

Luke’s voice shook a little as he gave voice to that question, his thumb seeming to stroke across her cheek without his permission. 

Julie was reeling, everything feeling surreal and dreamlike anyway because of her lack of sleep but when combined with Luke’s gentle actions it felt more and more unreal. She couldn’t help but remember the last time he had touched her face, how they had clutched at each other thinking it was the only chance they would ever have. Now they had new chances every day and they had been wasting them. 

Why had they been wasting them?

“Wait...feel the same as what? Feel the same as who?” She asked as her brain finally caught up with what he had actually said. 

He visibly swallowed and she took some comfort in the fact that apparently he was nervous too. 

“The same as I feel,” He paused. “About you. I...I love you, Julie. And if that makes you uncomfortable I never have to say it again, ok? But it’s how I feel and I just wanted to say it. Once or whatever.” 

“But…” Julie felt a giggle rising up inside of her as exhaustion and the pure absurdity of the moment settled in. “But I love you too.” 

Luke’s thumb froze on her face as his eyes lit up with something close to hope. 

“You do?” 

Julie nodded, the giggle finally bursting out of her only to be met with a grin from Luke so radiant she wished she could capture it in a photo to look at later. 

“You love me,” Luke said again as though he needed to confirm beyond any shadow of doubt. 

“I love you,” Julie repeated agreeably. “And you love me?” 

Luke nodded, bouncing a little on his heels as he somehow managed to step even more into her space. 

“I love you.” 

“Well…” Julie sighed happily. “Well, that’s great then.” 

Luke let out a bark of laughter that probably would have been loud enough to bring her dad to the porch if anyone but her had been able to hear it. 

Before she had time to remark on how obnoxiously loud he could be he was crowding her back until she bumped into the pillar he had been leaning against when she got home. The moment her back made contact with its firm surface he was bringing his other hand up until he was cupping both of her cheeks. She barely had time to adjust to that very much welcome sensation before he was lowering his head and aligning his lips with hers, pressing them together in a chaste peck that was still enough to send her heart racing. He started to pull back as if to gauge her reaction but she was having none of that. She had been waiting for this for so long and as previously established she had absolutely none of her usual ability to deny herself what she wanted. 

And what she wanted was her hands on Luke Patterson right then. 

She reached up and latched one hand on the back of his neck and the other threaded deep into his hair giving it a little tug just because she could. She had been wanting to touch him so badly ever since that night in the garage when she’d almost lost him and she’d been wanting to touch his dumb, messy hair ever since “I’m Luke by the way”. So she did. 

He let out a little pleased sound that was cut off when she stretched up to press her mouth back to his, this time with twice as much force and no intention of separating anytime soon. To his credit he took the hint pretty fast, his hands dropping from her face to wrap around her waist tugging her body to press against his as he moved his lips insistently against hers. And wow...that was something, the sensation of almost all of her pressed up against almost all of him. 

He wasn’t warm, not exactly, but he wasn’t cold either like she had feared he would be. It was more like his body was mirroring back exactly her own temperature, leaving it hard to determine where one of them began and the other ended when her eyes were closed as they currently were. 

Or maybe that was just them. 

Maybe it was like that quote she always saw floating around online about souls being made of the same stuff. 

When she was well rested and thinking rationally she had always rolled her eyes a bit at stuff like that but now...she was beginning to see the appeal. 

Julie massaged absentmindedly at the back of his neck as she drew his lower lip into her mouth, the sound he made in response enough to have her pulling back with a giggle. 

“Come back here,” He mumbled, his lips chasing hers even as she turned her face away leaving him to press soft, wet kisses to her cheek. 

“Now you sound drunk,” She told him, turning back to face him and looping both arms around his shoulders. “My dad will be up soon and I have no idea how I’d explain...this...when he can’t even see you.” 

Luke groaned as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. 

“You’re right.” 

“I’m right,” Julie echoed. 

It was true but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. 

They stayed like that for another minute or so, just enjoying being this close to each other with nothing to hide. They might have stayed like that longer but Julie suddenly let out a yawn she couldn’t contain directly into Luke’s face. 

Luke pulled back sharply but the soft smile that seemed to always be reserved just for her remained in place. 

“You need to get some sleep,” He told her firmly. 

She wanted to argue but all that came out was another yawn. 

Ok, so there was no arguing with that. 

“Goodnight,” She told him, suddenly feeling shy as she backed towards the front door wanting to keep him in her sight just a little longer. 

Luke gestured around them to the soft light spilling around her yard. 

“Good morning,” He corrected with a grin. 

Never one to let him have the last word, certainly not when she was too tired to be embarrassed, Julie leapt forward to press one final lingering kiss on his lips, retreating before he could do more than return the pressure.

Julie backed towards the front door, the grin now firmly on her face and a rather dumbstruck one adorning his. 

“Band practice later,” She reminded him. “Don’t be late.” 

Then she slipped into the house and up to her bed, incredibly tired and pretty sure of exactly  what she would be dreaming of. 

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (6)

Chapter Six- Growing Pains

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Arriving in Latvia, you find your group closing into Karli’s group. You found yourself unexpectedly in upsetting exchanges with Bucky, making you take two steps back from the progress you two had since Madripoor.

Warnings: Angst as I like it! Bucky being a dense block of wood.

Word count: 4k

Notes: It’s insane the number of followers I have gained after starting this series. I am very humbled to know that you guys take interest in my work! Appreciate all the likes and reblogs! 🙏🏼

Hope y’all would enjoy this chapter! Things cannot be forever smooth sailing and we see a roadblock to Bucky and reader’s progress. I would love to know your feedback on the story so leave a comment if you can! 🥰

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join with a message or comment in the chapters!

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Next: Chapter Seven

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Six years ago

The embers from the fire glowed warmly in front of you, a finger daringly reached out to touch the flames. The energy flames emitted from the tip of your finger and blended into the fire.

Turning your head back to Bucky and Ayo, you saw how Bucky was anxious and had a doubtful expression on his face. It had been a week since the programming has been removed from his system.

While he was still reassured that the worst was over, he had a lot of reservations. Having you by his side was the only source of comfort that he could through these hard times.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” Ayo spoke to relieved Bucky of his concerns. You flashed an encouraging smile back to him and Bucky nodded at Ayo for her to start.

As Ayo started saying the code words, you could see Bucky’s entire body tensing up as if he wanted to resist the possibility of being turned. Holding in your breath at the entire situation, you clasped your hands together in prayer, wishing that things would turn out well.

Every time each word was said, it built up hope and anxiety at the same time. You could see the dread, regret and guilt all from his eyes alone as Bucky stared intensely at the burning fire. It seemed his mind was heavy on a lot of memories and recollections that seemed to eat him away.

You wanted to take a step forward but Ayo shook her head, silently asking you to stay put.

As the number of codewords was closing into zero, your anticipation grew at how Bucky was doing well. However, your heart started breaking when you saw the tears welling up in his eyes.

Once the last code word was spoken, Bucky was sobbing. Seeing this sight, your own tears started to fall down your cheeks as you brought your clasped hands over your heart.

“You are free,” Ayo stated with a pleased smile and she looked over to you to give you a nod. Grinning a full wide smile at her, you looked down to Bucky shaking by the fire. You wondered what was wrong until he removed his clenched fist from his face. It was when he turned to face you that you both mirrored the full-blown smiles on your faces.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Stretching your limbs on the plush couch, your eyes closed wearily from the flight to Latvia. You still couldn’t process the entire series of events that had happened in the past 72 hours and your mind was mentally drained.

Hearing the door open, you lifted your head to finally see Bucky joining everyone in Zemo’s fancy place. Bucky’s eyes turned to yours and the two of you stared at each other silently for what felt like an eternity.

You first broke the stare by blinking and bit your lips in nervousness. Your mind immediately went back to what happened in Sharon’s club and you turned your back to avoid looking at him for the time being.

Bucky was thinking of the same thing and tried his best to maintain a cool façade. Seeing how you turned your back on the sofa, he felt it was best to move on to business with the others first.

“Well, the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo.” Bucky spoke to Sam before looking at an unbothered Zemo who was fresh out of the shower in his robes.

Bucky’s words managed to get you to turn back and sit up at attention.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” You see Zemo looking grateful at Bucky but the super-soldier just rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.” Sam shut Zemo down as he couldn’t believe how thick-skinned the Sokovian man was. “You killed Nagel.”

Zemo tried to defend his stance while Sam definitely wasn’t buying it. You couldn’t say it out loud lest you get a look from Sam but you were glad Zemo did it. Who knows if there would be a day where you would be handed off to Nagel and he got his hands on you to do whatever he wanted?

You shuddered at the thought and as if Zemo knew what was on your mind, you see the Baron turning back to give you a wink and mouthing a ‘welcome’. Your nose scrunched in distaste, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of him being right.

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot,” Bucky spoke up again after looking up from his phone. Sam asked for the amount of damage to which Bucky answered that eleven were injured and three were dead.

This was getting serious. Especially when you heard Bucky saying that the Flag Smashers were promising more attacks if their demands were not met. You suddenly felt a renewed sense of responsibility and purpose to help the world once more after the last battle.

Even though you were tired of fighting, you knew that bearing the powers that you had gave you the responsibility to take action for the greater good.

Zemo then remarked that he had the will to follow through with this mission but questioned you and your friends.

“She’s just a kid,” Sam emphasized, showing his empathetic and kind heart who chose to see the good in others first. It reminded you so much of Steve and you smiled at the resemblance.

Zemo didn’t agree with Sam’s opinion and explained how Karli was a supremacist. The very idea of super-soldiers was troubling, how they viewed themselves as invincible and above others. Zemo compared it to the Nazi ideology, how it led to Ultron and the Avengers.

His last point rubbed you the wrong way because you knew your friends were never focused on themselves but rather dedicated time, effort and their lives for the world.

Sam understood that Karli had indeed been radicalised but still argued for a better way to manage the situation, one that he hoped would be peaceful and led to lesser bloodshed.

“I agree with Sam.” You spoke up for the first time. All three men focused on you as you lifted yourself from the sofa and walked towards them. “She’s not doing this for power or money, she’s doing this to help her community and the vulnerable. The least we could do is to try to talk to her first.”

Zemo tilted his head with an annoyed look, seeing how you backed Sam up in this debate.

“Y/N. The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She would not stop, in fact, she will escalate unless you kill her.”

You knew that there were part truths in Zemo’s words. You kept quiet and he looked at you pleased that he probably has gotten through you in some sense.

“Or you can kill her first.” With this, Zemo stared straight at you as if he decided to give you this responsibility, knowing that you were the likeliest to overpower Karli when the time comes.

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.” Speaking from behind you, Bucky refuted Zemo’s claims but Zemo seemed unaffected. He even added on that there was no other Steve Rogers. Who were you guys to presume not everyone could get corrupted once they had a taste of power?

Having enough of Zemo, Bucky suggested handing Zemo over to the Wakandans right at this moment and you wanted to agree. You were indebted to them and with their late king’s murderer right in front of you, a sense of guilt washed over you as you must have realized how livid they must be that he was walking free.

Sam then explained how Donya was an influential member of the community and related it to his own story of his TT aka his aunt. When someone who was a pillar in a close-knitted community had passed, people would gather to hold a long ceremony in memory of that person. He presumed that the same would be done for Donya and that’s where you all should lead with.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The four of you decided to venture to the streets to ask for information on Donya. As Zemo and Sam went their own ways, Bucky looked over you as if to ask if you wanted to join him.

“Uh, I-uh-I” You started stuttering without realising. Bucky knitted his brows in confusion at your sudden display and he immediately thought of your almost moment. Did you not want it? Did he overstep?

Inwardly groaning, he couldn’t believe he did something so stupid in the heat of the moment. Deciding to do something about it, he spoke up.

“Hey. About earlier-” Glancing up at Bucky, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to find the words to say.

“Earlier?” You weren’t sure what he was referring to and returned a quizzical look. Taking a deep breath before exhaling, Bucky tried to continue the conversation.

“I mean back in Madripoor. You know that uh-” Your eyes widened realised at the particular event that he chose to bring up. Your heart quickened at how he was choosing to address it now and you stared at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

“It was stupid, all right? I didn’t think and it was all at the moment, I didn’t mean to went in like that-” Blinking your eyes as if you couldn’t process what Bucky had just said, your heart dropped at the realisation that everything turned out to be one-sided wishful thinking of yours.

In his attempt to piece his words together and play it down, Bucky didn’t realise the disappointment painted on your face and how you stopped the tears that welled up in your eyes from falling.

You felt so stupid. There was no way that Bucky would have taken interest in you. All this time, you were nothing more than friends. You didn’t doubt that that moment in Madripoor with its atmosphere could have clouded both of your senses.

“It’s okay, Buck. I totally understand.” You spoke up to prevent him from continuing to dishearten you.

“I’m cool. We were swept up in the music and the dancing- it’s natural to uh-do that.” You were starting to choke up at your words but forced yourself to swallow down the knot in your throat.

Pulling your lips into a tight grin and forcing yourself to meet Bucky’s eyes, you saw him puzzled and expectant of your next response.

“I am going to go that way.” Mustering up a cheerful voice to make it sound like you were fine, you pointed over to a random street. “We should split up and cover more ground. Bye!” Giving a quick wave to him, you hurriedly turn your back and almost broke into a sprint to get as far away from him as possible.

Bucky knew that from your reaction he must have done something wrong. He just wasn’t sure what he did. Scolding himself for being such an idiot, he looked back to where he last saw you before you turned the corner.

Bucky’s hands and jaw both clenched with tension at how things had been with you just moments ago before allowing himself to be distracted with the mission. He made a mental note that he had to catch you later and have another talk.

-------------------------//---------------------------

You were a woman with a purpose and that was to find out more about Donya Madani. You realised after the first few queries, people here were wary once you mentioned the woman’s name.

Cracking your brain to think of a strategy, your eyes roamed around the neighbourhood for some sort of idea. A familiar back caught your attention and your eyes widened in shock at who you had spotted.

The man back from the fight on the truck was here. That means Karli and her group were here too! You didn’t have the chance to see the man’s face as he had a mask on back then but you recognised him instantly.

He was alone and that gave you a good chance to corner him. You blended in with the crowd while closing in on him with every step. As he turned the corner to an alley, you quickened your steps in fear that you might be losing him.

Once you stepped foot into the alley, you were shocked to see there it was clear and empty. Running your fingers through your hair in a stressful moment, you wondered how he could have disappeared without a trace. Venturing further down the alley, you hoped that you might be able to catch sight of him once more.

Your body reacted a second later than your intuition when you felt someone grabbed you from behind, the hands covering your mouth to prevent you from screaming.

The person switched hands and used their strength to push you against the brick walls. Feeling the wind knocked out of your chest, you took quick hurried breaths to regain yourself and that’s when your eyes looked up to meet the dark eyes of the man that you had been following.

His eyes mirrored yours as they widened at the recognition of who you were and he then spoke. “How did you follow us? Where are the rest of your friends?”

Clawing at his hands to free your face, your hands started glowing a bright orange to get him to release you. The man was taken aback at the display of your powers and decided to make a run for it, knowing that you would have the upper hand eventually.

“No wait, please!” You cried for him to stop. The man’s steps slowed down at your plea and he turned back slightly to face you. You raised your hands up in surrender to show you meant no harm.

You willingly put your hands behind you, clasping them together and showing them to him.

“I just want to talk.” You continued saying. Sensing the man’s hesitation, you then emphasized please desperately. Taking a few steps closer, you still left a gap between the two of you.

“I am Y/N.” Hoping that introducing yourself showed that you were interested to get to know him, you looked on anxiously for his response.

“Dovich.” The man replied curtly before staring back at you. Repeating his name once more in your mouth, you showed off a friendly smile before resuming.

“I know what you must be thinking, but please I do not mean any harm.” You hoped that the sincerity in your voice would get his guard down but seeing Dovich squaring his shoulders to look more intimidating, you knew that he couldn’t trust you yet.

“Lies!” Dovich refuted your claims.

“What happened back there was self-defence!” He must have thought about how you were about to use your powers just moments ago. “Trust me, if I wanted to do any damage, I would be able to but I didn’t.”

Seeing how you were still standing there with your arms behind your back, Dovich’s stance seemed to ease up a little. “What do you want?”

“We- my friends and I want to talk to Karli.” You knew your words only served to upset him once more as his face distorted into a frown.

“We really want things to work out! We don’t ever want things to escalate, it is never in my interest to kill anyone.” Dovich glanced over you to see an earnest expression on your face and he couldn’t help but be a little swayed.

He knew who you were. You were less well-known but still regarded as part of the Avengers team. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t intimidated. He recalled how you fought his group back then and knew that given your powers, there was a chance to be bested even if he had taken the serum.

Dovich still clearly remembered how you pulled him up when he was about to fall off the moving truck from before. Your actions at that moment had changed his impression of you, regarding you in a better light. It matched what you had just said earlier, you weren’t interested to kill anyone.

“Karli wouldn’t listen. She is determined and resolute in our vision.” Dovich hoped you understood his perspective and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“I know but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to try settling this peacefully. We don’t want more lives gone than it already had.” You added on to your own perspective in the matter. Dovich believed you but he still wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be so easy to trust especially of all of the experiences that he and his group went through.

You were still considered a threat to the existence of the group.

“I don’t trust your group. Especially that Zemo guy. We know he hates super soldiers.” Dovich reiterated his mistrust before continuing. “Plus you guys are the Avengers, you wouldn’t know what it is like to be us. You get to live comfortable lives and do as you please.”

Hearing his assumption, you shook your head in disagreement. You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply before speaking.

“The Avengers aren’t really there anymore. Most of our group are gone. We are only what’s left but it doesn’t feel like there’s a team anymore.” Your mind to your current situation. Yes, you were with Sam and Bucky but they were just tolerating each other for the moment. You didn’t exactly feel like you were a team at all but just a group put together because you were all that’s left.

The sense of camaraderie from your previous team was gone and you were at a loss. You did what you had to do to support your two friends but you felt empty on the inside. You titled your head up to see Dovich peering at you with an almost concerned look on his face.

“Besides, that’s a bit of a generalisation you have there. We don’t live fancy lives, that’s a misconception because of uh-Tony. We all are still normal human beings dealing with struggles in our personal lives too. We gave up most of ourselves to defend this world….” Reeling from the exchange that you two had, you knew Dovich was someone that could be reasoned with.

“Of course, I am not trying to brag or anything!” You hurriedly explain before he had the thought that you were trying to make yourself look better in his eyes. “It’s just that I hope you could understand where we are coming from too.”

Dovich didn’t expect the conversation to progress in this manner. He had spotted you in the reflection of a glass window of a shop and initially wanted to get you off his tail. Despite the initial scepticism, he was starting to warm up to you. He figured you weren’t like the rest of your group and seemed down to earth despite being an Avenger.

He couldn’t lie to himself and claimed he thought of you several times ever since the first encounter. How can one not forget someone who stepped in to save their life once?

Dovich gazed at you now standing civilly with an awaiting look. He wanted to trust you, he really did. But he knew Karli was especially alert and distrustful of anyone outside her circle. Your affiliation wouldn’t help in this case either. He couldn’t make a promise that he can’t keep.

“I can’t promise you anything.” A grin formed on your face for the first time and you nodded your head in understanding.

“Of course, I just need a chance to talk. That’s all.” Dovich nodded back before he started walking back to the other end of the alleyway. He told you that he would speak with Karli after Donya’s ceremony and asked you to wait for his contact. He made you promise to not speak to your friends about this meeting and that he only trusted you.

You gave your agreement and maintained a friendly smile before he turned back to go onto another street.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Walking with lighter steps, you were glad to be able to do something right. You re-entered Zemo’s place and was greeted with the men gathering around to discuss their lack of result. You had to control yourself from revealing about your meeting with Dovich and kept quiet.

You agreed with Sam’s remarks on understanding Karli’s perspective and how she and her group were not motivated by malicious intentions.

Bucky then gave his own input that Karli would not be any different from Zemo. Recalling your last exchange with him, you suddenly felt upset with the super-soldier. You didn’t agree with his words either as you believed you understood better after talking with Dovich.

“I agree with Sam on this. Karli’s group is different and we need to give them a chance.” Bucky looked at you in disbelief. This was the first time you were ever not on the same page with him. He couldn’t agree with your views of giving the Flag Smashers a chance when they were such obvious threats.

Bucky believed that your soft-hearted nature was clouding your judgement and he thought better of you given your experience of dealing with such people.

“Can’t believe you are actually siding with terrorists Y/N.” His words came out harsher than expected and his heart twisted when he saw the tinge of sadness at how you received his words. A brief moment later, he saw your brows frowning and now looked at him with an offended stare.

“Not everything is black and white, James.” You scoffed before walking off to use the bathroom.

Sam and Zemo were surprised to hear the condescending tone in your voice towards Bucky. Knowing how you and Bucky were close-knitted, witnessing the suddenly tensed exchange between the two of you would have been baffled at what just transpired.

Hearing you calling him James was clear as day to Bucky that you were definitely not happy with him. Rubbing his temples in dismay, he wondered what have gotten over you suddenly. Sure, he was at fault for saying such a harsh comment but he still didn’t expect you to be like this.

Bucky lost his cool when Zemo stated he wanted to keep his leverage by not revealing any more information he had gotten from the little girl on the streets about Donya.

“You wanna see what someone can do we leverage?” Bucky too the glass in Zemo’s hand and threw it to the wall behind the Sokovian baron. He was silently seething at Zemo’s play on top of the unpleasant exchange that he had with you.

Sam came around to calm Bucky down before he indicated that he would make a call.

You stepped back into the common room when you heard the smashing of glass. You looked to see Bucky and Zemo in an intense standoff, well more so Bucky than Zemo.

Sam walked away first. Zemo asked Bucky if he would like some cherry blossom tea but the super-soldier refuted the offer with disdain in his tone.

“Y/N?” Zemo gestured to the lovely glass tea set on the coffee table. Glancing up to meet Bucky’s eyes, you could tell he was still bearing an annoyed look on his face.

You weren’t sure if it was his emotions from his exchange with Zemo or yours. Walking up to Zemo, you gave a polite smile before speaking.

“I would love to.” It was the second time that you acted out of character in a row. He knew that you didn’t like Zemo at all, only because of what Zemo had done to him. You were his girl (well sort of) and seeing you accepting Zemo’s offer even if it was just tea hit him differently.

Hearing how you graciously accepted the glass from Zemo and commenting on the fragrance of the brew, Bucky couldn’t believe his ears. He immediately stomped away from the scene before he felt like he would implode.

This was not right at all. Why would you suddenly act like this?

-------------------------//---------------------------

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley

[danny-chase]

Big Brother instinct, Dick and either Cass, Gar, Danny Chase, Steph, Kara, Rose, or anyone else u want

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dick grayson centric, Fire, Burns, hair styling, Ice Cream, Hurt/Comfort, Late Nights, Fluff and Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Missions Gone Wrong, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings Series: Part 11 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick talks with Cass after a mission doesn't go as planned.

Fic under cut

“Argh!” Dick snaps back to attention as Bruce’s angry grunt rattles through the cave. The few bats still in for the night stir, their wings rustling in the distance. An avalanche of papers fly off of Bruce’s desk, and his grizzled form slumps forward, hands firmly planted on the table. His shoulders sag under some unknown strain; as if he’s carrying the weight of the sky.

“Hmm.” Dick blinks back another wave of exhaustion, he’s not working on a case – but Bruce is – and company always makes working more fun. Besides, Bruce is on a time limit and Alfred can’t stop him from escaping his room. So. Here he is. He took an oath - it’s his job to help.

Dick’s eleven and Bruce’s a pillar of reassurance – a precariously stacked pile of rocks constantly on the verge of crumbling. He has no idea how to pick up the pieces. No idea how to seal the cracks. “Bruce?” He mumbles, swinging his legs off his spinny chair. Bruce doesn’t look up, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The ghost of tears well in his eyes. Not good.

Dick scoots off the chair, lightheaded for a moment. He shakes the stars out of his eyes, nodding back and forth, up and down, like Bruce does when he’s sleepy. It’s late. He has school tomorrow. Not that it matters. Bruce will let him skip if he asks the right way. He jogs in place for a few seconds, readying himself, warming up his muscles.

There’s not much he can do to help, but he can at least put on a little show. He runs forward launching into a cartwheel, picking up the papers as he goes – Bruce likes his tricks, sometimes they even make him laugh, sometimes –

Bruce snags his ankle out of the air, his quick reflexes saving Dick from crashing into the edge of a counter. He finds himself hanging, the world stuck upside down as his hands dangle inches from the floor. “Thanks.” He looks up at Bruce’s weary face.

A yawn escapes his lips, and the corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch. “I’m going to have to child-proof the cave at this rate.” He tries for humor but it falls flat, his hearts not in it all.

He stares up, sticking his tongue out. Bruce’s frown doesn’t fade. “Are you okay?” He asks. Bruce’s hands fumble, and Dick swings dangerously low to the floor before he’s recovered. Not willing to take the chance again, he curls up, grabbing Bruce’s forearms and pulls himself up through his arms, settling himself on sturdy shoulders.

Bruce drops his feet. “I’m fine. Why would ask that?” He sounds almost hurt and Dick’s too tired to figure out why.

He slides down easily, Bruce gently deposits him on the floor. “You looked sad.” A yawn leaves his mouth without permission, he stumbles slightly, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He reaches back up, and Bruce throws him up against his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

Dick yawns contently, his eyelids fluttering without his permission, as Bruce starts walking towards the stairs. “I’m sorry…” The arm around his back pulls him a bit tighter. “I’m just not enough.” A shaking hand combs through his hair and Dick squeezes back because he doesn’t know what to say.

Bruce grunts as he takes a step up the stairs. “Sleep on it?” Dick suggests, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Mmhmm. It’s bedtime.” Dick’s half asleep by the time they reach the top. He’s not sure he hears Bruce whisper, “You’re a great kid, chum.”

It took Dick years before he really understood the feeling. And even more years before he made the connection that that was how Bruce had felt on late nights spent scouring for clues that just didn’t seem to exist, having worked for days straight on three hours of sleep, and watching Gotham send all of it up in flames setting you back months on an investigation.

He’s learned there’s nights it’s impossible to save everyone – hell, he’s seen Clark get his ass kicked, and Clark’s damn near close to god. Dick would know – the Titans have fought their namesake. But the Titans have fought humans and lost despite half their members being godlike, and besides that most days now he’s alone. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, how much he plans, how prepared he is; sometimes things just go to hell and a handbasket and there’s nothing he can physically do to prevent it.

Most of the time, he’s fine with that. It’s fine he has limits. Logically, he knows he can’t be expected to everything. Logically, he knows it’s a waste of time to worry about it. Logically, he knows it’s okay to take a night off, watch a nature documentary, invite a friend over, stay in and spend the night simply existing.

But it feels like he could be doing more – should be doing more. He feels that restlessness overtake him, and springs to his feet “Bruce I-”

Bruce gives him his patented bat-glare from where he’s sitting, looking up from a familiar pile of papers. Once it would have intimidated him into sitting back down. Now he just returns it with a patented one of his own. “-I think I’ll suit up and head out for the night, Tim could probably use some back up with-”

“Dick.” There’s this exasperated tone that Bruce can only ever seem to muster when saying his name. He pauses for a just a second, his eyes flickering down to Bruce’s clenched fists and tight shoulders. “Let me handle it.” It comes out as an order, but reading between the lines, it’s a plea.

Bruce would never admit it out loud, worry practically bleeds out of the man. Guilt gnaws on the inside of his chest, though, he’s not sure what it’s even from; the guilt of making Bruce worry or the guilt of being a useless sack of broken and bruised ribs while people need Nightwing’s help. Being benched sucks, but he knows enough to compromise. “Let me run the comms? Babs could use a night off.” She sleeps less than him and Bruce knows it.

The gray streaks in Bruce’s hair stand out all the more as he lets out a bone deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes – he doesn’t get to do this right now. “You literally let me go out last night I don’t understand why-”

“Last night was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” His frown widens, his face etched in an eternal look of pain, mixed with disproval. “Two nights ago… you almost…” His mouth seals itself shut, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It’s Bruce that breaks the gaze first. “Run the comms, don’t overexert yourself. It should be a quiet night…” He stands, hesitates before walking off “And get to bed early.”

Dick bites back a laugh, Bruce hasn’t talked to him like that since he was thirteen. “Alright.” He resists the urge to poke fun, and follows Bruce through the passage behind the grandfather clock.

“So Ives was talking about the Pirates of the Caribbean movie with me the other day, and we might go see it this weekend if I have the time. Gee- I can’t remember the last time I saw movie in theaters or even really hung out with him.” Tim’s endless chatter helps him stay awake in the dimly lit cave. His throbbing ribs help too, maybe he shouldn’t have tried doing push-ups. “Dad and Dana want to drop me off, but Ives has a car now, though dad’s still worried cuz of the time some wacko tried to stop us at a traffic light.”

Dick hums, a smile creeping its way up his face. “I can drop you off if it’s an issue.”

“Really?! That’d be awesome, you could stay for the movie if you wanted to, but I don’t know if you’d like it, I mean are pirates really your thing? I always figured you’d be more into Vikings or probably aliens actually, or something like-” A red light flashes on the screen, and Dick snaps to attention.

“Hold that thought.” Tim’s chatter ceases immediately as Dick furiously types on the terminal. He punches into the main line. “Batgirl how fast can you get to the corner of 16th and Murphy’s Ave, there’s a building on fire and you’re the only one anywhere near the Upper East Side.” A 911 operator calms down a hysterical woman in his left ear, Cass asking direction in the right.

He pulls up a map. “I-I can’t find a way out!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know what happened, I was sleeping and-” she breaks off into raspy hacks.

“Go straight, turn right after three blocks down.” Dick winces, as the lady continues chocking on smoke. “C’mon Cass. Get there.” He mutters off the line. He eyes his cycle sitting idly in the bay – he’s twenty minutes out; Cass needs backup. He opens up another line. “Batman I need you to follow Batgirl, what’s your eta?”

Bruce grunts back, he hears thudding over the line. “Fifteen minutes.” The woman screams in his other ear, he yanks the earbud out as a massive bang nearly blows out his eardrum. Picking it back up, he can’t hear the woman anymore, only the roar of flames and falling debris.

“Shit.” He pulls up video from a street camera. “Shit.” The building’s collapsing in on itself. “Permission to call the league?” He clicks through to their line of communications, his finger hovering over the button.

“Here.” Cass scrambles into view, bursting through a window. Shit.

Bruce learned his limits long ago. Dick’s finally settling into his. Cass? They simply don’t register on her radar. The buildings coming down in mere minutes; she’s going to get killed.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce yells in his ear.

“Batgirl get out of there!” He screams at Cass. She’s going to die – the building’s not stable, and he’s the one that sent her there. “Make it five minutes – the building’s coming down.” He yells to Bruce. “Batgirl!” He watches a few windows blow out. A firetruck careens down the street.

“Permission granted.” Bruce huffs and Dick can’t click the button fast enough.

A couple more windows blow out, and the building seems to lean to the side. Finally he sees Cass climb back out a window, holding a couple kids in her arms as she leaps to the ground. “BATGIRL GET THEM CLEAR!” His heart pounds in his throat as she runs forwards, the building groaning behind her, crumbling to the side. Chaos erupts, chunks of flaming debris cascading from the top of the building, as the second floor merges with the first.

Dick blinks, his mouth dry. “There’s more people-” he can’t hear Cass over the ensuing cacophony as he watches the building topple to the ground. “NO!” He faintly hears her scream as the screen erupts in static.

Dick slams his fists on the desk. His chest constricts painfully. “Nightwing. Report.” Bruce’s steady voice reminds him to breathe. His chest spasms. Shit. “Nightwing!” Bruce demands as he tries to catch his breath.

“Building collapsed.” He manages to get out. “One sec.” He takes a few deep breaths, leaning back in the chair for support. “Batgirl report.” He’s greeted with silence. “Batgirl, please, if you’re there I need you to respond.”

“I…” Cass trials off. Dick sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.” The line cuts off. Well. Shit.

“Nightwing! I’m headed to the location.” Bruce squawks. Dick sighs.

“It’s going to be a long night. Search and rescue, I’ll call in backup.” Shit. So much for an early bedtime.

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder. He makes a grab for their wrist and misses, his mind processing where the hell he is. He blinks a few times.

“Cass?” Her hair’s plastered to the side of her head and she’s covered in soot. Nicks, rips, and tears decorate her costume. Dick wipes his eyes as the ashy smell of smoke overwhelms his senses. Cass takes a few steps back, heading towards the locker room. “Wait.” He had something to say to her, his mind racing to catch up.

She hops up onto a counter. His mind shuffles through the events earlier in the night. “Bruce sent you back?” Cass nods glumly. The rescue efforts weren’t going well when he dozed off. The JLA sent in everyone they could spare; there’s nothing they can do anymore. Not that Bruce won’t try.

Cass’s lips are sealed. There’s a haunting expression in her eyes, her shoulders slump forward, her hands firmly plant themselves on the counter for support.

And his friends think he’s too much like Bruce.

“Hey.” He starts. She gives him a weary look, tears welling in her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly like Bruce. “Look, I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Cass shakes her head. “Sometimes things like this happen. I should have-”

“Stop.” Cass pulls her feet up on the counter, getting dust everywhere. “I should have been faster.” She swallows, refusing to let the tears spill over. “My fault.”

Dick watches as she glides off the counter, yanking off her gloves and dropping them on the floor. Burn marks dot her hands and the edges of her hair are singed. “You did everything you could.” She hesitates, before taking a step towards the showers.

“Not enough.” She mutters before storming off, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

He stands up. “Cass.” The lock snaps shut with a click as she slips into the bathroom. Leaving Dick in an empty cave once more.

By the time he returns downstairs, Cass is already out of the shower, looking displeased. “You took my clothes.” She notes unhappily, a pale pink towel tucked tightly around her shoulders.

Dick watches water drip down from her hair, pattering on the floor. The trail leading back to the bathroom is now mixed with water and soot. Alfred’s going to be pissed. “I took your costume.” He clarifies. “And I brought you clothes.” He gestures towards the open door.

Cass scowls, planting her feet defiantly. “I’m going out.” She reaches out a hand. Dick shrugs – there’s no way she can find where he hid her filthy suit before they get a chance to wash it.

It’s all too familiar, reading the lines across her brow, watching her shoulders slump when she stills, and scanning red rimmed eyes. “What are you going to do like that?” He points out, Cass angrily storming towards him. “You’re tired, you’ll just end up being in the way.” He dodges left as a fist flies past his face. “You would have hit if I wasn’t right.” She’s faster than him on his best days.

She glares at him with pursed lips, staring before turning on her heel and storming off towards the bathroom. The door slams behind her, triggering the rustling of far away wings.

Dick sighs – he hopes he wasn’t this temperamental when he lived with Bruce. “Come up to the kitchen when you’re done, I need your help with something.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, though he feels a twinge of guilt as Cass groans behind closed doors.

Cass’s eyes widen as she enters the room. Dick offers a smile as she edges closer to the table. He tosses a spoon, she snags it out of the air. “Dig in.” There’s a carton of chocolate ice cream – double chocolate chunk brownie sundae with hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles to be precise – and tons of candy. It’s not stuff Bruce keeps around, but Dick’s has a stash at Tim’s house reserved for movie nights. He’ll restock later.

Cass vigorously stabs the ice cream with her spoon, a smile dancing across her face as she takes a few bites. She pauses, sticking the spoon back in the cartoon, looking up with a confused expression. “Why?” She’s wearing fluffy pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, and an old worn college sweatshirt that’s frayed at the hems. Dick can almost pretend he’s back, talking to Donna after she broke up with Roy their sophomore year of high school.

She’s watching Dick carefully. He hums casually. “You had a rough night.” This is what the Titans always did. She shrugs.

“Things happen.” She shovels a few more bites into her mouth. “I want to go out.” It’s hard for Dick to find her tough and grizzled when she’s guzzling gummi worms, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool.

“Consider this a reason to stay in.” She gives him a sideways glance. “You did as much as you can, that’s enough.” Cass looks pointedly at her ice cream, not hesitating before diving back into it.

“Spar with me?” She licks a skittle before sticking it in her mouth.

Dick snorts. “If I don’t have a heart attack, I think Bruce would.” She snaps up to attention, grabbing his wrist and quickly finding his pulse point. “I’m fine, Cass.” Her hands are freezing. He places one of his on top of hers. “If you weren’t there I wouldn’t have been.” He says quietly, catching her eye. “Thank you.” She pulls back as if burned, quickly busying herself with the candy. He waits a moment before adding, “I think those kids you saved are grateful too.”

Cass throws a bag of M&M’s at him, he’s a second too slow and it pelts him in the face. “Noted.” He grins. “Uh, also, I’m going to have to do something with your hair.”

“What.”

“Cass, hold still.” She immediately stops squirming under his hands. “Thanks.” She hums back, tucked under an old blanket that never seems to leave the back of the couch. Bruce still isn’t here, but Tim checked in after his stakeout, and headed home a half an hour ago. He snips away another lock of burnt hair, tossing it into a trash can next to him.

He rests his forearms on the back of the sofa, contemplating which section of her hair to start with next. “You find one you like yet?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder at the images of hairstyles.

“Uhh.” She scrolls a bit more. “I don’t care.” She tosses the phone up to the top of the couch.

“Mmm.” He didn’t expect much else. Donna texted him a picture earlier to copy – something easy to pull back but still stylish. He attacks the next section, carefully brushing out the tangles, starting bottom to the top. He’s oddly grateful for all those times he did Donna and Kory’s hair.

‘Practice for when Bruce finally adopts a girl.’ They used to tease. ‘You’ll have a real sister, and if his track record holds she’ll have black hair and blue eyes.’ He’s never lived the irony down. Though, Cass’s eyes are a beautiful warm brown, so Donna and Kory can take that.

“You know.” He keeps his tone light. “Most hairdressers and their clients talk.” Cass remains set in stony silence. “Though I guess most people go to a salon to get their hair cut.” He just visits Joey. “Some people say it’s like free therapy.”

“You talk a lot.” Cass notes. He pulls up doodle jump on his phone and passes it back to her. She plays a couple rounds before the phone’s placed back beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knows the answer, but still asks all the same.

“No.” Bruce never wanted to either. Barbara used to talk to him… before he left for the Titans and took years to look back. Though he likes to dream otherwise, he knows there’ll come a day when Tim won’t want to talk to him anymore either.

It doesn’t get any easier being shut out. “That’s alright. If you change your mind I’m here.” He grabs the shears, snipping away another dead end.

“Thanks.”

“Dick.” A hiss awakes him, light following soon after. He squints, turning away to bury his face in a cushion. “Where’s Cassandra?”

He turns, eyes snapping open as he quickly scans the sofa. The blanket hangs off the edge, Cass nowhere to be seen. One of her custom batarangs sticks out of his armchair’s armrest, a few inches from his hand. “She must have found her costume.” He notes, glancing towards the pajamas crumpled in the doorway. His eyes meet Bruce’s as he lets out a tired sigh.

His hair’s dripping, fresh from a shower, and it’s singed at the edges. Dick nods towards the sheers on the coffee table. “Tomorrow.” Bruce decides, crossing the room, picking up the blanket as he goes. Dick pushes down the footrest, slowly rising to his feet. His ribs twinge at every move, in hindsight, falling asleep hanging off the side of an armchair wasn’t his best idea. Bruce hovers closer than normal, watching carefully, worry lines set in concern. “Bed.”

Dick’s too tired to argue. “Bed.” He agrees. And though Bruce doesn’t carry him, he accompanies him up the stairs.

[kyber-kisses]

Where Nothing Stays Buried

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: violence, cursing, blood, spn level gore.

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Blood from mouth

Summary: When the reader is hit by an unknown curse, things suddenly turn for the worse in the bunker.

A/N: So this is hella long and I have no idea how to feel about it, but I hope you guys enjoy this hot mess!

“I fucking hate witches, have I ever told you that?”

“About half a million times, Dean. But thank you for reminding me.” You sighed, letting out a yawn near the end of your sentence as you adjusted the straps of your duffel.

The two of you descended the stairs of the bunker, the metal steps creaking slightly beneath you with each step. The hunt had practically been a milk run. A witch a few towns over had been using communing with a spirit of some sort to pit people against each other. The witch was now six feet under and lives were saved. The whole thing had been wrapped up in less than a week and now you and Dean were back home, Sam having chosen to stay behind this time around.

“But seriously, they’re gross and creepy and I hate them immensely.”

“I know, Dean.” Sliding off the straps of your pack, you dropped it onto the map table.

“We still on for movie night, tonight?” Dean questioned, siding up besides you as he began unloading the weapons from his bag onto the table.

“Dude it’s -“ you reached over and grabbed his wrist, flipping it over to look at his watch. “9:30 at night.”

“But. . . Butch and Sundance.”

“Can wait one more day.” You smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder as you turned. “I’m gonna go shower. I smell like roadkill.”

And just like that you were gone, disappearing down one of the many hallways of the bunker. Dean watched you go, eyes fixed one the corner you had just rounded.

“Well that’s adorable.”

Deans head spun to look towards the library, watching as his brother leaning against one of the pillars.

“You shut up.”

“All I said was that's adorable.”

“Yeah, and I told you to shut up.” Dean hissed, jabbing a finger at his brother before snatching up his own bag and leaving the room.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Around an hour later you found yourself standing at the kitchen counter, the bunker mostly silent as you made yourself a sandwich. Sam was seated at the kitchen table, typing away at something on his laptop, and the last you saw of Dean he was in the library rifling through one of the lore books.

“I didn’t have time to ask earlier, but how was the hunt?”

“It was fine.” You shrugged, licking a crumb off your finger as you continued to assemble your meal. “Thing was practically a milk run. It was almost too easy.”

“Dean told me the two of you got thrown around a lot.”

“Well witches are bitches.” You nodded, picking up the kitchen knife besides you. “But we’re both fine. . . I mean I think Deans a little disheartened that I didn’t want to do a movie night tonight, but he’ll get over that.”

“End it.”

Eyebrows suddenly drawing together in confusion, you looked back over your shoulder at Sam, the hunters eyes still glued to his screen. “What did you say?”

“ I didn’t say anything.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn-“

“They’re playing you.” The voice came out of nowhere, like a soft breeze, barely audible to even your own ears. You shook your head. You were tired, that was all. You were just hearing things.

But not a second later a wave of warmth rippled through every nerve in your body . For a moment you tried to fight it, unsure exactly what was happening, but you quickly gave up. It wasn’t painful or scary, it was almost as if a heated blanket had been wrapped around you. Your body instantly calmed, shoulders relaxing.

okay, weird. Maybe it was just your body relaxing after a long day. Nothing to worry about

After a second your eyes were suddenly found interest in drifting towards the kitchen knife in your hand. The reflection from the overhead light refracting off the clean metal as you turned it in your hand. You pressed a finger to the top of the blade, not enough to break skin, but just enough to leave an indent.

“Move.”

At the sound of the voice, you did. Your body remaining relaxed as you turned on your heel and headed out of the kitchen, knife still in hand and Sam still too busy to notice.

As you stalked down the hallway, your strides full of purpose, you felt your fingers flex against the handle, almost as if trying to fight the movement all together. At the far end of the hallway, Dean walked into view, a book balanced in his forearm as he read. He glanced up from the page for a half a second, acknowledging your existence, and then looked back down.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Throw it.”

It was only when Dean glanced back down at his book that he had to do a double take, looking up just in time with wide eyes to see you pull your arm back, and with a light hop in your step, throw the kitchen knife down the hallway. Your steps not even faltering even after the utensil left your palm.

The hunter quickly ducked as the knife flipped end over end before burying itself in the wall behind him with a solid thwunk, the handle quivering from the impact. With wide eyes Dean looked up at the blade and then back to you.

“Y/N, what the hell?!”

There was no answer from you as you closed the distance between you and him. Still stunned by what had just happened, Dean didn’t have time to brace himself before you were sweeping your leg underneath him and knocking him to the floor, pinning him beneath you instantly.

“Y/N!”

He could see that you were winding up, your hand pulling back. In whatever way he could to stop you, his own fingers wrapped around your wrists, struggling to keep you from plowing foreword. Unfortunately that didn’t help, and even though your wrist was locked in his grasp, you brought your elbow upward, slamming it into his chin. Losing his hold on you his hand slipped.

Possession. It had to be possession. . . Or maybe a hex bag? One of those two.

As you delivered the first solid punch, the voice continued to coax you foreword, whispering softly into your ear. You listened. Giving yourself fully over to the force rippling through you.

“Y/N- listen to me-“ Dean gasped, eyes wide as he watched you bring your hand back. “Somethings- somethings wrong.”

Another solid punch had his head knocking back against the linoleum floor, a groan leaving his lips. He didn’t notice the commotion down the hall until your weight of your body was gone and you were suddenly being pulled off him by two strong sets of hands.

Gasping in a lungful of air, he slid back, his back hitting the wall as he tried to gather himself. Both Sam and Cas were holding you tightly back as you tried to lunge at Dean, a fire blazing in your eyes.

“Let me go!”

“Y/N-“

Clearly they were trying to keep their hold on you somewhat loose as if to not hurt you, but that was a terrible idea because you managed to fight them off and throw yourself forward as Dean again. His hunter reflexes kicked in before he could stop and all of a sudden he was driving his fist into your jaw, making you stumble back.

This time Sam and Cas grabbed you with more force, looping their arms underneath your armpits as they pulled you back.

“Dean, what the hell is going on?!”

“Does it look like I fuckin know?!” Using the back of his hand to wipe the blood away from his mouth, he watched the two struggle to keep you back.

He had punched you. He could see the welt already forming on your jaw. What the hell was happening?

“We need to tie her down-“ Sam struggled with the words, your strength still being difficult to keep under control.

“The dungeon.” Cas spoke, looking to Sam for approval before the two were pulling you down the hallway. Your heels kicked against the floor as you were dragged backwards screaming.

And then the words to leave your mouth had Dean heart stop in his chest momentarily.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You screamed, face pulled up in pain as you struggled. Your eyes both glassy and full of rage as you fought. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

A second later you were dragged around the corner, you yells continuing to echo through the bunker. Trying to process what was happening, Dean slumped back against the wall, eyes full of confusion and pain.

Something happened on that case that he didn’t see. . . Because that wasn’t you. Not at all.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Twenty minutes later, Dean found himself seated at one of the library tables, an ice pack pressed firmly to his eye. He had tried to go see you after you had been dragged into the dungeon, but one thing was very clear : Whatever was infecting you was making you target him. Sam and Cas had told him it wasn’t a good idea to be within your line of sight.

“She still angry as a little viper?” Dean mumbled, his eyes cast downward when he heard the two enter the room. He knew that answer though already. You had practically been screaming nonstop for the last twenty minutes. The sounds muffled by the walls of the bunker.

“Yeah. She’s locked down. She’s not getting free of the bindings we put on her.” Sam sighed, sinking into one of the vacant seats across from him. It was only when Dean finally looked up, did a hiss escape his teeth. Clearly you had gotten a few good licks in with both Sam and Cas. The two sporting several welts and scratches.

“Jeez.”

“Yeah. Let’s just say she’s not holding back or pulling her punches.” Sam winced.

“It’s gotta be possession. It’s gotta be.”

“We already checked. It’s not.” Cas butted in. “Plus, she has an anti-possession tattoo, remember?”

“So then it’s a hexbag.”

“Guess again. We didn’t find anything on her.”

“Well then what the hell is happening to her?” Dean picked up his head fully. It felt like his thoughts were moving at a million miles an hour. “She was fine when we got back.”

“I don’t know. Could be a curse maybe?” Sam shrugged. “Something that latched onto her during the case?”

There was a pause as Dean sucked in his lips, silently contemplating what to do. “I want to see her.”

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She seems to be the most angry at you. I mean, she did attack me and Cas as well but. . . Even just the mention of your name while we were in there made her go ballistic.”

Dean ignored his brother, instead moving to push himself out of his seat, dropping the ice pack on the table. “Well we cant help her if we’re all just sitting her twiddling our thumbs.” He paused again, looking back down at his hand. “. . . I hit her Sam.”

“It was instinct. You were protecting yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cas! I punched her and I-“ Dean knew he shouldn’t feel guilty but he couldn’t help it. He had hurt you. You. One of the people he cared about the most. He needed to make this right. He needed to help you.

*. *. *. *. *.

Struggling against the stiff bindings keeping your arms securely bound to your chest, you leaned forward in your seat, taking in the shackles on your ankles. The room was empty aside from yourself. Sam and Cas having locked you in here a good five minutes ago.

“They’re talking about you, you know.”

“Let them.”

A sudden shadow off to your side suddenly caught your attention, making you look up. You thought you were alone. Clearly that was not correct.

“You’re the voice I’ve been hearing.”

“That I am.”

The shadow slowly slid into the light, revealing a thin figure wrapped in black. She moved like smoke, her hair long and a shade of purple so dark that you originally thought it was black when you first looked. Hers eyes shining like molten golden. A soft smile played on her dark lips as she moved foreword.

“Who are you?”

You see, for most people in this situation they would be scared out of their minds. But that didn’t happen. Not to you at least. All you felt was calm, the same way one might feel when held in their mothers arms.

“A god. But that doesn’t matter.” Her smile widened as she dragged a nail across your cheek. “What matters is that I’m helping you.”

“Oh.”

At that same time, the doors to the dungeon were pulled back open by one Dean Winchester, his brother and Cas standing behind him. You expected them to say something, to direct their attention towards the unknown woman besides you, but then you realized it was because they couldn’t see her.

Only you could.

“Look at them. So oblivious to the pain they’ve brought you.” She tutted, head tilting slightly in amusement.

You looked past Dean as if he wasn’t there, instead directing your attention towards Sam. “Sam, let me out.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Let. Me. Out.” Taking time to sound out each word, you began your struggle against your bindings once more. It was like there was in itch underneath your skin, and the only way to get rid of it was to attack.

“Y/N, we wanna help you.” Dean tried, attempting to take a step closer, only for you to lash out even more. He stepped back.

“He’s lying. They don’t help people. All they do is send them to their deaths.” The woman whispered, leaning down close to your ear. “Think about it.”

“You even listening to us?”

Your eyes blazed again as you looked up through the strands of hair hanging over your eyes. “I want you dead. . . I want you all dead.”

That caught them slightly off guard. The three men sharing a look between them like they didn’t know what to do.

“Look at you.” The figure cooed, hand coming to cup you cheek. The contact making you relax slightly. “They cause you nothing but suffering. Don’t you want to be free of it all?”

“Yes.”

“Think about it. How you’ve lost so many friends because they roped them into to helping them fight their battles.”

It was like throwing fuel onto a fire, and like a million times before you attempted to lunge foreword. The rage running through you like a wild animal.

“You’re terrible people! You keep getting the people I care about killed!” You snapped, almost on the verge of tears. “It’s like we’re all pawns in your game! Charlie, Bobby, Kevin-“

You ignored the heartbreak on Deans features. The hunter clearly losing his battle at hiding his emotions.

“Unravel him.”

“Am I next? The next person in your line of sacrifices? The next person to give up their life to keep you going?”

“It has never been like that. Ever!” Dean swallowed thickly, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

“Liar.” You paused, suddenly a new idea was slipping into your brain. “You know what, let’s make this all easier. Instead of waiting for my eventual death to come, no doubt somehow because of you. . . Just kill me now.”

“Y/N-“ Dean choked out your name like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Don’t say that.” One second you wanted them dead, and now you wanted them to kill you. He didn't know which was worse.

“Why not? It’s true isn’t it? I’d finally be free of you, and all the death that follows you. If I can’t kill you-“ you gestured to your restrains keeping you from going anywhere. “this is the next best option.”

“Y/N, we care about you. We’re not going to do that.” Cas spoke up, reminding you that he was there.

“They’re trying to pull you in. Don’t let them. They think your weak.”

“If you care about me, you’ll kill me.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to speak, but only snapped it shut once more. Shaking his head he pressed passed his brother and Cas. He couldn’t be around this. This was a whole other type of pain.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Three days.

Three days of combing through the lore for anything that might point them in the right direction, and nothing. Resting his chin in his palm, Dean flipped the page of the book he was currently reading through. Sam sat across from him in a similar position. They had barely gotten any sleep in days, too busy trying to find a way to help you. A moment later, Cas was walking back into the room, even the angel had a tired expression.

“Well?”

“Well, she is still refusing to eat and I can’t remember the last time she actually drank the water we brought her.”

Dean cursed under his breath. Along with the violence and hurtful words, you now refused to cooperate. It was like you were trying to get them to snap.

“I’ll go check on her.”

“Dean-“

Dean was already down the steps before either of them could stop him. “don’t try and stop me.”

You were exactly where they last left you, your head hanging low up until the point in which Dean stepped into the room. At the sound of his foot pattern you looked up. The fire in your eyes still hadn’t gone out, and he could practically see the fury radiating off of you in waves.

“Well look who decided to visit.”

“I didn’t come here to talk.” Letting out a deep sigh, he knelt down to inspect your restraints, making sure they hadn’t loosened at all.

“You finally come here to finish me off like I asked?” Flexing your fingers you leaned foreword, the hunter looking up to find his face inches from your own.

“I ain’t killing you. Ever.”

“You’re just a pawn in their game. They will still be ready to sacrifice you at a moments notice for the greater good. That’s all you are. An pawn.”

Rising back to his feet, Dean made his way around you to check the chains keeping you to the chair. The heavy metal had been looped several times around you, a lock fastening it to a ring at the base of the chair.

“Do you know how many people would still be alive if you hadn’t let them wander into your lives? So many. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, the hunter tried to ignore your words. You were trying to make him snap.

“Stop talking-“ he began, only for his words to fall short as he glimpsed something beneath the collar of your shirt. Taking a step back he tilted his head before suddenly rushing to pull down the back of your shirt. “What the hell?”

With a newfound urgency the older Winchester dove his hand into the pocket of his jeans to fish out his phone. Snapping a quick picture he was gone before you could use anymore words against him.

The hallway towards the library had never felt longer as he rushed through it, eyes fixated on the photo.

“Sam, I think I got something!”

Both heads turned quickly as he entered the library, his feet momentarily sliding on the wooden floor.

“Good, because I think I got something too.” Turning the book around on the tabletop he pushed it towards Dean and Cas before taking Deans phone from his extended hand and looking down at the picture. “That’s what I thought.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the five fingered hand of Eris.”

“. . . Okay I’m gonna need a bit more than that, Sam.”

The hunter sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Eris is the Greek goddess of strife and discord. it says here that she’s marks her victims with the symbol, basically feeds them lies and tries to pit them against others.”

“Goes it say why she keeps lashing out more towards me, and not you? I mean she aint giving any of us friendly looks, me especially.”

“It says the stronger the emotional attachment, the stronger the hold. but that's about it.” Sam shrugged.

“Alright, then how do we stop it? Get rid of the symbol?”

“Um- give me a sec.” swinging the book back around, Sam flipped through a few pages before stopping. “Yeah, you can stop it but— oh.”

“Oh? What’s that mean oh? Was that a good oh or a bad oh?

“There’s not exactly a spell to get rid of it.”

“Not exactly?” Dean repeated, looking back over his shoulder at Cas who merely shrugged.

Sam pressed his lips together. Dean wasn’t gonna like this. He wasn’t gonna like this one bit. Hell, he didn’t like this- but it was the only option in the book.

“Sam?”

“All we need is a silver knife.”He could see Dean buffering, the hunter trying to put two and two together. He gave him another minute before adding “we have to cut it out of her.”

“what?” Suddenly Deans voice was much quieter, the man taking a step back from the table. “no, there has to be another way.”

“This is literally the only way to stop it. There is no other way.”

Dean already felt terrible for hitting you that one time, and now they were telling him they had to literally carve out a symbol that was basically branded to your back? No. That was too much.

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it, but someone needs to hold her down. We can’t do it if she’s chained to that chair.” Already rising from his own seat, Sam looked past Dean towards Cas. “Do you still have that blade we found in that crypt a few months back?”

“Yes.”

“Then that should work.” Sam nodded, it was only when he and Cas were at the door did they realize Dean had yet to move.

“Dean.”

Snapping out of the zone, the hunter nodded before quietly following them. Just the thought of bringing harm to you was too much. The image making his stomach flip.

The three made quick work of releasing you from the confining chains, the metal clanging against the cement floor of the dungeons as they slid from your body.

“Finally come to kill me like I asked?” You spoke, eyes glancing towards the blade in Sam’s palm. The younger Winchester remained silent, watching as Dean suddenly replaced the thick chains you had grown accustom to with a pair of handcuffs.

What happened next was so fast that you barely registered it. Dean suddenly tugged you firmly against his chest, locking his arms around you. The action made you struggle in his grasp as he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him. It would be easier keeping you still this way.

“What the hell are y-“

It was Cas who stepped in next, pressing two fingers to your temple. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what the angel was doing but he felt you slightly loosen in his arms, your struggling slowly stilling as you panted.

“Sam, do it.”

The hunter didn’t need to be told twice before he was pulling up the back of your shirt. The marking was nestled between your shoulder blades and was almost the size of Deans palm. It looked like a brand, two opposing arrows converging at a common point.

“Hold her still.”

“I fucking am-“ Dean hissed through his teeth, turning his head away as Sam brought the tip of the blade to your flesh. Dean didn’t need to be told what was happening because a second later that’s when you started to scream, lurching in his arms. The heat from your breath seeped into the fabric of his shirt as you cried out, struggling in his grip.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-

That was the only thing running through his head as he buried his face in your shoulder, clutching you tighter to keep you from moving. Soon enough your screams mixed with sobs and Dean couldn’t tell if he was feeling your tears or his own. For the longest time Dean thought he could never truly feel someone else’s pain, but those screams of yours came close. They ripped through him like shards of glass and brought a whole new type of agony. The worst part was it felt like it went on for an eternity, but once it stopped, Dean was still afraid to loosen his hold. Your screams faded into sobs and your weight fully fell into him, face buried in his shoulder.

“Please tell me it’s over.”

At the sight of Sam pulling away with bloody hands, Deans stomach lurched again. That was your blood.Yours.

“It’s over.” Sam looked towards Cas, the angel lifting his hand from your temple before touching it to your back. A warm light spilled over you skin momentarily and then he was pulling back.

“I’ve healed most of it, but she still needs bandages.”

Seeing that Dean wasn’t going to be moving, Sam nodded already moving towards the door. “I’ll go get em. I need to wash my hands anyways.”

“Okay-“ Dean sucked in a lungful of air, suddenly feeling as if he had just run a marathon. “Okay.”

The worst part was over.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The bunker was quiet. At least much more than it had been before. As Dean made his way down the dimly lit hallway he saw that your room was still empty. It had been for the past week, ever since they cut that marking out of you. Moving past your door way, he stepped into the dungeon, knocking on the door frame to alert you of his presence.

“You gonna come out and join us for dinner?”

“No.”

“Y/N, you’ve barely eaten.” Dean sighed, stepping into the room. “Plus, you need to sleep in an actual bed. Not on the floor.”

Your back was facing him, knees tucked into your chest as you let your hand run over the devils trap beneath you. “I’m not leaving.”

Another sigh. He knew you would say that. Even though the symbol was off of you, you were terrified you might hurt someone again. . . So you had chosen to stay in the dungeon. Sam and Cas had taken off your restraints days ago but you had clamped a shackle back over your ankle for good measure.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone. Sam got that thing off of you.”

You couldn’t allow yourself to face him. Your eyes instead going to your hands. “We don’t know that. . . “ you paused, eyes stinging with inside tears. “I hurt you. I said terrible, awful things to you- I tried to kill you.”

“It was a curse. That happens.”

“If it was the other way around, could you let it go?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.”

Suddenly Dean was kneeling down in front of you, big jade eyes staring at you with tenderness. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just- I don’t want you believing anything of what I said. I don't want you thinking for even a second that I hate you.”

“I don’t.”

“I told you guys that you use your friends like pawns. That it’s your fault that we’ve lost people. . . That’s not- that’s not true.” You stumbled on the words, finding it difficult to speak.

“Hey, hey it okay. I get it.” He squeezed your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. “I went through something similar when I had the mark of Cain. I was spitting out stuff that wasn’t true as well.”

“How can you forgive me?”

“The same way you forgave me when I had the mark.” Dean mumbled against your hairline. “Now how bout we get you out of here and get back to normal?”

“How do we do that?”

“One step at a time.”

“. . .I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl  @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester  @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath  @littleagxs @deanwanddamons @idksupernatural​

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Final Four: Beaks in the Shell! or JESUS WEPT!

This.. this is a big occasion for me. It’s a return to regular Ducktales coverage.. but it’s also the first episode of the LAST four of the series. It was thanks to Ducktales my blog got a following, first through in character chat things, then through my reviews of this very season. It was starting this last year that took my blog from something I was passionate abbout but did ocassionaly to a vital part of my being and my source of income via one lucky boy who just wont’ let me stop! I kid of course, I thank kev for it, though i’d gladly welcome any other review comissions from you fine folks and fit them into the schedule. There’s a page on my blog for how and if your on mobile you can simply send me an ask or submit to ask about comissiong an episode or episodes of an animated shwo you like and i’ll give you my prices and what not. But it’s thanks to these Kev started comissioning in the first place and thanks to you all clicking on these reviews every week I do them that kept me doing them early on. So I wanted to thank you all. 

Covering the last four episodes is really bittersweet for me. It’s not the end for ducks here: I have most of seasons 1 and 2 to cover, and will be covering a lot of season 1 next month so I can properly cover shadow war for my Lena retrospective, not to mention continuing to cover life and times when I have the space, various birthdays, including Carl Barks Next Month!, and so on and so on. But this is not only the first show I covered on a weekly basis but it’s the first show i’ve covered like that to end. To put it in perspective, Loud House won’t be leaving until it WANTS to and even then nick will probably prepare a second spinoff to follow it up in some form, Amphibia has both the rest of season 2 to go, starting next month!, and a third season renewal meaning while that probably WILL be it i’ll have had two full seasons to cover by the time it’s over, and I went into Close Enough FULLY expecting it not to make it past season 1 as it’s long and harried production cycle lead me to belivie Time-Warner was just going to dump it on HBO Max and be done with it.. and to my utter and everlasting delight the opposite has happened: It didn’t just get renewed but it’s become one of HBO Max’s most popular shows, the flagship of it’s adult animation lineup, and been given THREE more seasons, two of which are coming very soon, and likely will get as many as it wants for the forseable future. 

The point is.. I went into covering Ducktales expecting at least one more season and genuinely not knowing if i’d make it thorugh covering this one, and once this started to really work out for me, to the point from doubting i’d EVER be able to set up a Patreon to having one that nets me ten dollars a month, feel free to contribute if you enjoy these reviews even a buck a month helps, honest. Plus thanks to that ten bucks a month i’ll be covering the five part 87 Ducktales pilot in April and if you get it up to ten i’ll cover super ducktales. But I wouldn’t even had one without these reviews giving me something to start with, and I figured they’d be around for a few more years, at least one more season. I didn’t think the show would just.. end with this season and while the season IS a proper final season of the show, wrapping up arcs, introducing long overdue cast additions, giving us the biggest and best overarching plot thus far.. a good final season dosen’t make it hurt any less. But as a wise Synthizoid once said...

It hurts it’s going.. I wasn’t prepared for it.. but it’s giving us one hell of a last act, and if this episode is any indication, just because the end is in sight dosen’t mean the last few eps before the finale are phoning it in. This is the end... so now i’ve got my emotional stuff and the weight behind it out of the way, for now i’m defintely going to be bawling come the finale and I’m not ashamed, we can dive into the begining of the end. Counting down.. because really when else am I going to get to use this...

We’re at four and under the cut it’s beaks in the shell. Let’s get dangerous. 

We open with a crime in progress as Gandra is stealing a thing for FOWL and Fenton has shown up on the scene to stop her as you’d expect.. along with Huey the boy wonder! He’s finally Fenton’s Sidekick!

Seriously it’s just so sweet to see this little payoff, to see Huey, after talking about it and clearly wanting to assit Fenton however he can, actually participate. Granted he dosen’t have an armor, yet, of his own, but still he’s been through enough stuff to be helpful> plus, Gyro’s reaction to Fenton trying to ge the resources for another gizmosuit was...

Gandra trips up his wheel, and im with 87 Scrooge in Ducktales Remastered, which I finally got to play recently! Horay!, what WAS gyro thinking with that design. Regardless she gets away, and our heroes return the loot off screen. Good day’s crime fighting. 

Except something’s off with Fenton as he’s been working extra late lately and lying to both Gyro and Ma’Ma about it with both suspcious, Gyro because he dosen’t like not knowing things and especially not knowing what his former intern’s up to because he’s a bit of a control freak.. and because he probably can’t go visit his new clone farm and work on speeding up the process of his replacement bodies after moonvasion used em all up without Fenton finding out as he’d tell Scrooge and Scrooge would be like “Stop playing God in ways that could get me a steep fine!”. It’d be a whole thing. The fact Fenton’s also using their now shared intern in Manny and neither is telling him why probably isn’t helping and i’ts only that workplace harassment seminar that keeps him from trying to strangle either of them again. That and Manny dosen’t have a neck.

Ma’Ma is more upset that not only is he lying to her again, more on that later, but .. that she’s figured out he has a new girlfriend and understandably thinks there’s some dark reason he’s not telling her, and unlike Gyro turns out she’s two for two. I mean she is a detective while Gyro is more worried about his clone army, his man horse and his robot son. I mean the last two are valid but still Mama just has to worry about her job and her socially awkward adult son. She has more time to focus on this.

But yes, not only is Fenton seeing someone.. but it’s Gandra again. A bit abrubt but honestly this isn’t the first Fenton episode to move his life fast.. and frankly i’m more lenient on final seasons, or seasons INTENDED to be the last ones in terms of offscreen stuff, as your trying to get everything you can wrapped up in the span of 13-24 episodes depending on how lucky you get, if not less. Sometimes you just gotta use a reveal and some exposition to hurry things along and if presented right it works.. and here it is a while the summary for this episode spoiled the reveal, i’ts still subtly dramatic that not only has hef ully forgiven her.. but their together.. despite the fact she still works for fowl. Wuh-oh.  After the credits we get an idea of what their working on, as Fenton used the gizmoduck suit to enter some kind of VR scape. This is the Gizmoscape! It’s a vast virtual reality landscape.. that looks like a fancy version of the VR Interface from community. Marble pillars, flowing water falls. Though ironically enough Jim Rash’s character is NOT a part of it and despite Fenton suggesting letting him in to help with their glitch problem she’s reluctant as it’s THEIR baby and she wants it to be perfect first before they allow other people in. Though i’m also sure part of it is that Gyro would start screaming JESUS WEPT! over and over. 

Meanwhile Mark Beaks is having a big flashy press confrence to announce the new Waddlephone. Only a 50% chance of exploding! And that’s not my dig at Samsung but the shows as that’s really Beaks sales pitch. Unsuprisingly only one VERY bored looking nerd is there at the confrence. As for why he’s finally fallen so low part of it is explalined in the episode: His attempted thefts of the Gizmoduck suit have gotten stale. As the bored nerd puts it he’s tried to steal it four times already, two that we’ve seen but i’m VERY unsuprised he’s tried again off screen. He’s made it PAINFULLY clear he has no ideas of his own, constantly steals them, and the public’s tired of it. As for why it took THIS LONG.. this is sadly realistic. As the throngs of “hardcore gamers” defending Cyberpunk 2077 before it was released can attest to, internet nerd culture can often be toxic, stupid and defend big personalities even when they’ve CLEARLY done something terrible as long as their doing something they like. Beaks was clearly pilfering enough good products and doing enough antics on social media to still be liked and for them to ignore his blanat and douchey crimes and had enough money on him during said crimes to walk away from it. 

Problem is.. while people can be awful and defend someone despite them not deserving their loyality, being a douche in public and doing VERY terrible things.. you have to have something to earn that loyalty. Waddle had that at first iwth project ta-dah, Waddleduck, various aps i’m sure... but it’s clear from context by this point Beaks has nothing left and no cult of personality to insulate him. Unlike say Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos he dosen’t HAVE some big product to mask his shadier wealth hoarding actions, he just has rampat supervilian attempts to steal someone else’s power armor and a hired hyjacking to get back at his cold unloving mother. Even when he does supervillian stuff like that.. he can’t be bothered to do it originally. The public will, and very sadly, defend you from terrible stuff, we’ve seen it with people supproting Gina Carano even though she’s actively spreading harmful disnfermation and then had the GALL to compare herself to jews hiding from the nazis, and one journalist trying to defend her had the gall to compare this to the hollywood blacklisting if the 50′s instead of you know, someone who woudln’t shut up about harmful dangerous shit finally getting fired for using teh platform said job provided to spread said harmful dangerous shit about masks and the vacine. But if you have nothing to offer.. thieri just going to forget you and move on. He has nothing to offer so they’ll gladly gravitate to some other jackass who can at leasat given them a neat phone instead of trying to steal a superhero suit for the 8th time. Mark realizes if he can’t steal something soon.. he’ll be forced to go with the Nuclear option: MAKE SOMETHING HIMSELF. 

Back at Fenton’s toilet lab, Huey finds Fenton having some cyber makeouts with Gandra... which translates to him kissing the air and Huey feeling evne more awarkd than usual. As for why Huey’s here despite it being late, he got a piece of Gandra’s nanotech during the robbery and figures they can track her. Fenton is.. less than enthused about that for obvious reasons but things soon get worse for our hero as our other hero notices the linkup. And while sidekicks are a good thing in my eyes; They allow young heroes to get proper training, help nuture their talents and prevent assholes from telling them to stop it instead of you know helping them. It’s.. a more common trope than you think let me tell you. 

But Fenton’s discovered the Downside is they can show up anytime, want to hunt your criminal girlfriend down not knowing the full story, and if their a genius like you, figure out what your up to with no effort and really want to try it. Seriously Huey’s almost as smart as you Fenton and will no doubt surpass you one day, this was a matter of when not if and you shouldv’e been more prepared. But Huey wants to try, and while Fenton tries deflecting since he only has the gizmoduck helmet and it only works for him now... Manny comes in with a bunch of vr rigs and Huey dives in.  Naturally, Huey soon running directly into Gandra dosne’t go great.. and given this is huey his natural instinct is to have a panic attack over his best friend, mentor and the only person besides maybe his family, boyfriend and girlfriend that really gets him possibly betraying him and his entire family. Gandra is of course mad Fenton invited someone in when she didn’t want that, and even more someone whose clearly not happy with her and will likely tell on them because that’s basic hue-man nature. 

Fenton explains he didn’t ask for this, so we get easily the best part of the episode: Gandra’s solution to the child having a mental breakdown.. is to summon a weighted blanket and throw it over him, which Huey mistakes for a trap and she explains helps with Anxiety.. and while he struggles.. it really does. Damn gotta get me one of those. Also while his Autisim remains vauge, likely on puprose, Huey having anxiety disorder, while obvious before, is now 100% confirmed. 

So now he’s calm, though his Anxiety meter shows he’s still not happy and Gandra doubts he’ll listen, Fenton can at least try and explain: The two have been seeing each other and working on this in secret.. but it has NOTHING to do with FOWL other than Gandra embezzling resoruces to make it happen. Gandra also explains why the project is so important to her and Fenton via her own backstory: Super Science is a dangerous, unrpedictable field and accidents happen a lot, and given people tend to hate what they don’t understand, hence why the X-Men founded their own island  after getting spat on one too many times, it often gets an unfair bad wrap.. and she shows she’s had to put up with this her whole life, making an intresting lazer thing as a kid that lost to a volcano and getting glared at for it accidently destroying said volcano. And as an adult due to her work’s dangerous and experimental nature, no one would take a chance on it and like many a super villian she had to experiment on herself. It’s also why she worked for Beaks last season and works with FOWL now, only supervillians with thier grandiose ambitions and lack of care for property damage would fund her. 

That’s part, at least, of why this is so very important to her: The Gizmoscap eprovides an invorment where scientests and others can experiment unabated, where the only limit is imagination and those glitches they keep having and any accident can be frozen , dragged and dropped away with no damage. There’s no risk but all the reward and they plan to give it out for free, to let the public use this and let the world grow from it. 

It also fills in a lot of Gandra’s character and gives weight to her last apperance: Her working with Beaks, while hypocritical, now has a tragic edge as he was simply the only one who’d fund her work. Her hatred of Fenton’s corprroate job and people like Scrooge.. is that in general billionares like him usually aren’t good people, and even SCrooge has his clear faults, and she assumed he was just making Fenton shut up and do things just to beniefit him and make him more money.. when Scrooge was instaead paying him to do a genuine public service as gizmoduck, and gives him and Gyro a LOT of leway and a pretty bottomless budget and only turns things down if their way too dangeorus for public release. The tragedy here is if she’d gone to Scrooge.. she never would’ve had to work for FOWL. He wouldd’ve genuinely supported her and likely given her a full ride and a spot in the lab of her own, maybe as an intern but probably on her own merit given how game changing her tech is and how he of all people understands a ballance of risk and reward. It turns her from a very hypcoriticla techie who works with the very people she scorns.. to someone who has no choice and desperatley wants out.  And this is her way out: something new and bold that’, while not hers alone as Fenton co created it, could change the world and make it safe for people like her to do what they do without ridcule, scorn or risk. It’s everything she could’ve dreamed of and more and once it’s done she promises to leave fowl and as the end of the episode bares out, and as her tone makes clear, she’s genuine about it. She also TRULY does love fenton and vice versa and both are desspearte for Huey to keep a lid on things from Gyro till it’s ready, as she rightfully worries if it gets out unfisnished they’ll just be mocked agian.  Naturally being a good soft boy Huey is now entirely on board, because he loves science, and he loves love and this is both. And frankly given what we saw way back in Astro BOYD... .he knows more than anyone what its like to be laughed at and mocked for being diffrent and simply being smart. And even though his family lvoes him.. only one member is as smart as him in the same way, his mom whose still a very diffrent person, and it wasn’t till this season he really got to connect with people his own age like him. And both Violet and BOYD could benifit form this.. everyone could. So he’ll keep it secret for now.  This proves problematic as both Gyro AND Mama are there and both have questions. And while Huey ducks gyro, Mama.. interrogates a small child who she’s defintely met and likely knows has anxiety over something as trivial as her son having a secret girlfrined. You.. you guys might’ve wanted to remove this bit given last year. I”m just saying. Does not play well. The most Huey can come up with is a girlfriend in Canada which fenton plays along with... but given neither her nor gyro are really buying into things, though Mama has a check done on seamstresses in canada just in case because this bit was clearly written years ago and not rerecorded for whatever reason, Huey uses little bulb to fake a gizmo emergency so Fenton can get out of there, go home and work on this himself while Huey stalls and lies. But since his best on the fly lie was “a girlfriend in canada”, which is somehow worse than “who’s Dewey”, and while our boy is many things: excellent at opera, a good friend, a wonderful wingman, excellent at setting a mood, a good son, great at panic attacks, a genius, an expert woodchuck, knowledgeble on quantum mechanics.. the list goes on lying is not one of those things and he seems to be in a pickle. 

Meanwhile Mark is struggling to create, can relate, because he’s entirely creatively sterile. And that’s probably why out of Scrooge’s foes.. he stopped being a threat. He has no vision. And while true the Beagle BOys also don’t besides steal stuff and maybe get our deed back, that’s by design as Ma knows they can’t take scrooge or gizmoduck so why cry. Stick to petty crimes and stuff he isn’t aware of or dosen’t care about. But Magica and Glomgold do. Magica is cunning, if not subtle, and manipulative and when on full blast horrifyingly powerful, and it took everything Clan McDuck had to stop her at full, and she still nearly won without any powers when she came back, and even if Lena can keep her in check now, she still GOT her powers back and got her new arch enemy to defeat her old one. Glomgold while only slightly more comipitent than beaks, and even then VERY slightly, he at least has vision. His schemes are entirely stupid.. but he dosen’t stop coming up with them. They may be his first draft but damn if they aren’t entertaining and damn if one or two haven’t WORKED. Simply stealing a few cents from scrooge and gaslighting him in a devil costume NEARLY drove him insane and cost him his fortune.  Beaks.. has no ideas. He has ambiation.. but it’s to steal the same tech that even if he got it, he woudln’t know what to do with. The ONLY time he’s been a full on threat has been using someone else’s scheme, that Gandra clearly came up with and STILL required piggybacking on the gizmo suit. He has nothing and while it was fine for a while.. eventually h’es left iwth nothing. Glomgold at least has money, magica at least has power... Beaks HAD both.. but had no idea what to properly do with it and now is on his last legs. Even his idea for a coffee cups with aps is taken because of course “even the dumbest ideas are taken”, this is america. Making dumb shit for rich morons is our primary export. But he sees the fleeing fenton, has a breakdown and declares FINE if that’s what fate wants i’ll steal the armor I’LL STEAL THE ARMOR ALL DAY. 

So Fenton heads home to recharge in both senses of the word, and to tell Gandra the timetable’s moved and Huey can hold them only so long. And he seems to be wrong as Huey confidently prepares to answer their questions.. but is seemingly thrown when we get the real reason Mama is so upset: She’s just worried and still a bit hurt from Fenton not feeling he could tell her he was gizmoduck and it breaks her heart that her son feels he has to hide from her again. However while this is genuinely sad and emotional.. the reason he’s thrown is it’s NOT huey, but Louie, whose a bit miffed as he DIDN’T know Fenton was Gizmoduck, and can’t properly bullshit without full info. it’s also really nice that bit FINALLY came up as the rest of the four main kids have known for a while now. But Huey convincnes him to do it.. for 6 months allowance. Frankly the real shocker here is that they actually GET an allowance. 

However Mama.. is again a cop. One who REALLY needs to rethink her ethics.. but a cop, and the best one on the force, and thus has easily guessed this is not Huey, and given she’s probably ran into his schemes before, figures out which one he’d bring in to buffer for him and easily gets rid of Louie by asking him to tur informant on himself, since the REAL Huey would under pressure and Louie instead flees in terror not wanting to get arrested and leaves both the lab and the episode. Though I’m pretty sure i know where he went

So yeah things are not great and only get worse, as Mark breaks into fentons house via the open window and upon finding out abotu the Gizmoscape naturally plans to hack into it and take it for himself. Before he does Fenton talks to Gandra and admits they may have to let other people in and we get another reason: She’s worried she’s not good enough. He reassures her.. and this tender moment is interupted by Beaks who imprisons them, hyjacks fenton’s security system aka a gizmo armor, and while still a creatively sterile douche, does have a decent if horrifically scummy way to profit all of this: use the open coloabreation concept to get the legal right to steal all this and say it’s his. 

Fenton bemaons the fact that Gandra was right, one bad apple spoiled the bunch and unveling it too qiuckly would’ve gone bad as she feared.. but Gandra’s grown and realizes Fenton was also right, and that they needed more people. While the wrong people can ruin a project, collaboration can help, finding perspectives you didn’t see and helping fine tune ideas. Huey, whose collapsed at Fenton’s due to the exustion of lying, wakes up to find Beaks crimes and being unable to just unplug him, as while Beaks is VERY dumb, even he’s not THAT stupid. But Fenton gets out an SOS over morse to tell everyone So Huey does.. and the calvary arrives, as Huey enters the Gizmoscape with Mama and Gyro. And while Mama is pleased to realize she’s right about the girlfirend thing they don’t really have time for that, so once Huey explains the basic concept, he uses it himself to give himself GIZMO ARMOR. AT LAST. 

He also has extra long legs, because of course, just.. of course. Naturally Beaks steals it, and everyone else takes a stab at their own gizmotech armor: Mama daawns a stunning police themed one, Gyro goes for a bulb mecha based on the giant version of little bulb from the great dime chase, an idea brought up by LB, and Gandra goes for a sleek tron esque nanotech number. Beaks take sa bit from each and our heroes wonder how to beat him.. but Fenton realizes that’s simple: Beaks can only copy and steal... they can create. And Gandra uses this against him by pointing that out so he drops his super armor.. to look like Andross from Starfox.. which shows that EVEN when trying to come up with a cool final boss form... Beaks has to steal from something. The rest of the Gizmo Corps, my name for them I own that, Gizmo Legion would also be good, after Iron Man’s iron Legion, suit back up and kick beaks ass as a team. I smell second spinoff.. or first if darkwing ends up hyjacked by Seth Rogen.. who I have nothing agianst he’s just not the one who put in the work for a reboot. 

So our heroes win in an awesome sequence, seirously spinoff and Beaks is knocked the fuck out and presumibly will FINALLY go to jail for good to this as he can get away from a lot but directly breaking into an officer’s house and stalking her son, they can omit the gizmopart and even if Fenton went public.. no one would care and he and Mama can take care of htemselves, as can Huey, Gyro, Gandra and Manny, so it’s not like anyones in danger. Beaks is well and truly defeated: he has no idea, an imminet jail sentence, and no one to back him up. Fenton’s finally got the little boil off his back

So now the big fight is over, Gyro can actually process the Gizmoscape.. and is genuinely impressed.. he tries to hidei t because of course he does.. but it’s clear for someone who himself has constnatly been called crazy and had his ideas blow up.. this is paradise to him. a place where he won’t be judged and has unlimtied funds to experiment with his ideas without having to get yelled at when they destroy a city block or nearly choked to death by his own robot son, daughter or nonbinary person. He also easily fixes the problem and proves Fenton right for wanting to include him, as he points out they hadn’t been DELETING anything, simply downsizing it and it naturally caused stress on the server.  Fenton talks about Gandra and defneeds her to Mama.. whose just happy he’s happya nd someone can take her son. Alls well that ends well right. 

Final Thoughts:  So this was a... wait.. why are we cutting back to fowl.. why is bradford there. 

Yeah turns out megalmanoical diabolical msterminds kinda monitor their employees so he knew she intended to quit and stole resources, and while she plans to leave, he simply calls in a bunch of eggheads who overwhelm her with sheer numbers and has her fined two weeks pay.. and taken to the lost library to indefintely lock her up. What’s that she asks “You have your secrets, I have mine”

So yeah a bit of a downer ending

Actual Final Thoughts: 

This was an excellent capper to Fenton’s character arc. While the Gandra relationsihp is a bit rushed the rest is a masterful capper to his character arc: This episode shows off how he’s changed from EVERY one of his previous three focus episodes, while a major part of astro boyd and how he got his docterate it dosne’t quite contribute to his character arc,  and grown from them: From beware the buddy system! he’s learned to colaberate properly and taken his desire to WORK with other people, like he always did with Gyro but was constnatly shut out, and found a proper and brilliant way to that allows people like him, gyro, gandra and huey to really express themselvs. He’s grown from a niave rookie trusting the wrong people in who is gizmoduck.. to someone whose STILL fully trusting despite constant betryals, but now knows who to trust, and an experinced hero who once freed easily counters his nemisis.  And finally from Dangerous Chemistry, he’s finally got a ballance in his life: inastead of running from gizmo or treating his alter ego as something else.. he’s found a way to use the gizmotech for science, and FINALLY found his world changing invention one so good and so practical even his mentor, despite trying to walk it back, is genuinely proud of him and genuinely in awe.

Every step lead to his happy ending.. well okay his girlfriend still needs to be freed from her insane ex-boss, but that’s just a few episodes away. Fenton has everything he wanted when he started: his boss finally respects him and treats him as an equal, his mom not only knows who he is but is proud and supportive of him, he has a loving partner creatively and romantically.. and a best friend who while a good two decades younger, is there for him and who he genuinely apologizes too for putting so much on him. LIke all the endings so far this season.. it feels like a throughly satisfying end to the journey we’ve been following. This fits in nicely with Penny realizing earth could be her home and that she dosen’t have to constnatly fight to have a purpose, Lena finally accepting magic instead of running from it and thus gaining peace of mind and power to stop her former abuser from hurting anyone else, Goldie finally accepting how much she cars about Scrooge and his family and that she CAN change... all of this, except penny obviously has been built up through three seasons and while I DEFINTLY could see frank and matt returning to all of them.. i’ts nice to get some closure.  It feelsd earned and impressive. The episode is also.. REALLY fucking funny, from the weighted blanket gag to Beaks in general, to Huey yelling at fenton about Mama “She somehow broke Louie!”. It’s a masterful and throughly satisfying end to Fenton’s story. And again we’ll likely see him in the finale but character arc wise.. its a good place to end his. 

Next Week: FINALLY, AFTER 10,000 YEARS, IT’S THE TAILSPIN EPISODE. OWEEOOO, OWEEHHHH. 

Tommorow: We return to the noiry furry world of John Blacksad as everyone’s favorite panther detective battles white supremacists to find a missing girl and we’re introduced to your faviorite sidekick and mine Weekly. 

Later on this week: The Lena retrospective continues with Jaw$, we celebrate Tex Avery’s birthday, and I tackle the awful original tom and jerry movie. 

So if any of that tickles your fancy see you at the next rainbow

[foxtophat]

i dont have much to say about this one!!! it’s just a story about carmina’s tenth birthday, and how the town of fall’s end is coping a decade after the collapse.  uhhh there are some random children in it?  bean is there! and of course john shows up, too, because that’s KIND OF THE POINT of mercyverse lol

technically there’s a story that comes before this, but i don’t have the vibe yet for it so i haven’t worked on it in a while. instead, i’ll probably just keep moving forward and throw up that one if the rest of the plot becomes at all relevant to the real main storyline.  uhhh the next one will take place in the spring of 2029 and we’re going to start getting into some fun stuff that i’ve planned out for a while!!!

until then, uh, the usual: love you, please like/share/reblog/kudos/comment, whatever you feel good about doing, because i sure do love to share my universe with other people!  hope you’re doing well and hopefully i’ll see you with another fic in a few weeks!

also as usual: the story text is below the cut for those of you who wanna stay on tumblr :)

It's Carmina's tenth birthday, and there's a party in town. The two things aren't exactly related, sure, but Carmina's used to sharing her birthday with the Collapse, and she's not about to turn down a bunch of free food. How can she not go to a real Hope County barbecue after her parents had hyped the experience up so much in the bunker? She'd hoped that her ninth birthday would have gotten a similar treatment, but the town just didn't have the food or people for it at the time. Her parents had told her that next year would be better; Carmina does her best to keep her imagination from blowing the whole thing out of proportion.

They leave a little bit after breakfast. Since John is coming along, mom has no excuse not to let Carmina ride in the back with him. He's not excited to be heading into town, but then again, the town isn't usually excited to see him, either. And considering what day it is, they're likely to be extra rude to him. Carmina doesn't get it, honestly, but she's just glad that she can ride in back without her mom grabbing onto her at every pothole and bump in the road.

The first surprise of the day comes as her dad parks just past the church, giving her a chance to stand up and look out over the town. She hasn't been here in a while, and so she's surprised to see that they've cleared out a lot of the dirt lot behind the usable buildings — and there are a lot of people hanging out there. Carmina's never seen so many people at once — she loses count around twenty and can easily guess double that. It's enough to rattle her nerves for just a second, before she catches the looks on her mom and dads' faces and realizes that this is probably a good thing. Sure, John looks like he wants to hop back in the truck and go home, but he always looks like that around strangers. Her parents, on the other hand, actually seem happy for once, and that's what matters to Carmina.

The second surprise is just how many of the adults seem to know her. Her parents move slowly through the mingling crowd, usually coming up with names for faces before Carmina's even looked at the strangers who call her by name. She gets lots of comments like, "I remember when your parents were expecting you!" and "I was wondering how the Rye's little girl turned out!" and even a few, "Glad to see you made it," comments that make her parents side-eye each other pretty fiercely. She doesn't need to introduce herself to anyone, not even people who her parents don't know so well — it's like everybody's always known her, and her family. It's kind of cool — but also kind of weird. Pastor Jerome always said that their family was a pillar in the community, but this is first-person evidence, right here in front of her.

Plenty of the adults wish her a happy birthday, too, but she knows their hearts aren't in it. It's one of the big drawbacks to sharing her birthday with the end of the world — nobody asks how old she is, nobody wants to know what she did on previous birthdays, and all of them have to make some kind of depressing comment. Like trying to get her to relate to birthdays before the Collapse: all they want to do is tell her about all the things she could be doing, or would be doing, if only the world hadn't ended. They want to share their birthdays from the past, but Carmina's never been to the movies, she doesn't know who Disney is, and she has no idea why they'd need a cake and candles for it all. Somebody tells her she should be graduating to the fourth grade, and she just stares back because what even is the fourth grade? What does that mean?

They mean well, so Carmina does her best not to upset anybody, but she knows that nobody appreciates how little she cares about life before the Collapse.

At least there are other kids in town today. Her mom had been telling her about some of them — kids who don't have families, who the town looks after — but Carmina's only ever met one of them, and that had been only for a few minutes. But Carmina can see them hanging out in the field, and as soon as her mom lets her, she heads right out to them. It's about time that she met people her age — she's getting tired of only ever talking to old people.

Of course, meeting strangers is still difficult for her, but she's saved from too much embarrassment as she recognizes the chicken brothers hanging out in the small group. She can't remember which one is Tom and which one is Matt, but they seemed really nice when they helped her pick out her chickens. She also recognizes the oldest boy in the group, although she can't remember his name at all. She's never seen the others before — two teenage girls, another boy her age, and a kid a couple years younger than her — but hopefully she won't make a total fool of herself.

"Hi," she says as she approaches, waving.

"Hey, Carmina," Matt-or-Tom says, stepping aside to make room for her in their makeshift circle. "I thought we would see you today."

"Yep," Carmina smiles, "Here I am!" She sees the teenagers' curious looks and tells them with little fanfare, "Today's my birthday."

"Oh," the oldest boy says. "That sucks."

One of the girls elbows him. "Don't be mean," she says.

"No, he's right," Carmina says. "It does suck."

"Well, happy birthday anyway. How old are you now?"

"Ten."

"Wow," the girl says. She looks at the boy, then back to Carmina, and says sympathetically, "You weren't kidding. That's rough."

Giggling with relief, Carmina waves once more. "It's okay. My name's Carmina, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

Being polite works like a charm, and the oldest boy is quick to go around with introductions. "Well, I'm Jason — this is Caroline, and this is Flower. The little kid there —"

"Hey!"

"— Is Bean, and... Sorry, man, what did you say your name was again?"

The other ten-year-old looking boy frowns and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. "Luke," he says.

"Okay, Luke. And you know Tom and Matt."

"We were talking about the bison out in the field," Tom-or-Matt says. He points in the direction of home and asks, "Did you guys see the big one when you were coming into town?"

"The one that's all white?" Carmina asks, "With the big scar over its hump? We see that one all the time when we come out this way —"

"No, no," the other brother says, "Jason says there's a bigger one."

"I told you guys," Jason says, "I only saw it once, and it was late at night while I was up in the crow's nest. I don't think it comes out during the day."

Carmina frowns. "What big one? What do you mean?"

"Oh, boy," Caroline sighs, "Don't listen to him, Carmina, he's full of shit."

"Hey, language," Flower laughs.

"Look, I was pretty far away, but I had the sniper rifle and I wasn't sleeping on the job. Uh, so..." He points out over the field, towards a squat set of huts surrounding a tall, busted silo that's still standing. The view from up there must be great. "Jerome has me sit up in that tower sometimes, you know, to practice. So I was up there, looking around, and it was probably midnight or so... and I just see this glow out in the field. I think it's a fire, right? Maybe somebody made a camp out there on their way to town or something. So I look out through the scope — and it was a bison."

"A glowing bison?" Carmina asks skeptically.

"Yeah. Like, a monster bison. It was all dark and scaly looking, except for the way its belly glowed. I thought about shooting it, but..."

Caroline laughs. "He got scared. Or it wasn't real, and he's making it all up."

"I wasn't scared, and I'm not making it up! It's not like it could've hurt me up in the nest. It... just didn't feel right. You know, it was just grazing with the rest of the herd. And it moved off over the hill before I could change my mind or call anybody up to confirm it."

"Sure, Jason."

"I'm serious," Jason insists, "I really saw it, okay? I told Jerome about it and everything." He frowns at the dirt. "He said it might've been mutated after the bombs. Then he told me not to go looking for it."

"He's right," Flower says. "Even regular bison are pretty dangerous." She smiles. "That's why I like deer — they won't hurt you. If you sit really still, sometimes they'll even come up and lick your face."

"Oh," Carmina says. "I usually just shoot them. They eat all our vegetables otherwise."

"Yeah," Flower sighs, "Sometimes I do, too. But they're also nice to watch."

Tom-or-Matt looks to his brother. "I wonder if that's what we see outside at night?"

"What, deer?"

"No, dumbass." He turns to the group and explains, "Sometimes, when it's real late and I gotta use the bathroom, I'll see something glowing out in the woods. Dad's cut back a lot of space so it never gets very close, but... maybe it's another mutated animal."

"At least you'll see it coming when it tries to attack you," Carmina suggests.

"Gee, thanks."

Carmina knows he's probably teasing, but she still feels guilty for being so blunt about it. The least she can do is try to reassure him. "Well... most animals don't attack near houses, I don't think. When we first came out of the bunker, there were wild dogs and wolves that would watch us, and my dad was real worried about them — but now they mostly stay away from the property. I think it's because of the fence. You guys have a fence, right?"

"Yeah, plus a butt-load of chickens that freak out over anything out of the ordinary." Matt-or-Tom grins at her and asks, "Don't they wake you up with every little thing?"

Carmina briefly considers mentioning John being attacked, then decides against it. She also doesn't want to tell them that the chickens live mostly indoors at night now — the last thing she wants to do is kick off a whole big thing about the cult on her dang birthday! It's already hard enough pretending to care about them around her parents; she's not sure she could even force herself to bother here. And if she's not careful, the kids in town might start to think about her and her family the same way all the adults do.

"They're pretty docile, actually," she says, "And we only really see deer around our place... It's not like they eat chickens."

"Well.... maybe there's a mutant deer out there that wants to eat you," Tom-or-Matt teases.

Carmina rolls her eyes. "I'll shoot it before it gets past the hangar," she replies.

Of course, her dismissive confidence leads to a sprawling discussion on who might be the best shot out of the group. Carmina does her best to defend her skills, considering she can't prove any of it right now, but all three teens insist they're dead-eyes, and even Bean says he's "getting pretty good at the aiming part." On top of that, the kids from the town have gotten pointers from Aunt Grace herself, which means they might actually be better shots than Carmina expects.

"Maybe we should have a competition," Caroline suggests. "I bet Pastor Jerome and Aunt Grace would be okay with it."

"Sure," Jason laughs, "But you know they'd make us spend forty minutes disassembling and cleaning our rifles before and after. Like I don't know what I'm doing — I'm almost fifteen!"

"Have you guys been to Aunt Grace's?" Carmina asks. "She has a shooting range there."

"Maybe she'd let us use it!"

"I've never been to a real shooting range," Bean says.

"It's not a real shooting range," Jason points out, "Those all got blown up. Do you even know how to use a gun, Bean?"

"I just said I do! My dad taught me! I... just don't like the loud noises it makes."

Matt-or-Tom boasts, "We learned to shoot in our bunker. Mom collected Airsoft guns — they don't use bullets, so they can't kill you."

"What's the point of that?"

"I dunno, I guess practicing underground?"

Tom-or-Matt laughs. "Dad was convinced the Peggies were gonna get us, so he wanted us to know how to shoot."

The quiet kid, Luke, finally speaks up. "Lucky," he mutters, "Easier to learn underground, I bet."

"What about you?" Carmina asks. She tries not to cringe away when he stares back at her like he didn't expect anyone to hear him. Maybe he doesn't like people talking to him? "Um... my mom and dad had a bunch of gun magazines in the bunker, but I never got to shoot a real gun until we came outside. Mom and Aunt Grace have been teaching me, though, and I'm way better than my dad is."

Luke hesitates. "Kind of the same. We came up early, though. Had to."

"Me, too," Jason replies. "It was just me and my brother. I was five when we got stuck in the bunker — we went through our supplies in about three years, so we had to come back up."

"We... only stayed down until I could walk," Luke admits. "It was still really cold when we came up. And mom got real sick for a while."

"Yikes," Bean says, "That sucks!"

"Come on, bean," Jason snaps, "You don't say that."

"You just said it to her!" Bean shouts, pointing at Carmina.

"He's... right," Luke mumbles. "It sucked. It... still sucks. But things are getting better now." He looks up at them, then drops his eyes back to the dirt. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Carmina insists, "I asked first!"

"That's kind of the mood today," Caroline adds. "Don't worry. We can talk about something else."

The change in topic comes abruptly as Bean points towards the Church and asks, "Who is that with Pastor Jerome?"

Carmina doesn't need to look, but since the rest of the group does, she might as well too. John has his hat pulled low over his eyes, as usual, which makes him look suspicious, as usual. Knowing him, he probably didn't even leave the truck — just waited there for Jerome to come talk to him.

She can only hope that Tom and Matt keep their mouths shut since they're the only other kids who know what John looks like nowadays. Unfortunately for her, that hope is pretty quickly dashed.

"Oh," Matt-or-Tom says, like a jerk, "That's John, I think. Right, Carmina?"

"Wait," Jason says, "You're that Carmina?"

Carmina ducks her head. "Um... it depends, I guess?"

Flower, looking too sympathetic for Carmina's liking, tries to mediate. "He just means, well... Jerome talks about you sometimes."

"And he talks about that guy," Jason adds, pointing without any subtlety at all.

"Everyone talks about that guy," Caroline says with a sigh. She gives Carmina a sympathetic shrug as she does, as though she wishes she could stop the conversation from happening, too. That only makes Carmina worried that this isn't the first time the teenagers have sat around gossiping about John and the crazy people who decided to take him in.

"Wait," Bean gasps, way too loudly, "That's John Seed?"

"Oh my God," Matt-or-Tom sighs, "You gotta keep up with the conversation."

"Wait, what's he doing here? Why's he going into the church? I thought he wasn't supposed to come to town? I thought he was locked up!"

Carmina groans. "It's my birthday," she whines, "I don't wanna talk about John today!"

"We don't have to," Caroline says. "Guys, come on."

"I mean, he did kill a lot of people. Isn't he, like, a psychopath? Isn't it weird to live with a murderer?"

"Jason!"

Luke mutters, "I heard he used to cut off people's skin."

"That's true," Jason replies, "My brother has a huge scar from when it happened to him. Boy, I hope he doesn't see that jackass is here..."

Matt-or-Tom finally seems to realize what he's started, frowning as the conversation spirals crazily out of control. It's too late to stop it, though, and so he shuffles his feet and looks apologetically towards Carmina.

Fine. If she can't get around the subject, she's just going to have to tackle it head-on. Even if that sounds really scary. She doesn't think that these guys are going to flip out like the caravan last year did, but she's still a little worried that she might be in for a fight if she says the wrong thing about John.

"I know John used to be a bad guy," she says. "Like, really bad. My dad's got one of those scars, too. But he's not like that any more. All he does nowadays is help my parents with chores and stuff. And he's just like everybody else — he doesn't talk about what happened before the Collapse to me or anybody. So I really don't know anything more than you guys.

She probably knows less than them, honestly, but she's not about to say so and get a brutal lesson in everything John's ever done wrong.

"So he's just... different, now?" Jason asks, frowning unhappily at the church.

"I guess so," Carmina replies with a shrug. She looks over to make sure that John and Jerome are inside, just in case. "He's not... scary, or mean, or anything like that. Just quiet. Kind of... lonely, I guess. Ever since he found out his brother is alive but still crazy, he's been really beat up about it." He's also been literally beaten up over it, but now's not the time to try and make the others feel sorry for him. John would probably be irritated at the idea of a bunch of kids pitying him.

Matt-or-Tom is quick to help her out, which is nice. "She's right," he says. "The Father is still out there in the woods with all those crazies, but John's repented. Dad said he made amends with God, whatever that means. He... uh, still doesn't like us being around him, but when we helped him load the chickens in he seemed okay. Just real quiet."

"That's John, alright," Carmina sighs.

Bean looks seriously disappointed by the news. "You mean he doesn't talk about it at all?" he asks.

"No," Carmina says, snapping for good measure, "And he gets really upset when you ask about it, so don't."

"I'm not gonna go talk to him!" Bean gasps.

The idea that a kid might be scared of John is pretty funny, considering how uncomfortable he is around her, but Carmina's not about to say as much. John probably wouldn't like her sharing a weakness like that with a bunch of strangers, and she wouldn't want them using it against him later.

Flower slowly lifts her hand, looking embarrassed. "Some of the adults in town say the Bliss messed him up. Is that... true?"

Well, at least she's trying to be nice about it. "I dunno," Carmina admits. "He was super weird when he first started living with us, but that might've just been because he was stuck in his bunker for so long."

"Oh, that happened to a guy my dad knows!" Bean supplies helpfully. "Dad calls it bunker shock. Says living underground too long is bad for you when you're all alone!"

"Glad I didn't live in one long enough for that," Luke says. When everyone looks at him, he clams up for a second before continuing on. "A neighbor came up just this year. He's... real weird. I don't like him much. He still sleeps underground, hoping he'll wake up and it'll all be a dream." He scuffs his boot against the dirt, sniffing loudly. "That's what my mom says, anyway. I try not to be around when he comes by."

"He wouldn't be the first adult to be like that," Jason says. He gives the church one last look before nodding his head towards the party. "I mean, that's why we're all the way out here, instead of hanging out around the food. Right?"

"No," Bean replies, "I'm out here 'cos I can't eat another bite! I didn't know you could be this full."

Caroline laughs. "Yeah, the adults have been stockpiling for weeks, it looks like... I guess everyone was really looking forward to it — or, well, I guess that's what it is."

Flower gazes over at the gaggle of adults. Carmina recognizes her dreamy smile from the way her mom looks around the house sometimes, like she's getting a new, better look at the place.

"It feels like things are starting to look up," she says. "Maybe they can all be happier now."

"Hey, don't jinx it!" Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Bean looks around at the rest of them and for a second, Carmina is worried he's going to ask more about John and restart the whole ugly conversation. Thankfully, it looks like he's still a baby, so he's quickly distracted.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, pushing his too-big glasses up his nose.

Carmina has never actually played with other kids before, so she doesn't have any good suggestions — especially when shooting is off-limits. Thankfully, she isn't the only one. The teenagers don't know where their soccer ball went, and Luke says he doesn't even know what soccer is. Bean says he usually plays word games by himself. When Tom-or-Matt suggests they play something called "capture the flag," it manages to make its way to the top of the list just because Jason and Caroline have both heard of it before.

Well, at least something is better than nothing. The older kids explain how capture the flag works, using Jason's shirt for their team's flag while the other kids band together around Matt-or-Tom's sweaty tank top. Carmina imagines that one of them should sit out for even teams, but the older kids seem confident that they can handle it. Too confident, in Carmina's opinion — maybe they need to be brought down a peg.

Capture the flag turns out to be more fun than Carmina had expected — and a lot harder, too. Trying to outmaneuver the older kids is tough work, but she and Tom-or-Matt figure out how to flank them pretty quick. There's nothing better than the moment when Carmina manages to dive out of the way when Jason tries to tackle her, and even if she gets dog-piled by Flower halfway back to Bean at home base, she holds Jason's shirt up for another teammate to take.

Unfortunately, the game ends without a winner as a sharp whistle pierces the air. Bean looks up and shouts, "That's my dad! I better go!"

He runs off at full tilt without so much as a goodbye, and Carmina has to squint against the setting sun to watch him go. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get going, too," Luke says, sweaty and almost smiling for once. "I want to get another plate of food before we go home."

"Ugh," Carmina sighs, "And the chickens need feeding."

"Just make John do it," Matt-or-Tom says, apparently not learning his lesson about mentioning John.

"It's supposed to be my job," she says. "And anyway, he already feeds them in the morning when I don't get up in time."

"They're gonna like him more than you," Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Jason frowns. "He feeds your chickens?"

"I mean... yeah. He does whatever we need him to." Carmina shrugs, glancing back towards the church. She hasn't seen Jerome or John leave — maybe she should go see them before she rounds up her parents? Nah, it's better to leave them alone until the very last minute.

"Just... didn't think you'd let him near livestock, that's all."

"What's he gonna do, poison the eggs?" Carmina huffs. "He's good with them. I think he likes them 'cos they aren't judgey."

Caroline frowns, which tells Carmina she might've been a little rude. But Jason's been rude about John all day, so she's not going to feel sorry about it!

"Well, I guess if your parents trust him..."

"Sure they do," Carmina replies, even if that's not... exactly right. She knows her parents trust John enough to help around the house, but she thinks they only want to trust him with all the other stuff.

"I really better go," she says, pointing towards town.

"Sure," Flower says. "It was nice to meet you, Carmina."

Carmina gives them her best grin, relieved when it's returned from the others. Jason even waves like there's no hard feelings. "It was nice meeting you guys," she says.

"Happy birthday again!" Matt-or-Tom says, "And be careful!"

"Yeah," his brother laughs, "Wouldn't want to have a glowing deer attack you in the outhouse tonight!"

Carmina laughs away the dumb attempt to scare her, waving goodbye before turning to head for the party. Halfway there, she glances over her shoulder and sees the group turned back to one-another in conversation. None of them are looking back, but as she continues on, she's chased by an unfamiliar sense of discomfort. She can't help but wonder if they're still talking about John in the church.... If they're talking about her.

At least she can distract herself while looking for her parents. There are plenty of adults who say hello; some of them even point her helpfully towards her mom's last known location, or towards the table with the cookies her dad really liked. Some of them check in to make sure her birthday has been going well, too, which is nice of them, but a lot of adults are pretty drunk and deep in their own conversations.

She eventually finds her mom and dad standing around a grill with Marjorie, one of the adults in charge around town. Carmina's met her a couple of times. She's nice, but she can talk a lot. There's no telling how long they've been talking for, and if Carmina doesn't interrupt, who knows when they'll finish. While she could probably grab some food for the road, first she has to make sure that they're actually going to be leaving sometime before the next Collapse.

Besides, it looks like her dad's already got a box of leftovers in his hands. If Carmina wants to eat, she's going to have to interrupt.

"Hey dad," she says as she comes up to them, "The chickens are going to need dinner soon."

Her dad grins at her before handing over the squat, open cardboard box. There's chicken, ribs, corn and roasted potatoes, and even a handful of cookies and flatbread; it takes everything in Carmina's power not to make a desperate grab for more food. She doesn't have to worry about going hungry tonight, so there's no need to eat everything put in front of her.

"Here," he tells her, "You take this, alright? My arms are gettin' tired."

Yeah, right. As soon as she takes the box, he uses one of those tired arms to grab one of the ribs. When Carmina frowns suspiciously at him, her dad only shrugs.

"I coughed on it."

"Uh-huh..."

Laughing, her mom reaches out to give Marjorie a hug. It might've run a little long, but her mom obviously enjoyed the talk. "We'll be back in a week or two with the tractor parts," she says. "You're going to get the fields back in shape in no time."

"Already got a good start," Marjorie replies. She shoots Carmina a warm smile. "Happy birthday, by the way! Don't think I got to see you much. Hope those kids weren't giving you a hard time."

"No," Carmina replies., "They're all really nice. We want to practice shooting together, maybe have a contest. Jason said he's better than anybody else."

"I bet you're gonna give him a run for his money!" Marjorie laughs. "Well, the better a shot you are, the better off you'll be. You won't see anybody here stop you kids."

"Yeah, but tonight, I have to feed the chickens," Carmina says, just in case her parents need another chance to get out of here.

"We've got a few other people to say goodbye to," her mom tells her. "Why don't you take the food back to the truck? We'll meet you there."

"Should I get John, too?"

As soon as she asks, Carmina decides she probably shouldn't have brought it up. Too late, though; by the look on Marjorie's face, there's no way to pretend she didn't hear it.

Her dad shrugs. "Probably oughta," he tells her, as if he doesn't see Marjorie staring at them like she is.

Marjorie definitely doesn't like that, judging by the way she squints, but she doesn't say anything about it. "Well, I hope you had a decent enough birthday for once," she says, "Hopefully we'll be having a party around this time every year from now on."

"That would be nice," mom says.

"Just you wait, we're gonna turn this ship around one way or another." Marjorie gestures with her hands and says, "Alright, you better go, before those chickens of yours eat each other."

Carmina frowns. "They don't do that, do they?"

"Uh, let's get moving," her dad says. "See you soon, Marg."

"Take care!"

Her mom and dad have to stop a few more times to say goodbye to people Carmina doesn't know, but she pushes on without them and nobody stops her for more than a quick birthday greeting. She catches sight of Luke packing up some food with his parents, but he's too distracted to notice her. At least she isn't the only one carrying a box of leftovers out of here; it would feel selfish of her if they weren't sending leftovers home with other people.

Her parents haven't caught up with her by the time she reaches the truck, and John is nowhere to be seen. She figures he's probably still in the church — he and Pastor Jerome always take forever when they're talking. They'll probably be there until dad goes in and breaks them up.

Eating by herself in the back of the truck doesn't feel right, especially not within walking distance of the church. Leaving the food tucked in the corner by the cab, Carmina heads for the building herself. Even if nobody was in there, she'd probably go wander inside for a few minutes; it's a comforting, quiet place in the dry, dusty town. But right now, she's pretty sure John is hanging around inside, and he probably hasn't eaten anything all day, either. She should at least let him have first pick.

She knows a lot of the adults dislike the church, but Carmina personally enjoys how its sun-bleached siding stands out against the sky. Besides the house, the church is one of the few places Carmina wishes she could have seen in one piece. She's seen old, faded pictures from ancient newspaper clippings, but it's just not the same.

The doors are open wide enough for Carmina to slip in without a sound. The air inside is cool, almost chilly, and it smells like dirt and grass. From the entrance, there's only a narrow gap keeping Jerome and John out of sight. She doesn't mean to hide, but she doesn't want to interrupt Jerome mid-sentence...

It's too late, she's eavesdropping.

"It might not be much, but it's something," Jerome's saying. "He even stayed a few nights, when the wind got bad and brought too much pollen over the river."

"It would be better for everyone if he stayed here permanently," John replies. "Wallace went further down the path than the rest of them, and they clearly don't know what they're doing."

"They're trying, John. And we don't have a say in the matter. It's got to be his choice. Remember?"

John grunts, clearly annoyed. Carmina doesn't think she's ever heard him say so much before. Does he talk to her mom and dad this much? Is he really only quiet around her?

"I don't like it," John says.

"For what it's worth, neither do I. But Sharky's taking things seriously — they all are. You're going to have to trust them."

"Trust isn't exactly one of my virtues," John grumpily admits.

Jerome chuckles. "You just need practice."

Well, Carmina definitely feels guilty now. She had only been waiting for an opening, but if she waits any longer, she's really going to be breaking John's trust. Pastor Jerome's, too, for that matter.

Thinking on her toes, Carmina pushes on the already open door as though she's just showing up. Of course, the hinges squeal in protest as soon as she does, so she stops before she breaks something.

"Are you guys still in here?" she calls. She's pretty convincing about it, in her opinion.

"Yes, Carmina," Jerome responds, apparently none-the-wiser, "We're here."

John regards her neutrally as she steps into view, but he's always wearing his poker face around her. She needs to get better at reading it.

"I guess it's time to go, then," he says.

"Yeah. Um — I mean, I can meet you back at the truck. Mom and dad will be here soon..."

Jerome speaks up before John can get the chance. "No, you two go on. I think we were just about done ourselves, and I'd like to sit here for a little while, before it gets too dark." He and John shake hands, and then he comes over to give Carmina a hug. "Happy birthday," he tells her. "You be good for another year, alright?"

"I'll try," she says.

"That'a girl," Jerome laughs. "Keep an eye on her, John."

Sometimes, it seems like Jerome is the only adult in Hope County that doesn't think John is a bad influence on her. Even her mom and dad, who are basically the only people on John's side, get uncomfortable if she tries to talk to him too much. But Jerome is a special case. He used to be weird about anything John-related, but nowadays? Honestly, Carmina's pretty sure he's John's only friend at this point — well, okay, other than mom and dad, but they don't count.

John waits until they've left the church to speak. He's chilly and dismissive, as usual.

"How long were you listening for?"

"I wasn't," Carmina begins — but she can't lie to him. Lying only ever makes things worse. So she corrects herself reluctantly and admits, "It was only a minute. I didn't mean to... it just sort of happened."

"Hm."

Normally, Carmina can't get a read on John's poker face, but... huh. She can't help but feel like she might've... hurt his feelings? She definitely wasn't being trustworthy, that's for sure. And now he's trying to casually out-pace her on the walk back to the truck.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," she says, picking up her pace to match his. "I promise, I won't do it again."

John glares at her, but she's pretty sure he's not angry. Maybe just confused? She's not sure, he's never looked at her longer than two seconds before.

"I... appreciate it," he replies instead, which makes it the first time he's ever accepted an apology of hers. Usually, he just tells her not to worry about it.

Carmina grins at him, but he's already looked away, so of course he doesn't see it. Instead, he looks to the field, where the three teens from town are still hanging out. Carmina can't tell if they're looking this way or not. She sure hopes they aren't; John would know immediately that they gossiped about him, and she's already messed up with him once today.

"Have you ever played capture the flag?" she asks, hoping to distract him. "The chicken brothers taught us the rules but I think they maybe made some of it up."

John cracks a small smile. Well, Carmina will pretend it's one, anyway.

"The chicken brothers," he repeats.

"You know, Tommy and Matt."

"Do they know that's what you call them?"

"I mean, I've never said it to their faces..."

"That's probably smart."

They reach the truck, which marks the invisible barrier that keeps John out of town. Of course, mom and dad still aren't here. If Carmina climbed up on top of the truck, she might be able to spot them, but it's not like she could get their attention from this far away. So, she's going to have to kill time until they get back.

"Did you eat?" she asks, climbing up into the truck bed.

"I'm fine, Carmina," John replies, a little wearily. Like she's not the first person to bug him about it today — or, maybe like he lacks energy from not eating all day.

She rolls her eyes, but John doesn't see. "Uh-huh." She sits down, pulling the box of food into her lap as she leans back against the cab. "Dad was surprised that there were cookies. Um, not exactly the same, I guess? But still really good." She's not going to give him a chance to turn it down, grabbing one and shoving it in his direction. "Here, try one!"

John, leaning against the side of the truck like he is, is clearly more interested in looking for her parents than humoring her. He definitely looks like he wants to say no. But to her surprise, he actually takes the offered food. It would be weird to stare at him while he eats, so she goes back to debating between a chicken leg or one of the last ribs in the box.

"Not bad," John comments, which is like, crazy, because Carmina definitely isn't goading him into talking.

"They're kind of crumbly," Carmina says, "I dunno if that's what it's supposed to be like. But all the food is really good." She counts the chicken legs out again, just to make sure there's one for each of them. "Um... hey, John? Uh... do chickens eat each other?"

John frowns, chewing the question over with the rest of the cookie. He swallows, then says, "Most animals cannibalize their own if they're desperate enough."

"Oh."

"They would need to be left alone for a lot longer than a few hours," he points out. "Or they would have to be sick. It's more likely a dog will get them before they turn on each other."

Well, at least Carmina can trust John to tell her the truth, even if it's probably not the way her parents would want him to do it. She doesn't even mind him being so blunt about it, either; she's just surprised he's willing to talk to her. She can't help but wonder if this is going to be a normal thing, now that she's ten — is he going to stop being so weird around her? Or is this just a special treat, because of the day? She sure hopes not. It'd be a lot less awkward if John didn't act so scared of her all the time.

Her parents finally join them at the truck. Her mom wrinkles her nose at Carmina sitting in the back again, but she doesn't say anything. Her dad doesn't seem to mind; once he spots the box in Carmina's lap, he reaches over to grab one of the shortbread cookies for himself.

"Sorry about that," he says, "We got held up a couple times. John, you try one of these yet?"

"I did."

"Crazy having home-baked goods again, right?" Her dad waggles the cookie in John's face; John rolls his eyes and circles back around to the tailgate, climbing up into the bed. "Here, Carmina, give me that box so the food doesn't get too cold on the way home."

"You're just gonna eat everything," Carmina objects, handing over the box anyway.

"Nah, come on. Here, you guys grab something for the ride home." He nudges Carmina's shoulder with the box. "You probably worked up an appetite bullying all the older kids out there — and I bet you didn't eat much of anything, either," he adds in John's direction.

"I had a cookie, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'll bet nobody forced you into it, either."

Carmina grins as her dad winks at her. Her mom rolls her eyes, but doesn't keep dad from bullying John a little. "Grab something so we can get going," she tells John, "And make sure she doesn't stand up once we're in drive."

John reluctantly takes a towel-wrapped ear of corn and a single rib, while Carmina goes right for that piece of chicken she'd been eying from the start. That helps her make peace with sitting safely, at least this one time. Next year, she's definitely going to get to ride in back by herself, she can feel it, and she is going to do it standing up!

As Carmina watches the town shrink behind them, she congratulates herself on another successful birthday. It'd been better than she'd expected — she was a little uncomfortable around so many people at first, but now she's pretty sure she can say she's made some friends? And seeing the town full of food and laughter and music... It had been sort of what Carmina imagines Fall's End used to be like. Her parents probably wouldn't agree, but maybe that's okay. Maybe when she's older, she can try and prove to them that things can be just as good as they used to be — even if it's a different kind of good.

[whyiask]

more bitter than sweet (Ch. 1)

Masterpost Ao3 Link TWs: there is a gun and non-graphic violence during the flashback (in italics) so mind that part Note: okay so. so. for people who have seen TUA, you might be saying "Joy, why on earth would you have Tommy as Vanya instead of Tommy as Five?" and the answer to that is: I just realllly wanted Tommy as Vanya, so Niki is Five, because badass Niki. also, the plot will have some changes, obviously, as it's driven by the characters and the role of Five's character is filled by a quite different person in this au. SO, on with the show. Other than that, it'll follow the original plot fairly well, probably. (also Schlatt is probably ooc, he got dealt the unfortunate hand of Luther and I don't really like Luther and don't really know how to write him, so F in the chat for schlatt lmao)

---

The sky was overcast and dreary. Fitting for the occasion. The manor house, which had been near silent for just over a year, was dusty and creaking. Normally Philza wouldn’t let the house get to such a state. The vines stretched high up the walls and Tommy craned his neck to view the once majestic mansion he had lived in. It was a far cry from the rigid upkeep of the grounds Reginald Hargreeves had insisted upon.

Tommy wasn’t looking forward to seeing his siblings again. Although he missed them dearly, he was afraid, not that he’d ever tell anyone, of how they would shun him. It had been years since any of them spoke to him. Wilbur had moved away from the house as soon as he could, forgetting about Tommy and never bothering to check in. Techno’s abrupt lack of communication was purposeful. He really did only have himself to blame.

Heaving a great sigh, Tommy mounted the steps. At least he would get to see Wilbur again.

His key fit into the door and as it swung open, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The burning of the fireplace, the musty scent of the old, worn down rugs and furniture. The blood that had stained the floors time and time again. Pushing down his nausea, Tommy stepped forward into the open space.

“Big Man Tommyinnit has arrived,” he announced, but it fell flat, even to his own ears. It didn’t echo, trailing off in the lonely entryway. The whole house was a void, a black hole that had sucked his childhood away. He supposed he had never really gotten to be a child in the first place.

He didn’t hear the footsteps coming. He only looked up the grand staircase at the sound of a wall being punched.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Technoblade ground out. His eyebrows were drawn tight and his fists were curled. Tommy bit back a wince. He deserved this. After all, it was his brilliant idea to write a book exposing all of their family secrets. He had seen it as a way to try and cope with his trauma at the time, but it quickly became clear the rest of the family did not share his views.

A mess of curly brown hair poked out around the doorway that Techno was leaning against. A yellow sweater and a maroon beanie. A guitar strapped to his back. Tommy was hit with another wave of memories and it took all of his willpower not to run into his brother’s arms.

“Is that Tommy I hear?” Wilbur asked, and Techno moved aside reluctantly. Wilbur’s entire face lit up and he rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste. Tommy moved forward at a slower speed, and they met at the base of the stairs.

“Awww,” Wilbur whispered. “You’ve grown so much.” He raised a hand hesitantly, almost as if to pat Tommy’s head, and Tommy swatted him away.

“Oh bug off, you’d know that if you had actually stuck around.”

Wilbur’s smile faltered. He put his hand back at his side and a brief look of regret passed his face. “I’m sorry, Tommy, but I couldn’t stay here.”

“You could’ve taken me with you.” Tommy took a deep breath. He was getting too sentimental for his own good. Wilbur lifted his arms and wrapped them around Tommy’s lanky body. Tommy hesitated for a second, before returning the hug. It was awkward, nowhere near as smooth as it had been in their childhood.

“I missed you, Tommy. It’s good to see you again, you little gremlin,” Wilbur muttered into Tommy’s hair.

From up on the second floor, Tommy heard Techno scoff. He pulled away from Wilbur to look up at their brother. Techno was sharpening a knife, leaning back against the doorframe. His red cloak was settled comfortably on his shoulders and his face held a large scowl.

Wilbur frowned up at him. “Got a problem, Techno?”

Technoblade scoffed again, straightening up and coming to lean over the railing. He sneered down at Wilbur. “‘You missed him? You missed him?’” Techno’s eyes drifted over to Tommy with a glare. “Do you even know what he’s done?”

Wilbur stepped protectively in front of Tommy, and he had to resist rolling his eyes.

“He’s still our brother.”

“He’s still in the room,” Tommy interjected dryly. Wilbur shushed him and this time he actually did roll his eyes.

“Tommy was never part of our family to begin with. What gives him the right to talk about our family as if he belongs to it now?”

Tommy stiffened. Wilbur tensed beside him as well. “Techno,” he said, voice dark. “You know that’s not true.”

“Congratulations, we all have our own fucking trauma. Thank you Tommy, truly, for sharing it with the world!” He turned and his cape swished behind him dramatically. He spared one last look over his shoulder before walking back into the living room. Tommy barely caught his parting statement. “You’ve never been my brother and never will be. Stop acting like you are."

Tommy reeled back like he’d been hit, but when he noticed Wilbur looking at him worriedly, he plastered on a smile.

“Are you-” he started.

“Don’t worry about me, big man,” Tommy said, louder than necessary. “It’s Techno you should be concerned about, he’s clearly got some major problems.”

Wilbur looked at him doubtfully but nodded along anyways. He patted Tommy’s shoulder once.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back, despite the awful circumstances. I did miss you.”

“I missed you too, Wil,” Tommy muttered, watching Wilbur’s back retreating up the stairs.

---

The living room was tense. You could cut through the thickness of the air with a butter knife. Techno leaned on one of the support pillars behind the couch, as far away from everyone else as possible. Schlatt was sitting in one of the large armchairs, and Ranboo had swung his feet up onto the couch, taking up the whole thing.

Wilbur immediately plopped himself onto the other chair, leaving Tommy to try and fit on the couch. Ranboo curled his legs in and Tommy nodded to him with a smile. Ranboo smiled back, before looking over his shoulder at the air and grinning wider.

Schlatt cleared his throat, calling everyone to attention. He stood up.

“I think you all know why we are here,” he said lazily, moving his gaze across everyone in the room. There were several murmurs of agreement.

“Our father is dead, and we have to pay respects to him,” Schlatt continued.

Techno snorted slightly and Schlatt ignored him.

“However,” he stressed, and Tommy rolled his eyes, recognizing the tone in his oldest brother’s voice. “I believe there was foul play involved.”

“Foul play?” Techno asked, disbelieving. “You think someone murdered dad?”

Schlatt bristled at Techno’s words. “Yes, as a matter of fact. When his body was found, he didn’t have his monocle on him, and it was nowhere in the room.”

Even Wilbur had to raise an eyebrow at that. “And…?” he said.

Schlatt groaned. “C’mon guys, you have to use your brains. When have you ever, ever seen dad without his monocle?” At the silence, Schlatt grinned triumphantly as if he had won. “See? My point is that someone took his monocle, right before or after his death. It must’ve been personal.”

He turned to Techno. “Philza was the one who found him, no?”

Techno’s mouth pressed together into a thin line. “You can’t seriously be accusing Phil,” he said, a threat clear in his voice.

“Well, who knows,” Schlatt threw up his hands. “Maybe he finally got tired of being the perfect little housekeeper. Who else could’ve done it, you?”

Techno’s eyes widened a fraction, before narrowing again. Tommy would’ve missed it if he had not grown up with him.

Schlatt must’ve noticed it too, because his jaw opened so fast that Tommy was worried it would come off.

“I mean,” Techno said, interrupting whatever yelling storm Schlatt had planned. “As much as I would’ve enjoyed the honors, it wasn’t me.”

Schlatt’s eyes narrowed down to slits. “I don’t trust him,” he announced.

Wilbur gave a single bark of laughter. “What else is new?”

“I don’t trust you either, and yet here I am. What’re you accusing me of?” Techno butted in.

Schlatt sputtered. “You know damn well what.”

As Techno reared up to argue back, Tommy tuned out their mindless bickering. Somehow, he thought they could’ve changed. Maybe he thought they could’ve grown up. He clearly expected too much. Techno was still a vigilante, still hot-headed. And Schlatt? Well, four years without any human interaction had really screwed up his subtlety. To be fair, Tommy wasn’t sure if he had had any to begin with.

Tommy sighed and stood up, grabbing Ranboo’s arm and pulling him up as well. The arguing brothers didn’t pay them any heed. Wilbur stood up too, trying to break up the argument that threatened to turn violent. Ranboo got Tommy’s drift and they exited the room.

There was no point in staying.

--

They are ten years old. The robbers are holding hostages, and Schlatt starts to tell the others his plan, when Niki jumps into the building. Schlatt curses and runs into the room after her. Techno, never one to miss out on the action, follows closely behind.

Ranboo, Tubbo, and Wilbur are slightly slower and stick closer to the wall.

They arrive in time to see Niki teleporting around, distracting the robbers, as Techno hurls a knife with deadly accuracy into one of the men’s shoulders. He falls with a cry. Schlatt lifts another and tosses him into a wall like a ragdoll.

A voice cries out over the chaos and all three freeze. One of the others has pulled a gun on the civilians. Without wasting a moment, Niki blinks right in between the gun and the civilians, sitting on the bank check-in desk. The man swings the gun down towards her but she’s already gone.

Niki is behind him now, calling out, “Hey, loser.” As he spins around to face her, she quickly blinks his gun out of his hands in exchange for a stapler. “Nice stapler.”

She grabs his hand and twists it upwards. He hits himself in the head with the stapler in his hand. Niki tosses the gun to Schlatt, who catches it easily.

The three boys in the corner smile. Ranboo hated feeling useless in fights, but his power wasn’t cut out for combat. Tubbo was glad he didn’t have to use his. And Wilbur was just happy for his siblings to do the fighting instead of him.

Outside, Reginald Hargreeves stands, monocle and top hat, leaning on a stylish cane. A young boy stands next to him, fidgeting with his uniform.

“Why can’t I be with them?” Tommy asks his father.

“We’ve gone over this, Tommy,” Reginald says, irritated. “Because you are not special.”

When the police arrive, and the news is scrambling over themselves to take pictures of the young superheroes who saved the bank and the hostages, Schlatt, Techno, Wilbur, Niki, Tubbo, and Ranboo all line up to have their picture taken. They stand with good posture and smiles, having it ingrained into them.

Reginald walks out with a dramatic flair onto the steps of the bank, setting his hand on Schlatt’s shoulder. Schlatt huffs out his chest in pride.

“These,” Reginald announces to the gathered press. “Are your new superheroes. Meet the SBI.” The people clap.

“I adopted 6 children with superpowers, and I have been training them to fight against the evil in this city.”

Reginald’s speech continues. Tommy continues to stand out of sight, as Reginald introduces his siblings to the press. Reginald doesn’t even look in his direction as he states he had only adopted six kids.

They are ten. This is their first mission as a team. The SBI is born. And Tommy isn’t allowed to be a part of it.

--

Tommy’s old room was exactly how he remembered it. The plain bedspread on the plain bed. The posters on the wall, one of the few things he was allowed to customize. A neatly organized bookshelf and a cabinet full of music books. A keyboard by the window, coated in a thick layer of dust.

He had been just as surprised as everyone else when their father had allowed him to take up piano like he wanted to. There was a grand piano downstairs, he knew. It was probably out of tune.

Still better than sitting around. Ranboo had wandered off a while ago, so he didn’t have anyone to talk to, and everyone else was either busy or likely to ignore him. Tommy made his way to the spacious room. He sat down at the piano bench, blowing the dust from the keys and tentatively played a chord. It wasn’t horribly out of tune, though it definitely wasn’t in perfect upkeep.

Letting his doubts free, he let himself fold into the music, allowing his fingers to move across the keys. The song wasn’t particularly hard, though it wasn’t one he had played in a while. It was a song he remembered playing often when he still lived here.

.

Unknown to him, around the house, everyone perked up at the distant echoing of his playing, unconsciously swaying to the once-familiar tune.

[sunflowershouto]

like this - todoroki x fem!reader // pt. one: begin again

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: This is gonna be a multi-chapter Slow. Burn.TM, so strap in; I am not pulling any punches! Not based off a request, just something I really wanted to do! The story is written in third person, but MC’s name is still Y/N and L/N and such! Hope you enjoy, loves! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates to this story.

Reader’s quirk is ‘Angel,’ the same quirk I used in Shellshocked. She has angel wings and heat-based light blasts, but will get fatigued if she uses too much energy while in her angel form.

I highly recommend using the Interactive Fic Chrome extension for this fic! It essentially replaces Y/N and L/N with whatever name you want! I use it a lot and it’s really great with helping to immerse yourself more in the story.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Y/N’s relationship with Shouto Todoroki is a long and complicated one. How long can they ignore their history before everything comes back to the surface?

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.1k

//

𝐥 𝐢 𝐤 𝐞    𝐭 𝐡 𝐢 𝐬

𝐩 𝐚 𝐫 𝐭   𝐨 𝐧 𝐞 :   𝐛 𝐞 𝐠 𝐢 𝐧   𝐚 𝐠 𝐚 𝐢 𝐧

Do you ever feel like you’re drowning when you look someone in the eye? When you can’t find the right words, even after years of searching for them?

“Shouto, I-”

“Don’t, L/N. Just. . . don’t.”

She felt like all of the air had been knocked out of the room as she met his eyes, and for a moment, she was drowning. “How long? How long are we going to do this?” Y/N begged, voice cracked and tired.

“Do what? There’s nothing here.”

Stop. Begin again.

//

“Ugh. . . I thought that lecture was never gonna end.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Uraraka,” Y/N laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she waited for her friend to finish packing up after class. “We’ve had Aizawa giving us lectures since we were first years, it’s not that bad.”

“You’d think that third year classes would be a little less, you know...”

“Coma inducing?” Y/N suggested, grinning.

Ochako giggled and followed L/N out of the classroom, the two girls making light chatter as they headed to their dorms to change before going out for the afternoon.

In a few minutes, they were back on their way out, dressed casually to spend the rest of the day relaxing and enjoying the city. They were still talking as they headed for the front of the campus, chatting casually while walking against the stream of other students that bustled about.

“I don’t know about that. Most Pro Heroes seem to. . . to, uh. . .” Y/N trailed off mid sentence as she briefly caught sight of a flash of red and white, a glimpse of scarred skin completely derailing her thoughts. It had been so long since she’d associated him with any sense of comfort, and even longer since he had been willing to open up to her. They’d gone through all of high school dodging away from each other, avoiding and evading until they could hardly look at one another. And now. . .

How were things so broken?

“Y/N, you okay?” Uraraka nudged her shoulder gently, looking to her friend in mild concern.

“Hm? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” L/N replied, her gaze snapping quickly back to Ochako as she returned to reality. “I was just saying that most Pro Heroes like to make a name for themselves, right? Like, being known for something? I just... I really want mine to mean something important to me, you know? What’s the point of being a hero if your heart isn’t all the way in it? Anyways. . . With our last Sports Festival coming up, I guess I’ve just been thinking about it a lot more.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement, thinking on what Y/N had said as they reached the front gate of the school.

When Y/N looked away from her friend and out onto the street, she was met with a sight that brought a smile to her face, her heart skipping a beat. “Takashi!” she cried, beaming as she ran forward and jumped towards him, her worries momentarily forgotten.

Takashi Hirano had been standing at the gate with his arms crossed over his chest, at least until Y/N came running forward; he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug, smiling as he leaned down to place a chaste kiss to her lips. “Hey, angel,” he greeted, giving her a soft smile.

“You said you’d be busy today. I’m not complaining, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Y/N confessed, standing on her toes to place a small kiss to his cheek, running her hand gently through his jet-black locks.

Takashi shrugged, flashing a carefree smile before resting his chin on the top of her head. “Just thought I’d come and surprise you. Being graduated has its perks, you know?”

Y/N was still smiling as she pulled away, her face lightly flushed. “Uraraka and I were just heading out for a bite to eat, but if you have the rest of the evening off, maybe we can catch a movie after?”

He nodded, giving his girlfriend another smile before fishing around in his pocket for something. He retrieved what he was looking for and handed it to L/N, a few slightly crumpled bills. “My treat?” he offered. “You guys get dinner on me, I don’t wanna crash your hangout, so I can go get some work done. I’ll be waiting, ‘kay?”

“Thank you, Hirano!” Uraraka nodded her head, giving him a wide smile.

“You’re the best, Takashi!” Y/N chirped, kissing his cheek again before waving goodbye and heading off with Ochako. From across the courtyard, a cold, multicolored gaze observed the scene, seemingly expressionless. Shouto Todoroki drew in a controlled breath and walked away.

“You two are so sweet together,” Uraraka sighed, once Takashi was out of earshot. “What’s it like dating a pro? Especially with such a cool power!”

“Don’t make it sound so weird! He graduated last year, he’s only a year older than us. He’s barely a pro,” Y/N reminded her, waving off the compliment with a small laugh. “But he is really sweet, and his power is pretty cool.”

“I wonder how he gets those force fields so precise,” she continued, tapping the side of her face with her finger.

“I have no idea, but you sound like Izuku right now,” L/N laughed, nudging her friend’s shoulder. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

The rest of her evening was split between her time with Uraraka and her time with Takashi, and by the time she had returned to her dorm, she had forgotten all about those blue and grey eyes that had sent chills down her back.

//

The next morning, the class of 3-A was out on the P.E. courts, waiting for Aizawa to explain the activity. He checked off attendance, and then went into his introduction of the morning’s activities.

“Today is about teamwork,” Aizawa explained, standing at the front of the class with his arms crossed, bloodshot eyes scanning his students’ faces. “You’re all approaching the time when you’re going to have to do hero work on your own, uninstructed. Part of that is being able to work with whoever shows up on the scene, whether you’re friends or not. You’ve all been spoiled; you’ve spent the last three years in the same group, getting to know each other and forming bonds of trust. You won’t always have that luxury in the real world.”

L/N was standing with Yaoyorozu and Ochako, but her gaze drifted to the side, finding that head of read and white hair before she made herself look back at Aizawa. Shouto hadn’t noticed, but she wasn’t surprised; he avoided her like the plague, and she’d learned to do the same. Frankly, she wasn’t sure Todoroki would look at her even if she dropped dead on the spot.

“I’m going to put you in pairs, and you’re not going to complain about who you’re with. The whole point of this is being able to work with anyone.”

The students all nodded, waiting for their instructor to start reading off the list of partners.

“Bakugou and Midoriya. Ochako and Kirishima. Iida and Sero. Ashido and Sato. Todoroki and L/N.”

Y/N froze up, looking over to Todoroki like a deer in the headlights, unsure of what to do. “Ah. . . Aizawa-sama, can-”

“No.”

Great.

Shouto still wouldn’t look at her, even after being assigned a task, so she tried to do something to get him to at least acknowledge her presence. “Shouto, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either, but Aizawa said we need to be able to work with anyone.”

Finally, his gaze met hers, disinterested and apathetic. “It’s not a problem. Let’s just finish this lesson, okay?”

“I. . . Right.”

It was a simple enough task, in theory; the idea was to rescue dummies from a fire while also keeping in mind the structural integrity of the building. There wasn’t much communication, but Y/N and Shouto silently agreed upon their roles.

Todoroki would be using his ice to replace crumbled support beams, and L/N would use her flight to carry the training dummies to safety. It wasn’t ideal; both of them would have rather just had different partners, but they worked quickly and silently, until they were almost done, Y/N flying back into the building for the last few ‘civilians.’

She hoisted the two training dummies onto her back, nestling them between her wings, before heading for an open window.

Todoroki was just a few feet away, holding up pillars of quickly-melting ice to keep the ceiling from caving in and waiting until it was safe for him to exit the building.

Y/N passed by him, and a beam cracked loudly overhead, sending wayward sparks flying down onto her; she used her wings to shield the civilians, not noticing that the ceiling above her was cracking dangerously.

“L/N, move!”

Before she could react, the beam gave way, falling towards her like a massive torch, embers crackling in shards of splintered wood. Something cold wrapped around her arm, and she was pulled away. Y/N had squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them again, her face was against Todoroki’s shoulder, his cold hand still wrapped around her wrist and his other arm hovering over her waist.

“Thank you,” she muttered, glancing away and starting to pull back from him. She felt like she was going to be sick; she hated being vulnerable in front of him while he was so apathetic, while he acted like she didn’t matter.

“Yeah.” He pushed her away just as quickly as he’d pulled her in, and cleared a way for them to exit the building and deliver the training dummies to safety.

The two young heroes returned to Aizawa and the rest of the class, staring straight ahead as if they couldn’t see each other.

Aizawa, as always, looked unimpressed. “L/N, Todoroki, I’m sorry, but you’ve failed the exercise.”

“What?! But we got everyone out in time! There were no casualties!” Y/N argued, face screwing up in confusion.

“It wasn’t about whether or not you could save everyone. It was about communicating with someone in the field. You didn’t say a word to each other, and you missed the point of the activity.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whined, burying her face in the palm of her hand. Of course she’d be paired with the one person she couldn’t work with, it was just her luck.

“You and Todoroki can come in after school today for a written makeup assignment. Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, you’re up.” Aizawa didn’t waste any more time on the matter, leaving L/N and Todoroki to go steep in defeat.

Just as she was about to head into the girl’s locker room, a tap on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

“L/N.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a breath at the sound of that voice. “Why are you here, Todoroki?”

“You were cut.”

When she turned, she was met with those eyes, drilling into her as he held out a small bandage. She hadn’t even noticed the scrape across her cheek, but now as he pointed it out, she felt a light sting.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked after a moment, frowning as she returned his stare. “You had every chance to fix this. You’ve had three years to fix this. Why? Why now? I forgave you. I forgave you so long ago, but you just... You just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

Shouto blinked at her, then placed the bandage in his pocket. “I see. So that’s it, then?”

“I don’t want to do this, okay? Not right now. Just. . .” Y/N let out a long sigh, and held her hand out, palm open.

He hesitated for a moment before digging the bandage out of his pocket and placing it in her hand.

“Thank you for the help.” With that, she turned into the locker room and started to change back into her uniform, eyeing her reflection in one of the paneled mirrors that lined the far wall.

Her fingers grazed across a long stretch of skin on her back, an angry scar running from her waist up to her shoulder-blades. The mark spiraled across her back, permanently marring a wide area of skin like oil in an ocean.

Her gaze lingered there for a long moment before she pulled her uniform shirt back on, and placed the bandage over the scrape on her cheek.

All these years later, and now he was trying to make amends? Did he really think that it would be so easy? Did he really think that they could just begin again?

//

// 𝑬𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: I really hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think, I’d love to hear feedback! -Xizi <3

[lonelier-version-of-you]

This show does not deserve, never has deserved, and never will deserve Guy Henry.

That’s my opening statement to my ‘thoughts on Holby tonight’ post, because it cannot ever be said enough. I am simply blown away by his talent. A truly incredible actor. If he were in ANY other show, the BAFTAs would be taking note of him right now. Unfortunately, because he’s in a soap, I doubt that will happen, which is incredibly disappointing.

Anyway.

I knew from the moment I saw that this episode was written by Andy Bayliss to expect very good Henrik scenes. Bayliss has a talent for making badly-written, offensive Henrik storylines look a hell of a lot better than they are. (Anyone remember ‘One Man And His God’ and ‘Report To The Mirror’? The Gaskell storyline was a trainwreck, but I think we can all agree those episodes were amazing.) Andy Bayliss’ writing, plus Guy Henry’s acting, has always been a recipe for brilliance.

And the Henrik scenes were good. As good as they can be with a godawful storyline behind them. (That “I’m not sure I tried” scene got me right in the heart.)

But... there’s the problem, that the storyline is still godawful. So here we go. I’m about to look past my awe and get critical.

I really think it would have fixed a lot of problems with this storyline - not all, but a lot of them - if the abuser were just... not Sahira’s dad. Literally. If they really wanted to tie it back to Sahira, as I say, it should have just been some white dude who was a friend of her family. That instantly makes it both less racist and less implausible, and it could’ve even served as a way to make a point about how often abusers look like “pillars of the community” from the outside.

Also, this whole mess with having Sahira take her dad’s side should not have happened. Now, it is not, necessarily, totally out of character. (Anyone remember that episode with the mother who was abusing her daughter, and while Henrik knew something was wrong, Sahira kept insisting there wasn’t enough evidence because she didn’t want to believe something like that could happen?) And I do feel like the writing of those scenes was Andy Bayliss trying really, really hard to make Sahira’s reasoning for taking her dad’s side feel believeable.

But it just makes her character look REALLY bad. Also, now they’re not only portraying the Middle Eastern man as a paedophile, but a Middle Eastern woman as a paedophile apologist. This SL just got even more racist than it already was.

We didn’t need this. The abuser should’ve been Sahira’s “Uncle” (i.e. family friend) Frank, or Samuel, or something (I’m trying to think of Generic White Man sounding names here lol), and Sahira should’ve had no idea her Uncle Frank (or insert other name here) was an abuser, because her knowing but not believing it, again, makes her look awful.

Also, as if there wasn’t enough drama being piled onto this already, now Reyhan’s in a coma? Guy Henry’s acting in those theatre scenes kind of makes that particular plot point worth it, I guess, but still. It’s just feeling like the Holby writers don’t find CSA dramatic enough on its own.

Honestly, I mostly paid attention to the Henrik scenes, can you tell? But I do have a few other thoughts on the episode:

- We really don’t need those Ange scenes. We don’t need this Cameron storyline in general, but we especially don’t need this whole ‘Cam kidnaps Ange and ties her to a chair’ thing. Holby has a... weird thing with violence against women, they love showing women suffering at the hands of men for shock value, and I really wish they didn’t.

- WHY is Louis’ old friend an “evil trans woman” stereotype?! Did we need that?! Did we REALLY?! Why couldn’t she be a cis woman instead?! And why are all Louis’ storylines about being trans?! See, this is why I get tired of cis people praising Holby for their trans representation.

So there you go. Those are my thoughts on tonight’s Holby. It was decently written, a lot of the actors were good, but the actual storylines are all beyond salvaging unfortunately.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Sorahiko is a jealous dad with his sunflower son's friends and Nana is trying to calm him down, I'm completely sure that happened 👀👀

/rubs hands slowly/ This might necessitate Sorahiko wanting to bond with Toshinori, anon. For all we know, he might have approved Toshinori lone-wolfing it at the beginning. He certainly doesn’t think that way by the time we reach the Shie Hassaikai Arc — he was, I think, a factor in Izuku’s internship?? Don’t quote me on that — but I wouldn’t put it past Sorahiko to think that teenager Toshinori shouldn’t drag people into his ‘delusions of grandeur.’

Anyway! This is yet another entry into the NanaLives!AU. For the last bit, just know that Nana survives All for One, fled to the States with Toshinori, and Sorahiko found and adopted Kotarou before joining them.

//

This is the third week in a row that Sorahiko’s found the dumb dandelion-haired brat underfoot at his and Nana’s agency. Yagi is still dressed in his black uniform, the one that clearly marks him as a junior high student, and he looks like any bright, diligent kid. Kenta, the agency’s hapless receptionist, sends Sorahiko a pleading look.

Sorahiko knows it’s not a ‘please get him out of here’ look, because it didn’t even take Yagi a goddamn day to charm the civilian staffers. No, what Kenta is mentally begging Sorahiko for is to not make a snarky comment. 

So what if there aren’t any official rules against civilians in agencies? What if Yagi has wormed his way into Nana’s good graces, to the point where she’s already considering making him her successor?

Doesn’t explain why a student has so much time to spend at a small pro-hero agency. 

“Torino-san!” says the brat cheerfully. He’s carrying a stack of files in his twiggy arms, looking ready to drop it all and assist Sorahiko. “Hi! Oshishou said you were coming in late today!”

Sorahiko squints, bleary. It’s just too many exclamation points for someone who’s just woken up from an afternoon nap. The front door swings shut behind him. Sorahiko hasn’t changed into his gear yet, he’s kinda hungry, and he’s being overwhelmed by a kid who’s taken Nana’s philosophy to heart.

“It’s not a training day for you,” he grunts, and moves forward, brushing unceremoniously past Yagi.

“Every day is training!” Undeterred by Sorahiko’s grouchiness, the brat trails behind and lectures Sorahiko about dedication of all things, and new things oshishou tells me about, I’m learning all the time, I’m so grateful to be here—Sorahiko lets the chatter wash over him, unwilling to cross the line of bullying a child just yet.

“Sky Drop,” Sorahiko says, opening the door into his and Nana’s private office. They used to keep their workspaces separate, and then a month into that, caught each other sneaking out the window (Nana) and snoozing over the paperwork (Sorahiko).

“Oshishou, I have the files!”

Nana looks up from her desk, looking frazzled. “Oh, thank you, Yagi-shonen. Gran Torino, hey, how was the nap?”

“Too short.” Sorahiko watches Yagi bounce to Nana’s desk, hand her the files, and vibrate expectantly in place. Youthful eagerness. It tires Sorahiko just witnessing it, and he makes eye contact with Nana, trying to communicate, ‘I can’t believe this kid.’ She glares at him for a brief second, then turns to Yagi.

“Do you have anything you need to study?” she asks.

“Tests are easy,” the brat says. He scuffs the heel of one sneaker. “I can test, oshishou, but I just don’t like, um…”

“Paperwork?”

Yagi brightens. Ugh, they’re kindred spirits, these two. Sorahiko can’t believe Nana’s letting him get away with the idea that a Pillar of Society isn’t going to have to deal with all the generated paperwork. “Yeah! It’s all in my head, so I’m free to do whatever, oshishou.”

“All in your head,” Sorahiko mimics. Look at that, he is willing to bully a child. Nana can kick his ass later, when the ball of sunshine isn’t setting fire to his dignity. “I can guarantee you, you aren’t ready for the written exam for U.A. Go. Shoo. Come back in five minutes.”

He only adds that last part because Yagi had wilted, drooping at the order to leave like Sorahiko had been responsible for sucking up all the nutrients and will to live, and Sorahiko doesn’t need to be guilt-tripped by a thirteen-year-old child.

In any case, Yagi perks up. “Okay! What can I do?”

Fortunately, Nana intervenes. Maybe she could predict that Sorahiko was going to send Yagi out to fetch taiyaki. “There’s a table tennis set in the backroom. It’s at the top of the metal shelves, you can’t miss it. Bring it back here, and I’ll show you a trick for improving hand-eye coordination, okay?”

“Okay!” And off he goes, shooting past where Sorahiko is still lounging against the doorframe. There’s a draft of cold air, and then Sorahiko is finally stepping inside and closing the door. The room isn’t sound-proofed, but they’ve got a solid minute before Toshinori scrounges up the paddles and the elusive white ball. 

Their desks are technically on opposite sides of the room. Sorahiko likes to sit by the door, and terrorize visitors (mostly Commission agents) by standing up when they enter, startling them backwards and unnerving them into honesty. Nana sits in plain-view of the door.

He approaches her desk and leans his hip against the edge. “Why is here,” he asks plaintively. “Doesn’t he have friends?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Nana chides. “You can connect the dots yourself.”

“He had the confidence to pester you.”

“Sorahiko,” she says, stern.

“Nana,” he whines. Sorahiko might be losing heart in this argument, because he can connect the dots. The dots are telling him that he’s being an asshole to a previously Quirkless teenager. “I can only deal with one extrovert at a time.”

“You’ll get attached to him,” Nana says with great confidence. She’s been saying this for the past three weeks; the novelty of Nana having an apprentice has worn off, and now Sorahiko is even more confused as to why Recovery Girl took the position as U.A.’s school nurse. Nana leans forward and pokes his elbow. “You got attached to me, after all.”

“Hm.”

“I think he’ll make lots of friends at U.A.,” she adds, with less confidence.

“Hm,” Sorahiko hums again. It’s likely. U.A. usually feels like the chance to start over a social life; the influx of students outside of Musutafu meant new faces. But Sorahiko knew better than most that old habits died hard; years after graduation, his closest friend is still Shimura Nana, and everyone else (save for Chiyo, who was more willing to ally with Nana and force him into socializing) remains at arms’ length.

“Found you!” Yagi’s exultant cry travels through the whole agency. Sorahiko resigns himself to Yagi’s effusively loud existence, and Nana pats his wrist.

“If you needle him about overstaying his welcome, I’ll kick your ass,” she reminds him pleasantly.

“When you go on full maternity leave, I’m the one stuck with him,” Sorahiko shoots back.

“I will make Yagi-shonen run so many errands…” She sounds wistful, as if the prescribed rest from work hasn’t been haunting her for days. “When I can’t bend over and get the tea from the bottom shelf, I’ll just tell Yagi-shonen to help this poor pregnant lady, oh, her gigantic stomach…”

The joke works; Sorahiko doubles over in laughter.

//

Yagi Toshinori does not make any close friends through high school. Instead, he spends more and more time at the agency, helping with the reports and patrols, desperate to ease the burdens weighing Nana and Sorahiko down.

“He’s supposed to have a childhood,” Nana mutters. They’ve made a stop at the rooftop, and she is staring blackly at the blue and pink neon glow of the city. “He’s—supposed to be irresponsible, and goofing off with friends, and getting terrible grades as a consequence for not studying.”

Sorahiko studies the passing cars, and he keeps his mouth shut.

Toshinori’s constant presence at the office helps. He’s a quick study at paperwork, for all that he professes to hate it, and just having him there lightens the mood. They’ve tried kicking him out for his own good, pointedly reminding him about the necessity of networking and downtime. And like clockwork, he shows up the next day.

It soothes something in Nana to see her successor, hale and hearty. Sorahiko can appreciate Toshinori for that.

“He does talk to his classmates, right? You’d know if he was being bullied?”

Sorahiko rolls his eyes. “You think I would keep that from you? His classmates worship the ground he walks on. He’s just standoffish, I guess.”

“Oh no,” Nana grieves. “Of all the things he learned from you, Sorahiko.”

“From me?” he says, outraged.

“I know I told him to make friends!” she continues. “God, maybe if we weren’t operating outside the Hero Association’s purview, he’d bring them to the agency, and he could finally brag about his experiences working with us…”

“He’s fine, Nana. I think—” his throat seizes for a second. I think he knows he has to be All Might alone. It’s true, but Sorahiko doesn’t need to rub the fact in Nana’s face. If entering U.A. is like wiping your social slate clean, then entering the pro-hero workforce is like exchanging your life for an entirely new tablet. Sorahiko’s luckier than most that Nana was willing to cling right back, and that Chiyo demanded to be their GP.

“You think,” Nana prompts.

“Toshinori’s as emotionally-balanced as any teenager can be,” Sorahiko says. “Don’t mess with his social life until we’re out of the clear.”

//

This isn’t a conversation Nana thought she’d be having with Sorahiko, of all people. But he’d been biting poor David Shield’s head off during dinner, and even Kotarou has caught onto the inexplicable animosity. Fortunately, Kotarou takes his cues towards strangers more from his adopted big brother than Sorahiko.

Toshinori is looking at her in askance, when Nana decides David’s suffered enough and politely excuses herself and Sorahiko from the table.

“We’ll be back with dessert,” she reassures the kids. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No kissing,” says Kotarou petulantly. “You always forget the time when you’re kissing tou-chan.”

Nana fake-gasps, smiling even as she scolds. “Kota! Not in front of guests. You wouldn’t want me telling Dave what happened the first time I took you flying, would you?” Kotarou reddens like a tomato, and mimes zipping his mouth. Ah, a Sorahiko-tic. Her heart warms.

“It’s okay,” Dave says.

“Yes, it would be nice to gain information, wouldn’t it, Dave?”

She grabs Sorahiko’s wrist and marches him to the kitchen. He goes willingly, but Nana knows he’s just shot one more suspicious glare over his shoulder. And when they’re standing in the kitchen, ostensibly retrieving the ice cream bucket and assorted bowls and spoons, Sorahiko crosses his arms and scrunches his face into a scowl.

“What is with you?” she whispers.

“Look at him!” Sorahiko whispers back, gesturing at his face. “He’s a smarmy little prick trying to figure out what’s behind All Might!”

“He’s asking very normal things, as expected from very normal engineering students,” says Nana. “You remember the Support students. David isn’t being any more invasive than they are.”

“He’s Californian.” The disdain drips from Sorahiko’s voice. “He’s obsessed with bodybuilders in the spotlight, like that, that one governor they had—”

“What, was he eyeing you too?”

Sorahiko dismisses her attempted derailing. “The boy’s ogling Toshinori like a piece of meat, he’s not going to look at some old-timer.”

“It’s a mutual attraction,” says Nana, certain of this, at least. “I think Toshinori likes nerds.”

He makes a face.

“He gets that from me,” adds Nana mischievously, and she leans in to kiss the affectionate outrage off Sorahiko’s face.

[alarawriting]

52 Project #12: Mephistopheles

“Mephistopheles is not your name...”

- The Police, Wrapped Around Your Finger

The car jerked to a halt, jolting Alan awake. He opened his eyes to darkness, disoriented. The car reversed, went back, went forward again, and he realized where he was. "We're there?"

Diana spun the wheel, put the car into reverse again. "Quiet," she said sharply. There was a frightened tension in her voice.

Alan looked out the window. Though the only light came from a streetlamp across the road, he could see enough to determine that Diana was trying to park, and having a miserable time of it. 500 years old, scholar, mage, and she still doesn't know how to park a car, he thought blearily, and started at a bulk looming in the rear view window. "Watch out for that truck!" he shouted.

"I told you to be quiet!" she snapped. "That's as good as it gets. Hurry up out!"

He fumbled his seat belt open, and pulled the door handle. "You want me to get the bags?"

"Alan, for the love of God, just get into the building!"

He was still disoriented, half-asleep, and there was barely enough light to see by. Which building? Some of Diana's panic communicated itself to him, but it only paralyzed him, and he stood on the sidewalk for several seconds trying to figure out which Diana meant. He turned to ask her, and noticed the car sticking out from the curb at a crazy angle. "What if someone hits the car?" he asked.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the steps of a massive shadow. "Do you want to get us both killed?" she hissed, pulling open the door and yanking him into the blackness beyond. "Wake up, Alan!"

Killed? The idea woke him up fast. Diana switched the lights on, and he closed his eyes against the sudden brightness. "Sorry I'm being so slow," he said, opening them again. They were standing in the center of a foyer, on a shabby pink carpet. Against the wall stood two equally shabby pink chairs. They looked as if they might have been expensive once, maybe forty years ago. To the left he saw a staircase with an ornate but ancient wooden banister; to the right, and at the top of the staircase, two dark, heavy wooden doors with battered gothic carvings on them stood. "Are we safe now?"

"Not yet," Diana said. "Alan, they were almost on us." She turned away from him, trembling slightly. In a detached sort of way, he was surprised at her reaction-- he hadn't thought anything could scare Diana.

"And now?" he asked.

"This building is-- protected, to some extent. They won't pinpoint us as quickly here. But we won't be truly safe until-- Alan!!"

Her cry came before he felt it himself. Then a sickening wave of paralyzing numbness drove vision and speech from him. A haze of dizziness clouded all of his senses, even the position of his body. From somewhere very far away, he heard Diana shout, "Donald, it's Diana Faust! Release him!"

And then it was over, and the world was normal again. He staggered, more in shock than pain, and Diana caught him. "A spell?" he asked as he straightened up, and she nodded.

On the staircase stood a newcomer, seemingly little more than a boy, though Alan knew better than to go by appearances. The newcomer was short, sallow, and thin, with dark uncombed hair all over his head and mirrored shades hiding his eyes. Alan guessed that this was Donald Ward, the arcana mage they'd come to see. Somehow, he'd expected an ancient sage, or at the very least someone professorial. This man looked somewhere between 16 and 19 years of age.

But then, Diana herself looked like a 22-year-old model, when she was actually older than Shakespeare.

"Diana," Ward said wearily. "It's past two o'clock. What are you doing here?" His voice was unpleasant, high-pitched and nasal with traces of a Brooklyn accent, and very weak. As he spoke, Alan had to fight the urge to cough in sympathy.

"Emergency." Diana sounded brusque. "I'll explain later. Right now, though, I need you to put up a protection sphere."

"In the middle of the night?" Ward asked disbelievingly.

"I've been driving since 7 this morning-- don't tell me how tired you are," Diana said sharply. From her attitude, Alan could see that she was senior to Donald, elder, more powerful, whatever term you wanted to apply to a higher-status mage. "I've come to offer you what you need. Put up a protection sphere first."

"I haven't got the energy," Ward said faintly. Alan could believe it.

Diana opened her pocketbook and drew out a bag full of faintly glowing crushed leaves. She held it toward the staircase. "Free of charge," she said.

For a second, Ward stood frozen. Then, slowly, he began to move downstairs, never taking his eyes from the bag. "How much is in there?" he asked, hanging onto the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

Diana walked forward and handed the bag to him. "Eight drachms."

Ward suddenly snatched the package like a hungry animal and ripped it open. By now Alan had recognized it-- flos corde, heartflower, the most powerful substance in the arcana universe, an extract of pure energy. "Aren't you supposed to brew that?" he asked tentatively as Ward crammed the leaves into his mouth.

With the sunglasses, it was hard to discern Ward's expression, but Alan thought the man was giving him a disgusted look. Diana said, "We're supposed to brew it. Donald has different needs." She took his hand and pulled him past Donald Ward, onto the staircase.

"What about the protection sphere?" Alan asked.

"He's done it already," Diana said. "I told you. The words of a spell are only a way to focus the mind. Once the mind knows how to make a certain spell, words become superfluous. Ward's an adept-- did you expect him to stand in the lobby and chant 'Om'?"

She opened the door at the top of the stairs-- and they entered a different world.

Donald Ward's apartment was plants, all plants. They covered the walls, creeping vines and multicolored ivies and thick ropes of blue kudzu. They hung from the ceiling in pots and baskets. They grew thickly in the moist soil that covered the floor. A few graceful fountains burbled among bushes and dwarf trees. Two globes of light hung in midair, about twelve feet from the floor, with no apparent support. The light they gave off was brilliant, like a summer day, and Alan had to shield his eyes-- but even when they passed directly under them, he could feel no heat coming from them.

"My God," Alan said.

"The miracles of an arcana education," Diana said dryly.

"Where does he live in all this?"

"He doesn't. He lives over here."

She led him through the maze of vines, around occasional support pillars and ceramic statues, to an area beyond some bushes, where a raised floor came out of the dirt. On the floor stood a stove, a refrigerator, a table with two chairs, and a couch. The couch and one of the chairs had books piled on them. Here, the walls were nearly devoid of plants, covered instead with shelves and cabinets and odd-looking appliances, but the ceiling was still covered with evil viney growth. It stayed off the walls, mostly, except at the very top, but it dipped down in many places to dangle in loops that could catch a person’s head. A tiny door was nearly hidden between the stove and the refrigerator. The whole room was tremendously cramped and claustrophobic. "I guess he doesn't do much entertaining," Alan said.

"Donald is rather uniquely alone." Diana sat in the empty chair. Alan took the books off the other one and followed suit.

"I thought you said most arcana live alone," Alan said. "The ones that don't form covens."

"Stop saying covens. I use the word once, to make a point, and you adopt it. The word is schools."

"All right, schools," Alan said. "But if most arcana live alone, why is Ward unique?"

Diana played with a button on her jacket, snapping and unsnapping it. "He's the only arcana who lives alone and doesn't want to."

Ward came in then, sliding past the shrubbery with the ease of long practice. "All right, Diana," he said. His voice was very fast now, almost tripping on itself. "What's the emergency?" He perched on the couch and glanced sideways at Alan. "You're not usually one for taking in strays."

Diana pushed fine blond hair out of her eyes, looking up from her button. In the shadiness of the nook, Alan noticed for the first time an unpleasant pink tinge to her eyes, almost a glow. "Let me first tell you what's in it for you," she said. "Agree to help me, whatever I say or do, and I'll cure you."

Ward stood. "You said two decades ago you couldn't cure me."

Cure him of what? Alan wondered. Ward didn't look healthy, it was true, but what sort of disease could bring an arcana adept down? Did his devouring the heartflower have something to do with it?

"One can learn a lot in two decades. Do you agree?"

"What can I lose?"

"They might sanction you."

"So what? What can they take, my life?" He laughed sharply, without humor, and sat on the table. "What did you get involved in this time, Diana? You've never been threatened with sanction in my lifetime."

Diana put her hands flat on the table and looked directly at Ward. "Several months ago, this young man, Alan Michaels, tracked me down. He'd discovered that I was an arcana, and he wanted to be one too."

"So you taught him. Where's the problem? Did he break taboo?"

"I'm not a certified teacher."

"What?" Ward slid off the table and stood. "How can you not be certified? You have to be more than 50 decades old, and you must know more than any other arcana I've heard of. More even than Marcus. How could you possibly not be certified?"

Diana half-smiled and shrugged. "Too much trouble."

"WHAT??"

"You heard me quite well, Donald."

"I heard you, I just don't believe it. Why not?"

"My name is Diana Faust." She stood up, drawing arrogance around her like a cloak. "I didn't just pick the name at random, Donald. Faust sold his soul to the devil for knowledge. I've spent the last forty years studying at various colleges, changing identities, learning all I could. I never wanted to play Mephistopheles. I don't interact well with people, and my habits force me to take new bodies almost as often as you do. I don't need students for security or energy or companionship or any of the other reasons ring-bearers teach, and I didn't want to take the time from my own studies."

"So why did you go ahead and teach someone anyway?"

"Curiosity, mostly. I wanted to see how it'd come out-- an uncontrolled arcana. And I'd found someone who was as desperate to play Faust as I was."

"What are you talking about?" Donald said, echoing Alan's thought. "We don't sell our souls to become arcana."

"Don't we?" Diana said softly. Her face became serious. "In any case. What have you decided, Donald? Will you do it?"

Ward sat down on the table again. "Diana, I really would sell my soul to the devil if I thought it would cure me," he said. "I've been to the Frozen World, I've been everywhere, and nobody can help me. So you can consider yourself protected. You two can live in the downstairs apartment-- it's smaller than this one, but it's got two beds--"

"--And no plants. I know," Diana said. Suddenly she seemed very weary. "You can expect results within the week. Let's go, Alan."

They got the bags out of the car in silence, and Alan parked it up the street, properly this time. Diana had told him that arcana could go for up to 72 hours without getting tired, but after only a day, he could see that she was dead on her feet, her movements dragging and lethargic. Alan didn't feel much better-- sleeping in the car was not the best way to insure a restful night. And they hadn't ever had a chance to stop-- Diana kept saying that if they stopped, the other arcana would find them. After a while, as the need to stretch his legs increased, and as more time passed without any visible signs of the danger they were in, Alan had stopped believing her.

He had been quickly reconvinced by the attack on the thruway, the one that had left two carfuls of smoking bodies behind them.

Obviously, they weren't going to be able to unpack everything tonight, but some things needed to be done. As Alan began moving toilet supplies into the tiny bathroom, he asked, "How is Ward sick?"

"I don't know if I can explain," Diana said dully, folding clothes like someone half-asleep. For a moment, Alan thought he should leave her alone-- she sounded thoroughly drained. But curiosity won out over politeness.

"You can explain anything," he said, with forced cheer. "Go ahead."

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "I told you that most arcana need to take a new body every twenty to forty years, most always someone who voluntarily exchanges their life for some feat of magic. Our magic is powered by the energy of life, and one body only contains a finite amount. So we make our deals with our clients prime, and grant them whatever they want in return for their lives and bodies. Right?"

She was getting repetitive, perhaps due to her exhaustion. "I know all that," he said, slightly irritably. He was tired, too.

"Well, Donald Ward requires a new client prime every three to five years," Diana said. "His life energy bleeds away too fast for any of his bodies to replenish it. I have an idea about the cause, but it's too technical for you and I'm too tired to paraphrase it into layman's language." She finished putting the clothes away and sat down on the bed. "You may have noticed that when we get tired, or our bodies start to wear out, our eyes turn pink."

He paused, coat hanger in hand, and looked at her. The room was lit only by windows, and Diana's back was to them. Alan perceived a definite pinkish glow, defining the hollows in her face that were her eyes. "I see."

"His are a blinding bright pink, all the time. That's why he wears those glasses." Diana yawned and pulled off her shoes. "We've done enough work. You get dressed in the bathroom, I'll stay out here."

"All right," Alan said. He got a sweatsuit out of his suitcase to sleep in, and carried it into the bathroom. Sometimes Diana's modesty seemed a little bit funny to him. Three years ago, he'd seen her nude often enough-- but she'd had a different body back then, and she had been careful to keep their relationship professional since she'd become his teacher.

That was one restriction that bothered Alan. Diana's slender model's body was not as much to his tastes as the tiny form she'd worn when they were college students together, but she was still the only woman in his life, had been practically the only person he'd associated with at all for two years, and a man could build up a lot of frustrated desire in that time. He never asked-- he knew quite well that she knew his feelings, and that she intended to maintain a teacher-student relationship, free of sexual entanglements, whatever he might want. The thought floated through his head that he could open the door to the bathroom a crack-- from this angle, he should be able to see her without her noticing. It wasn’t a serious thought, though. In the first place, it’d be disrespectful, and if she caught him at it, he would be in serious trouble.

Alan leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. He looked like death warmed over, with stubble on his cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and overlong reddish brown hair flopping every which way over his head and face. But it was his face. That was the hardest thing to get used to-- that when he became an arcana, this body would die, and he would have to take another. Morbidly, he tried to imagine it-- would it be fat or thin? handsome or ugly? blond or brunet? Maybe it would even be a woman's body-- Diana had been a man more than once, according to her, and she claimed that many arcana no longer cared about the sex of the bodies they acquired. The idea of becoming a woman bothered Alan, though, on the deep levels where the unease could not be purged by rational thought. He didn't think taking a woman as his first client prime would be a good way to start his career-- he should get used to the weirdness of body-switching itself before dealing with the further weirdness of sex-changing.

A cold feeling suddenly burned through Alan. The body he was so casually imagining already belonged to a man somewhere. A man who would have to die for his sake.

He quickly left the bathroom, dragging his dirty clothes with one hand, not caring if Diana was dressed yet or not. He had to talk to her, ask her about the clients prime. Did they really know what they were getting into? Did they really, voluntarily agree to die? What magical favors would be worth dying for?

But Diana was already asleep, the covers pulled tightly around her body and her head buried in the pillow. Alan turned away and sat down on the other bed, making it sag with his weight. Trust Diana to take the best bed.

Well, that was her prerogative, he supposed. She was the teacher, he the student, and he trusted her completely. She might have lied to him in the past, but never since becoming his teacher. Diana claimed that most human emotion was alien to her, that she had never truly understood or experienced human emotion even in the days when she, too, was bound by human limitations. She further claimed that her sole motive in teaching Alan was curiosity. But Alan was fairly sure that was bullshit. Whether she wanted to admit it, even to herself, or not, Alan knew she really cared for him, somewhere inside. She would never have let him become an arcana if she'd thought it would harm him.

Although he would have found another way even if she'd refused him. Alan was as obsessively curious and as indifferent to the outside world as Diana herself. They were very much alike. For example, he thought of Ward's comment-- "We don't sell our souls to become arcana--" and of Diana's ambiguous reply, and knew she felt the same way he did. Even if the price of knowledge had been his soul, he'd have paid it. He was as much Faust as Diana was. She had to care about him, for he cared about her, and fundamentally, he was sure, they were the same.

Alan had first met her as a college student. His parents had recently died, leaving him a large trust fund to continue his education, as well as a monstrous emptiness in his life nothing had been able to fill. He had decided, not entirely consciously, to cut himself off from human contact, to live solely for intellectual pursuits. As a result, he'd become obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge. He'd changed his major for the third time, giving him another two years before he had to graduate, another two years to fill his life with classes and seminars and cultural events instead of facing the fact of his awful loneliness. The only contact with people he'd had was over the Internet, with people he never saw. He hadn't even looked at women – not as women, anyway. People who were women were all around him, but looking at them as potential sexual partners had been too much work.  

But he'd found it increasingly harder to ignore Diana. Then, she'd been a tiny, wild thing with tangled-briar black hair and gypsy green eyes. He hadn't known then what she was; all she'd been then was a fellow student, classmate in a philosophy seminar. At first, he'd hardly noticed her body (well, be honest; he'd tried not to notice her body)-- it had been her mind, powerful and original and more knowledgeable than anyone else's, that had attracted him.

They'd become lovers, and he found himself drawn by her more and more, as if she were his only connection to the humanity he'd all but rejected. He clung to her desperately, but never admitted to himself or her how much he needed her. He'd accepted her arrogance and unconscious assumption of superiority because to him, anyone with a mind like that was his superior. Brilliance was the only thing he respected, and he hungrily desired all she could teach him, wanting her knowledge even more than her body.

Then they'd gone their separate ways over the summer, with what Alan had thought was the tacit understanding that they would get back together the next year. Diana had been there three years, and had at least another before she could graduate. There had been every reason to assume she'd return to the same school the next year.

She hadn't.

Searching for her, for the reasons why she'd left, Alan had discovered that she was completely gone, erased from the computer banks as if she'd never attended that school. He'd called on all his computer skills, plundered the databases of American colleges-- and had found her, in places she could not be. In the past decade, she had attended three schools as an incoming freshman. Her age had been listed as eighteen in each case. Prior to that, he found evidence of her as a graduate student, at multiple schools, going back another twenty years or so before the records went offline and were unavailable to him. Finally, working day and night, he'd found a student named Diana Faust, a freshman at a new university. He'd gone to meet her-- and found a tall, slender blonde with a model's body and Diana's mind.

It was then that he'd learned of Diana's immortality, of her magic powers. He'd begged, cajoled, groveled, and finally persuaded her to teach him, with no understanding of the dangers he faced. Of course, Diana had warned him that if they were discovered she would be sanctioned, that dozens of powerful magicians would try to kill them for breaking the arcana's most sacred law, but he couldn't quite believe that. What could be so horrible about teaching without certification?

Now Alan believed it, even if he still didn't understand why. To the arcana, the concept of "teacher" meant something far different, far older than the usual concept held by ordinary people. "Teacher", to arcana, held overtones of "master" and "elder" and "parent" and "superior". The teachers of the arcana formed a sacred elite, and like most sacred elites, they tried to destroy anyone who infringed on their prerogatives.

This whole mess had made him respect Diana even more. She could have cut and run, abandoning him to the others' fury-- she'd told him that his death would absolve her. She could even have killed him herself. But she hadn't, and Alan loved and admired her for it. Diana might claim to be totally heartless, but Alan knew better. She cared for him-- she had to, or she never would have protected him. And she was brilliant. She would find a way to protect them both, forever.

He only wished he knew enough magic to help her.

Alan climbed into bed, exhausted. It was six in the morning-- aside from a fitful three hours or so snatched in the car, he had been up for longer than 24 hours. He turned away from the window, toward Diana, and arranged his covers to block out as much light as possible without covering his nose and mouth.

***

Alan woke with a start. The room was totally dark.

He fumbled for a light, clumsy with irrational panic at having slept through something important. As he turned on the light, the groggy terror of waking began to pass. How could he possibly have slept through something important? There wasn't anything that important anymore, not anything that ran on a schedule, at least. It wasn't like he still went to class or anything.

Diana wasn't in the other bed.

By itself, that was nothing. Alan was independent enough to take care of himself, he didn't need Diana holding his hand all the time. But now, coming on top of the fear, her absence had a distinctly sinister flavor. The panic was too great to equal a simple missed class. He felt still as if he had slept through something vital to his survival.

"Trust your hunches," Diana had said once. "As you grow in power, you will begin to perceive things, understand parts of existence that few mortals comprehend. Mortals have hunches based on half-remembered facts in the subconscious. You'll start to have hunches based on psychic power. You won't understand them, they'll seem irrational, but trust them. They're your arcana senses, beginning to bud."

Analyze. The windows showed only darkness, and it felt very late. But it had been six in the morning when he went to bed. Alan went to his bags and pulled out a clock. For several minutes, he couldn't comprehend what it was telling him. Then it came clear, and he stared at it in disbelief.

It said 4:00 AM.

He padded out into the threatening shadows of the kitchenette. On the range was a tiny lit clock. It confirmed what the digital had told him. He really had slept nearly twenty-two hours.

The bedroom felt more secure, so Alan walked back to it, trying to master his irrational desire to run. He had been charmed to sleep, that was certain. He hadn't been that tired. And, since Diana had no motive for putting him to sleep, that left two choices. Either Ward had done it-- or some other arcana had.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "Diana..."

He couldn't yield to panic. The other arcana were here, he was sure. Either Ward had betrayed them, or his protection sphere hadn't been enough. That didn't really matter now. Diana was either dead, or a hostage, or trying to negotiate with her fellows. In any case, he should probably run. People who could kill or capture Diana would eat him for breakfast, and if she were negotiating, he should get out of the enemy's reach so that he couldn't be used against her.

He had already gotten dressed and pocketed the car keys before he realized that he wasn't going anywhere. It might be stupid, it was probably insane, but he had to find Diana, had to find out what had happened to her. After all, how could he seriously attempt to run from arcana? He didn't know how to put up a protection sphere, didn't know how to defend himself from attack. He'd be candy if they wanted him dead.

So he would get some answers before he died. And maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that the few spells he knew could swing the balance in Diana's favor, especially if Ward were still on their side. Alan chanted the words of a spell of invisibility, knowing it wouldn't fool any arcana who was looking for him. But if they weren't looking, the spell might save his life. He felt the spell take effect, warming him, and the shadows of the tiny living room, the glaring empty light of the kitchenette, no longer seemed as threatening.

Alan stepped out of the apartment. The foyer was dark and silent, and it took all his courage to walk through it to the stairs. But Diana was in Ward's apartment, he knew without knowing how. If he was going to learn anything, he had to go up there.

The doorknob of Ward's apartment was terrifyingly cold, and Alan began to tremble. He thought again of fleeing, bolting down the stairs and out to the car. But he stayed where he was, and finally, silently, turned the knob.

Voices came to him, then. He stood in the doorway, moved a bit deeper into the room, but couldn't hear clearly enough-- all the plant life was muffling the sound. Very slowly, Alan moved forward, making no motion without checking first to see that it would make no noise. There was Diana's voice, strangely low and calm-- of course, if anyone could remain calm in these circumstances it would be Diana. He made out Donald Ward's voice, but couldn't hear any others. They're the only ones, he thought, surprised-- he hadn't thought Ward was powerful enough to defeat Diana.

He moved forward again, until he could see their faces. They weren't speaking any language he could understand-- silently, he cursed himself for not engaging the translation spell. He couldn't do it here, of course-- activating a spell would be like sending up a flare to them. So he remained silent, and waited, watching. It didn't look like Ward was threatening Diana. As usual, Diana seemed to be explaining something. And gradually, Alan realized he had been wrong.

Diana wasn't in danger at all. They were talking shop!

Then why had he been spelled to sleep?

For a moment, doubt froze him. Maybe nobody put him to sleep. He had fallen asleep naturally, after all, and he'd been tired, and under great strain-- but 22 hours of natural sleep pushed the boundaries of credibility until they snapped. No, someone had put him to sleep, and the reasons were coming clearer.

"You could have told me, Diana," he whispered soundlessly, his lips forming patterns without voice. "You didn't have to put me out." She might occasionally want to be alone with someone of her own kind, after all. In comparison to her, Alan was a little child, and Donald was an adult. Even if she'd had a vocation for teaching-- and she didn't-- it made sense that she'd want to spend some time with an adult of her own kind. But she didn't need to put him to sleep, as if he were a baby to be gotten out of the way with a nap. She could have simply asked him to stay downstairs. He'd have been hurt, sure, but not nearly as hurt as he was now.

Angry, and no longer particularly caring if they noticed him anymore, he got up and pushed his way out of the foliage.

"Alan?" Diana called.

Let her call. She'd hurt him-- he didn't particularly feel, at the moment, that he had any reason to be considerate of her feelings. He shoved his way toward the door.

"Alan, wait!!"

***

Diana caught up with him on the stairs. "What did you hear?" she asked savagely.

"Enough to know you were right, and I was wrong. You are totally cold. It was a mistake for me to think any differently." Alan tried to push past her.

She grabbed his shoulders and fixed him with swirling blue eyes, glowing in the darkness. "What did you hear??" she hissed. "Now!"

Frightened, Alan twisted away, trying to hold onto his righteous anger. "I couldn't understand a damned word of it!" he snarled. "Happy now? Your precious grownup games are safe, the kid didn't hear. Why don't you just put me to bed with my bottle and go back upstairs?"

Diana sighed. "Madonna preserve us from hurt feelings." Normally Alan found it amusingly incongruous, that an immortal mage should swear by the Catholic religion of her youth 500 years ago, but he wasn't in any mood to be amused. Diana took his hand and led him down the stairs. "Why were you eavesdropping, Alan?"

"Why did you put me to sleep?" he countered. "Diana, you could have simply told me you wanted to be alone. I trust you not to plan a human sacrifice behind my back-- Diana, what's wrong?"

She had stiffened at the door to their apartment. Now there was a faint tremor in her voice. "Nothing. I'm just-- all right, I understand, I hurt your feelings. But there are-- important things I needed to talk over with Ward, things regarding his cure, that are too advanced for you. I didn't want you asking questions I couldn't answer."

"You've always answered my questions before," Alan said. "What makes this different?"

"Knowledge can be dangerous," Diana said, but she said it in a small, almost trembling voice, not the pedantic voice she habitually used. Was she crying? Could she be that affected by his hurt? That hardly seemed like her.

"Diana, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Something I said upset you." He thought back. "Was it the comment about human sacrifice? That was really tactless of me, I guess." After all, how did the arcana survive, but by the sacrifice of others' lives? "But I didn't realize it bothered you. You never said--"

"It has nothing to do with anything you said," Diana said sharply, but the tremor was still there. "I just-- I don't feel well. Do you know how many spells I had to perform yesterday, how much energy that drained from me?" Her voice had taken on the hard edge of defensive anger. "I'm just tired, that's all! So could you please leave me alone?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Che Dio mi perdoni!" Diana cried suddenly, and ran for the bathroom. Alan listened, but could hear nothing at all. She must have cast a soundproofing spell.

"Happy now?"

Alan hadn't heard Ward come in, but somehow he was not too startled. Possibly Diana's uncharacteristic behavior had used up his quota of surprise for the night. "What do you mean?" he asked, conscious somehow of vulnerability. In this light, Ward's spindly limbs and mirrored glasses reminded Alan of an insect. "This is between me and Diana."

"You're not one to complain about people being nosy," Ward said. His voice was tired and slow, and Alan had to forcibly remind himself that Ward had taken the heartflower over twenty hours ago. "You must really have some hold on her, if you can make Diana the Ancient show human feeling. How did you get that kind of power?"

Alan frowned. "What do you mean, that kind of power? Do you think I cast a spell on her or something like that?"

Ward shook his head slowly, exhaustedly. Alan could not see his eyes, but had a feeling the man was staring at him with hostility. "Don't be stupid. I know better than that. But if you can make Diana weep.... you have a lot more power than I do."

"We're not rivals," Alan said carefully. "If Diana's your lover or something--"

"Merciful Lord, no!" Ward laughed harshly. "She's an elder. And she feels nothing for anyone. Except maybe you. Probably not even you. But if she does feel for you..."

Ward trailed off and turned on his heel. Alan shouted, "What do you mean? If she feels for me, then what?"

"It could come to war," Ward said, and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Alan ran after him, but the door was stuck, and by the time he got it open Ward was gone. Damn! Alan hated riddles. He wanted to know the answer, he didn't want to have to figure it out.

Why would Diana's caring about Alan lead to war? War between who? A real war, in the outside world? An arcana war? War between Diana and Ward? Alan and Ward? Alan and Diana, for gods' sakes? What did Ward mean?

Diana was asleep, or doing a good imitation of it, when Alan finally went into the bedroom. He got out her spellbooks, carried them into the kitchen, and began studying the protections against sleep charms.

***

It was two days later before he and Diana were awake and together long enough to talk. By unspoken agreement, the subject of the sleep spell and the eavesdropping had been dropped. Alan hadn't even told Diana he was practicing against sleep spells; it would have sounded petulant, like a small child's attempt at revenge.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked.

"Eggs. Scrambled." She sat at the table in the kitchenette, reading Scientific American.

Alan got out the materials. "I've been thinking," he said. "Once you've cured Ward, what's to prevent him from turning us in?"

"It doesn't work like that," Diana said. "In the first place, if you deal with somebody who's sanctioned, the blow falls on you as well. And in the second place, he'll be bonded to me, as he would be to a teacher. A student can't possibly kill his teacher-- the two are bonded, and the teacher can end the student's life at any time. That's how sanctions are usually dealt with."

"But then-- in your case-- don't you have a teacher?" It was bizarre to think of Diana ever being in his position, ever needing someone to teach her, but she had to have learned the disciplines from someone.

Diana looked up at him with a somewhat quizzical expression. "Actually, that's a good question," she said. "My teacher's dead. That happens, to those of us who've been around a long time."

"Aren't you immortal?"

"No. We don't age-- there's a difference. And our magic usually protects us from mundane accidents. My teacher, Petrius, died in a battle with his rival Huo Tian. Of course I killed Huo Tian shortly afterward-- it was my obligation to avenge Petrius, and Huo Tian didn't have any students of his own, so the pendulum of revenge ended with that final swing. This was shortly after I became an arcana, what-- almost 500 years ago. I was Petrius' first student, and Huo Tian made the mistake of thinking I was inconsequential because I was a woman. Well, he never made that mistake again." She laughed softly, sounding for the first time like the old woman she really was, reminiscing. "I did grieve for Petrius, but his death set me free. The intricate systems of control that govern our society no longer applied to me, and I was still too young to have been buried under the weight of tradition. Older arcana don't have anyone to control them, as their teachers usually choose to die after about a thousand years or so, but they'd never dare break from the establishment. Whereas I was young enough to conceive of being a maverick, and free enough to do it. That's the real reason I never became certified as a teacher, although I didn't tell Donald. I'm an elder, but the others don't really trust me. I don't think they'd ever let me wear the ring."

"It must be lonely, being a maverick," he said. "Is that why you agreed to teach me? Besides curiosity."

"Maybe, in a way," she said. She sounded very sad.

"But it hasn't worked out, has it? I mean, either we live under Ward's protection all our lives, or we skulk in the shadows for the rest of eternity. Are the other arcana ever going to get off our backs?"

"Someday," she said, "I had hoped... I would have presented you as a full-fledged arcana, a fait accompli. I don't think they'd have destroyed you then. It's only now that you're vulnerable... But of course, it's now that they caught us."

"They know your habits, your lifestyle," Alan said. "Are you going to give up everything, just for me?"

"I'll think of something," Diana said, playing with a button on her nightgown.

It sounded to Alan almost as if she had thought of something, and didn't want to tell him. "Are you sure you haven't already?" he asked.

"What does that mean?" She looked up at him.

Diana had never lied to him since she became his teacher. "Never mind," he said, not wanting to accuse her of having started. "Diana-- you once said that if I died, you'd be free. What if we faked my death?"

"What then?"

"Send me to another teacher. I'll use a pseudonym or something. The experiment's failed, I think you can see that. I could still be an arcana, and you'd be reinstated. The best of all possible worlds."

Diana was staring at him. "They'd have a matrix lock on your physical form, since you're not strong enough to change bodies... but if I rematrixed... Dio mio, se noi egli possiamo..."

"What?" Alan hated it when she slipped into Italian, as he didn't speak the language.

Diana got up, shaking her head. "That is an interesting idea," she said calmly, "but I really can't discuss it with you now. I have to go talk to Donald about this project." She abandoned her uncooked breakfast, put on her slippers, and left the apartment.

Alan watched her go, with something very close to jealousy gnawing at him. Donald, again.

***

He sat with the spellbooks for several hours, sensing the argument upstairs more with his arcana seventh sense than with his ears. He had no idea what it was about, but hoped Diana was winning.

The door upstairs slammed, and Diana came stalking down. As she entered the apartment, he went to meet her. "Anything wrong?" he asked lightly.

"Shut up," she said savagely, her voice tenser than it had been even on the morning she'd told them they'd been discovered and had to run.

"Diana, what is it? Is Ward going to betray us?"

"Just shut up!!" She grabbed a few spellbooks off the couch, scooped them up and wheeled for the door. "Don't follow me!" she shouted as she slammed the door.

Alan stared after her, almost blinded by a surge of rage. What had he done to deserve this? Her argument was with Ward, not him.

Ward. He was so important that an argument with him destroyed Diana's relationship with Alan. What could possibly be so important? This wasn't any minor quibble over a technical detail, that was certain. And anything that affected Diana this much affected Alan as well. He had a right to know what was going on.

First he spoke the words of a translator spell, so he could understand whatever the language was. Then he placed a sphere of protection about himself, left the apartment, and headed upstairs.

Ward's door blocked out the meanings but not the noise. He could hear screaming and shouting inside, far too close by to risk opening the door. Well, he hadn't trained two years as an arcana for nothing. Diana had told him never to use this spell on calm arcana, because they'd detect it with no trouble. But from the sounds of things, those two wouldn't know it if all the arcana in the universe zeroed their locator spells in on them at once. Alan spoke a spell to eavesdrop.

"You go back on this and I'll personally track you to the Worlds of Darkness!" Ward shouted, close to sobbing.

"I'm not saying I'll renege! Just another year!" Diana raged. "I refuse to kill that boy for your sake while there's another solution!"

Alan froze. That boy?

"In a year I'll be dead!"

"You're exaggerating the situation. You can survive indefinitely at your rate of--"

"Damn you, I'm dying now! I took a client twenty weeks ago and already I need a new one! My next client will be my last, can't you see that? I'm dying!"

"Six months, three months! Long enough to get a new client for you! Donald, I can do it. I just need another person to use as a client prime."

"What happened to the old one? Did he find out? Go back on his consent? Get fried? Or are you in love with him or something? You're going to let me die, for the sake of a mortal!"

"He's not a mortal, he's a student of the arcana and he never truly made the deal. I had no right to offer him to you!"

No – she can’t mean – but she does, doesn’t she. That’s exactly what she means.

"Yeah, but then your life was at stake. Well, let me tell you this! I offered you protection, wasted my energy, for a bona fide deal. You go back on it, and I'll tell everyone where you are! Not only that but that you went back on a deal with a fellow arcana! Not only that but you tried to use someone who hadn't consented as a client prime, on a technicality! Save me now, or God help me I'll destroy you!"

"You'll destroy me? Don't you dare threaten me, child. I've killed far more powerful arcana than you!"

"So? What's my life worth? Is it worth yours, Diana? Are you going to gamble your life that I couldn't get a burst of mindspeech off to my teacher before I died?" There was silence. "Answer me, Elder! Will you gamble your life on my death?"

"And if I save you?" She was much quieter.

She was going to accept, Alan realized. She was going to go on with the deal, and kill him.

Oh God ohgod what am I going to do?

He'd learned that consent was required. The link between arcana and client, that drained the client's life energy at the completion of a bargain, could only be established by voluntary cooperation by both parties. Just like the bond between teacher and student.. "I will obey all my teacher's commandments, with my life forfeit if I disobey..." But what if his teacher commanded that he forfeit his life? What could he do? Diana could kill him anywhere. She'd said so herself, the teacher could always kill the student. It would do no good to run.

If he confronted them with what he knew? They'd kill him. Ward would kill him. He remembered the burning numbness of Ward's protective spell, when they'd first met, remembered Ward's hostility and mention of war. Ward would kill Alan rather than let him live to see Ward die. And Diana? What about Diana?

He heard, as if in a fading dream, Diana agree to kill him for Ward's sake. Then he canceled his spells and went running down the stairs, into the apartment. With a speed born of desperation, he threw clothes into one of the luggage cases. Diana was willing to let him die, to save her own life. Had been all along. She'd been playing with him, lying to him, making him think she loved him despite the obviousness of her callous nature. He hated her for that, and yet... Diana had been arguing for his survival. Did she care about him, Alan, or was it more like a pet that a little girl wanted to keep? Did it even matter, now? If he were a pet to her so be it-- anything to stay alive.

He had grown giddy with the exertion. Now, a bag of necessities thrown together, he leaned against the wall of the bedroom, catching his breath. Then Diana came in.

Alan walked into the living room and stopped her with a hand.

"I didn't bargain with you," he said. "I didn't make a deal, or offer my life in exchange for knowledge. I'm not Faust, and you're not Mephistopheles. I might have given my life to be an arcana, to know what you know, if that had been the price you quoted. But it wasn't, and I didn't, and I'm not your client prime."

She stood looking at him for several seconds, her expression blank. "You listened in," she finally said tonelessly.

Careful, Alan. Better be careful, if you want to live. "Yes," he said.

"Then you don't understand anything," she said. "Alan, I don't need your consent." She walked over and sat down on the couch. "I wear the ring, that's all I need."

His mouth was almost too dry to shape the words. "What ring?"

"There isn't any. It was a metaphor," she said tiredly. "I don't wear a literal ring. Only certified teachers do that. The difference between them and me is that they live off their students, take small quantities of life energy from them always. It's one of the reasons for my power, because I have no one riding on my back, leaching my life into a ring. I have the bond with you, but I take nothing from you." She corrected herself. "Took nothing from you. That's why they were out to kill us-- because you could have been the most powerful arcana that ever lived, and under no one's control, not even mine."

She looked down at the sofa, and began playing with a button. "But I could kill you now as surely as if I wore your life around my finger. I don't need your consent. That's what the plan hinged on. Ward's life is bleeding away, because his soul isn't fully connected to his body. We planned to matrix your body into a replica of the body he was born with, and fix him in it permanently. That would have stopped the energy bleed, and the next time he took a client prime, it would be as a normal arcana. Since you are my student, I didn't need your consent for the plan, the way I would have for an ordinary client."

"Then why are you talking?" he asked, and was ashamed to hear his voice break. "Get it over with, will you?"

"But I'm not going to kill you." She looked up at him. "I thought you realized that."

He expelled a very long breath. "You are heartless, aren't you?"

"You would have preferred to die?" she asked sharply.

"You lie and act and pretend-- it's all a game with you, isn't it? First you play with me, to make me think we'll escape. Then you lie to Ward, and tell him you'll kill me. Then you act like you're about to do it, and then you change your mind again. Why are you playing this cat-and-mouse game, Diana?"

She looked back down at the sofa.

"I trusted you completely, and you would have casually taken my life to reinstate yourself and pay Ward. Now you're equally as casually planning to betray Ward for my sake. Why? What's in it for you? How do you expect to manage it, without Ward turning you in? Or is this just another turn of the screw? Are you doing a thesis on the emotional patterns of mortals and arcana who're close to death?"

"You could take a new teacher," Diana said, almost inaudibly. "I'll tell them that I was pretending to train you, so I could cure Donald. But you died in a car accident, and Donald went back to the Frozen World. It'll be decades, if ever, before they realize the truth. Donald doesn't have many friends, and I can concoct a story for his teacher Marcus."

"But what'll you do about Donald himself? He won't take off to the Frozen World just because you tell him to."

Diana sighed. "You're being dense," she said. "Whose body do you think I'll use to throw them off your trail?"

It took a second to sink in. Then, "You are the most callous individual I've ever met."

"Why do you care?" she asked. "Donald wanted you dead."

"That's not the point. What am I worth to you, that you'll kill one of your own to protect me? How does this fit in your master plan?"

"He threatened me. I can't let him live."

"But why did you provoke the situation in the first place? You could have just done it, and I'd never have suspected you, or been able to stop you even if I had. Ward would've been in your debt for life. Why didn't you kill me?"

Diana stood up. "You never learn to leave well enough alone!" she said angrily. "Always questioning, everything I do. Isn't it enough that you're going to live? Must you ask why?"

"Yes! I trusted you before, took your word and your motives for granted, and you nearly killed me. Why have you decided to let me live?"

"Because I don't want you to die, you idiot!"

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. I never wanted to kill you."

"But you were planning on doing it anyway."

"I had no alternative! There wasn't any other way to solve the problem, I thought-- I didn't realize, not until you told me, that there was another way!"

"That's terribly likely."

"Alan--" She faced him, swallowing. "I care about you."

The frightening thing was that he believed her. Another time, he might have gladly died to hear that. Now, if he let himself pay attention to her, there was a good chance he would die. "I don't believe you," he said again, as if by saying it he could make it true. "You don't care about anything but the pursuit of knowledge. You can't. You're Faust, remember?"

Alan grabbed his bag, walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him. His anger propelled him to the door of the building, which he yanked open as if another second in this building was unbearable to him. But before he could push through the door, something intangible stopped him. Something like an wall he could neither touch nor see, but that he knew was there. He turned, knowing who was blocking him.

Diana stood in the doorway of the apartment. "Do you still want to be an arcana?"

"That's none of your business. Let me go."

"There's a teacher named Mirelda Jones, living as a high school teacher in Poughkeepsie, New York. She's in the phone book. Another maverick, but a certified one. She'll teach you without caring about any of this. Tell her Diana Faust said you need to be awakened as fast as possible, so the other arcana won't be able to track you down and kill you."

Alan looked back at her. He wanted with all his heart to go back, to stay under Diana's protection. But there was Ward-- he doubted Ward was dead yet-- and all those other arcana. And he knew he could never trust Diana again.

"Thanks," he said, not particularly graciously, and shoved his way through the door. The intangible barrier didn't stop him. He was on his own now.

Maybe, if he went to the Jones woman and she made him an arcana, he could find Diana someday. In a hundred years maybe the hurt would be gone.

He wasn’t going to hold his breath, though.

Alan got into the car with his bag and pulled out.

[gingermintpepper]

The Elite Four and the 8th Gym Leader

Something I only really noticed now despite it really being a running theme in Pokemon is the strength of the eight Gym Leader in relation to the League. 

We see in Pokemon Origins that Gym Challengers are encouraged to challenge the Gyms in any order and that Gym Leaders have teams of varying strength to cater to the badges and approximate strength of their challengers but the one thing’s that’s been consistent across almost every region is the fact that the eighth Gym Leader is someone of Champion Trainer Caliber--often times proven to be stronger than multiple Elite Four members. And I honestly don’t know why? 

Don’t believe me? In Kanto, the eighth Gym Leader is Giovanni--a man who has the entire region in his pocket what with Team Rocket’s mafia-like hold on things like Silph and the Game Corner and someone who was undeniably powerful; brazen enough to head the creation of the ultimate battle oriented Pokemon and strong-willed enough to actually control Mewtwo for a while. When you bring him down, Green takes his spot at Viridian even though we know Green’s strong enough to be the new Champion. He beat Lance and the League before Red and he’s still a Champion Class trainer now. But he doesn’t take up a spot at the League like he wanted all that time ago. Is it because he’s grown past his petty one-up complex with Red? We never find out, but it doesn’t change the fact that a Champion class trainer is sitting in eighth Gym Leader’s seat when he could’ve easily snagged a League chair. Alright, one time’s not to bad. 

In Johto, Claire’s the eighth Gym Leader and, not only is she second only to Lance in their family of Dragon Tamers, the elder says that she could surpass him if she just had a better attitude. If that doesn’t make her at least League class then I don’t know what does. 

Hoenn’s the first region where the eighth Gym Leader outright becomes Champion eventually, though it’s not through usurping but rather through request. Wallace and Steven have a great relationship all throughout R/S/E and it’s even better fleshed out in ORAS but when Steven grows tired of being stuck up on Ever Grande, he doesn’t ask any of the E4 to cover for him. Drake’s right there and he’s bound to have tons of experience and strength, not to mention the respect of the other League trainers but, nope, he asks that Wallace hold on to his title and take up his seat on Ever Grande for him while he does some rock finding. Wallace is already widely established as a powerful Water type Pokemon Master but this more or less means that Wallace was always a Champion class trainer and had simply inherited the Gym from Juan because “well, I can still do contests as a Gym Leader”. Not to mention, in ORAS Wallace is revealed to be a guardian and gatekeeper for the Cave of Origin and Sky Pillar. This guy’s got mad power and skill, but he’s most often found chilling in Sootopolis when he’s more than powerful enough to rival--if not outright surpass--Steven in strength. 

Sinnoh is wild. Volkner challenges the Elite Four out of sheer boredom as the eighth Gym Leader. I don’t know if he’s on Cynthia’s level (and let’s be honest, that’s a bit ludicrous to think about) but, like Claire, he’s definitely more than powerful enough to be in the Elite Four. Like Wallace and Steven, Volkner has an excellent relationship with his best friend Flint who’s third in the lineup of the Sinnoh Elite Four and it’s highly implicated that Flint and Volkner are, not only of equivalent strength, but very used to working and training together as seen by their Double Battle techniques and the fact that Volkner turns down battles with Flint when he’s bored because he knows Flints techniques too well. 

Again in Unova, Iris is your eighth Gym Leader in White but is outright the Champion in both Black 2 and White 2. I have no idea if she was always comparable in strength to Alder, we don’t get to see Alder battle at all really in the main stories but in both B/W and B2/W2 Iris is active in the region and she takes care of people. 

And that’s another thing actually! All of these trainers? These eighth Gym Leaders? Not only have they all been super powerful and respected as trainers, they’re also incredibly important people to their regions and communities as a whole. Green keeps an eye on things from Viridian, takes the time to train up new trainers so another Rocket fiasco doesn’t happen and in HGSS he’s investigating things on Cinnabar after the eruption. People speak highly of him and of course they would--this is the kid that helped Red save Kanto from Team Rocket. Claire’s the next head of her clan--Lance is busy with League stuff so it falls to her which is why the Elder pushes her so hard. I’ve already talked ad nauseum at how Wallace is more or less Hoenn’s poster boy--a master of contests, of battles, gatekeeper and lorekeeper of important places to the Continental Trio and of water type Pokemon, something that couldn’t represent Hoenn better what with them being like 70% water. Volkner’s in charge of the lighthouse, an architect, technician and skilled craftsman all in one. This bastard took out the streets of Sunyshore and replaced them with solar panels. Who the fuck?? He’s easily a certifiable genius with energy and that sort of proficiency just sorta naturally bleeds into his battling. It’s why he gets bored so easily. 

Kalos is iffy--we don’t know anything about Wulfric and Alola doesn’t really have a League, but Hapu is chosen by the Tapus which I suppose counts for something. 

In Galar things are back to form with Raihan and Leon’s legendary one-sided rivalry and the fact that it’s outright stated that  Raihan is more than Champion class--all he’d need to do is fight a Champion that’s not Leon-- but he won’t out of sheer stubbornness. So like, what’s the point? Why are the Eighth Gym Leaders some of the strongest in the region without having actual seats on the League proper? 

Is it a bureaucracy thing? Is it a security thing? The strongest trainers can’t all be in the League because generally speaking the Pokemon  League is usually pretty far removed from the action on the ground and that way there’s always a powerful Champion or thereabout-class trainer ready to respond when the Elite Four can’t come and intervene? Pokemon is confirmed to be a universe in which many, many wars have taken place; maybe it’s a left over from that era where first responders meant the difference between life and death.  

I have no idea what the connection is and I’ve been agonizing over it for ages heLP--