#the kids would keep in touch even if there was no new mission (which logically there wouldn't be but kate did say something about it once)

[bi-demon-ium]

hey post finale with number two and rhonda off to the airshows, milligan most likely spending his time with kate (for obvious reasons) and the other kids off to their own places (sticky to boatwright academy, reynie to miss perumal) that leaves mr. benedict and constance pretty much like. i wouldn’t say alone, but like, more in each other’s company than not? (although to be fair, i believe it was pretty much implied milligan lived with the rest of them at the house, so kate and him might just be there, but they’d still likely be spending a lot of time together--although--i’ll get to that in a second) 

i just like. they’re not really at the point they’re at in the books where there’s a proper relationship there. there main interactions have been in episodes one and two, where she doesn’t trust him (fair) and he’s telling them about this whole ideally not deadly mission. her declining the adoption is probably part that--despite the fact i think constance probably trusts him/likes him more than she lets on, he’s still someone she doesn’t actually Know That Well--and part just generally “let’s not paper this” her experience being distant with adults and adults generally not being trustworthy and so on so like. 

them getting to know each other. both like, as father and daughter vibes, and as people, like. learning each other’s favorite breakfast foods, or sense of humor (we’ve already got that a bit lol), and like just. talking about things, books, poetry, etc. bonding. 

like just, the reality of living together and talking daily rather than just this sort of meeting in a dangerous situation thing, like. actually getting to know each other beyond each of them just having a good judge of character

(on an unrelated note, if kate and milligan are just There it is pretty funny that the two who probably got along the least, although they started communicating more at the end there, are the ones living together. reynie and sticky come back and find they’ve formed a terrifying alliance)

[bluegalaxygirl]

Hii, I have a request

Can you please write for the batchers being dads to the reader? It can be anything I just love them so much and think you would do it justice

Of cause I'll do a before and after order 66. I hope that's OK. Also echos is gonna be a bit different most likely you will be a teen like 12 to 18 while the other clones it quite open what age you are.

Hunter:

----- Before -----

🔴 He's very strict but for a good reason. You are his only child and he would do anything to protect you.

🔴He was scared that is anyone found out about you they would kill you or use you in experiments so he didn't tell anyone.

🔴On his days off he would go to see you and spend time with you. He would train you in knife fighting and self defence.

🔴Sometimes you felt the training to be more like a life or death situation than bonding time but you loved him anyway. Any time with your farther was well spent.

🔴The batch would ask questions about where he's been but he would ignore the questions knowing anything he said about it even a lie might give you away.

🔴Crosshair would often tease him about his time off. Often saying things like

🔴"he went to see his lover. Oh how sweet the star crossed lovers are"

🔴Hunter would just roll his eyes and get on with the job. The teasing was normal to him.

----- After -----

🔴After fleeing from crosshair his mind went straight to you. His child was in danger and he knew he had too come and get you

🔴Telling the others about you was hard but seeing omega light up at hearing about another child made him feel better

🔴They got there just in time. The home you stayed in was burning to the ground and you were on the run, the empire hunting you.

🔴Hunter manged to get you away and introduce you to the rest of the family. You had heard of them and took quite well to the members of the batch especially omega

🔴Hunter before more protective of you. When going onto a planet he would either make you stay on the ship or stick to him like glue

🔴Over time he started to calm down seeing how you can handle yourself in a fight. He was proud of you and one time sat down with you and told you that.

🔴He would try his best to talk to you instead of demanding you to do something like he would with his brothers. He was trying to be more of a full time farther to you than a leader

🔴Heart to hearts was something you two would often have especially after a stressful Situation. You would sit togeather often late at night with a hot drink and just talk. It was a peaceful moment you both cherished.

Tech:

----- Before -----

🟠 He's not good with kids so when he found out he had one he panickled.

🟠Emotion wasn't his strong point so didn't know how to feel about it so he turned to the only thing he knew... Logic

🟠It took him A few hours to figure things out but once he did he realised that he wanted you around

🟠The only people he told about you were Hunter and echo. He knew he could trust the two to keep a secret and look after you if anything happened to him

🟠When he got to spend time with you he would teach you new things, one day it could be about the planet he resently went to and the next maths

🟠You could talk to him about any problem you had and he would help solve it even if it was by being a bit to blunt about things but in a way you found that comferting

🟠After every mission he would write a letter about his trip and things he wanted to tell you or say to you but he'd never send them. He would put them in an envelope and hid them

🟠 The letters were for if he died. He knew better than anyone that he could die in battle and he didn't want to just leave you not knowing how much he cared for you. He told hunter and echo if anything happened to him take the letters to his child.

----- After -----

🟠The escape was rough on all of them but he knew where he wanted to go. He flew right to where your home was. He found out before he left that the empire knew about you

🟠Strangely enough hunter and echo didn't ask where they were going and he appreciated that. He just wanted to get you away from any harm

🟠Thankfully you were fine and happily joined your farther on the ship meeting the others that you knew all about thanks to your farthers stories.

🟠 Tech had to explain to wrecker about you quite quickly before pulling you away saying he needed your help with the ship

🟠Tech would often have you fixing the ship along with echo and you would often have to remind him that something are impotent to fix than others.

🟠Spending a few days with your farther was great but now your stuck on a ship with him for a few months now and you two had gotten into a lot of fights. Mainly over him not understanding your emotions and him. Being too logical

🟠 Sometimes you would go days without talking to each other and it was echo who pointed out what tech should do

🟠One day he sat down with you and pulled out a large box handing it to you. It was the letters he wrote. He told you how important you are to him and how he's sorry he might not show that. You two made up and he tried his hardest to show more emotion around you than logic.

Wrecker:

----- Before -----

🟡 The fun loving dad. He loves you more than life and even made you your own Lula doll.

🟡He told his brother about you right away and they were shocked. He was so happy he wanted to tell everyone but hunter and tech told him not to

🟡After they explained to him why he became worried for you and kept you away from Kamino.

🟡Any time he had off he would come and see you dragging one of his brothers along to see you. He would say family is everything so you had to know them.

🟡He would also bring you toys to play with even if you were too old for that stuff and you would make him things which he would keep hidden under his bed back home.

🟡Life was more fun with him around. You'd get piggy back rides, play games, tell stories and you both cryed when ever he had to leave

🟡When you were old enough he would start teaching you things he knew. He wanted you to be strong so no one would mess with you when he was away.

🟡He would teach you self defence and how dombs work but thanks to the people you lived with he would never be aloud to bring one for you to see. He would have to draw it out

----- After -----

🟡You were the first thing on his mind when things went wrong. He was pacing in the prison cell muttering to himself and getting angry.

🟡Hunter was the one to calm him down and tell him that you will be fine and that when they get out of here they will go get you first.

🟡The fight out hurt his head and heart. Crosshair had betrayed him and since crosshair knew about you that means your in danger.

🟡Wrecker got to you first and begged you to come with him. You were scared but you trusted him and agreed

🟡Over time you noticed a change in your farther. He kept getting beaten a lot and he kept holding his head. You started to worry and tried to take care of him along with omega

🟡You, wrecker and omega were like the three musketeers, ready for a fight and had a good laugh. You felt whole now that you were with your real family but that didn't stop you from worrying about your farther

🟡Learning about the chip scared you but what scared you more was the thought of your farther trying to kill you. You kept a close eye on your farther until it was time.

🟡He scared you when he changed. He tried to kill his brothers and then went after you and omega. It it wern't for Rex you might be dead. After he got the chip out he apologised and you hugged him. Just happy he's back to nornal

Crosshair:

----- Before -----

🟣He didn't know what to do with you. He treated you like you were glass. He never hugged you and it hurt.

🟣You became more angry and felt left out. When he would come to see you it was very rare and it was mainly filled with silence. You'd asked the odd question and talk about what happened while he was gone but he wouldn't say much

🟣On his day off he got a call from one of the people looking after you. You had gotten into a fight and were hurt but the other kid was worse. He came down as soon as he could.

🟣You expected him to be mad at you, to yell but he didn't. He ran over to you and looked you over. Seeing your busted lip and bruised arms made him mad and worried and for the first time he hugged you

🟣You cryed for the first time infront of him and hugged him back. He asked you all kinds of questions and after you told him what happened and how the kid had been picking on you for months he got madder but not at you

🟣He took you away from that place and brought you to kamino. They let you stay but under a few conditions. They wanted to draw some blood and you had to help out around the base.

🟣After agreeing and getting your own room crosshair introduced you to his brothers. They welcomed you with open arms and for once you saw your farther smile.

🟣He became very open with you. Telling you Things he would never tell his brothers and teaching you how to use a rifle.

----- After -----

🟣The shift in your farthers attatude scared you. He stopped confiding in you and when ever you asked him Something he would ignore you or just glare.

🟣When the rest of the batch left with omega you had the chance to go with them but you couldn't leave your farther behind.

🟣The empire kept you safe and away from your farther. You faught them on it but soon found out crosshair didn't want you around. It broke you but you couldn't do anything about it

🟣Crosshair saw you as a mistake thanks to the chip but once it was taken out his mind was clear. He got out of bed despite the doctors telling him not to and went Off to find you

🟣Once he found you he told you how sorry he was and explained everything. You didn't trust him right away but over time his actions showed he wanted you around and he wanted to be your farther

🟣What the chip made him do to you broke his heart and he did everything he could to make it up to you even taking you on missions when you asked to go.

🟣He kept you close so no one could touch you, he didn't fully trust his new crew so never left you alone with them

🟣He kept training you and talked to you about the desition he has made and if you were OK with it. He wanted you to stay but he didn't want to make you feel tapped.

Echo:

----- Before -----

🔵 You were born before he got blown up at the citadel and the kaminoans found out about you quite quickly. They took you to kamino where they studied you for years and raised you.

🔵You had no idea who your farther was until you met fives. He found out about you while looking into the chip and managed to talk to you

🔵From that day you decided you had to find your farther, something didn't sit right with you, it felt off the way he died and for some reason you felt he was alive.

🔵Your efforts paid off and the bad batch and the 501st found him. You went to talk with him and he was shocked but took it quite well. He told you about your mother and was happy to have you around

🔵Life was no where near normal for him now. Not only did he have cybernetic parts but a teen to look after. He took to it quite well though acting more like a mum than a dad on occasions.

🔵He refused to let the kaminoans do anymore tests on you and kept you close to him. You helped him when he needed it and he helped you.

🔵Education was very inportant to echo so he made sure you studied and did well in classes. He didn't want you to be like him, a soilder. He wanted you to have a real life outside of war.

🔵He would have to leave you to go on missions but he would make sure you were looked after. One of his many brothers or shaak ti would look after you

----- After -----

🔵After the ship left kamino for the last time everyone could take a breath. Echo made sure you were OK and told you things will get better

🔵He felt like he failed you. You were supposed to have a better life and now you were on the run with no home.

🔵He started to get more grumpy and snappy but would always apologise to you if he directed it at you.

🔵He tried to hide his worries and conserns from you but one day it all spilled out while you two were alone. He was surprised to find you being more of an adult and calming him down.

🔵He realised he raised you right despite the early learnings from the kaminoins and knew you could flourish in any situation

🔵He often asks for your help around the ship. He's one man, tech doesn't always help and hed be dead if he let wrecker help.

🔵More and more you would cone out on missions with them. He knew you could help but also he didn't want to lose sight of you. He was scared of losing you

🔵While on missions he would be quite bossy with you. Telling you what to do and where to go. It annoyed you at first until you realised he was doing all of it to keep you safe.

[kanene-yaaay]

5+1 - [Part 2]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one he wasn’t

[PART ONE]

Kanene’s note: What a helloooo! I am baack! Gosh, look at me! Having a posting schedule! Who would say, huh? xDD Well, I hope you like this >u<

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Iida with Ler!Aizawa and Nemuri sprinkling some tease here and there. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Look at the window and find something that is worth smiling for. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

“Iida Tenya.”

 “Ooooh noo,” Nemuri added from the spot on the floor where she sat, pampering and spoiling Shouta’s cats with plenty of snacks, a sharp grin gleaming at the boy who came running from the kitchen and now looked from a side to another with a panicked expression on his face, fast to move his arms in an ‘abort mission’ sign to the woman. “Looks like someone is in trouble! ~”

 “Nemuri-san, please I ask for you to control your voice!!” Tenya whispered in a volume that most people would categorize as a shout, especially with Shouta’s hero trained hearing. Nemuri, though, just expanded her wicked grin as the nine old boy didn’t realize the dark figure arriving right behind him. “He can’t know I am here!”

 “Aw, my dear,” she pouted in fake empathy at Iida’s inevitable fate, scratching Pudding under her chin, her loud motor like purring echoing in the silence. “But Shouta already knows.” Iida stilled as a statue when a shadow loomed over him, starting to turn around, slowly. “He always knows.”

 “Gotcha.”

His quirk activated a second before Aizawa erased it with his own, making the blue haired one stumble on his own legs, almost falling on the ground if it wasn’t for the arms that grabbed him in a firm hug, fingers worming their way to his armpits, prodding and digging on the awfully ticklish flesh there.

 “What,” Shouta started, with a tune that tipped on bored, his plain face contrasting to the smaller’s puffed cheeks as he wiggled and shook with the contained giggles. “Did I say about my orange flavored jelly packs, huh?”

 “Aww, is the itsy bitsy Tenya ticklish? Can’t he take all the tickly-tickly-tickly tickles his favorite grumpy uncle gives to him? Huh? Aww, my poor ticklish boy.” Nemuri teased, ignoring the glare her friend sent on her direction in favor to stare at Tenya, who went redder at her words, a couple of squeaky snorts escaping from his lips.

 “I will remind you what I said about eating my jellies without permission: don’t. Never. Do not look. Do not touch and especially, do not even think about eating it.” Aizawa highlighted the last phrase by blowing a raspberry right behind Iida’s neck, leading the boy to squeal, uncontrolled laughter following it almost immediately. The taller man did his best to keep a serious face, principally as the arms of his ‘victim’ rocked up and down, from the left to the right and in random patterns without even being able to get themselves enough control to attempt to stop him. “And you did, so now you will face the consequences. It’s only logical.”

 “A-Aizahahazawa-san I, I cahahahAAH!” Shout cut the other’s protest by throwing him in the air, resting his hands on his sides when he caught him again, slightly clawing his stomach with his fingers, fishing uncontrollable, bubbly giggles from him. “Please, please! I can-'' Snort. “I can ehehexplain!” Yelp. Half words, Half pleas. Giggles. Giggles. Giggles. “I hahahave the right, Aizawa-sahahahan!”

 Shouta contented himself in making the younger squirm – left, right, left, left, right and repeat – from a side to another by tapping his fingers on his sides repeatedly, sometimes giving a quick scratch only to gain another yelp, pretending to think about the proposal for a little less than a minute.

 “No.” He decided, spidering his fingers merciless on the death spot. Iida threw his head back, crackles flying from him in a waterfall of shrieks and squeaks.

 “Come one, Shou! Let the boy speak! As much I love this lovely, absolutely adorable laughter that makes you want to tickle and tickle him forever and ever, and aww, wouldn’t you love it, my dear? To get all the tiggles-tickles you could ever want for all eternity?” Iida kicked and shook his head in protest, more pleas falling from him, face and neck in flames. “I think he has the right to defend himself.”

 “Which side are you?”

 “No side deserves my awesome presence.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “What is the matter, Shou? Afraid that you will lose in a logical battle with baby Tenya?”

 “Ihihihi am NOT ahahaha baby!!” Iida protested through his hysterical laughter, nothing giving him more strength than correct factually incorrect statements. “I ahahahaham a very hehehealthy chihihihih- – No! Not there! – chihihihild! Mom said so!”

 Nemuri hid her snickers behind her hands, receiving a very unamused yowl from Pudding, the cat demanding her to come back to her ear scritches immediately. The woman resumed to her wishes.

Shouta recognized a bait when he heard one, but watching the way tears started to appear in the corner of the younger’s eyes, he decided to bite it.

 He adjusted him so the boy would be resting on his hips, his hand resting calmly on his ribs, a much less ticklish spot.

 “You have fifty seconds.”

 “WHAT!” Iida stared at him in disbelief, turning to look at Kayama in the search of reinforcements, and being gifted with nothing more than a joyful shrug, his brother’s best friend being very glad in just watch the chaos unraveling in front of her and, unnoticed by the other two who were caught up on the silliness, the camera carefully hidden behind Pudding’s fluffy form. “That ihihisn’t even a minute! It’s impossiblehe to mahahake a good defehense under this condici- conditionaries… undeheher that pressure!”  

 “Conditions.” Aizawa offered, “and heroes work under pressure. You want to be one when you grow up, right?”

 “Yes!” Iida’s smile got even bigger than it already was, his eyes also becoming even brighter, shining with the determination of his new challenge.

 “Good,” the tired adult smirked, starting to count with his fingers as the seconds went by. “Start to talk then.”

 Tenya tried to clear his mind, together with keeping his resolve strong enough to not visibly squirm or titter every time Aizawa made any infinitesimal move. He never thought he would really be able to convince his uncle to let him make a true attempt to escape from this, therefore he didn’t possess any good enough reason to explain besides the ‘it was orange flavored and oranges are delicious!’

 A sentence pulled him out of the frenzy of thoughts dashing on his brain at full speed. “You have twelve seconds now.”

 “WHAT!” Tenya cried, seriously thinking about just pushing Shouta’s arms away and trying to run to the safety of the guest room.

 “You seem to have a problem keeping track of the time.” The small kid nodded at his direction and Aizawa almost felt bad by his next move.

 Almost.

 “Let me help you, then.”

 The underground hero poked an index finger on the lowest rib, vibrating on the sensitive spot for a few pieces of second, tearing a sputtering guffaw as Iida realized the true meaning of his words. “One.” He pressed another rib, and another, and another. “Two. Three. Four…”

 “Noho! Wait! Wait!!”

 “Five… Six. Seven…”

 “Oops. It looks like you’re running out of time, sweetheart.” Nemuri added, unhelpfully. “Well, let’s just hope the mean Shouta won’t attack those awfully ticklish knees of yours when the time is over, right?”

 “NOHOT MY KNEHES!”

 “Good luck. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

 “YOULIED!”

 Aizawa stopped.

 “What?” He blinked one, two, three times. As if the meaning of the rushed words would become clearer. “No. I hid it and I was very clear in saying you couldn’t touch it. There is no lie here.”

 “There is! A lie of omiz-” Iida closed his eyes, concentrating on the word and controlling the few giggles that still slipped from his mouth. He wanted to be a hero and heroes succeed through the pressure! “omission! Which means hiding! You hid the information so you were lying to me, so I… I… I taught you a lesson!”

 They stared at each other for what seemed a lifetime.

 Aizawa huffed a chuckle, lowering the boy to the ground, trying to not be blinded by the excitement and proudness exhaling from the younger when he realized that he succeeded in “logicing” his way out of the playful “punishment”, beaming on the ball of his feet at both adults.

 “Good. In a fight, using your opponents’ words against them can be an important tool. Also, as a physical opening, don’t forget that I was carrying you, which means that if you hit the back of my knees hard enough I would weaken my grip and that would give you the opportunity to run. I would try to not hurt you when I fell, so that is also a weakness you could exploit.” After a thought, he added. “Try to do that the next time Hizashi tickles you.”

 “You are a bastard.” Kayama replied, earning an exasperated gasp from Tenya. “Not you, dear. I am talking about Shouta.” That did nothing to alleviate the boy’s rebellion, his lecture of how ‘This isn’t the proper vocabulary of a hero’ was soon interrupted as the apartment door flew open, Ingenium walking through it. He immediately extended his arms, hugging his brother when the aforementioned jumped on him, part of the exhaustion of a day’s work being eased by the younger attics.

 “Tensei! Tensei! I already did all my homework and I brushed my teeth and I played with the cats so they would not be sad or bored and I ate all my greenies and also-”

 “-ate all my orange jelly packs.” Aizawa completed.

 “And Aizawa-san tickled me because of it! Using very villainous techniques even though he is a very good and skilled hero! But then I won! I showed him logic and, and, and then he let me go!”

 “Oof, that sounds like a very exciting day!” Tensei ruffled the boy’s hair, fondness dripping in waves from his acts and words. “But you don’t need to worry anymore about Shouta, the Grumpy Tickle Monster because now I am here!” Tensei posed in a poor representation of All Might's usual pose. “Ready to protect you!”

 “Oh.” A dangerous tune marked Shouta’s grin and voice, making the blue haired hero to shiver with all the teenagerhood memories that this brought over. “Don’t get over yourself, assuming you’re out of danger, too.”

 A wobbly smile took over Tensei's expression as Shouta cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for a chase. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly who told him where I hid my jelly packs.” The older Iida got his younger brother on his arms, flexing his legs, preparing to not give up so easily.

 Aizawa decided he was feeling merciful today.

“You have three seconds.” Iida gasped in protest, an argument on the tip of his tongue. “Run.”

[notebook-13]

About Hawks

His agency’s floors are so polished that you can see your reflection:

Hawks began investigating the nomu before he was assigned the mission to infiltrate the LoV:

^^ Tokoyami’s first internship with Hawks was post-Sports Festival, during the Hero Killer Arc. Hawks was assigned the infiltration mission post-Kamino.

Hawks is noted by the HPSC and by Endeavor for how much he snoops around, and Hawks pretty much tells Midoriya that the secret to being speedy is to anticipate what’s about to happen, which requires staying up to date.

He lets his fans touch his wings without asking:

His fans also tend to be on the young side.

He makes the gesture of removing his visor when he’s being particularly honest:

Once his visor is on or off, I don’t see a distinct relationship to his honesty, but when it transitions, it’s pretty distinct.

He gestures a lot with his hands:

*zips his mouth to indicate he’ll shut up* *unzips it later to speak*

*gestures for Endeavor to come back*

…whatever this gesture is

this gesture

*points at his eye to indicate what Endeavor nearly lost*

*holds out two fingers while talking about how they’re the top two heroes*

*gesturing* *covers his mouth* (not snitching, apparently)

*turns up his hands and winks at his boss to chide her for being disingenuous*

…and whatever this gesture is.

*spreads out his hands to emphasize sincerity*

He sticks his hands in his pockets when he’s feeling broody:

He also has tiny ankles, and either wears leggings or tall socks.

He’s apparently followed while in the PLF HQ, in addition to his cameras.

He rubs the back of his neck when he feels (mildly) guilty:

Rubs his chin while he thinks:

He uses finger guns ^^ and:

He has been known to fling books at kids. He’s counting on them to have fast reflexes, apparently.

He taps his feet (and puts one hand on his hip) when he feels impatient:

He doesn’t like waiting for his sidekicks to catch up to him.

He also seems to know where he’s going next—either the police called him to tell him that there was a rampage in a cantina, or Hawks can sense it with his feathers.

His sidekicks have given up on matching Hawks’s speed:

And Hawks didn’t think of himself as as a teacher:

This is presumably because Hawks is working towards a future where heroes sit back and relax, so slowing himself down to train future heroes presupposes failure.

But Hawks likes it when people try to keep up with him:

He partially picked Tokoyami as his intern specifically because he thought Tokoyami had the potential to keep up.

Hawks appreciates Tokoyami’s indignant determination.

He also seems amused/intrigued by Bakugo’s out-of-the-blue assertion he that was faster than Hawks.

And he grows to admire the next generation for progressing even faster than he did.

In other words, Hawks wants to be surpassed so that he can be ranked in the twenties instead of at #2:

He doesn’t want to sick back and let everyone else do the work, he wants to work WITH other people, but he refuses to slow down to do it. He wants people to reach and exceed his level.

In general, Hawks is impressed by ambition and determination:

Maybe because he fears he lacks both?

(^^ Gentle Criminal.)

Maybe because he’s lonely and wishes he could lean on someone dependable?

Logically speaking, every time Hawks flaps his wings, he must stir up enough air to blow his hair and clothes around (as well as others’):

Though personally, the musculature of his wings is so small I think he flies via telekinesis.

It’s hard for me to see them as anything other than vestigial. Which has symbolic implications, since it would mean Hawks was never meant to fly.

Hawks believes that the sight of his back doesn’t, or shouldn’t, reassure people:

Which is important because his wings are located on his back.

He tries to seem like an idiot:

He enjoys getting under people’s skin:

He also calls the PLF the Liberation Army, and he teaches Twice to do the same.

*leans in towards Shouto while still staring tauntingly at Endeavor*

Shouto is also a little starstuck by him. (Note: I’m not sure if Hawks is saying Shouto because it’s his hero name or his actual name. The suffix used is -kun.)

But he tells the truth in circumspect ways intended to be misinterpreted:

So one of his tells for when he’s lying is that he stops fooling around and starts speaking forthrightly:

and maybe??

As a kid, he intervened in a car accident that involved what looks to be an eighteen-wheeler and at least two cars:

Barring new information, the people are implied to be total strangers. They look like at least one dad-mom-son trio, a man (truck driver?), and two young women. It’s unspecified why Hawks was present at the accident—was he flying by? Was he in another car? Was he in one of the involved cars? Was he just hanging about for some reason? He also apparently left the scene of the accident after saving people.

Because the accident is emphasized as high-speed, it’s probable that Hawks did not have time to think before he saved them. So, he matches All Might’s assertion that the greatest heroes showed signs of it since childhood—their bodies moved before they could think.

Hawks disapproves of Stain’s ideology:

Stain wanted heroes to practice perfect altruism, like All Might—but Hawks professes to be not such a fan of All Might, and his desire for heroes to have mundane, leisurely lives suggests a desire for heroes to be ordinary people.

He hates depending on others to read between the lines:

He prefers to steer their actions by provoking them. Considering that passing the message to Endeavor relied on Endeavor knowing Hawks well enough, Hawks could also be reacting to the discomfort of being close enough to do that.

He almost never removes his headphones, not even during one-on-one conversations.

The only times I’ve noticed him with his headphones off are when he was seeing Endeavor off, when he paid Jeanist a visit, when he was on the phone with Dabi, and at the PLF rally. At those times, the headphones were lowered to be around his neck. (Except maybe at the rally, his collar hides his neck.)

He carries around some sort of towel:

Despite telekinetically manipulating his feathers, Hawks likes to wield them in his hands:

(Which winds up looking pretty funny when he lets go of them and they don’t fall.)

*releases the feather and it just floats there*

*hang on a sec while I get something out of my pocket*

Interestingly, by wielding these swordlike feathers by hand, Hawks keeps two of his biggest, toughest feathers in reserve near himself. Also, he uses these feathers for slices, not stabs.

His tendency to hold these feathers in reserve nearly paid off when he seemed willing to ambush Dabi (and fail his infiltration mission) in order to save Endeavor.

Hawks uses precise terminology to describe his feathers:

Primary feather, covert feather, etc.

He has distinct, natural marks at both corners of each eye:

Probably invoking the facial markings some birds have.

He wears the symbol of the Hero Commission.

I wonder if there might be an intentional pattern to when Horikoshi draws him with the symbol showing vs not showing.

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 8/10?

His mission debrief was held in private with only himself standing in the middle and Master Yoda sitting across from him. Feemor was grateful for that. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture of consideration but it meant a lot to him and Feemor was sure his Great Grandmaster was aware of it, after all, Yoda had always been kind to him and that hadn't changed even after Qui-Gon Jinn disowned him.

So standing there; ignoring his throbbing knee for all it was worth, he carefully and with enough detail to suffice, summed up his mission.

The disastrous mission that nearly cost him everything. Might still be costing him everything. With the haunting voice at the back of his mind, echoing a constant reminder off his stripped humanity, of his lost dignity of……

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still hear it. The roars, the thirst for blood, the calling of death. He could still feel the grim of filth under his nails, the rot of expiration on his skin and he could taste it, the pain.

He'd fought in the Pits for over a year and a half and it clung to him like the stink of penance yet to be absolved.

After all, how could he call himself a Jedi if he'd killed to survive?

And yet….. here he was, back in old Jedi robes, skin clean, shaved head although marred with scars, actually alive with dust of blonde locks peaking out and hiding his damaged scalp.

He was tainted, Feemor knew that all too well. Maybe if he'd been a Shadow he would have been able to set aside the disgust, the horror, the guilt, but…. He wasn't. He was just an ordinary Jedi Master who'd gotten himself into more than he could handle and then felt too honour bond not to do the logical thing. The smart thing. He'd let his emotions rule him and now…now he was giving his report as if…. As if what he'd done, what he'd sacrificed had all been part of the mission.

"Hard on yourself you are," Master Yoda spoke up, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Believe this you might not, but the right thing you did. Saved those Padawans and force sensitive kids you did with the choice you made."

Feemor swallowed thickly, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the stinging of tears. The pride in Master Yoda's voice was obvious as the sun was bright and any other day, any other time in his life Feemor would have soaked it in like a starving wild animal thrown a piece of meat . But after everything….. After his failed mission….. After all that he'd been through. The praise felt like hot coal against his skin and he found himself recoiling away from it. Eyes drilling into his boots, bottom lip catching between his teeth.

How had everything gone so wrong?

The mission had been simple. Track down missing lightsabers currently being sold in the black-market by a notorious black-market dealer, known to have belonged to the Coruscant Temple's missing Padawans. Report back and let the Shadows handle the rest. Simple enough. Or it should have been. It's after all the reason why he took it in the first place.

Coming back from a grueling long mission on the outer-rim, Feemor had taken it as a chance to finally get that break he'd been putting off for so long. He would go, track down the dealer, report back and let a Shadow take over.

Simple enough.

Simple….enough.

But it wasn't. Because loathe as he was to admit it, Feemor was nothing if not Qui-Gon Jinn's former Padawan and if there was anything that their lineage was infamous for was their ability to get into more trouble than was imaginable. The simplicity of the mission should have clued him in from the very beginning. But it hadn't and that was his first mistake.

And now here he was, unable to breathe a single minute without remembering the hands touching his skin, without recalling the foul breaths of those masked men, sizing him up like nothing more than the slave he'd become. Unable to go a day without remembering the fear, the terror of even taking something as innocent as a nap for you never knew……

["Left, you could have," Master Yoda had said when he'd come off the ship yesterday. "Choose to stay you did."]

And he had. He had chosen it. No one had forced his hand. No one had been there to force him. The slice of a knife, the burns of hot metal rods, the combats of death, he'd endured it all for a chance to track down the kids. Kids he'd found out weren't actually dead but being……

He'd chosen to stay in the darkness. Freedom had been in touch. Fresh air, warm clothes, home, it had all been so very close. He'd managed to escape the clutches of Mir'randa, managed to collect his lightsaber, info chip in hand, just a step away from his passage out of the accursed planet. He could have taken it, but he hadn't because at the end of it all. Despite everything he'd been through, everything he would continue to endure, he was a Jedi. So when he'd sensed the new shipment.

The force sensitive shipments.

The choice became obvious. So painfully obvious.

They'd been kids after all. Some unknown, unfamiliar but most of them….. They'd been theirs. Jedi Padawans. Their missing Jedi Padawans, and now those kids, terrified, hurt, having been through force knows what were about to be pulled into the very nightmare Feemor wanted to escape, and what had he done?

He'd watched as his window of escape closed. Watched as his last hope off the planet disappeared with a single droid; carrying a single chip meant for the Jedi temple and he'd made his way back inside. Back into the darkness. Back to the clutches of Mir'randa, back to being less than human. Less than a Jedi. Knowing this might very well be the last time he'd be able to sense the force dancing and flittering around him because this time around he knew his force-suppressant collar would likely be impossible to remove.

And for what?

For…..

What……

Gritting his teeth, Feemor dug his fingernails into his palm, the jolt of pain bringing him back to reality. Back from there.

"Sit down, you should." Feemor choked down a strangled noise of despair and shook his head, left knee straining under him.

"No thank you, Master." For he would be damned if he let himself show weakness. Not when he'd failed so spectacularly. Not when he'd only manage to save seven of them. Just seven. Four Padawans and three force sensitive kids.

Only seven when there had been sixteen.

He'd only managed to save seven……seven kids out of sixteen.

His stomach turned. An image of the Pit flashing through his mind for a single agonizing moment before he brutally shoved it to the back of his mind with the rest of his darkest deeds.

Seven.

"Will that be all, Master Yoda?" He managed to keep his voice stable even as his knee screamed, his heart thudded like the dreams of war and his scars ached with every breath. "Because I need to find my former Master and have a long overdue conversation with him."

A flicker of amusement danced across his Great Grandmaster's eyes before it was drowned out by concern yet again. If the concern was for him, for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan? Feemor didn't quite know. But he appreciated non-the-less. "A talking to he needs," the old troll rumbled, gimer-stick hitting the ground twice. "But first to the Halls you need to go. Grateful I am for the people of Dugmulo for taking care of you and the young children, but a secondary check up by our own, ease my heart it would."

Feemor smiled, it made his cheeks ache, strain. "Of course Master," he said, clasping his hands under his robes and giving a shallow bow; his knee protested but he refused to let it bother him. "I'll do that right away."

After all, he had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

He'd busted the ring, he'd shut down Mir'randa's Games, he'd…..yes, yes he'd failed to save them all but he'd saved some and those he hadn't been able to, he….. those Padawans, their bodies, he'd recovered them for the proper Jedi burial they deserved and for the others, Master Yoda had secured a journey back to their own families as their last resting place. Had it broken something fundamentally vital within him to do so? Perhaps. Had it cost him sleepless nights fraught with horrors brought on his creaking shoulders, horrors he'd been subjected to and caused himself to keep them all alive for just one more day. Yes, of course, yes. But…..

It was all over now, wasn't it?

He'd come back. He was home. Where he belonged. It had taken weeks.

After the Pit, after the Jedi came to the rescue, weeks of bacta tanks and treatments and several weeks more to ensure the safety and security of those kids who still----

He swallowed thickly, refusing to allow himself to collapse in front of his Grandmaster, no matter how much that might help liberate the choking guilt clawing at his throat because how could any of these kids trust him still after everything they'd seen him do? After the scars and burns and tears and blood. After seeing the filthy arena filled with the bodies of their fallen under the same sky as the cheers of their spectators?

How did anything he'd done to get the word out, to stop the trafficking, how did any of that lessen his desperate actions to keep them alive for another day, another week, another month, year…..how did it make up for it?

But he had all the time in the world now.

All the time.

And he'd come back for a reason. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because with all his newly acquired scars, still, no matter how, somehow being repudiated by Qui-Gon ran the deepest.

So what could he do but try and help his Padawan brother the only way he knew how? Running off to go fix what his former Master had somehow managed to break in his absence. As if Xanatos hadn't been enough of a nightmare to deal with as it was.

Maybe after he took care of that he could answer back Kuflo's insisting messages and Androlet's updates on how things were going Dugmulo. Maybe, maybe.

The Halls would just have to wait a little while longer. Because if he could do one right thing today, maybe it would be his first act to wipe away the blood marring his soul.

He took a step back from Master Yoda and turned to the door, wincing at the strain that simple action put on his knee; saying a soft goodbye.

"May the force be with you Great Grandpadawan."

Feemor's lips twitched, it didn't reach quite reach his eyes. "May the force be with you as well, Master." And with that, he left.

One foot in front of the other. Eyes focused on nothing but the path ahead. Ignoring the murmurs around him, the gossip, the looks of concern at his bandaged appearance and his limp. He ignored it all. Only allowing himself the briefest glimmer of satisfaction at the positive mutters on one Obi-Wan Kenobi that he caught every now and then. Apparently being the new Padawan of the Master of the Order was something to behold.

It did hurt a bit, Feemor silently had to admit to himself, not having had the chance to take on the kid himself.

After all, that was the primary reason why he'd wanted to rush back to begin with, despite initially deciding to supervise the imprisonment of the Gamers, but it hurt less knowing that the kid hadn't been thrown to the side for too long. That he hadn't been alone, confused, broken hearted for months as he wondered what he'd done wrong to be discarded like his time with Qui-Gon meant nothing that he was worthle…..clenching his fists tight enough to leave dents, Feemor gritted his teeth.

This wasn't about him. Going down this path would only lead to his suffering. Only reopen old wounds he was not quite ready to acknowledged. So he needed to focus on the here and now. This wasn't about him.

It was about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and little Skywalker and what he, Feemor could do to make things better. That was it. Nothing more. After all, hadn't he already lost his chance to get to know his Padawan brother with his own indecisions? He could have gotten to know him any time he'd wanted, but he had….he'd been so angry, so hurt, and he'd refused to have anything to do with the must innocent party in all of it. And that wasn't, shouldn't be an excuse.

So Master Windu was fine. Great even. The perfect Master probably. The one who stepped up when no one else would.

And…. He…..Feemor….he was not well. Not anymore. So taking on a Padawan brother who probably didn't even know who he was, that was just a recipe for disaster. So this was good. 'Yes,' he told himself firmly, taking one step after the other as he traced his steps from the council chambers to the Room of Thousand Fountains. 'This is good. Master Windu is a perfect choice so all I can do for Obi-Wan now,' when his knee nearly buckled under him, he again regretted not putting on the brace. 'Is to find Master Jinn and set things straight. For the betterment of everyone.'

'One problem with that plan though,' he grimaced, slamming a hand against the nearest wall for stability. Taking a moment to be grateful he was in an empty hallway and no one was there to witness his momentary weakness.

Frowning down at his right leg, he bared his teeth in frustration. Looked like his knee would refuse to carry him all the way to his destination after all.

"Kriff it," he hissed, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Kriff it all."

The agony coursing through his leg was almost unbearable. It had stiffened significantly on his walk over to the Council debriefing and Feemor should have known then that he wasn't going to make it but……

Weakness Is Death

That had been a mantra, his mantra that he'd lived by for what felt like forever. Instilled it in the kids. Bad'kuu, Kuflo, Gaa'ah, Androlet…. Everyone. He'd said it so many times it was all he knew how to say to them anymore. Weakness is death. To show a vulnerability was to allow yourself to be broken. To be scrapped from the inside out. The fingers. The touching, the prodding, the dragging…….

Weakness Is Death.

So Feemor refused to show it. To wear the brace, not in front of Yoda. Not in front of those who'd already seen his failures. Not when he needed to be strong and honorable to show…. To show he hadn't fallen.

He hadn't even been allowed to come back until several Jedi Masters had confirmed he hadn't turned. He was good. He was still a good Jedi, tainted yes,  but not fallen. Not yet. And what a relief that revelation had been. To know that despite everything he'd done, he could still call himself a Jedi. But he wasn't delusional enough not to know he was still under keen observation. Falter once, fall one time and it was all over.

So, no knee brace.

He'd managed to make due in the Pit. Fighting with a bad knee was disadvantage enough without him broadcasting that fact to the entire arena. Spectators and fighters alike. He'd always had a weak right knee ever since that disastrous first mission he took as a Master, but it hadn't been too hard to deal with at first, even if he'd had to take up Jar'kai to make up for his lack of mobility when it acted up.

Jar'Kai had been a way for him to compensate for his damaged knee at first, nearly two years in the Pit however, and it had solidified itself as the only form he could trust to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Protect yourself for no one else will protect you under the skies of Miiir.

Sinking to the floor, eyes blinking back the sudden wetness burning at the edges, Feemor allowed himself a moment to just loathe it all. The regret, the pain, the failure, the shame. And then he breathed in and let it go.

It wouldn't do to dwell on the unchangeable.

Shoulders sagging he let his head drop back with a gentle thud against the wall behind him and he let his eyes fall shut. It all felt rather heavy. Being back here, being back home.

Maybe a moment to rest his eyes would be enough. Just a moment. Until the pain dulled. Then he'd go see Master Jinn, talk to him about missing his recent appointments with the mind healers and maybe…..maybe finally get the chance to talk things out. Yeah, maybe.

But a moment turned into two. And two turned into three and before Feemor could help it, he was clutching at his knee with both hands. The agony unparalleled.

It burned like thousand knives being sliced through his skin simultaneously. Feemor grimaced, head throbbing with the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach, screaming at him in aguish. 'Make it stop,' he thought, squeezing harder, fingers digging into the joints, face ashen and bottom lip bleeding. 'Kriff, make it stop.'

And then, it did. Not by much, not even half way but enough to bring a sense of clarity to him. And it was only when his mind wasn't being clouded by the bolt of sheer agony dancing through his body; paralyzing him in place, that he noticed the cold hand resting across his forehead and one atop of his joined hands. Soothing sense of warmth intermingling with his force signature and somewhat dulling the pain coursing through his veins. And Feemor breathed, raising his eyes to come face to face with one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

----------

"Stop," he ordered when he finally found his voice behind the sudden lump in his throat, gently pushing those hands away even as he instantly missed the soothing force healing that came with them. But Obi-Wan looked like death warmed over himself and Feemor would be force damned if he let his first action back home be to hospitalize his Padawan brother. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

The young man kneeling in front of him didn't look convinced, brows furrowing slightly and lips pursed, but he did back away, choosing to sit down next to him; grunting as he adjusted himself against the wall, cane coming to rest by his side. Feemor raised a brow in question, making his Padawan brother laugh lightly.

"Anakin had his first lightsaber practice today," he said in answer, tapping his cane lightly. "I still have a hard time getting around so---" His smile is hallow and Feemor felt it echo in his soul.

"Yeah," he muttered back, looking down at his knee, toes curling with each pulsating burst of electric pain shooting down his leg. He shouldn't have walked on it for so long. "I get it."

"I suppose you do."

Feemor snorted. "When you say Anakin?"

"Skywalker, yes." Obi-Wan's voice was much more lighter this time. "He was….really excited about it and asked me to come so I did. I was on my way back when I----" here he trailed off, but Feemor knew exactly what he was trying not to say, and it made him flush with embarrassment.

"When you found me lying on the floor trying to tear my leg off with my bare hands?"

"Well," Obi-Wan muttered. "I wouldn't exactly say, lying." Feemor stared and Obi-Wan snorted. "Okay, you looked pretty helpless."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself."

The answering grin was a lot brighter and more real than Feemor had expected and it tugged at his heart. Because somehow despite the dark circles under the kid's eyes, despite the paleness and the fragility to his frame, somehow, when he smiled, really smiled, Feemor could almost drown in the regret of all the wonderful years he'd missed with this kid. The years he could have known him if he had been less of a coward.

Checking up on him religiously didn't make up for not being there for him. For not protecting him against what was likely Qui-Gon's darkest years. To not be a buffer, a confidant, to be a brother. In that sense, Feemor supposed he was a lot like his former Master. Who was just as guilty in tracking his movement as he was in tracking Obi-Wan's without ever taking the first step in meeting the other party half way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His not so Padawan brother. Or all the more his Padawan brother for being tossed aside like himself.

Running a bandaged hand over his head; still feeling that momentary flicker of surprise at brushing against tufts of growing out blonde hair, the broken Jedi Master breathed in deeply and let it all out.

"Feemor," he said, pointing at himself. "My name is Feemor Einar."

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered. "I know."

"Oh?"

The Padawan nodded, fingers tapping away at his wooden cane. "You're the talk of the Temple."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was neutral as anything and Feemor silently allowed himself to be impressed. He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions in check. "Sounds to me like you stopped a force sensitive trafficking ring and ended a barbaric gladiator tournaments in one single mission."

Feemor couldn't quite suppress the flinch at those words, and it made him burn with shame. "Not soon enough I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean---" Obi-Wan started, clearly noticing his sudden change in demeanor. The harshness in his force signature, the darkness and Feemor internally cursed himself for losing his grasp over his emotions, for his Padawan brother should never sound so uncertain and worried around him. "I didn't mean to bring it up I only heard----"

"It's okay," Feemor cut him off, careful to keep his voice gentle this time despite how his soul screamed and his heart longed for him to hide away for all eternity. "I didn't mean……" He sighed. "It's just been….tough."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah."

Digging his nail into the crack between the tiles, Feemor focused on the pressure on his barely growing in nails and opened his mouth, keeping his voice playfully light. "I hear you're pretty famous around these parts yourself."

A beat and then another, silence filling up slowly between them and it's all Feemor could do to try and find a way to backtrack and try again? Figure out another way? Help? When his Padawan brother, pressed himself even tighter against the wall and clutched at his cane. "You could say that," he whispered, tone strained and part way broken. "You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A single shake of the head.

Feemor hummed softly in understanding. "Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's a pleasure to officially meet you."

A huff. "Likewise Master Einar."

"You know who I really am, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Not for long. Just after," The kid pulled at his braid. "Thanks for the bead by the way."

Dragging his focus away from his knee, Feemor nodded. "Of course."

A welcoming silence fell between them this time and Feemor was content with it. To sit there with his Padawan brother, after everything, just sit there with him. Not moving, not doing anything. And enjoy his company even if he didn't quite know how to connect with him yet. Even if they still had so much to talk about. And it's not like he didn't have a good reason. After all, the simple thought of trying to stand on his busted leg made his stomach do nauseating flips. But he couldn't stay here forever, not when he needed to see Qui-Gon and sort this all out, not when he still had that medical check up and the kids back at----

So when Obi-Wan bumped his cane against his shoulder and said "You look like you need this more than me," it's all Feemor can do not to drag the haunted looking kid into a desperate hug meant to suffocate with affection. Instead he grinned, taking the offered cane but still remaining seated.

"About Qui-Gon---"

"What about him?"

"I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Obi-Wan paused. And then, "I'm sorry he that to you too."

Feemor nodded back. "Thank you." And he meant it. Of course he meant it for there were very few who could truly understand what he'd been through and sympathize, even if he would never wish this on the kid given a choice, he was still so very grateful for the shared understanding no matter how much it grated on his dignity to admit so. "And I know it doesn't mean much, but I promise you Obi-Wan it wasn't your fault. Master Jinn, he's just…." He should really be getting up, but----. "He lashes out when he's cornered and that reflects badly on him and not you." He really really needed to get up and or he might never get up at all today and yet----. "You are wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi, I promise you that."

He should get up, but when the kid took a sharp intake of breath, then tentatively rested his head on his shoulder after a brief second of hesitation; auburn hair brushing under his chin, Feemor couldn't quite make himself do what he had to do because there was something that was so much more important right here, right now. "I'm going to punch him in the face." He didn't know why those words came out, but he meant them. And---

Obi-Wan laughed, it sounded a little bit broken and a little bit wet but it put a smile on Feemor's face and this one didn't quite ache as much. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," he said, shifting closer so the kid could rest on his shoulder more comfortably. "I'll make it a good one."

Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together and Feemor bumped him back, eyes feeling suspiciously damp.

Repudiated Padawans of Qui-Gon Jinn ought to stick together after all.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

[cheeriecherry]

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [1/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 1/8

Warnings: None, like 2 swears

You stare out the window of the plane, past your own reflection. In the darkness below, you can see the runway lights approaching fast, bright beacons in the shadow of night. You can hardly believe you’re about to land back in Japan.

It’s been years since you’ve set foot in the country, two and a half, to be specific, and to say you’re nervous is an understatement. You wonder if they’ll be there, your old friends, waiting for you. You’d called them earlier in the week, only ever reaching their voicemails, but you’d left them messages saying when you’d arrive…and that you’d explain everything.

When you left so long ago, it had been without a word. One day you were living your life, the next you were being shipped off to the United States, to work undercover. You hadn’t been allowed to tell anyone where you were going, or for how long. You’d just…left.

You hoped that they’d both be there. God, did you hope.

Not that they owed you anything, but the logical side of your mind told you they’d be likely to give you the benefit of the doubt, and hear what you had to say. At least, Hizashi probably would.

You’d known the blond since you were small children, having lived in the same neighborhood and gone to the same elementary school. You hadn’t met Shouta until years later, when you started high school.

The two of you hadn’t hit it off immediately. In fact. you’d found him to be aloof beyond measure, uninterested, and stubborn…but Hizashi really seemed to like him. So you’d made a point to try and get along, and it had eventually proved fruitful.

He had been difficult to get to know, but once you learned a little more about each other you’d found you had a lot in common. He was funny, in his own way, kind, and cared deeply about others, even if he didn’t show it on the surface.

And Hizashi seemed pretty pleased that you two had finally made nice with one another.

Your thoughts drift further along as you think more about the friends you left behind, the shaky beginnings of friendship, the stressful mayhem of your budding hero careers. You smile to yourself, recalling the shitty one bedroom apartment the three of you had crammed into in your early twenties, none of you being able to afford much more.

It had been nonstop work, back then. Double shifts for weeks in a row, extra patrols, second (and third) jobs on the side, all to earn enough cash to make your own way in the world. You’d been so grateful to have them back then. They made the hassle of it all worthwhile.

You’d come to the conclusion pretty early on that your feelings for them weren’t totally platonic, but you’d never had the desire to act on it. You were comfortable with where your life had been, and maybe fear had held you back, but you hadn’t wanted to risk messing anything up.

Besides, the two of them always seemed to pay more attention to each other than to you.

“Pardon me, Miss.”

You snap out of your thoughts when a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. You look up at the smiling flight attendant with wide eyes, electricity buzzing through your body where she touched you.

She lets you know the plane has landed and that the rest of the passengers have exited the deck (a quick glance around proves this), and that if you need help carrying anything to let her know. You thank her quietly, apologize for holding everyone up, and make your way into the airport.

—-

You squint as you walk into the building, which -even at such a late hour- is busy with people. The fluorescent lights almost burn your eyes, and the din around you is loud enough that you almost miss the sound of your name being called.

Thankfully, you manage to hear the quick footsteps behind you, before you’re scooped up like a doll and squished in a hug.

“Y/N! We missed you!”

You squirm a little in Hizashi’s arms, trying to regain your balance, but he only spins you in a circle and hugs you harder. You find yourself smiling, despite your earlier unease. He was here. He’d heard you. He’d come for you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Shouta meandering towards you, hands shoved in his pockets and donning his usual expression. You smile at him, too, and offer him a hug after you’re finally set down.

He’s softer and significantly more calm about it, but his grip on you is tight and warm. You sigh and lean into him, resisting the urge to stay like that for longer than necessary.

“I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?” you say, keeping your tone light. A fresh wave of guilt washes over you when you remember everything that’s happened, and everything you did. They were here now, but you could only guess what they were thinking and feeling; disappointment, shock, anger…

The three of you wander over to the baggage claim area, and stand in a small huddle while you wait for your things.

“Your voicemail said you were undercover,” Hizashi says, and you nod.

“Yeah, for two and a half years.” Shouta grumbles, low enough that you almost miss it. You fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt, avoiding their gazes.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is small, “Truly. If I could have told you about anything, I would have. The commission estimated the mission would only last a couple weeks, but…”

“Two and a half years.”

You droop. “It was supposed to be a small takedown, for some small-time ringleader in the states. Get in, get out, don’t get caught.”

Shouta watches a luggage bag pass by, carefully disinterested. “So what went wrong?”

You shrug. “Local lowlife ended up being part of an international smuggling ring. We could have taken the guy out, but then we would’ve lost the only source we had to something bigger. So we stayed, and we spied, and we put a lot of people in prison.”

Hizashi pulls a bag off the conveyor. “And you got yourself on someone’s shit list.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you laugh, but neither of them do.

You reach for the handle of your bag, but Hizashi swings it away before you even get close. You roll your eyes and complain, but let him carry it anyways, the three of you lulling into silence on the way out.

Only when you’re outside do either of them speak again.

“You kept saying ‘we’, back there,” Shouta says, and Hizashi tacks on, “Did you have a partner?”

You’re quiet for a moment, pensive. Sad. Guilty.

“Yeah,” you try to keep your voice even, “I did.”

My fault.

You shake the thought away and pretend to miss the glance that the two of them share with each other, walking a few steps ahead of them. It’s obvious that it’s not something you’re willing to talk about right now, even if you weren’t exhausted from the flight and lack of sleep.

You reach the car before them, recognizing the old vehicle as the one Hizashi owned before you’d left.

“We’re glad you’re back, in any case,” he says, unlocking the side door for you to slip in. “It hasn’t been the same without you around.”

You smile at that, but you’re certain it doesn’t reach your eyes. Your mind is elsewhere, now, lost in old thoughts. 

Shouta slides into the front passenger seat, peering back at you in the mirror. “We’ll be home soon. Try not to fall asleep back there, you know you get motion sick.”

You snort, but you can feel your eyelids falling. “I won’t fall asleep, I’m stronger than-” You break off into a yawn. “…Maybe not. Just drop me off at a hotel, okay? I don’t mind staying there for a while-”

“You’re kidding, right?” Hizashi plops into the driver’s seat, and starts the car. “You seriously think we’d just toss you out like that? No ma’am, you can crash on our couch!”

“It’s gonna be a couple weeks until I can find a place,” you explain, tiredness beginning to seep into your voice, “and I really don’t wanna take up space-”

Shouta reaches back without looking and pinches your leg. “Your money is better spent on new living arrangements,” he says, and you swat at him, “Don’t blow it on some shit hotel when you have people who want to house you.”

You grumble a little, but relent, knowing he’s right.

“So, you two are still living together, huh?” you ask, trying to change the conversation to something more comfortable. “I would’ve sworn you guys would have enough saved up to get your own places by now.”

“We’re engaged, so it makes sense.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this, surprise evident in your expression. Engaged? Your stomach does little flips, and for a moment you’re not sure if they’re good or bad. On one hand, you’re glad they’re happy and together. On the other hand…seeing them after so long has definitely begun to resurface some old feelings.

You smile, masking the sadness. “I really missed a lot, huh? I didn’t even know you guys liked each other.”

Hizashi grins in the rear view mirror. “Some things came to light after you…left. We admitted some feelings, tried a few things out, and the rest is history.”

Your stomach sinks, all the butterflies you’d had instantly dying. “I’m glad you guys had each other. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Shouta reaches back again, but you manage to dodge his pinching attack this time. You slap at each other for a couple seconds, before you’re scolded for roughhousing in the car.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” he says, “we get why you had to leave, now. Besides, you’re back. We can pick up where we all left off.”

Where you left off, huh? Where you’d left off, you’d been overworked and pining hard for two of the dumbest smart people you’d ever known. Were you doomed to that fate again?

Still, you tell them, “That sounds perfect.”

[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 11

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 11!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >| Masterlist

Summary: He sighed in relief only to tense up when he noticed the expression on Logan’s face.

“What happened?”

“We need a miracle.”

Warning/s: food mention, minor violence.

Characters: Logan, Virgil, OCs, Roman, Remy, Remus, Patton, Janus.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

11 | Danger Unknown

Once Virgil and Logan returned to the room, Virgil made a request not to be disturbed and they put up a magical barrier to keep anyone from using enchanted items or spells to spy on them. The group was sitting in the living area, with the tv turned off, and trying to come up with a plan of action, or at least a logical theory as to what is happening. So basically, they were stuck with no idea as to what was going on or what their next move should be.

Logan frowned. “Could these events be connected? Virgil’s parents and grandmother both being essentially missing.”

Remy shrugged. “Possibly. Right now though we’re just guessing.”

“I think that our next move is more obvious than we think,” Remus declared. “We need to find Virgil’s grandmother.”

Roman nodded. “But where to start?”

Remus shrugged. “Her room?”

“Whether she’s there or not though, they’ll have guards stationed there to keep up the ‘she’s sick and quarantined’ charade.” Janus pointed out.

“Oh! What if we use the teleportation spell?” Patton proposed.

“Would that even work in this realm?” Willow wondered. “And what if they have some kind of magic barrier like we have here?”

“Virgil, is there anyone who you would trust to tell you the truth about what’s happening? The best thing we can do is find a reliable source to inform us what’s going on.” Remy said.

Virgil sighed. “The Earl was my grandmother’s closest advisor, and I don’t think we can trust him at all.”

“What about the reporters? You said they give news to the people of this realm, so surely they would have some information,” Logan reasoned.

Virgil perked up. “I don’t know how reliable they’d be, but I guess that’s a start. We’d need to comb through the news channels on TV.”

“Ooh, I can do that. I figured out how to use the remote properly,” Patton proudly stated.

“I could do some reconnaissance. Like covertly listening in on what people say to each other,” Willow suggested.

“I can help keep you hidden while you’re doing that,” Janus added.

“Roman and I could also do some covert reconnaissance. Our hearing isn’t as good as Willow’s but it’s still pretty sharp,” Remus stated.

Virgil nodded. “Alright, Pat can look into what’s on the news while Remus, Roman, Janus and Willow act as our spy teams. Logan and I have left the room before, so we can go out again and try to see my grandmother or at least fake that we’re doing that to see how well her room is being guarded.”

Remy frowned. “Hang on kids. If there is something going on, I would like to get us out of here as soon as possible. You shouldn’t be getting too deep into stuff like this.”

“It’s dangerous, but we knew this was going to be risky when we agreed to it. And, really, this might be our safest option considering how the Earl was trying to convince Virgil to go back home.” Logan noted.

Remy sighed. “If you really need to check in on the queen, then I may know a spell that can help. But it’s difficult for normal mages to cast.”

The group exchanged curious glances. “What is it?”

“Mind linking,” Remy stated. “It’s a high-level spell that can allow a person to link their consciousness to someone else. You can’t do a full connection unless two people are doing the spell with each other, but there’s a way to use the spell to specifically disconnect one’s consciousness for a time in order to find other minds in the space around you. Aka this building. The spell goes through all kinds of loopholes and can work even inside or through magical barriers, but the caster needs a proficiency in mind magic…”

“So, theoretically, I could cast the spell?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, but another rule is you can’t cast the spell onto yourself.”

“You could cast it onto me though,” Logan said.

“I was actually thinking I could take the spell,” Remy declared.

“I think Logan should do this. If Pat’s watching the news, the twins, Janus, and Willow are out spying, and I’m maintaining this spell, then it would probably be a good idea to have someone checking news sites online, and we don’t have time to teach Logan about the internet,” Virgil pointed out.

“Inter-net? Is it some kind of magical net you catch information with?” Roman asked.

“Like I said, we don’t have time to introduce you guys to it. Maybe later though.”

Remy sighed. “Alright. But we’re going to need to go into full detail with this plan…”

The team did plan things out as best they could. Virgil explained to the spy team how to navigate the building. After that, Roman, Remus, Janus and Willow went to the elevator, casting invisibility spells on themselves that would make it so only they could see/detect each other, then went their separate ways.

Meanwhile, Remy showed Patton which channels were for the news and gave Logan the instructions for the Mind spell. Pat made notes on everything that was being said on TV in a small black notebook and once Remy finished instructing Logan he found a tablet to use the internet on.

“Remember, I’m only able to keep this up for five minutes, then you’ll be pulled back into your body,” Virgil said. “You know where to go?”

Logan nodded. “I’ll be fine, Virge. We can both pull this off.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. You might want to lie down then.”

Logan laid down and closed his eyes as the spell was cast. He could feel as the magic flowed through his body like a gentle wave washing over the shore. For a moment he thought that the spell had failed since nothing else changed, but then he sat up and opened his eyes only to realise that he was outside of his own body. More specifically, he was floating just above his body like a ghost.

He felt suddenly excited at this discovery. It was like he was now a ghost completely disconnected from his physical form. A glance over to Virgil however reminded him of the current urgency of his mission. He was watching Logan’s body with a particular concern. Right now he had no idea what was happening to Logan and it was worrying him a great deal.

Logan wanted to reassure him in some way, but this form wouldn’t really be able to do that, so instead, he focused on finishing his task so that when Virgil pulled him back he would have some useful information. He floated up to the ceiling and then phased through it like it was nothing more than a cloud of fog. He navigated his way literally through the building quickly until he came to the hall outside of the queen’s bedroom.

There were indeed a pair of guards outside the door, but no one else seemed to be on this floor. Logan phased through the door and looked around if anyone was there. The room was lavishly decorated in silver and lavender tones, with a pair of ornate wardrobes on either side of a large vanity table, a wall to wall bookshelf, and a large king-sized bed. In the bed, someone was laying down.

On closer inspection, Logan found that the someone was a fae woman with long tresses of silver hair that was spread out all over her pillows. She looked weak and sickly, with cold sweat on her forehead. Logan reached out to touch her so he could hopefully see into her mind when a voice from behind him said.

“Hello.”

Logan whipped around to find the spirit of the woman in the bed standing behind him. “Gah!”

“Oh, sorry darling, I didn’t mean to scare you there. You came looking for me, right?”

“Queen Valeria?”

“The one and only!” The woman said with a smile before her face turned serious. “You’re my grandson’s friend. Correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then I need you to get him out of here. Immediately. Tell my son what’s going on here so that he can save the rest of this world before it’s too late for the others. I won’t last long enough to see him again...”

“I- no, your majesty I don’t really know what is happening but I’m sure that Virgil will not leave if you’re going to-- to die.”

“Child, there is no way to save me. All of you need to go to Nico and explain to him that Earl Ynclementia has overthrown me. Then he’ll know what to do next once my powers transfer to him.”

“Ma’am… Prince Nico and King Thomas have both disappeared. They were attacked by an unknown spellcaster during a meeting and no one knows what’s happened to them or where they vanished to.”

Valeria paled. “No… then Ynclementia’s plan was successful. That’s just all the more reason for you to get Virgil out of here. If he receives my powers then… it all will fall to him…”

Logan felt a lump in his stomach at the realisation of what she meant. With his parents gone and his grandmother dying, Virgil would be forced to take rulership over both humans and fae. Except the fae realm has been stolen by the earl, and if Virgil reveals his heritage without his parents support, then lord knows what might happen.

The people could rise against him in fear. Dethrone or even kill him. Even if he were completely accepted as half-fae, they could still try to take away his throne on the excuse he was underaged and possibly didn’t have the necessary training to rule in his fathers’ steads.

“Your majesty, there must be something we can do. If you’re here outside of your body then surely there’s still time to heal you.”

“Dear, I don’t have much time left. The spell I’m using to keep myself alive will be gone soon enough. Nothing but a miracle could save me now. Please, my only wish is that Virgil is safe. Take him home and… tell him to destroy the porthole. Right now, I’m using a spell to keep Ynclementia here, but once I’m gone he will try to take over your realm as well. That cannot happen.”

“No, there has to be something. There has to be a way to save you.”

“As I said, nothing but a miracle could do that.”

Logan looked down at his feet sorrowfully, then an idea struck him. “A-a miracle. Like the mythical creature, Miracle?”

Valeria gave a short laugh. “I doubt there are any of those just walking around in your realm, much less this one.”

“But if we found one, it could save you?”

“Well, they’re supposed to have boundless knowledge of the universe, so possibly. But it’s impossible to find one. Please just… just get Virgil away. Right now he’s going to need good friends more than ever.”

Valeria stared sorrowfully at the painting above her door. Only now Logan noticed it. A large portrait of Valeria, Thomas, Nico, Tanya, Dune and Virgil, all together smiling happily. If the queen died now then Virgil really would need friends. His fathers were completely missing and neither Tanya nor Dune could leave the forest. In the castle, facing the duties of ruling a kingdom, Virgil would be completely alone.

Logan couldn’t let that happen.

He tried to say more to Valeria but he felt that his soul was being pulled back. As his vision faded he heard Valeria say one more time, “Take him home.”

Barely a blink and a breath later, his consciousness returned and Logan found himself back in his body, with Virgil staring at him in concern. He sighed in relief only to tense up when he noticed the expression on Logan’s face.

“What happened?”

“We need a miracle.”

Virgil tugged on his hood. “Is it that bad?”

“No, well, what I mean- ugh, do you remember Remus’s dream?”

“That one about the giant bagel?”

“No, the recurring one. That one that started on our vacation.”

“Oh, the nightmare.”

“Yes, that. To save the person, we needed to find the miracle that time left behind, right?”

“I’m with you so far.”

“I think that that dream was very literal…”

An hour later, the group was reunited and once again stuck thinking of what to do next. Logan explained everything that happened with Valeria, leaving Virgil terribly distressed, and then the spy team returned with the news that Ynclementia planned to use them as hostages since the plans to get rid of Virgil’s parents and assassinate Virgil ‘failed’.

“Assassinate me?”

Willow nodded. “That’s what a rockslide was. The agent Ynclementia sent must have believed they killed you then went off to get your parents.”

“And now Ynclementia thinks both plans failed so he needs you as a hostage to use against your fathers.” Janus sighed.

“The news isn’t giving me any hope either,” Remy stated. “It seems that they’ve… erased the queen. Like she or any of your family never existed. They’ve made it look like Earl Imbecile has always been in power and no one is speaking up about it.”

Patton nodded. “From what I’ve seen on TV they’re scared to even talk about him. Whenever they refer to anything he’s done or is doing, they have this terrible fear in their eyes.”

“Then it isn’t like they’ve been brainwashed or anything. They’ve been traumatized.” Roman theorised.

Remus chewed on her fingernails. “We need to get out of here.”

“Well, it’s not like we can just walk out of the place.” Janus declared. “They would lock us up for real if they caught us.”

“A porthole,” Willow said. “We can use a porthole to get ourselves back to the realm porthole and go home.”

“You pointed out earlier that kind of magic might not work in this realm.” Roman reminded them.

“Well, yeah, but how many successful spells have we used now?”

“Okay true.”

The group used a porthole to get themselves back to the realm porthole, then went through the second porthole and found Tanya, Dune, and a few other pixies waiting for them. Tanya looked at Virgil with a worried expression. She could already tell that something had gone wrong.

“Virgil?”

“...We need to close the porthole.”

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Stubborn

Warning: TW: Dark themes, Yandere, kidnapping, slight abuse (if you squint) Word count: 2,5k   Summary: Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, so why isn’t he happy when he finds just that in his new girlfriend? It doesn’t take long until he realizes that stubborn is never what he wanted. No. It’s obidient. And as destiny will have it, you, his best childhood friend, tend to be just that Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo x Batfam

A/N: So I have no reason to write this, but I had this small scene in my head and BAM! this existed. And why not share it, amiright? I’ll also post a request later today or tomorrow, but I just wanted to get this out there. Hope you enjoy 

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side. Someone who stood up for themselves and wouldn’t just take his shit as some other extras would. In his mind, it was a logical assumption. He was well aware that he was a (quite literal) hot-head. He tended to let his aggression get the best of him and, even though that calmed down the older he got, it was still an established fact in his life as a pro-hero. That was why he agreed to go out with her. She was, admittedly, attractive. She wouldn’t really be called pretty, but definitely hot. A slender body with curves in all the right places and long, flawless pink hair that ended just over her waist, lashes that when battered could get her just about everywhere and everything. It also very much helped that she was well aware of her good looks. She never wore anything borderline inappropriate or skimpy, but she took care of the fact that her clothes were bringing out her features and would give her other advantages, like the hells she wore that made her already rather tall form stand even taller at about 5’6 feet. Even though that still wasn’t exceptionally high, she still liked to tower over everyone she could tower over. She and Bakugo were both masters of intimidating, even if they used very different methods. Trat wasn’t the only thing that made them alike, she also had quite the temper, something that had to be reckoned with when meeting with her, but she wasn’t as much aggressive as she was stubborn and headstrong. She was just what Bakugo needed. So, when he had tried to save her from getting robbed while he was on patrol and she just scoffed and kicked the robber so hard in a place that the sun won’t shine at, calmly taking her purse back and acting as if nothing happened, he was somewhat impressed. And when she touched his arm and invited him inside he didn’t say no. After that she was a part of his life, quickly filling the empty spot of his girlfriend. And a month or two everything was nice, he enjoyed the romantic and sexual attention that she gave him and he found himself entranced by the way she would talk back to him when she didn’t like something. He even liked her enough to introduce her to the most important people that he had in his life. His best friends. After graduating and finally fulfilling his dream of being a pro-hero he had managed to keep in more-or-less close contact with his old classmates, but he and his squad were almost as close as ever, if not more. They met up about twice a month in the complete group and individual pairs whenever they felt like it, but it was safe to say that the group of friends had stayed the same way they always have been, just with the difference that they were now of legal age to drink. So - of course - the next time they met up, this time with the additional plus one on Bakugo’s side, they met at a bar that was conveniently placed between all of their homes. Because he was somewhat nervous, even though he wouldn’t admit it if you held a gun to his head, Bakugo decided to come ten minutes earlier than the time they had agreed to meet up and ordered drinks for him and his girlfriend. After that, the others slowly joined, first was Sero, then Kirishima, Ashido and Kaminari, but one person stayed missing from the group. Bakugo wanted to ask where you were staying and why you took so long, but when all the attention turned on him and his new relationship the question was lost in the void of his mind. Especially considering that only ten minutes after, the original excitement about meeting Bakugos girlfriend gone for the group, even though they were still milking her with questions, you came in with a small smile on your face like you weren’t even realizing you were late and joined them. Your hot-headed best friend asked you what had taken you so long after you had introduced yourself to the new person in the group and congratulated them on getting together, but you had just shrugged it off as no big deal. Bakugo forgot about it.

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, but Bakugo soon realized that that assumption was wrong. All the things he thought would be great about someone as headstrong as he was turned out to be annoyances. The things that he liked about her in the first months soon turned into things he hated with a burning passion. Just once he wanted her to shut up and actually listen to him. It started with small things. Like when he told her that he didn’t want to go out after a particularly rough day at work and she just whined and complained until he had enough and went along, or that one time when the two of them had a normal conversation about a type of food and she completely refused to accept a fact that he told her (and even, later on, found references for) - it wasn’t even like it was something that was against her or her believes, just something she had assumed wrong and still refused to back down about. Just so that she could come out of the fight as the winning party. And it just continued and got more and more, every little thing became a full-blown fight and she seemingly made it her personal mission to disobey and work against him as much as she could. He quickly figured out that you can’t fight fire with fire, that having a stubborn person like himself constantly clash with someone so similar was bound to fail and he hadn’t thought his original belief through. He even talked about it with you and Kirishima, debatably the closest of friends he had, and while you were as shy and quiet as you had been ever since going to school with him and Midoriya, both you and Kirishima agreed that it would be the best for everyone involved if you’d just break things off with her. With that the decision was basically set in stone, the only thing left was actually acting on the words so Bakugo spent the whole way home thinking about how he’d say it, what he’d do. But his mind wasn’t completely on track. Because besides the possible breaking-offs that he went through he also found himself thinking about who would fit better to him and while walking home surrounded by the lights of the city it was like he had an Enlightenment. He never needed someone stubborn, no, he needed someone obedient. Someone who wouldn’t fight him on his every word and would let him protect and care for them. That thought was the beginning of the end. When he finally comes home he’s lucky that he hadn’t yet asked her or had been asked by her if they could move together, but that happiness was quickly ruined by the load of missed calls and messages that she had left him. Exhausted and longing for someone he wasn’t even sure existed he went to bed and decided he’d deal with his little problem the day after. When he left work the next day during his break to catch some air and meet up with you, who worked not too far away in you own little pro-hero themed bakery, the thoughts of the before standing evening were still heavy in his mind, especially his newfound clearance on just what qualities his partner actually had to have. The smell of baked bread and sweets, the smell that somehow had surrounded you ever since you had been a child who played with him and Midoryia on the playground, greeted him in a wave of warm air when she opened the door and the familiar ring of the small bell hanging over it filled his ears. A sense of content filled him that he only had with you. The same content was the reason that you were still friends in the first place. Back when it was still him, Izuku and you, he always felt a bit jealous about how much more you were like Izuku, even though you weren’t quite as curious or cheery as he was, you were still a happy, calm kid with a tendency to stay on the more quiet side. So naturally, people would assume that after Bakugo developed his quirk - and Izuku didn’t, starting a long cycle of bullying and maybe even abuse from the blond hot-head - you would’ve stayed with the little green bean, and so did Bakugo. But he didn’t want that. He liked the feeling he had when he hung out with you and he was different with you, less angry and more tolerable. So he became almost possessive and incredibly jealous when it concerned you. He made sure that you stayed his friend, but - to come to his defence a little bit - he still “let” you be friends with Izuku, just as long as he still got the majority of your attention and love. As you grew up he lost most of that behaviour and exchanged it for a normal level of friendly protectiveness, enough that he made sure that you were okay and texted you almost every day while he was at school, but not as much that you couldn’t have other friends or your own life. Bakugo was especially happy when he introduced you to his other friends the first time and, even though your and their personalities practically crashed against each other, you bonded incredibly fast and became a member of his little squad. Something about these memories made his mind a little bit fuzzy, but everything came to a sudden halt when he heard an all too familiar - at this point almost dreaded - laugh. He felt like he had whiplash at the speed at which his head snapped to the side and he caught sight of his hopefully soon ex-girlfriend standing at the counter in front of a very-clearly confused looking you. His wish to have his peace from her at least until the evening burst into a thousand little bubbles and he found himself confronted by the inevitable. Bakugo planned to take her out of the bakery as to not cause a scene and explain to her that it was over, but everything changed when he heard a comment she made directed towards you before she even knew he was there. It was said in a nice voice, but with a venomous undertone, a comment about how weird it was that a Pro-Hero like Bakugo, someone so great and influential, was spending any time with a push-over like you. Something inside him snapped and he had to admit that his now definitely ex-girlfriends shoulder most likely didn’t stay unharmed at how hard he tugged at it to turn her around, not to mention the added pops of explosions that he couldn’t - and just maybe didn’t want to - hold back. He ended things right there and then, leaving her running out of the bakery crying and you looking at him shocked. Bakugo almost expected you to have a go at him about how horrible he behaved and about how mean he was, but you said nothing. Well, not nothing, no, you did say something. You thanked him - in a rather timid voice - for defending you. It was at this moment Bakugo realized what had always been before him.

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, but he found himself proven wrong when he suddenly saw that the person he needed was you. His quiet, shy, obedient best friend. No, you were always more than that and he had just never realized it. You were his soulmate. Yes, why else did you fit together to perfection in his mind? Not to mention that you definitely needed him. Your quirk wasn’t anything that could be used in a fight - not that he wanted you anywhere near a fight anyways - and you tended to let people walk and talk over you (which admittedly is somewhat his fault too, since he tended to walk and talk over you quite a lot in your life) so you needed someone to protect and care for you, right? Someone like him. When he looked at you from then on he felt something he had never, ever, felt before. Desperation, almost a need, to have you with him, no, even more: To have you. At first, he realized that what he was thinking wasn’t completely right, that all these thoughts about scooping you up and bringing you away, somewhere no-one else could get to, weren’t normal. But even as he fell back into a similar behaviour pattern of possessiveness, jealousness and obsessiveness that he had already shown in his childhood you never complained, never drew back from him. So clearly, you must love him too right? You must want him to be with you, to take you away. After that it’s only a question of time until kidnapping you - or saving you as he sees it - becomes a completely rational thing for Bakugo to do. He’ll buy a house not too far away from the city so that he could still be at work on time, but in a neighbourhood where you weren’t in any danger and he made it completely escape-proof. He told himself that it was to keep any intruders out, but really even he knew that it was to keep you in. He couldn’t even bear the thought of not seeing you for a day at this point. He’ll take you when you least expect it and he’ll make sure that no-one ever finds out that he was the one who took you. He’ll even lead the investigations and join the search parties that he and his friends would surely organise, but nothing would ever come from it. At least not until you finally realized that he hadn’t lost his mind, that you were meant for him, and accepted your spot at his side. Then he’d miraculously find a long-forgotten hint that would lead him right to were you were being kept and he’d accept you into his house after your apartment and bakery have long been sold to someone else and it wouldn’t be too unbelievable that you just happened to fall in love with him then, right? Of course, he knew it would take a while until that could happen, he knew that it must be hard for you to come to terms with just how much the two of you loved each other and - even though he’d rather have you already back to your calm, happy, obedient self - he was willing to live through your little tantrums and moods until you finally settled down with him. It was bound to happen sooner or later…

Bakugo had never needed someone stubborn by his side, he now knows, he had needed you.

[madamewriterofwrongs]

can i prompt: "Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?” for buddie? <33

Alicia! I meant to write something sweet and funny and instead, I wrote this. Regardless, I hope you enjoy <3

This, I Promise You

911/Buddie, 6k

“Eddie? Can you hear me?” Checking his best friend’s pulse, while constantly looking outside the grocery store window for the approaching ambulance, was not how he expected to spend his Thursday evening.

He had intended to take Eddie shopping for ingredients to make homemade spaghetti and meatballs. Instead, Buck had watched in horror as his partner collapsed in the dairy aisle, curling into his right side and only able to speak in pained groans.

Much later, he would feel grateful for his minimal medical training taking over his body while his mind swirled in panic but in the moment, the only thing that mattered was figuring out what was taking the ambulance so damn long.

“Just keep breathing, okay?” His fingers lightly brushed Eddie’s side and the man cried out louder, pulling Buck away from his work. He recoiled at the thought of hurting his friend in any way but there were so many other problems to deal with in the moment. What was happening to him? Where was the ambulance? What would he tell Christopher if Eddie died on his watch? The boy would never forgive him.

“Sir,” Buck jumped to his feet when a gloved hand touched his shoulder, watching from a panicked distance as the paramedics made their quick assessment that Eddie was safe to travel, and carefully lifted him onto the stretcher. All the while, Eddie continued his chorus of grunts and groans, fully-formed words having left his vocabulary entirely.

Buck opted to drive his jeep behind the ambulance (better to give them space to work, he reasoned), ignoring the selfish guilt in his stomach that somehow, he’d caused Eddie’s malady. He chose, instead, to focus his energy on calling Carla to bring Christopher to the hospital, then to inform Bobby of what little he knew, and finally, he called his sister. Second to his best friend, he needed someone to keep him calm with logic and a warm hug. Who better than the former nurse?

He would never tell Athena how he was nearly on par with the speeding ambulance on their way to the hospital, but he met them as they were wheeling him inside.

“Eddie?” He called to the man as he watched the pale form being wheeled past.

A nurse with a familiar stature to Maddie raised her hand to stop him with a firm tone. “Sir, you have to wait here.”

“But” he couldn’t leave Eddie alone now. What if something happened to him?

Again, the nurse stopped him. “If you give your and your friend’s information to the nurse over there, he’ll keep you updated, okay?” Her words were patient and gentle but left no room for argument. With one last glance at his friend disappearing behind the swinging doors, Buck turned towards the check-in desk. He was fully prepared to stand there until any new information came in, even if it took all night (which he sincerely hoped it didn’t).

That was exactly how Maddie found him when she hurried into the waiting area, operator’s uniform hidden under her sweater to accommodate the turning season. In fact, Buck wasn’t able to acknowledge her presence until two hands physically halted his mission to dig a trench in the hospital floor and he finally faced his sister.

“Any news on Eddie?”

She gently guided her brother to the nearest chair, only to press a hand into his leg when it began to shake with anxiety.

“Not yet. They took him back half an hour ago, why haven’t they figured out what’s wrong with him?”

“It could be such a simple diagnosis that they’re seeing to him right now.” Even if her words were just platitudes, they brought Buck a modicum of comfort to have another voice in his ear other than the one currently rambling about the worst-case scenarios. “What happened?”

“We were picking up groceries for dinner and he just collapsed.” Were he not in complete distress, he might have noticed the odd doubletake of his sister’s expression as his words set in. “He’s been hiding pain in his side for a few days, I thought he just pulled something at work and didn’t want to call out. Maddie, what if I didn’t say anything and now it’s only gotten worse?”

“Eddie’s a big boy,” she reminded him with no small amount of humor in her voice. “he can make his own decisions. If this is an untreated injury, then he’ll just have to deal with the consequences. But I have a feeling it’s nothing that serious.”

“That serious? Maddie, he collapsed in the grocery store. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t speak. How is that not serious?”

“By the way, since when did you and Eddie go grocery shopping together?” The blush in his cheek seemed to blossom instantaneously. “That’s very domestic of you.”

“Shut up.” Even Buck was unimpressed with his feeble attempt at indignation, too stressed to care much for appearances. “We were just picking up a few things so I could cook vegan spaghetti and meatballs for Christopher.”

“Where is Christopher?”

In all his pacing, Buck have never once forgotten about the little one’s imminent arrival. Facing the younger Diaz was the thing he seemed to be dreading the most in this entire ordeal. All the ways it could go wrong, all the ways he could fail that kid; it lingered in the air, refusing to offer a modicum of reprieve.

“Carla’s on her way with him. I really wanted an answer before they got here, though.” Having answers meant having hope and with hope on his side, maybe he could face those innocent grey eyes.

“I think you’re about to get it.” With Maddie’s assistance, he rose from his chair to face the approaching nurse he’d met earlier.

“Mr. Buckley.” He was too numb to feel her hand even as he shook it but he had a vague recollection of nodding in greeting. “You’re Mr. Diaz’s emergency contact, correct?” Again, he nodded as Maddie introduced herself to the other woman. “It’s a good thing you were with Mr. Diaz when he collapsed. It appears his appendix ruptured and if he had been alone, there could have been complications.”

All Buck heard was the crackling of static as the implications of her commendation sank in. “But, he’s okay, right?” She’d said it could have led to complications, that meant there weren’t any. Then where was Eddie?

“He will be. We’re prepping him for surgery as we speak but Mr. Diaz is heavily medicated, so we need your consent to move ahead.”

Wait, surgery? Surgery wasn’t safe. Surgery didn’t mean that everything was all right.

“Why-why does he need surgery?”

He saw more than felt Maddie’s hand on his arm. “They have to remove his appendix, Buck. It’s a very routine procedure, I promise.”

Of course, he trusted his sister, but that didn’t stop him from asking every question about the surgery that came to mind – even some he might consider irrational or fear-inducing under other circumstances. But these weren’t other circumstances. This was Eddie’s life. He needed to make sure his friend was safe above all else.

Thank goodness for Maddie, who gently pinched his bicep when he tried to ask for the credentials of the anesthesiologist, effectively drawing his attention to the impatient expression of the nurse before him.

“Sorry, yeah, you can go forward with the surgery.” He sheepishly signed his consent on the dotted line, even as his sister rolled her eyes at his hyperactive antics.

“Thank you, Mr. Buckley.” The other woman seemed to have the same expression on her face (though more professionally masked behind her clipboard. “Now, your friend has been very frantically asking for you so would you like to see him before we”

“Yes.” He cried with nearly too much enthusiasm, earning a startled jolt from the nurse who turned back towards the triage rooms without waiting for him. “Sorry, yes, I’m coming.”

Without looking back at Maddie, Buck pushed through the swinging doors Eddie had disappeared behind less than an hour earlier, his eyes immediately searching for his friend. Thankfully for the nurse’s sanity, Eddie’s room was the second on the left and already open for them to step through (lest she be forced to endure any more of Buck’s fidgeting demeanor.

The moment Buck’s eyes found Eddie’s, the room grew a degree brighter.

“Buck!” The firefighter cried. “You made it. I was worried you would miss it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, buddy.” Buck grinned on his way to Eddie’s side, careful to stay out of the way as the other attendants continued their preparation work, but standing as close as physically possible. “How are you feeling?”

In lieu of answering his question, Eddie stared unblinking at the man before him. “Your eyes are like the ocean.”

Ignoring the smirks from the staff around him, Buck shook his head with nothing but fondness in his smile. “I’m going to remind you that you said that once you’re sober enough to be embarrassed about it.”

“Thanks, Buck.” The sincerity in the other man’s voice was nearly comical. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?”

“After everything you’ve put me through today, I better be your best friend.” He congratulated himself on his ability to make light of one of the most stressful days of his life (disregarding the times when his own life was in peril). “And we’re going to have a serious talk about you hiding things from me, too, young man.”

At this, Eddie seemed to grow paler as his eyes grew innocently wide. “How did you know?”

“The nurse told me, dummy.” He resisted the urge to sweep a stray hair from his friend’s face, but promptly surrendered under the reasoning that this may be his only opportunity. “You can’t keep scaring me like this.”

It was almost precious to see the grown man shrink into the pillows with a doe-eyed apology in his red eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get hurt but I do it a lot, don’t I?” As Eddie fell into some sort of high contemplation, Buck gave one last glance over his friend’s features. Beyond a small reddening on the side of his face, he appeared to have no outward injuries from his fall. As for his insides – Buck hoped his unending questions were enough to sooth his anxiety but they hadn’t dissipated them completely.  

“No more than the rest of us, Eddie. The doctor will fix you right up and you’ll be back at the station within a week.”

“Two.” He caught his new favourite nurse’s voice as she rolled her eyes.

“One and a half.” He countered, only to be met with another definitive expression (was that a part of their medical school training?). “Two it is.”

“What if I get hurt again?” Eddie’s voice cut through the light air and pulled Buck back to his side.

“Maybe the staff will give us some sort of discount if we come in so many times in a year.” On more than one occasion, Buck had jokingly tried to bargain with the accounting department about some sort of punch card – and the fact that he’d an opportunity to make his horrible joke several times had not escaped his notice. “You’ll be okay. Just like you always are.”

“But what happens if I’m not?” That doomful thought had also crossed his mind but he’d struggled to keep it at bay. And now Eddie was staring up at him and no matter his own fears, he couldn’t let that sadness and fear take up residence on his friend’s face for any longer.

“I promise, everything will be all right, okay? You’ll have this surgery and then you’ll never have to worry about your appendix ever again.”

“I know the mortality rates on an appendectomy, Buck, there’s still a chance.” Even high as a kite, Eddie was still so smart. He was quick on his feet and calm under pressure in a way Buck wished he could emulate.

The trouble was: Buck also knew the mortality rates (having grilled the nurse on all possible complications, no matter how outlandish). “I know the numbers too, Eddie. You’re more likely to die in a skiing accident.”

“I would hope so.” The man scoffed.

Buck made a mental note to renew his statistics knowledge so he could win the next argument.

“I promise you’ll be fine.”

When Eddie grabbed his wrist, he was thankful his heart wasn’t the one being monitored. “Buck, I need you to make a serious promise to me.”

Even without the urgency in his friend’s voice, the firefighter would have agreed to anything. “Of course.”

“If anything happens to me, I need you to look after Christopher for me.” Before he could open his mouth to protest, Eddie continued. “He looks up to you and I know you’ll do everything you can to look after him.” Nothing that the man said was new information for Buck and yet every word sliced through the sudden fog around his mind with sudden clarity. “And don’t let my parents bully you into taking him back to Texas. He belongs here with you, okay?” When Buck didn’t answer right away, Eddie squeezed his wrist tighter. “Promise me?”

“I promise, Eddie.”

Logically, he knew that he shouldn’t be taking any of Eddie’s demands at face value, as he was under heavy pain medication and anesthetics. He had no control over what he was saying and yet it all rang true to the Eddie he knew – if a little more slurred and enthusiastic.

“You really are such a good friend, you know that?” As the man continued his speech, the attendants began to hook his stretcher to be wheeled into the hallway. Buck followed steadfast behind the group as he listened intently. “I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years. You’re kind and loyal and smart and beautiful. If I was going to marry someone again, I’d want to marry you. You’re amazing, don’t ever forget that.”

As the doors opened to where Buck could no longer follow, Eddie called out: “Buck, I love you.”

Before the words could fully register amidst the other ramblings, the surgery doors had closed and Buck was left in an empty hallway that echoed with every unspoken word suddenly flooding to the surface. What had Eddie meant by that? Why had he said it at all? He couldn’t wait however long the surgery took before he got his answers.

“Wait!” He feebly called to the door, knowing even in that moment, he couldn’t cross over just to question a man most likely unconscious from the drugs by this point. What was he meant to do with his hands? Did his legs function on their own without him consciously moving one foot and then the other? Was he currently breathing? The air was too stale to take a reasonable breath, he needed space in order for his mind to spiral properly.

“Buck? What did Eddie say?” When had he returned to the waiting area to face Maddie? How did she know that Eddie had said anything? Right; Eddie had been asking for him.

“He, uh, he asked me to look after Christopher.”

Buck passed by his sister’s nodding head on his way to the exit doors, hoping the late afternoon air would provide some much-needed clarity from his overwhelming mental journey. The world outside the hospital walls was a creamy orange as the thinnest traces of the setting sun began to pierce the sky. A soft breeze blew just enough to remind him that the world still turned despite the numbness in his fingers.

Before his legs could attempt to buckle from underneath him, he found a small concrete wall surrounding some barely tended shrubbery and let himself collapse against it. His head fell naturally into his hands as he reminded himself to take one deep breath and then another. Another breath came and again and again until he felt the ground beneath his feet and the denim against his elbows and the sweat in his hair once again.

Eddie’s in surgery now.

Eddie’s in surgery and he asked you to look after Christopher if anything happened to him.

Eddie’s in surgery and he said he loved you.

Eddie was also incredibly high on medication and wasn’t acting entirely himself despite the similarities in his speech. They weren’t things he’d even imagine his friend to say out loud, but he knew them to be true.

Except for the part where he said he loved you.

Admittedly, that was the part that stuck with him. More than his faux deathbed confession to care for his son, more than his ramblings about Buck’s qualities. The simple admission that his feelings for the man went beyond friendship, threatened to bring back the swirling mind and tingling fingertips.

Eddie will be okay and then you can talk to him about it once he’s recovered.

Or you could just never talk about it and see if he forgets.

Do you want him to forget about it?

What do you want to say back?

“Eddie’s going to be okay.” Buck snapped to attention, looking at his sudden companion with a smile that seemed to grow of its own accord.

“I know, Carla. It’s a common procedure and he’s come back from worse.” Of course, worse had been getting shot in Afghanistan, but this was nothing compared to the trials he’d endured there. In terms of Eddie’s canon of injures, this particular incident was hardly worth noting.

With the exception of one, distinct, admission.

“Then what’s got that pretty face all screwed up?”

He opened his mouth to tell his friend the same thing he’d told Maddie, only to catch the thing missing in his life just in time. “Where’s Christopher?”

“Inside with your sister. She asked me to check on you.” There were many reasons Buck could name as to why he loved his sister, and he added another to his list. “So, if it’s not Eddie, what is it?”

Without needed words exchanged between them, Buck shuffled over to allow room for his friend to sit beside him. Perhaps there was another solution to his dilemma that he’d never considered before.

“It is Eddie but it’s not about the surgery. Well it is about the surgery but not the” Buck took a deep breath to steady his rambling mind and it marginally worked. “I’m not worried about his physical health.” His mental health, perhaps. How can he love me?

“What did he tell you?” The confusion must have been evident on his face because Carla supplied the answer. “Maddie said you went in to see Eddie and when you came back you looked like you were going hurl – her words, not mine.” He smiled at that. “What did Eddie say to you that got you so twisted?”

Four words. Not large for a statement but grand in stature and bewilderingly unsettling.

“He told me he loved me.”

“Oh.” Carla blinked in surprise, but he saw no disgust or apprehension, which he knew would be absent from the woman who’d known them both for the entirety of their friendship. Of the people in his Los Angeles family, she was the only person he might consider to be closer to Eddie simply because she had a different relationship with the man. There was something about Carla that had always put him at ease, and one night spent lying awake and missing the home he’d left behind many years ago, he realized the thing he loved about Carla was also the thing he loved about Eddie: no matter their dynamic or status, there was trust and respect and kindness. She might call it ‘being damn good at her job’ but Buck hadn’t called Carla all those years ago because she was the best in-home care worker he’d even known (not that he’d known too many in his time), he’d called because he trusted her with something important that he couldn’t do on his own.

Perhaps he could trust her again.

“I just wasn’t expecting him to say it when he was being wheeled into the operating room.”

“But you were expecting him to say it?”

He opened his mouth to protest, cursing his own subconscious, but a gently impatient look from the woman next to him silenced those thoughts. “I think maybe I was but I didn’t realize until it happened. Like, I’ve never thought about Eddie as anything other than my…” Suddenly, calling him his ‘friend’ didn’t seem like enough. “Eddie.”

“Well your Eddie just laid his cards on the table, it seems.” He had the horrifying realization that he would never escape that particular tease for some time. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Buck had been asking that very question since Carla found him and yet he still hadn’t come up with an answer. “What if he didn’t mean it? Or what if he meant it as a friend? Or what if he forgets? Or what if he didn’t mean to say it now and he’s not ready?”

“Honey, I’m going to say something I don’t think you hear enough.” She placed a firm hand on his shoulder to ground him into silence. “Stop thinking so much and just do something.”

Buck had, in fact, never heard that command uttered in the context of himself before in his entire life. If anything, he’d spent most of his career being constantly reminded to do the exact opposite. He knew reminding her of that would only earn him an eye roll and maybe a light smack on the arm, but she cut him off before he could consider if it would be worth it.

“I’m serious. Don’t think for one second and just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.

Run.

“Do you love Eddie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

Something warm and heavy settled in the front of his chest, spreading across his sternum like a blanket. Freedom, he realized, freedom and hope and contentment. He wasn’t as afraid of those words as he probably should have been.

“Would Eddie ever intentionally hurt you?”

“Never.”

More truth spilled from his lips as Carla questioned him and the warmth spread into his shoulders and curled down his back.

“Would he ever lie in order to lead you on, or in any way hurt you?”

“No.”

“Do you want him to have meant it?”

“Yes.”

“If the two of you were together, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“We break up and I have to change stations and he never lets me see Christopher again.”

“What’s the best thing that could happen?”

“Everything.”

Upon his confession, he saw the same surprise on Carla’s face that she’d worn earlier: no judgement or hint at foreknowledge. Pure, quiet, realization.

“Oh you love him, love him.” He hadn’t realized it until she’d said it out loud – and part of him felt ridiculous for connecting with such a childish explanation – but it was as true as anything else he’d said in the safety of their stone wall. “You can’t keep that thing bottled inside. If there’s even a chance that he feels the same, you have to go for it.”

Easier said than done. “But what if”

“No buts, Evan Buckley.” He shut his mouth at her command. “When that boy is out of surgery, you are going to tell him that you love him, too. Do you understand me?” It was almost surreal to think of such a tender moment being turned into a threat, but he nodded with panicked fervor. “Good. And no talking yourself out of it between now and then, either. You’re telling that boy tonight or I will drag you into his hospital room and lock the door until you do. Although you’re more than welcome to lock the door yourself once you’ve made your confession. No pulling his stitches, though.”

Buck had no idea his skin to blush that shade of red, but as images of all the reasons he might need to lock him and Eddie inside a room for privacy tumbled through his mind, he felt his entire body boil over from the heat.

“Carla!” He admonished with a smirk.

“Honey, if I looked half as good as either of you, I wouldn’t have been able to hold out as long as you both have. Honestly, your resistance is impressive.” He would never tire of her honest commentary (she hadn’t been the first to notice Eddie’s quote ‘perfect bone structure’, but she was the first to say it out loud).

“And I think you’ve both earned a little happiness, don’t you?” That same honesty could hit him with just as much depth. Her talent was startling.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Damn right, you would.” She bumped his shoulder to pull a smile from within his nervous, terrified, hopeful body. “Now, are you going to be okay for the next few hours or do I need to bring your sister out here to give you another pep talk?”

Oh god, how would he explain this to Maddie without being mercilessly teased at their wedding reception? Slow your roll, there, Buckley (his inner thoughts sounded strangely like Bobby). Get through the night and see if you both make it to a first date. “I think I’ll be okay.”

And after saying it so many times in his life, Buck meant it in a rare burst of honesty that settled in his bones. Granted, he was still terrified out of his mind – because telling someone that they make the sun shine brighter for the very first time was never an easy task – but no matter the outcome, he knew he would be okay.

“Thanks, Carla.”

“Thank me by inviting me to the wedding.” As if she weren’t already near the top of his guest list.

--

It was to Eddie’s great shame that waking up in the hospital following his emergency appendectomy felt painless. The first time he’d opened his eyes completely, two very patient nurses had asked his questions while examining him with clinical precision. It was nothing he hadn’t experienced over and over in his time. The second time he’d opened his eyes, there were no nurses or questions; in fact, from the light outside the window in the open hallway, he would guess it to be early in the morning (despite the distinct lack of change inside the building. He had, unfortunately grown accustomed to opening his eyes to the harsh overhead lighting and constant yet distant noise of the machines. The post-pain-med-hangover was a distant memory, and the only sign that anything in his life had changed was a slight soreness in his side where he’d no doubt have another scar to add to his ever-growing collection.

That, and the hand squeezing his as he returned to consciousness. But feeling Buck by his side was not a sign that anything had changed. If anything, it was confirmation that he had returned to the land of the living.

He would save his questions of how he knew Buck’s hand from anyone else’s for another time. Or perhaps never (though if he were honest with himself, the concept of ‘never’ hurt his heart worse than the idea of ‘not you’). Right now, he focused on looking at the eyes which owned the hand massaging his knuckle just below the heart monitor attached to his finger. If he focused on his breathing, maybe the machine wouldn’t pick up on the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw Buck’s smiling face.

“Hey Bu-”

“I love you.”

There was no mistaking the sudden drop and double count on the monitor, but all Eddie could hear were Buck’s words repeating over and over in some sort of recursive loop.

Maybe he was still dreaming.

“What?”

He missed their connection, but the way his partner shot up and began slowly pacing the length of his bed was more concerning. “I was going to lead up to it but then I saw your face, and Carla told me that if I didn’t tell you when you woke up, she would lock me in here and I panicked a little.” His explanation was only mildly helping Eddie’s nerves, but he accepted what little context was provided. Something about Carla.

Okay, so he needed more information.

“Carla made you say that?” But why? Was this some sort of pity confession, or fear for his safety? She had been encouraging him to start dating again but coercing his best friend was a bit much.

“Yes. No.” Buck stopped and restarted his pacing every time his train of thought shifted tracks and frankly, Eddie wasn’t nearly awake enough to understanding what was going on.

“Buck, sit down, okay? Tell me from the beginning.”

As easily as though he’d made his own decision, Buck obeyed Eddie’s command and flopped into the seat – though he didn’t retake his friend’s hand, a fact from which Eddie attempted to hide his disappointment. With a long breath, Buck began his speech while Eddie watched his changing expressions with increasing awe.

“I don’t know how much you remember about yesterday or what you said before you went into surgery. I know you were pretty out of it from the pain meds and anesthesia but you said some things.”

Oh god, Eddie prayed for more anesthesia so he could go back to sleep and wake up in a world where he hadn’t embarrassed himself. He had no idea what those things were that he’d apparently said to Buck but from his demeanor the instant Eddie laid eyes on him, he knew it must have been something big.

“You asked me to look after Christopher if anything happened to you.”

Oh? That wasn’t too bad. “I meant that. I trust you.” If that was all he’d said, there was nothing to be worried about. He would have asked that of Buck regardless. It just made sense at this point. “Just promise you wouldn’t let my parents bully you into taking him back to Texas, okay? His home is here, now.”

Buck’s blush was awfully adorable in the sharp, white light (perhaps not all of the medication had worn off). “You, uh, you told me that, too.”

“Okay good, I mean it. We can make it official if you want? Sign the paperwork and everything.” He should take a look at his will anyways. He hadn’t had a chance to adjust it since before Shannon’s death and some things had definitely changed. Was that why Buck looked so anxious: he didn’t know how to ask Eddie for guardianship? That was an easy fix. So far, nothing had come up to explain what had prompted the sudden confession or Carla’s involvement.

“We could?”

“Of course.” He shrugged, careful of his wiring and newly acquired stitching. “I told you: there’s no one I trust more with my son than you.” He’d meant it then and, if anything, that belief had only grown with time.

“What about your heart?”

The one currently alerting the nurse’s station that it was beating uncontrollably? That heart?

“What about it?”

“Do you trust me with your heart more than anyone?”

“Buck, wha-”

“You also said,” Buck seemed to be powering through now, regardless of anything Eddie wanted to say. “You also said that if you were going to marry anyone else, it would be me.” Oh god. “And you said that you love me.” Oh god. “Did you mean it?” Oh. God.

The truth of it was that Eddie didn’t remember anything between experiencing a pain in his side as they walked into the grocery store and waking up to the two nurses hovering over him. He’d guessed it was a problem with his appendix but like many unpleasant things, he’d put off making an appointment too long and it had apparently come to bite him in the ass in the worst (and most expensive) way possible.

And on top of that, his subconscious mind was punishing him by letting slip the confession he’d been rolling around on his tongue for months.

Great.

He’d realized he was in love with Buck one night when they had been on an endless shift with too many calls involving high stakes and stupid people. He was beyond exhausted and frustrated, and every emotion seemed to take up residence in his shoulder muscles. Finally, they’d been freed to go home to their loved ones, except because of the late hour, his loved one was sleeping over with his friends. So, Eddie had no one to go home to – a fact which he had resigned himself to long ago – when he felt a familiar hand clap his back and, with a simple nod of his head, Buck invited him over for pizza and video games. And just like that: Eddie wasn’t alone any more. And just like that: Eddie realized he loved Buck.

For months, he’d wrestled over the depth of his emotions for the man currently watching his every expression. Was it just a crush born out of proximity? Was it a physical attraction coupled with a close friendship which would mean a less than successful romantic relationship? Was it loneliness and desperation? Was it a forever kind of love? Did it have to be in order to mean something important?

It had taken time, but eventually Eddie had come to the conclusion that Buck was more than a fling and worth more than mere physical attraction (though the man had been making frequent visits to his dreams of late and many of them involved the need to wash his sheets in the morning).

He was beginning to contemplate the notion of possibly thinking about telling Buck how he felt, when his appendix decided to do it for him. And now here was Buck, looking him in the eyes – those eyes that were like the ocean in a storm – to ask him if he’d meant it when he’d said that he loved him, despite not remembering making that very significant confession.

And on top of that: Buck’s first words in response to that very significant confession, was to tell Eddie that he loved him. Because of Carla. Somehow.

“Why did Carla make you say…what you said?” Dare he get his hopes up? Dare he allow himself to believe that the things Buck said were said in earnest?

“She didn’t make me say it, I wanted to say it, but she told me if I chickened out when you woke up, she would lock me in here until I did.” If anyone asked him the colour of the sky, he would have no earthly idea what the sky even was. The only thought that existed in his mind were five words.

“You wanted to say it?”

Buck’s cheeks really did turn a lovely shade of pink when he was flustered. “Yeah, Eddie, I wanted to say it. And I wanted to hear you say it. Just not when you were being wheeled into surgery.”

“It wasn’t how I planned on saying it, either.” He muttered his confession despite barely regaining consciousness from losing all other thought.

“But you meant it?”

Buck reiterated the question Eddie had yet to answer because it felt like reaching a door that would disappear once opened. But wasn’t that the real question: did he want to open the door?

“Yes.”

The smile on his partner’s face was warm enough to soothe the cool remnants of their parted hands, and Eddie felt his own expression soften and expand from just the sight of the other man’s joy.

“Good.” Buck whispered. “I love you, too. By the way.”

If laughter didn’t threaten to pull his stitches, he would have joined in the bubbling happiness that filled the room. Instead, he resigned himself to watching the man he loved – the man who loved him back – relax into their shared knowledge that things would be all right between them.

Not that he ever truly worried. Things with Buck weren’t always easy but they always found that world again: one where they were both too frightened to speak their hearts and minds, but the universe brought them together anyways.

Grocery store appendectomies were decidedly not on his list of ways to confess his love. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[witchybluedeity]

Not Like This Part One

I blame @godsliltippy, @tsarinatorment, @gumnut-logic and @flyboytracy this entire idea.

John appearing mid-Pendergast marathon made Gordon jump way more than it should have, and the smirk on Scott's face proved the pilot had seen it. "John! It was getting to the good part!"

"We have a situation."

That got his attention. Within seconds Gordon and Scott both switched from casual brothers to International Rescue operatives, a skill they learned in WASP and the Air Force. "What's up John?"

"There's a whale beached on a sandbank off of Tasmania's West Coast, the caller said its name is… Gatsby?"

"You're kidding!”

John shook his head, bringing up the image of the beached whale. "Nope."

Gordon grinned and stood up. “I'm on my way!”

“Gordon, we don't rescue animals-”

“Scott, you don't get it! This is Gatsby! He's a research whale! He helps scientists and marine biologists monitor how much marine life take care of the ocean! They've already learned how whales are essentially the hearts of the ocean. They're a key participant in making sure the ocean's biological carbon pump is working efficiently by absorbing the dissolved atmospheric carbon from the surface and sequestering it to the sea floor. Since they're one of the largest marine animals, they can absorb up to 33 tons of carbon when they reach old age! They're helping the planet!" The aquanaut concluded his speech with a challenging glare towards Scott, who sent back a glare of his own.

"We're not an animal rescue association, Gordon. We rescue humans."

"Humans are animals too, Scott! International Rescue will rescue Gatsby, whether I have to go alone or not!" Gordon raced towards the small aquarium where the flooring concealed his chute, determined to postpone the argument until he wasn't in a hurry.

Scott had other ideas. "You can't be serious!"

"La la la, I can't hear you!" He nearly slammed his hand onto the hidden scanner in the class, impatiently waiting for the walls to surround him and take him to his awaiting 'Bird. "I'm going. And I dare you to try to stop me."

The venom in his brother's voice caused Scott to flinch despite everything, and he let out a heavy sigh, facepalming. Stubborn brothers.

The now-agitated aquanaut folded his arms tightly over his chest before turning to change into his uniform, releasing a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Scott.” Letting his training drop, his excited marine-loving side took over and a smile blossomed on his face. “I’m saving the Gatsby! Nothing could go wrong!” 

The mechanical arms helped him finish suiting up, and soon Gordon was taking a deep breath and diving into Four’s tank with eagerness he usually reserved for ocean swims. Thunderbird Four’s airlock opened for her pilot the moment he hit the water, and as always he patted her outer hull in thanks before pulling himself in. 

“Get ready girl.” He grinned as he positioned himself in the seat, flipping into the control room. “We’re saving one of the most famous whales.” Starting up her systems was mandatory, but it sent a ripple of calmness through him, as though she was reassuring him. As though she could sense his nervousness prior to every mission. 

One of the many reasons he loved her. 

“Thanks girl.” With a smile, Gordon patted her dash, watching the tank door slide open to reveal the ocean surrounding Tracy Island. “Thunderbird 4 is go.” 

“F.A.B Thunderbird 4. Professor Shikund is going to meet you there.”

“Professor Shikund?! No way!” Gordon couldn’t help bouncing in his seat a little, drawing a smile from his older brother. “You can tell him I’ll be right there!”

“Your ETA is half an hour.” 

Gordon fell still as he considered the time frames, biting his lip in worry. “How long has Gatsby been out of water John?” The other end was quiet for a moment.

“The Professor wants to talk to you personally. Should I-?”

“Patch him in John! Patch him in!” So what if he was fanboying? He’d read everything about the Professor, and had dreamt of meeting him.

Not even thirty seconds later, a new voice filled the cabin. “International rescue?”

Gordon nearly squealed, grin splitting his face in two. “Professor Shikund!!”

The Professor chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. “I’m guessing you the marine expert of the team?”

“I wouldn’t say expert-” The aquanaut flushed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just have a great interest in what happens below sea level.”

“That’s an understatement” John piped up, his hologram still active next to the Professor’s.

Shikund’s lips quirked into a small grin. “As much as I’d like to have a conversation with you, I currently have a beached whale waiting for rescue.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly in remembrance. In his excitement to talk to the Professor, he’d forgotten about the reason he was headed to the sandbank. How had he forgotten about that? “Right, right! Gatsby. How long has he been out of the water for? I’m twenty minutes out.”

“Gatsby’s been out here for approximately two hours and thirty-four minutes. He can only be out for another fifty-three before he perishes.”

“Right, okay.” Gordon reached up above the viewing glass and flicked a few switches, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If I push it I can be there in thirteen minutes. Four won’t like it, but a life is a life, and we save them.” With a flick of his wrist, the aquanaut swiped John away when the red-head opened his mouth to comment.

He’d known his brother long enough to recognize John was going to verbalize something similar to Scott. He didn’t need unnecessary comments.

“That’ll give us forty minutes to get him back into the ocean.” The professor didn’t like it, and neither did Gordon. It was barely any time, and he only had Thunderbird Four’s gear. They would have to improvise.

“Then we’ll save him in thirty.” Determination filled his voice as the aquanaut pushed his ‘Bird’s engines, plans already being formulated. One thing he knew he could try was using the robotic arms to either dig away the sand or gently pull the whale back into the water.

A frown appeared at the thought. Both options could be dangerous towards Gatsby’s health, which was something Gordon wanted to avoid at all costs, but they didn’t have many options. Thunderbird Four wasn’t geared up like her sisters. “What equipment do you have with you now?”

“I don’t have much that’ll be useful I’m afraid, I only came out here to check up on Gatsby.”

A heavy sigh left Gordon at the confession, one hand leaving the controls to run through blond hair. “This won’t be easy.” But then again, nothing they ever did was. Even the easiest missions sometimes took a turn for the worst.

Scott at home while his brothers were all out on missions proved that.

“But can we do it?”

Gordon felt his heart stop. What if they couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t do it? He’d come out unprepared, carrying only the minimal gear. Something an IR operative never did. Something an ex-WASP Lieutenant never did.

But he knew someone he could depend on. Leaving the professor’s question unanswered for the moment, the aquanaut touched the IR symbol on his baldric. “Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two, are you there?”

It was quiet for a moment before his brother responded. “This better be important Gordon, I’m en-route to a hospital with injured victims in cargo.”

Wincing slightly, phantom pain momentarily spiked through his back. He’d known Virgil had been sent to a damaged ship in the South Atlantic, but he’d opted to stay behind. It was a busy day, and Gordon knew his brother could handle it, especially since the GDF had also been dispatched to help out. “Anything bad?”

“Nothing that’ll keep them hospitalized for long. What do you need?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head with a stage-whispered “Lucky bastards” that would earn him a scolding if Grandma heard. “Those pods still functional? Might need one.” 

“Dear brother mine, I’m not heavy-handed. I’ll be ten minutes dropping these guys off, then I’ll join you. What’s your position?”

“One time! One time! And I’m headed to the West Coast of Tasmania, twenty minute fly from your location.” He wasn’t mentioning how he’d worked with Scott to keep on eye on their brothers. “Forty minute time slot already, gonna need a land pod but keep it watertight, it might get a bit wet.” Narrowing his eyes, Gordon could see the seafloor beneath him slowly rising, a sign he was nearing land. 

“What’s the situation?” 

“Beached science whale, he’s an important one Virg.” The hesitance in Virgil’s response sent a wave of irritation through his veins. A life was a life! 

“Scott’ll have your hide.”

“He can go choke on Grandma’s food for all I care.” And right now, he really didn’t. Scott was wrong, they did save animal lives. They’d never specified what lives they saved in all the years International Rescue had been operating, so why suddenly start now? ‘Because Scott is already riled up from being grounded’ was the answer in the back of his mind, but Gordon ignored it. 

“Ouch Gords.”  Virgil’s sigh was audible over the comms, reaching up to flick switches above the visual, a sure sign he was changing altitude. “Don’t chew him out, he’s just aggravated.” 

“Oh, and I’m not? You try dealing with his grumpy ass while everyone else is out for a good six hours and see how aggravated you are.”  The fact the two brothers had grown up dealing with each other while he, John and Alan had strayed to their own paths passed over him.

“Brother issues?” The professor queried, amusement clear in her expression when Gordon startled for the second time that day, not that he’d admit it to anyone still. “I know how you feel.” 

Gordon frowned, head cocking to one side. “You do?” 

“Veterinarian Harley Shikund-” 

“He’s your brother?! Do you realize how many injured animals I’ve taken to him?!” He could hear Virgil snickering beside Shikund, but Gordon paid no attention. 

“Oh I’m aware, he’s always mentioning an International Rescue operative bringing in injured animals for him to check over. Says it keeps him wondering what you’re going to bring him next.” 

Virgil’s hologram blinked out, and Gordon bounced in his seat. 

“When I saw Gatsby in trouble, that’s why I called. I knew this animal loving operative could help.” Shikund smiled, patting something behind her, most likely the beached Gatsby. The soft clicks that sounded through the comm unit confirmed it was the distressed whale. 

Gordon nearly melted at the communication, and his determination to help Gatsby grew just that bit more. “Tell Gatsby I’ll be there in three minutes. Then we can get started helping back into the ocean.” 

“You got it. Don’t get too close though, or you’ll be needing a tow. The sandbank rises fast.” 

“F.A.B Professor, see you soon.” Cutting the connection, Gordon allowed himself a deep, happy sigh. First the Pendergasts, now Harley and Professor Shikund. He was meeting all his idols in this line of work. Sitting up with a big smile, he decreased his speed in preparation. It’d take Thunderbird Four one minute longer to get there, but he didn’t exactly want to get her beached alongside Gatsby. 

That’d be fun to explain to Virgil.

[dascarecrow]

Scarecrow Thoughts - Wandavision Ep. 6

Beware of spoilers 

-Title is “All-New Halloween Spooktacular!” So we’ve gotten to the Halloween episode. Was expecting it to be later in the series. 

-Opening credits are an homage to those of Malcolm In The Middle. Interestingly Agnes and Pietro both are credited during this. Hmmmm... 

-We get straight to the Halloween stuff and we get some solid personalities for the twins. Billy is the more thoughtful and tempered one, going into a diatribe about the spirituality of Halloween. Tommy is the snarky and abrasive one, thinking Halloween is just about candy. Nice touch, I wasn’t expecting much distinction between the two. 

-Billy is speaking to the audience directly, so I guess they’re going wholesale on the Malcolm in the Middle vibe. 

-Billy is dressed up in his Wiccan costume from the comics. Really didn’t expect that.  

-Pietro is sleeping on the couch while the twins debate waking him up, unaware that he just did and pranks them a bit. So Quicksilver is in the role of the looser, fun uncle here. About what I would expect. 

-Wanda hears the commotion and comes downstairs, dressed in her classic costume. The twins both get some depth with their responses. Billy guesses Old Red Riding Hood, showing some snark of his own. Tommy actually likes it, showing some sincerity and warmth but changes his opinion when Pietro claims it’s lame. 

-Wanda claims the costume is supposed to be of a Sokovian fortune teller. Nice bit of backstory, don’t know if that’s the case in the comics. I don’t think it is. 

-Pietro reminds Wanda of one Halloween as kids. Wanda remembers them getting a fish, much to their young selves revulsion. Funny scene but there is gunfire in the background so trauma rears it’s head again. Wanda claims she remembers the incident differently and Pietro notes she’s suppressed a lot of trauma. 

-Billy comments that Wanda had been acting oddly since Pietro’s arrival but puts it down to her not seeing him for a long time. Uh Billy if your fully aware of what’s going on then get a message to a nice lady named Monica Rambeau, she’ll be able to help you and your family. 

-Vision comes downstairs in his classic costume, which is simply great. We get an example of his and Pietro’s relationship which is mostly Pietro’s childishness clashing with his straightforward nature. Vision notes that Wanda hasn’t spoken about her brother much, which might be a big contributing factor to this whole mess. He also gives his opinion that Pietro is “great with kids”. Woah Vision did you just snark of your own volition? I know you got a dig in on Ultron but dang. You were built by Tony Snark after all. 

-Vision reveals that the costume was all that was in his closet, with the implication that Wanda made so it was all that he could wear. It also seems that Wanda has a thing for Mexican wrestlers. I did not know that. 

-Vision heads out on his own, much to Wanda’s confusion. He claims that it’s for neighborhood watch duties but Wanda is confused but it’s not what he’s supposed to do. Vision interrupts her and she stands down so he still has his awareness of things being wrong and Wanda can’t push too hard without more problems it would seem.  

-Billy comments on Wanda and Vision’s recent issues but Pietro notices him speaking to the audience. Intriguing. 

-The conflict gets settled with Pietro offering to step in for handling the boys tonight. He spooks Wanda with an in-show jump scare, which might hint at more sinister doings. Wanda comments he can’t for lack of a costume but he just zooms out with Tommy and both come back wearing their comic costumes. So good. Also this might be coincidental but Pietro’s hairstyle could also be devil horns. Regardless Wanda threatens to magic him into a pickled herring if he causes too much trouble. 

-Outside of the Hex, we get to enjoy the “How do you screw up a bad situation for the worse show.” Hayward has officially broken through the ice and I... I really wish he hadn’t. So from now on I will be calling him Haywad for he is unfit to be addressed by his actual name. 

-Monica calls Haywad out on his stunt with the drone while he tries brushing her off. Darcy snarks at how he got outdone last episode and he questions if Darcy works for SWORD. Actually a good question. She’s with Monica it would seem. Hayward gets his own moment snark by asking who’s the sassy best friend but good old Jimmy tells him off for trying to diminish the people who are actually handling the situation and know what their doing while also trying to start a fight with Wanda. 

- “Maximoff was never going to negotiate with us.” I’ll admit she probably wasn’t going to but trying to blow her up before even offering her a chance is a bit too far Haywad. 

-Haywad wants to take Wanda out as a quick and easy fix to things but Monica makes a point that they don’t know for certain that will happen or what else might happen if she dies while the Hex is up. A bit of a reach and I can see Haywad’s logic but I’ve heard worse rationales. 

-Monica continues her defense by pointing out that they don’t have anywhere near the firepower to outstrip Wanda and winding her up is just escalating things worse. As Monica puts it Wanda is the problem and also the only workable solution they’ve got. 

-Haywad is unflappable in his position, declaring Monica an impediment to the mission but he doesn’t stop there. He gets on her case for her defense of superpowered beings, even acknowledging her history with Carol. He goes on a rant about how the Snap devastated the world and how difficult choices needed to be made in light of what happened. The narrative almost paints him as a man pushed into a bad state of mind by how the world was ruined. And I call bullcrap. 

-Monica’s response? “Don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward.” Oh yes! I hate it when people try to use their dark past as an excuse to lash out and lower themselves to cruelty. I also love it when these people get called on their bullcorn and have how selfish they really are laid out. Tragedy befalls us all... and life goes on uncaring of our struggles. 

-Heywad’s response is to belittle Monica by telling her it was a good thing she wasn’t here for her mother’s death because she doesn’t have the stomach for their work. Oh you son of a... those aren’t fighting words, that’s a full on declaration of war.  And he follows that up by ordering Monica, Darcy and Woo expelled from the area. 

-Woo notes that Heywad is overstepping his authority with this stunt. Oh Jimmy you magnificent so and so I could slap you with a wet pancake! I knew Heywad was up to something that could give him trouble and you just made that clear for the audience. This isn’t just a SWORD mission this is a co-op between them and the FBI. And the dorkrector just tried to force their main agent on the ground off the assignment for no reason. Oh ho ho, Heywad just put himself in the line of fire and I can’t wait for someone to pull the trigger. 

-Woo cold clocks the soldiers escorting them off base and Monica joins in, knocking them all out. “Why didn’t anyone tell me the plan?” Oh Darcy never stop being delightful. After stashing the soldiers and going with the old MCU standby of disguises that don’t really disguise you the trio gets back to work. 

-Back in the Hex the family gets going on trick or treating with Wanda taking the chance to question Pietro about their past. He knows she’s trying to test him, admitting that he looks different from how she remembers. He guesses that it’s because Wanda doesn’t want to be reminded of the past in her little bubble of paradise. Is he aware of what’s going on or what? 

-Pietro takes the kids off to get into some mischief while Wanda goes to speak with Herb. The brief sequence is hilarious but Herb reveals that Vision isn’t on duty for the watch. Then there’s a slightly disturbing scene where Herb asks if Wanda wants something changed. She declines but it’s clear something is going on. 

-Vision is off by himself and sees a couple repeating the motions of setting up Halloween decorations. One of them sheds a single tear. Oh not that cheap trick for drama again. Also eerie.... 

-We get to the commercial for the episode and it’s one of those claymation snack commercials. Which ends with a kid starving to death and turning into a skeleton trying to open the snack. Uh... Okay then. Let’s just go back to the... just as ominous parts of the setting. 

-Wanda makes the boys return the candy that Pietro helped them steal and is upset with how bad of an influence he’s being. Pietro notes he’s just playing his part, literally that is. He’s hitting all the boxes of the standard fun loving uncle in a sitcom. He says to Wanda that she wanted “to give you grief”. Okay hopefully Pietro’s presence is Wanda trying to work through the grieving process so she can figure out what’s going on and fix it. 

-Wanda questions Pietro’s missing accent and he fires back about how she’s missing hers. He claims that the details of his return are fuzzy, the last thing he remembers being his death before Wanda called for him. This does not prove it is the MCU version of Quicksilver with a facelift okay. It could still be the Fox version with MCU Pietro’s memories zapped into his mind. 

-The boys get excited about a candy score and Tommy literally zooms there and back with superspeed. He doesn’t even seem aware of it until Pietro points it out, at which point he does as children and has fun with his new powers. I just love how Wanda just catches him no problem while he’s zipping around, no powers needed. She lets the boys head off for some solo candy hunting but warns them not to go past Ellis Avenue. I know Ellis is the name of a comic worker I just can’t remember which one. 

-We return to the SWORD base for another installment of “Keeping your idiotic boss from destroying the world.” It is sad that there are actually enough moments like this in the MCU to be a thing. The trio find a computer room and Monica discovers Pietro’s presence in the Hex. “He brought the wrong face” So funny! Monica doesn’t want to hang around too long, which is smart. Darcy hacks into the computer systems for the compound, which is extra smart. Seriously a degree in astrophysics and computer hacking skills, what have you been up to in the... decade since we last saw you? 

-What does Darcy find? Well Haywad found a way to look through the boundary and didn’t tell anyone. I am so looking forward to his downfall. Turns out Vision is being tracked through the decay signature of vibranium, which I will admit is at least clever. The tracking method also shows the residents of Westview in Vision’s immediate vicinity. Good old Jimmy goes right into work mode, figuring that Haywad must have a near accurate head count and assessment of the residents wellbeing by now. He takes note of the denizens at the edge of the Hex barely moving and questions if they’re even alive. 

-Cue Vision discovering a group of completely immobile residents. Wary of the whole situation Vision assumes his normal superhero look and takes flight, discovering that the inner depths of the town are plenty active and behaving normally. This is a very well shot sequence just showing him flying and capturing the unsettling nature of what’s going on. While airborne Vision takes notice of a stopped car near the border. 

-Turns out its Agnes in the car. She seems to be in a mental short circuit at the moment. She asks Vision for directions... in a town she supposedly grew up in. Vision worriedly does his mind trick to free her suppressed personality and she quickly identifies him as an Avenger, believing he’s there to help everyone. Vision does want to help but is clueless about what an Avenger is, so it seems he hasn’t regained any of his memories yet. This leads to the “Am I dead?” discussion from the trailer. Vision needs it clarified for him that Agnes believes he’s dead. Several times. Vision wants to leave Westview to figure out what’s going on but Agnes questions how. No one leaves, which isn’t true you just have to tick off a reality warping witch. Agnes identifies that Wanda is the one in peoples head, preventing them from even thinking of leaving. While that does sound incriminating we still don’t know everything that’s going on so I’m staying hopeful. Agnes isn’t however as she winds up going on about how “All is lost” and cackling until Vision zaps her brain back into the illusion. So I guess she isn’t evil here. Once Agnes is back on her disturbingly merry way Vision makes his way to the boundary line. 

-Back with the trio Monica gets a response from her engineer associate who is coming with the way back into the Hex they started on last week and wants to head out to meet them. Darcy mentions they can’t do that. “Sure we can. I’m a whiz at hot wiring cars.” Ha ha ha ha ha! Okay that was funny. Monica thinks the worst case scenario is her getting whammied and dressed up again but it turns out Monica specifically can’t go back in because every time she crosses the boundary her cells get transformed. Monica balks at the data, mentioning she’s seen enough lab results for a life time. She goes on and talks about what she went through with her mother’s cancer and reveals that’s why she wants to help Wanda, because Monica has been through grief like her and wants to do what she can to help her through it. 

-Darcy chooses to stay behind so she can find what Haywad is hiding, feeling it could help them get answers about the whole thing. Monica and Woo aren’t crazy about the idea because of how dangerous it is but relent and go on their way. The Son of Odin would be proud of you Darcy. 

-Back in the Hex Wanda and Pietro talk about how nice Westview is and how their parents would have loved it. So of course Pietro ruins it by asking where the kids were until now. Okay that’s a bit unsettling. He thinks Wanda just had them asleep and didn’t want them traumatized, which starts getting her bothered. Pietro praises her for her handling of the ethical ramifications of her little bubble. Families and couples aren’t split up, most personalities are close to their normal ones, they even have better jobs. Pietro how do you know all of that? Wanda is surprised that he is okay with all of this, which sadly proves that Wanda is aware of what she’s doing. Pietro is actually impressed with how much Wanda’s powers have grown. 

-Pietro continues the ominous vibe by asking how Wanda did all of this. She’s reluctant to tell him but he wins her over with their familial bond. Wanda doesn’t know how she’s done all of this, just remembers overwhelming and all consuming grief. So we’re about where we started and what’s behind all of this. 

-Wanda takes a moment to compose herself and sees Pietro as his gunned down corpse for a moment, just like she saw Vision two episodes back. Pietro questions if she’s okay and balks when she tries to confirm she is. Seriously what is up with you Pietro. You better not be Mephisto I swear. 

-Darcy finds something called Cataract in Haywad’s files. The file says its Eyes Only so I think she can’t see what it actually is but I don’t know. She sends an e-mail to Jimmy before she notices that Vision has made his way to the boundary. And she notices because Haywad did. Uh oh. 

-Vision crosses the boundary but I wouldn’t say it’s successful. There’s an energy effect connecting him to the line, which seems to be trying to keep him in or pull him back in. Parts of Vision start breaking off and getting pulled back into the field. 

-And where is Haywad during all of this? Just standing there doing nothing while commenting on how much Vision must want to escape. Okay Haywad if your going to be a jerk and possibly evil then can you at least be smart at it. There is no reason for you to just be standing around. Unless your hoping that some part of Vision is still remaining for you to collect but I highly doubt that will happen. 

-Darcy charges in to try and help Vision but of course these guys are from incompetence incorporated so they keep her from helping. Oh Haywad is going to get the mother of all lighting bolts shoved up his rear when Thor finds out about this. 

-Billy is somehow perceiving Vision’s struggle at the moment hearing his fathers voice in his head. He stops Tommy with telekinetic powers and goes to Wanda to save him. 

-Vision is still desperately struggling and begs SWORD to help the people of Westview. Hero to the end that one. 

-Pietro makes a tasteless joke about Vision can’t die twice and gets blasted for the remark. Should not move mouth faster than brain can think. 

-Billy is able to to focus his powers to figure out what’s happening. They seem a bit different than Wanda’s. He’s either mentally linked to Vision in the moment or he’s clairvoyantly witnessing what happens. Billy worries that his father is dying. 

-Wanda stops the town cold in its tracks and focuses her powers. Monica and Jimmy notice that the field is moving so it seems that Wanda is expanding it. The SWORD agents try to flee and the one who cuffed Darcy leaves her behind, only to get abandoned by his fellow agents. Delicious karma. The restores Vision once it passes over him but it doesn’t stop there. The Hex keeps growing and expanding, ensnaring almost all of the SWORD personnel. Only Haywad and a few agents remain and I know this is a bad thing but in the immediate moment for him I can only think “Yeah Wanda zap him, zap him good.” We see the Hex growing without end and the episode ends with a cut to Wanda as the red glow fades from her eyes. 

Final thoughts 

-Can’t tell if this is the era for the 90s or the 00s. I’m personally ascribing to 90s because of the commercial fitting the aesthetic of that era better. 

-Evan Peters as Pietro is a delight. He honestly comes across as his character from the Fox movies dropped into the MCU and it is done very organically. I sincerely hope that he actually is the Fox version of Quicksilver brought to this universe because that would be amazing. 

-Haywad has officially used up my good will towards him. I was willing to give the benefit of the doubt until he brought Monica’s mother into things. That was just low and solely to hurt her. At this point it’s a toss up over Wanda zapping him, Vision rearranging his insides from the outside, Monica frying his rear end with her incoming powers or Woo getting him trouble through good old fashion legal fu. 

-I think we can safely say that the Vision sight we saw in episode 4 was just a hallucination as we see the same effects when Wanda looks at Pietro and Vision doesn’t wind up looking anything like his destroyed self from Infinity War once he crosses the boundary. 

-Liked what they did with Tommy and Billy. I was not expecting them to do much with the two but they already have their powers. I’ve been hearing rumors about the Young Avengers making their way to the MCU but its one of the teams I don’t really follow. If it happens great, if not I don’t really care. 

-Woo proves to be an MVP, schooling people with his words and decking them the heck out when he has to. You know mister Woo the United Nations is trying to put togethers a group known as the Agents of Atlas, could we interest you in a position. 

-It is fully confirmed that Wanda does know what is going and is willingly continuing it. There is a semi-confirmation that she is trying to do right by the people of the town like trying to protect the children but the fact is she knows she’s keeping them trapped so there had better be a dang good reason for wanting to keep this going or so help me Wanda we will get someone in there that takes you down. 

[chika-the-terrible]

First Goodbyes

“I still find this a little suspicious.”

“Dad, you find everything suspicious.”

“I’m a government agent, what did you expect?”

“A suspension of disbelief, actually.” Leon had to give a snort at that.

“Sorry, buddy, but I can’t do that.” He gave Harry’s shoulder a pat. Being in the middle of a busy train station in the heart of London both relaxed him and gave tension. It was nice to be around so many normal people, but if an outbreak occurred, Harry would be in the crossfire. Leon wouldn’t forgive the person behind it if something like that happened. It didn’t help that Hagrid, the giant of a man, had fucked off somewhere after guiding them through this whole ‘Wizarding World‘ shit. Leon still had a hard time believing it, even though he had seen Harry do things that, previously, were only signs of a B.O.W. He was glad his son was not actually a Bio-Organic Weapon but the fact that Harry would be an ocean away, learning to be a wizard, did not ease Leon’s nerves. And now they were searching for a platform that didn’t exist. This day was just getting better and better.

“Why do wizards have to be so confusing?” Leon murmured, “I mean, I can understand the logic of keeping non-magic people away, but for those of us who are technically wizards but live in the non-magic world, you could at least give us a better guide.”

“Hagrid’s a good guide. He’s just got stuff to do.” Harry pointed out.

“Mmm.” was all Leon said. They continued to walk, side-by-side, looking for any kind of sign that indicated a place called ‘Platform 9 3/4.‘ The more they searched, getting closer to the deadline, the more worried Harry became.

“What if we don’t make the train in time?” he asked, “How will I get to Hogwarts? Will they even let me in?”

“Hey, hey.” Leon soothed, “I’m sure they’d let you in and make sure you got there. They wouldn’t be a good school if they didn’t.” At least, Leon hoped this was true. He’d been distrustful of these guys from the start, even though Hagrid was friendly enough. After all the hell he’d been through, trust was hard to come by, especially with first impressions. And once Harry was calmed, they continued on their way. It would make sense that, if they couldn’t find it themselves, then maybe they could spot some wizards or someone who could guide them to the right place.

Leon was a bit glad he was wearing a jacket. While it was getting closer to Fall, it was still pretty summer-like. At least, it was in the States. England was colder and the jacket was being put to good use. Was it a crime if he loved those fuzzy jackets? Especially since the last one he’d had had been stolen on that mission to Spain a year ago? Leon deserved this jacket. Harry, though, didn’t mind the cold as much. At least he was enjoying himself.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours of walking (which it, of course, was not), Harry finally spotted someone he thought could help. Leon had noticed them before, but it wasn’t until Harry pointed them out that Leon got a good look. It seemed to be a family composed entirely of redheads. While that wasn’t exactly a highly unusual sight, it was still a bit strange. Leon and Harry hesitantly ventured closer.

“C’mon now! Pick up the pace!” said the eldest, a woman with bushy red hair much older than the rest. Leon assumed her to be their mother, or at least a family member. She continued, “We don’t need to miss the train!” There had to be at least five kids with her, and the majority of them were pushing carts similar to Harry’s. It looked like they might’ve finally found their ticket to the train.

“Excuse me.” Leon jogged to catch up. The group stopped, turning to him, with Harry quickly trailing behind. Leon asked, “Are you all heading to Platform 9 3/4 too?”

“Yes dear.” The woman gave a smile, “I suppose both of you are new to this?” Leon hated the embarrassment that flooded his cheeks at the admission, despite the fact that he had been in much worse situations. He still didn’t like people knowing something he didn’t. He nodded regardless.

“Yeah. I’m Leon and this is my son, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harry chirped.

“We don’t have much time for introductions, I’m afraid, but follow us and we’ll show you the way.” said the woman. The redheaded group then rushed off and Leon and Harry tried to keep up. As they got closer to the entrance to the platform, Leon tried to memorize where they were, so they would be able to figure this out next time. Eventually they came to one of the pillars settled between platforms.

“Remember, get a running start!” said the woman, “Percy, you go first.” The eldest man of the redheads, who appeared of the prim and proper sort, nodded and positioned his cart in front of the wall. Then, alarming Leon, he charged right at it. Leon’s first instinct was to interfere, but he stopped. In seconds, Percy was gone. It was like the wall had swallowed him up. So maybe these wizards really did know what they were doing. He watched as the identical twins Fred and George went, then it was Ron’s turn. Apparently the young girl wouldn’t be going, but it would be Ron’s first time at Hogwarts as well. Leon hoped Ron would show Harry the ropes, then, and maybe even become his friend. With Leon not at home all the time, Harry really needed some friends.

“Are you ready?” he asked his son, after Ron had run through.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He seemed a little nervous, but that was natural. For non-magical people, running straight at a wall was bound to give you a broken nose and/or bruises. Wizards had to have trained the instinct out of their system for this to work, Leon reasoned.

“I can come with you. We can do this together.” Leon said. He gave his son a smile, “On three, we run. Okay?” Harry gave another nod. He appeared more at ease, now knowing his father would do this with him. Leon caught the woman smiling in the corner of his eye. He ignored her for now, instead beginning to count, “One, two, three!” They rushed the wall. Leon’s instincts screamed at him to stop, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d ignored them. The wall came closer and closer, but then it faded away and a wave of something washed over them. They were finally here.

Leon helped Harry bring the cart to a stop and they looked around. A train stood waiting and whistling for its passengers and people of all kinds were moseying around, similar to Diagon Alley (Leon still snorted at the name. Seriously?). He couldn’t help but feel a bit amazed, however. While he may still not trust this new world, he had to admit there were some advantages. Like hiding an entire station inside of a wall. But then the train screeched and Leon knew it was time to go.

“Here.” He pulled off his jacket, “I doubt Scotland’s gonna be warm so you’ll need some comfort.”

“But isn’t this your favorite jacket?” Harry asked.

“I’d rather you have warmth and a part of me with you instead of going into the cold alone.” Leon gave it to his son. Then they shared a hug, “Promise me you’ll keep in touch. I wanna see letters often, got it? Just, I’m gonna miss you, buddy.”

“I know.” Harry’s hug was strong, “I promise.” The train screeched again. Harry had to clamber aboard as porters grabbed his luggage for him. He soon found a window, where he waved out of it, and Leon waved back. He hoped the jacket would truly keep Harry warm and give him a semblance of home, maybe even keep him out of trouble. Soon, however, the train began charging off and Leon was alone with dozens of people he didn’t know. All except for the redheaded woman and her daughter, that is.

“Molly Weasley.” she greeted, giving his hand a shake, “And this is Ginny. She’ll start school next year.”

“Good for you.” He nodded to the girl, “Leon Kennedy. Sorry to trouble you about the train, but we just couldn’t find it.”

“That’s quite alright, dear. Many newcomers need a hand or three.” said Molly, “And don’t worry about your lad. I went to Hogwarts myself and I can tell you, he’ll have a lot of fun and friends to make.”

“Thanks. It’s just,” Leon gave a sigh, “I’ve not been at home much, but he’s always been there. This is the first time he’s gone off on his own.”

“Yes, leaving the nest is always tough.” she agreed, “If you want, we could keep in touch? I don’t mind giving you a helping hand about magic if you might need it. And I would love to meet up for tea sometime!”

“Maybe.” he said, “I live in the United States, so I don’t know if I’d be able to make any engagements.”

“That’s alright, we can always come to you instead!” Molly was very friendly and motherly. While Leon didn’t give trust easily, he felt that he wouldn’t mind being friends with this woman. Her warmth, while pretty strong, reminded him a little of Sherry or Claire.

“Well, do you have a phone that I could call? Or an address?” He still wasn’t sure how communication worked, if they still had phones or not, but he was willing to adapt. Adaptation had always helped him in the past, especially against shambling hordes of zombies. And when Molly gave him an address for letters, Leon knew his new normal was just getting started. He just hoped Harry was having a good time.

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

Next Drabble

[miss-choco-chips]

Twisted soulmates

BIG Thank you to @iphoenixrising who let me babble on chat about this idea, and to @the-sky-is-a-lie who is an awesome sweetheart and read and edited this for me (THANK YOU!)

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

Tim has three names on one wrist. His soulmates. Tim has one name on the other wrist. His nemesis.

...or are they?

Tim gets his first mark the night the Graysons fell, ‘Richard John Grayson’ forever tattooed on him, the otherwise unblemished white skin of his left wrist almost shining in contrast to the new addition.

Young, he might be, but not stupid; never stupid. Neither of his parents would approve of a circus artist, perfect as he may be in Tim’s wide opened eyes, so he had to be smart about this. His mind hasn’t stopped whirling since the little touch that burned Dick’s name on him and vice versa, all kind of plans on how to broach the subject with the adults, how to make Dick like him beyond the promised love of a soulmate, every possibility dancing through his eyes, while his parents look for their seats at the stands none the wiser.

He's planning on asking his mom to stay after the show, so he might properly introduce himself to this marvelous trapezist, maybe proclaim an interest in the training - anything that could improve his overall abilities was a good thing in Janet’s eyes, and having her on board would be enough to force his father to accept. He’s excited at the prospect, and a part of him thinks Dick, up the trapeze getting ready for his act, feels the same. That he could feel, through the bond that snapped in place when the other kid first touched him, an echo of his own happiness, a joy at finding, so soon in life, something as beautiful as this. 

He’s going to stay after the show. He’ll talk to Dick, introduce himself properly, be as mature as possible- Dick wouldn’t want a dumb kid as his soulmate. Maybe even make friends with this wonderful boy that can fly and is destined to love him.

(Love him, him, him. He can’t wrap his head around this strange concept of being on the receiving end of something strong and wonderful. He might cry.)

Then the tragedy occurs, and  Tim's too traumatized to think about doing anything about it. He can't pester a grieving boy with this. They are kids after all, and it’s not like their bond is going anywhere. 

(I don’t want to wait, please don’t forget about me, please love me.)

---.---

Dick has just been adopted, his entire worldview had changed, adding a soulmate to care about would be just too mean of him. Tim can take care of himself, even when sometimes, after his parents left for yet another trip, he yearns for someone to hold his hand after a nightmare. To brush his hair back and hug him.

But that’s just the child in him. He doesn’t need it to live, it’s just a silly comfort thing to wish for, like the baby blanket his mother had made the servants take away once Tim turned four. So he keeps quiet. He waits. 

Dick’s name is on his left wrist, after all. He is his soulmate.

----.----

He gets his second mark years later, when the Batcave’s security is breached and some strange men attack Bruce. The giant penny is too tall, but he still get a good look at the man below it, and something in his gut twists. It all makes sense a few minutes later, when Bruce is fighting someone else and the man in green robes pushes Tim aside, holding him hostage to get the Batman’s cooperation. 

The skin on his wrist, the one that doesn't have Dick's promised love tattooed on it, burns. He doesn’t dare look down, aware of how taking your eyes from the predator in the room could mean instant death. He doesn’t need to, anyway; he already knows.

Tim’s pretty sure this is his nemesis, because no way he'd be destined to hate Dick and love this criminal, and they are on opposite wrists. So… getting away is the first step on his ‘do not interact with this terrorist until I’m significantly better at defending myself’ plan. Easy peasy.

He catches the side glance the man shoots him, because of course he also felt the burn, and there’s curiosity there. Something akin to amusement, which, Tim can get behind, he’s also seeing the irony of this, the utterly ridiculousness of him being important enough in the grand scheme of things to warrant being tattooed on this man’s skin.

There’s also possessiveness there, which isn’t fun at all. Stranger danger, his mind screams at him.

His nemesis shouldn’t be possessive of him, unless he has a really fucked up view of his enemies, in a ‘their death is mine, and mine only’ way. Because this is his nemesis, there's no doubt in his mind of that. 

Dick is on his other wrist, after all, and he is his soulmate.

----.----

Bruce goes mental when he finds out later, and almost blows a gasket. Ra’s, as Tim later finds out his nemesis is called, is suddenly one upping the Joker on Batman’s high priority enemies list, which means only a glimpse of him anywhere near the city borders would warrant a call to Superman, Bruce’s ultimate last resort. That’s how big this is.

Young Justice has split feelings on the matter. Cissie and Cassie, ever the bloodthirsty ones in Tim’s humble opinion, suggest tracking the man down before he can get to their leader, and taking him out of the game. Probably permanently. Kon seems torn, half with the girls, half with Bart, who finds the whole thing amusing and exciting. Ra’s Al Ghul, one of the most dangerous enemies the Justice League ever faced, and little old Robin is his fated enemy. Not Superman, not Wonder Woman, not Batman himself; just their Rob. That, according to the speedster, is so, so, so crash. The rest of the team, if they have opinions, keep them to themselves. It takes a while to calm the room down and focus on their mission of the day, but he eventually succeeds.

Dick, on his part, comes back from where he was brooding with the Titans after a fight with his mentor to fret over Tim, and everything is right in the world. 

He isn't afraid of Ra's. He has his new family, new friends, and soulmate.

----.----

There’s something on his pillow when he gets back from the weekend with his friends. 

A perfect rose, white as snow, thorns so sharp Tim knows they would pierce skin if touched. Not that he would be so stupid as to do it, not when foes like Ivy existed.

But… there’s a ribbon, and it sends ice through his veins. A red ribbon, tied at the stem’s exact center. A flower with a ribbon, the universal symbol of soulmates.

He’s pretty sure Dick’s back in San Francisco. Which leaves...

No.

He squares his shoulders and searches in his bag for his Robin gauntlets, protecting his hands with them as he disposes of the rose.

His right hand stings a little through the entire process.

----.----

When he gets his third mark, he's honestly surprised. As well as on the edge of unconsciousness from blood loss.

The blood flooding his airways is his, and the building that he believed was his safe place would never feel like that again. His knocked out friends litter the hallways, the bo staff he tried to use to defend himself long lost to the fight, as this man, his hero, his Robin, his apparent Soulmate, tries to kill him.

(Their eyes meet and they feel it at the same time, the twist in their stomachs, which is what stops Jason's blade. Tim’s hand raises up, weakly, and carefully brushes against the one holding the knife. It burns, and everything goes black for a minute.) 

(Jason stops breathing. He has the Joker on one hand, and was markless on the other until now, so this runt has to be his soulmate. No way it's the deranged clown. Which means he almost....)

Jason runs away (this is Jason, his wrist claims, not the mysterious Red Hood any longer) and Tim patches himself up, does damage control with his friends, calls Batman. His heart is beating twice as fast as usual, but he tries to be logical; Jason is on the same wrist as Dick, who is his soulmate, and opposite to Ra's, who's most likely his nemesis. Ergo, Jason's gotta be his soulmate. 

His confused, probably traumatized, totally not in his right mind soulmate.

He's gotta be patient and wait. Jason surely will get better, will come back to Tim, will fix this mistake he almost made, will... will love him.

Dick is his soulmate, and calls him ‘little brother’, which hurts, but he says it with such warmth that it soothes the ache. Dick loves him. 

Jason will, too, someday.

----.----

A few weeks later, he wakes up in the middle of the night, conscious of the feeling of being watched from the shadows of his room. 

There’s the teddy bear Steph won for him at the fair some months ago, sitting on the chair near his bed where he last put it, but… odd. There’s something about it that’s not quite normal, something that wasn’t there when he went to sleep half an hour ago.

It took him less than a minute to spot it, which would still be shameful if Bruce ever found out, but he sees the unusual shine in the bear’s eye and groans, more tired than rightfully angry, feeling like the moody teenager he never actually was.

A hidden camera. This was the fifth of the year, what the hell?

Pissed off, he gets up and takes the scissors he leaves by his bedside (can’t exactly go to sleep with a birdarang there, his dad might check on him at night and freak out, but sleeping without a weapon in easy reach just makes him uncomfortable) and makes quick work of the bear, getting the device out with as minimal damage to the plushie as possible. He’ll fix it later.

Beyond done, one hand opens the window with more strength than absolutely necessary, the other flying back to gather momentum and throw the thing right at the supposedly empty shadow on the roof of the building across the street. He’s not surprised when a dark gloved hand catches it, the rest of the body still perfectly concealed by the night. Fucking ninja.

No words needed, he slams the window shut again and grumbles his way to his desk, turning on his lamp. He’s not falling asleep again tonight, so might as well work on some cases.

----.----

His fourth mark is both exciting and like a bucket of cold water. 

It's a fucking kid.

Is this how Dick felt when he first got Tim's mark? No wonder he avoided talking about the subject, this was uncomfortable as fuck. Granted, it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic soulmate, platonic soulmates were a thing too, but... still. Awkward.

Even worse because the kid didn't have another mark and, as Tim was his first, was convinced he had to be his fated nemesis. No matter how hard Tim tried to explain the opposite; after the heart stilling moment where he extended his hand for a shake and was slapped away, thus providing the skin to skin contact needed for the bond to form, the brat was sure it was nothing but a ruse to get him to lower his defenses or something. God this kid was fucked up. 

So. In short. There were two of his soulmates trying to kill him. Great. 

But... Dick was on the same wrist as them. Dick loved him. Dick was his soulmate. So Damian... Damian had to be, as well. Maybe he'd grow out if his hate, maybe it was just a phase. 

Maybe.

----.----

His mother and father were dead. Steph was dead. His two best friends were dead.

Tim was numb, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. His only source of emotion, nowadays, was his constant rage at Damian, and the adrenaline while fighting a bad guy. 

He barely slept. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly ate. The manor wasn’t comforting enough with the little assassin roaming around for him to get any shut eye, and how could Tim be sure he wasn’t going to poison his food?

Sleeping in safe houses seemed the smarter move, even when they weren’t really safe at all, judging by the ‘gifts’ that kept appearing every time he turned his back. Food - sealed and untempered with - files on whatever case he was working on, a brand of turkish coffee that he would gladly down even if it contained poison…

Flowers, hundreds of them, all white in color, tiny red ribbons tying their stems.

Tim shivered at the meaning, but no longer minded the feeling of eyes on him while he slept. Looking for hidden cameras was too much effort to be worth it, as long as there were none in the bathroom and his walk in closet. He couldn’t care less, these days. 

----.----

Jason tried to kill him. Again. In the middle of a Pit Episode, even after all Tim had done to help him, to mend their relationship.

Damian was even worse, abusing Tim any way he could, any time he got the chance to get away with it. And it was a startlingly large amount of times, considering their family should be more attentive to attempted murder. None of Tim's effort to bond ever bore fruit.

But he's still convinced they are his soulmates, so he's gotta be patient. They have to be. 

Because Dick is his soulmate, and they share a wrist.

Because Dick...

----.----

Dick betrayed him. In the worst possible way, in the most vulnerable moment of his life. When Tim needed him the most.

Jason tried to kill him. 

Damian tried to kill him.

Dick betrayed him (which was, arguably, worse).

Dick was his soulmate. Jason was his soulmate. Damian was his soulmate.

They had to be.

----.----

His quest for Batman would’ve been a lonely affair, if not for the honeyed voice whispering in his ear. The silent eyes he felt on his skin wherever he went, more heavy than his three assassin escorts’ stares.

What a crazy world it was, where Tim’s nemesis believed in him, while his first soulmate, the one he loved almost his entire life, claimed delusion. Where his nemesis sent his people to keep him alive, to keep others out of his way, while his other two sought his death.

What a crazy world indeed.

----.----

-I think we need to talk, Timothy. About this bond we share.

-I’m listening.

Timothy, he said, but it didn’t sound like his name at all. 

In his mind, it echoed something scary, something that made him shiver and tense. 

It sounded like Mine.

----.----

Ra's al Ghul was probably his soulmate. 

He's gotta be. Because there's no way Tim's fated to love three people that are just going to break his heart again and again and again.

When he goes to the League for help looking for Bruce, he steels himself in place when Ra's’ voice in his ear makes him want to flinch. He grits his teeth at the viper like words murmured in soft tones. Makes himself accept when Ra's offers to train him in the ninja arts after he successfully brought his mentor back. Clenches his fists when he's asked to dinner in a dimly lit French restaurant.

Ra's didn't retaliate when Tim blew up half his bases. He kept giving Tim pointers and praises. Seeking his company.

So he breathes in. 

He forgave Damian for being a killer, Jason for being one, too. He surely can find it in himself to forgive his actual soulmate for being a criminal. 

In time.

Right?

...Right?

----.----

Something dark and victorious twists in Ra’s chest when the Detective doesn’t flinch away from his touch, and silently accepts the white rose and red ribbon he presents before guiding him deep into the restaurant. There’s acceptance in Timothy’s eyes, reluctant but hopeful, even if he stirs away from any ‘dangerous’ topics of conversation and very firmly drops a drug test pill in his glass of water the second the waitress turns her back on them. 

Ra’s doesn’t comment on it, merely mirrors the act on his own wine (one could never be too sure, not when an enemy as interesting as this is seated across from him) before raising it for a toast. Not that the Detective was aware of the reason.

He’s got a lot to celebrate. 

Deceiving this one wasn’t easy, after all.

----.----

Later that night, alone in his room, Tim turns in the bed, his back to the cameras on the far end of the room. The movement is slow, lazy, following his usual sleeping patterns. A clumsy hand pats the mattress, blindly looking for a pillow and dragging it to his chest, face hidden by its softness. He goes lax again, peaceful and oblivious to the world around him to any lingering eye.

Once he’s sure there’s no way anyone could see him, Tim lets a slow, dangerous smile creep on his face, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeling so alive it’s almost painful after all the numbness.

Ra’s was looking so smug, like the cat that got the canary. Oh, he tried to hide it, but Tim had made it his life's mission since he was twelve to understand the man to his truest essence, to be able to read him as one would a book, and practice had taught him how to play him like a cheap kazoo.

He probably shouldn’t smile, safe as he is in hiding his face in the pillow, but he can’t help it.

Deceiving Ra’s, soulmate or not, wasn’t easy.

[gjhtfjry]

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[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 16

It’s the little things that separate the good from the great.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Superboy makes his debut with the Teen Titans, alarming many and confusing many more. Jon thinks it’s frankly ridiculous that anyone is confused about the name being ascribed to a new teenage hero rather than twenty-two year old Jon considering that Robin exists, but, really, it’s not much of his business either way.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t strange, though.

Jon was sixteen once. Big for his age but still a bit smaller than Conner is now. Large muscles didn’t spare him the roundness of his face unlike Conner, who if he weren’t with the Titans might be confused for a few years older than he is. (Jon desperately tries not to think about the fact that Conner is, in truth, much, much younger than even that.) Jon also never bothered with the gruff affectation that his little brother seems to adopt that ages him so, the cute huffiness (and not at all fake temper) that Jon knows hides a lonely kid just looking for approval.

After all, if that isn’t at Conner’s core, there’s no reason for Conner to keep visiting him. Jon isn’t a hero, he’s not Superboy, he has no information or advice for Conner to do his hero job. The only connection between them, really, is that Jon accepts the kid as his adorable little brother.

Sometimes it feels like Conner spends a little too much time at Jon and Marinette’s cramped apartment, considering New York and Jump City are on opposite coasts. Jon tries not to think too hard about that, and instead takes time with his little brother at face value. Something that gets harder when he finds out that despite the time Conner spends in New York with him, Superman essentially only sees Conner on the job.

Not that Jon himself is having much luck talking to Superman right now. Ever since Jon found out about Conner, his dad has been avoiding him. Easy to do, with Jon tied to New York for his classes, but not at all appreciated. Superheroes are damn tiring even when Jon isn’t one of them.

Jon spent his whole life trying to live up to the image of his father. The Man of Steel, Superman, some even call him a god among men. Jon grew up watching his dad on television. He still has videos of himself in action, filed away on his computer, both with and without his dad at his side. Jon knows, logically, that he’s younger than any of the Teen Titans in some of those videos, yet watching Conner jump into the fray as Superboy is a gut-wrenchingly visceral feeling to him regardless.

Because Jon sees Conner’s face and he sees the lost kid closing himself off at the farm, wary but hopeful, volunteering information up until the point of embarrassment when he’ll turn away and pout like a child because he doesn’t want to admit vulnerability. The pure joy and shock and awe in his face, how completely flabbergasted he is to simply be called brother. The uncertainty, the confusion, the respect shining in those eyes, the same as Jon’s own, when Jon admits why he isn’t Superboy anymore.

The little kid who wants family, and who wants to make his own way in life, who suddenly and inexplicably finds a brother who accepts him without thought (seemingly, to him – Jon ensures that’s what he sees), who does exactly the opposite of what’s expected of him for no other reason than that this is what he needs to do to be happy in his life.

Conner looks at Jon almost the same way Jon used to look at Superman, and Jon is doing everything he can to never let Conner see just how deeply that unnerves him.

It shouldn’t. It’s not the first time a young man has looked at Jon that way. When Jon was Superboy, he got looks like that all the time. And yet… there’s something so incongruous about watching Conner punch bad guys with the rest of the Titans on television, and that little boy that looks at him with that look. Because that look makes every cell in Jon’s body scream at him to protect, to take Conner into his arms and never let the cruelty of the world touch him. But Jon can’t do anything for him when he goes out looking for that cruelty all on his own. All he can do is offer a home to return to, and a brother who undoubtedly loves him, no matter what else.

Conner’s attitude, the front he puts up when he works on missions with the Titans, when he’s on television, ages him several years, yet when Jon watches Conner still just looks so… young. It makes his insides squirm, and a voice deep within him rage at the memory that despite it being basically his own fault (because he surely would have gotten into trouble all on his own, especially with Damian dragging him around) Jon himself was put into that position at ten. Jon distinctly remembers being upset because he was too young to join the Teen Titans of the time.

Blame it on his newfound pacifism, but that thought is paralyzingly horrific to him now. Why the hell did Dad allow it? Jon can’t help but think. Because even if Jon would still have gotten in trouble, if only at Damian’s behest, forbidding him from hero work would at least have lessened the ridiculous number of terrible situations Jon was in. As a child. How strange, that Jon has to grow up so much for that thought to even occur to him. It seems like it should be obvious.

Or maybe it’s not age, so much as separation from hero life. He wonders if his view of the world seems as warped to them as theirs do now to him.

The boys are startlingly accepting of Conner. Jon really expects them to question it more, but after they are introduced to Conner when they all visit before the holidays, David turns to Jon and whispers in his ear, “So, your brother is totally baby, but also I think he could bench press me, so I’m really confused right now.”

Jesse scrunches up his nose. “Gross, dude, he’s a minor.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” David protests. “I mean look at him!”

Mason chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I get what you mean. He’s just like Jon.”

Jon makes a face. “What?”

“Exactly!” David says cheerily. “Totally baby, but also could throw me like a football.”

Jon just shakes his head at the boys. “I’m not baby.”

Tamias giggles, along with – the traitor – Marinette. “Sorry, Jon,” Tamias says, “you’re kind of baby.”

Jesse dramatically slaps a hand to his face. “Boys, boys, come on. You’re seriously missing Jon’s big himbo energy?”

Jon squeaks in indignant protest, but it’s David that comes to his defense. “Jon’s way too smart to be a himbo, dummy. You’re a himbo.”

“I’m a mechanical engineer, dude!”

“That’s true, but also, and I mean this with every ounce of love my body possesses, you’re the dumbest man I’ve ever met.”

“Jesse’s a twig.” Mason snorts. “He can’t be a himbo if he’s a twink.”

“Thank you!” Jesse exclaims, huffing in finality for a moment before his eyes go wide once more with outrage. “Wait, what?! Rude, dude! I can be a himbo if I want to be!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Boys!” All the boys immediately quiet to stare at her. “Jon and Tamias are obviously both baby. David, you’re a himbo.” David squawks with outrage, though his smile tells them all he’s not really upset. “Jesse’s a boi, and Mason’s a daddy.”

Jon actually, physically cringes. “Marinette, I love you with all of my heart, but please never say any of those words again. I’m begging you.”

Marinette just shoots him a look that seems to say, “Hey, they’re your friends.” God. I know.

David coughs conspicuously into hand. “She’s right though.”

Mason cackles and wraps one arm around Jon and the other around Tamias, bringing both of them close in a hug. “My children.” He says mockingly.

“I can crush your head with two fingers.” Jon warns, glaring at Mason, who just continues laughing at him.

“You can.” Mason agrees. “But you’re too baby to actually do it.”

Jon hates, with every fiber of his being, that Mason is absolutely right. “I hate everything about this conversation.” He says, peeling himself away from Mason. “I’m going to go find my baby brother.”

Jesse snickers. “Baby brother.”

“I hate all of you; oh my God.”

So, yeah. As Jon swiftly removes himself from that conversation, it occurs to him that none of his boys seem to think twice about him suddenly having a little brother. It’s nice, he thinks, that not everything has to be a big federal issue all the time. This, and definitely not the conversation Jon steps away from, is why he loves those guys.

The apartment is small. Too small, really, to be hosting any number of people comfortably, which is why Jon is glad that his boys, and the girls, who stop by earlier, are only dropping in rather than hanging out. Just a small visit before the holidays, to say hi, to steal some cake that Marinette makes (because they have to, of course), and swap presents (not to open until Christmas, which David is insistent applies to everyone, including the girls) then head back home.

When Jon casts his gaze through the place, Conner is nowhere to be seen. Which leaves four options. The bathroom, and given how Jon’s dad is also missing, Jon hopes that isn’t the case, that they leave the apartment entirely, and Jon is sure they will at least tell him when they do, Marinette’s room, which for their sakes they better not be in, or Jon’s own room. Jon doesn’t mind that. It is a lot of people in a small space with all the boys over, so he’s not surprised Conner ducks out after meeting them.

Why his dad follows, however, is a different question. Judging by the growl on Conner’s lips when Jon opens the door, it’s not something that spells peace and unity for their family.

Luckily, the two of them apparently learn their lesson from the first time, and as soon as they have Jon’s judging gaze upon them, they both duck their heads in apparent shame. Jon just sighs, closes the door behind him, crosses his arms and arches his brow.

“Clark has been avoiding me.” Conner rats out their dad quickly, then amends the statement. “Us.” Conner crosses his arms, fingers digging into his biceps. Jon tries not to wince at how Conner’s knuckles turn white. “If he doesn’t want me around, he should just say so.”

“Conner,” Clark protests, “that’s not-”

“I’m sorry.” Conner says quietly, directly to Jon. “It’s because of me that you aren’t getting along with him now, too, isn’t it?”

Jon takes a steadying breath. “No, Kon. It has nothing to do with you.”

Conner’s eyes go wide for a moment. “But-”

“I’m pissed at Dad because he kept you hidden from me for a month. And because he’s been avoiding talking about it since then.” Jon glares at his dad for emphasis. It’s almost pitiful how Superman can look so small, especially in the face of his own son. “None of that is your fault, Kon.”

“But I-”

Jon marches right up to his little brother and throws his arms around him in a big hug. “It’s not your fault.” Jon says again. “You haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t convince yourself you have.”

As Conner’s arms slowly wrap around Jon in response, Jon narrows his eyes. Casting his gaze sideways, he swears his dad is just a little closer to the door than he was. Whether he is or is not trying to sneak out, though, doesn’t matter. He freezes under Jon’s watch.

Jon separates from Conner, looks him in the eye and nods, satisfied that Conner looks a little better, and then turns fully to his dad. “And how long did you think you could get away with ignoring me?”

Clark rubs his neck awkwardly. “Jon, it’s almost time to leave. We shouldn’t-”

“What?” Jon scoffs. “Shouldn’t talk this out? Consider it a Christmas present, then.”

“You have guests over. Now isn’t the time.”

Jon taps his foot. “Kon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Will you please go let Mom and Marinette know what’s happening? Marinette can handle the boys until they leave if we’re not out by then.” Honestly, they’ll be so distracted by Marinette’s baking that they probably won’t even notice how long this’ll take. Jon doesn’t intend for it to be long.

Conner looks between him and Clark, indecision clear on his face, but eventually he nods and scurries out the door. Good. Jon thinks. Probably better if he’s not listening, anyway. When Conner closes the door again, Jon waits just a moment before turning back to his dad. Finally, without his baby brother watching, Jon breaks down just a little. A tremor in his voice, a shake in his frame. “Why?” Jon asks. “Why would you do… any of this? Especially with Kon. Don’t you see that he needs you? I can’t- I can’t be his dad and his brother I- I’m doing what I can, but…”

Clark shakes his head sadly, shamefully. “I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“Kon deserves the apology.” Jon says through gritted teeth. “You hurt him a lot more than me.”

Clark grimaces. “But I did hurt you.” He says. “And I’m sorry. I know I should have told you about Conner as soon as we found him, I just… I was scared. He was an unknown; there was no way to know he wasn’t a threat – I couldn’t just welcome him into the family if there was a chance he’s trying to hurt us. And I especially couldn’t let him hurt you.” Jon grits his teeth, biting back every retort in his throat. The shame and sincerity in his father’s voice deserve to be listened to. “You wanted to put this life behind you, and if Conner tried to target you…” He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Jon’s eyes and throat sting. Still, he says, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t have the exact same fears? Did you ever- ever even look at Kon? He needs you. I don’t care where he came from or even if he is… programmed, or whatever, to hurt us. He’s a kid, and he needed you, and you…” Jon forces out a sharp breath and draws a new one in. “I know you don’t really understand what I’m doing. I know you don’t get the way that I’m trying to live. And I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but how on Earth could you think that I wouldn’t want to meet him?”

“I knew you would.” Jon’s dad protests. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d find him, and I couldn’t risk dragging you into this again.” His eyes shadow as he averts his gaze. “I already did that once, and because of that, you still have nightmares. Panic attacks. I hurt you, maybe permanently, so bad that you had to give up being a hero entirely, because I wasn’t a good enough father. I just… wanted to protect you. I didn’t ever want to see you… like that day on the farm.”

Jon stares at his dad, unable to utter a word. That’s what this is about? He blames himself for Jon’s trauma?

“I keep thinking about what I should have done different.” His dad continues quietly. “And I just- it seems like every option was the wrong one. I- I don’t know where I went wrong. All I ever wanted is what’s best for you. And now Conner keeps trying to… connect. And I just keep thinking that I’m going to let him down, too.”

“Dad.” Jon’s plea comes out more like a choked sob. “I never blamed you for that.”

Jon doesn’t say any more than that. Just that one small, weak little statement. He doesn’t say any more not because he has no elaboration or nothing else to say, but because no more words allow themselves to cross the threshold of his throat.

Jon might mention how he often thinks about his father’s choices, and ponders if they were really wise, or even good. He might mention how angry he gets, thinking about not just himself and Conner, but all the young heroes who fight battles even grown adults should never have to go through. He might mention how, once upon a time, he idolized Superman just as much as the most devout of Metropolis, how he wanted nothing more than to be Superman, and how nowadays it’s not that he just can’t be Superman but that he actively doesn’t want to.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say any of it, because just like saying that he still thinks about the possibility of Conner being a sleeper agent will hurt Conner to an impossible degree if he hears it, if Jon says any of that right now, any of that equally true and valid thought that lingers in his head, it will tear his father apart.

It would be possibly the most violent thing Jon will ever do. Punches and kicks hurt, but this? That’s why he won’t. That’s why he can’t. That’s why he says the thing that he can, even if it’s not enough. Because that is also true. As much as Jon doubts his dad’s decisions, as angry as he is at his own childhood of danger and strife, even when he occasionally allows that anger to be directed at his dad, Jon never has and never will blame him for it.

Jon’s trauma, everything he’s seen and been through… some of it may have been avoidable, yes, but the worst of it? The parts that haunt him? That, he thinks, was inevitable. Based on his own personality, his own dream of being just like his dad, that was never his dad’s fault. If anything, his dad has always erred on the side of caution with him. It’s only after he slips out (with or without Damian’s help) and does it anyway that Jon’s dad corrects the rules to let him do those things he would do without guidance otherwise as safely as he can.

Maybe he was too accommodating? Maybe too sentimental, too hung up on his own struggles of growing up without an outlet to use his powers? Maybe he just made mistakes? But he did his best. He kept Jon as safe as he could, and Jon has never been anything but thankful for that.

Nothing else needs to be said. “I never blamed you for that.” Jon repeats, stepping forward to hug his dad tightly. He doesn’t blame his dad for that. Not any more than he blames Marinette for being Ladybug once upon a time.

“I-” Strong arms wrap around him in return, one of the most familiar embraces Jon knows. “Thank you, Jon. That means… more than you know.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dad.” Jon mumbles. “I know- I know everyone expects Superman to be, but you don’t have to. I love you, and Kon just wants the chance to love you, too. That’s all.”

Clark laughs, half pride and half disbelief. “When did you grow up into such a smart young man?”

Jon laughs as well. “Marinette helped.”

Clark holds that glimmer in his eyes even as he sighs. “You’re right. I’m… I’m going to talk to Conner. I’m going to be there for him.”

“You were always there for me.” Jon says. “So, I know you will.”

Jon is pleasantly surprised by just how calm the holidays are. Unlike the first two years, he’s not stressing at all for his finals before them – he is on top of his work from day one. Conner showing up does momentarily throw his schedule off, but at this point Jon is nothing if not adaptable. He doesn’t let it affect his studies.

Of course, he does owe a lot of that to Marinette and, oddly enough, Wayzz (the little kwami is heaven sent for reminding him to stay on top of his responsibilities, honestly, especially when Marinette is too busy with her own to spare the time to help him) but he isn’t totally irresponsible on his own. Even if he were, three years of Marinette looking out for him from the beginning is more than enough to get him into good habits of his own.

He just forgets, sometimes. Marinette does, too, but when she spends too long watching television, or engrossed in a book or her sketching, Jon is happy to return the favor.

Wayzz, their ever-watchful guardian, and on occasion Tikki, are by far the most consistently responsible ones, but then they’re not the ones that actually have to do the work.

But finals come and go and Jon has to say goodbye to Marinette for the holidays and, when he does part ways with her at the airport, Jon suddenly feels so incredibly lonely that he could cry right there. It’s so stupid of him. They part with much less fanfare every other year, and it’s not as if she wasn’t important to him from the start, but… now, her plane doesn’t even take off yet and he misses her so terribly. It’s like the moment she crosses that security line, Jon is left all alone in the airport. It feels as if even the many, many people making their ways to and fro aren’t even there. He feels completely and utterly alone.

He supposes he’s just too used to her company now. He felt the same before summer, too. Too used to her hand in his, or her looping her arm around his, or just the steady beat of her heart. Now that that rhythm is gone…

Jon shakes his head and moves on. He’ll visit soon, just after Christmas like last year. They can have a romantic date like their first, and it’ll mark a full year for them. (Jon still isn’t totally sure whether their technical anniversary should be Thanksgiving, the first day back from Thanksgiving, or that day not long after Christmas, but nonetheless the holiday season has one more thing for him to celebrate.)

It’s during the holidays, sitting out on his tree and staring at the stars, that Jon realizes that next semester is the last one. Only one more semester of college, then he graduates and… then what? He laughs at himself, shaking his head. All that soul-searching, all that trouble, all that drama, and now, closing in on his last semester in school, he still has no idea what he’s truly going to do after.

It’s got to be a joke, at this point. There’s nothing to do but laugh, really. He knows he’s going to stay with Marinette, if she’ll let him, and she’s got a much more solid career plan laid out, so he’s just going to have to consult with her. At the very least, she can tell him what city he’s going to be looking for jobs in. Paris? It wouldn’t be so bad. Marinette’s friends are awesome, and it’d give Jon a good excuse to put the French he’s learning to actual use (though, if that’s the plan, he should practice with Marinette a lot more in the upcoming few months). His family will be far, yes, and it’ll be far easier for him to visit home than for everyone to visit him, but it will be pretty easy for him to visit.

Or maybe even Metropolis? Or New York? Maybe they can find another small apartment right next to the garment district. Hell, maybe they can just keep on staying in the apartment they’ve been renting for three and a half years already. (Well, Marinette won’t have FIT to work and store all her projects at, so they’ll have to get her a studio, or just a larger apartment, but they can figure that out.)

Whatever way, the question doesn’t weigh too heavily on him anymore. He’s not scared of it like nineteen-year-old Jon was. In fact, he’s excited. He can see the stars, every star, each one a possibility, but he’s narrowed down his search enough. He’s staring directly at Hercules, and once upon a time that might bother him, but not anymore. Because he’s comfortable now. He still can’t bear getting into a fight, he still has nightmares, his gut still turns at getting to close to heroism as he grew up knowing it, but… that’s not all there is to being a hero.

Hercules isn’t Perseus. The word “hero” doesn’t mean Superman, or Batman, or Wonderwoman, or any of the people who go out dispensing justice with their fists. Hero can mean anything to anyone. Marinette pulled him from a dark place, she gave him a home when he was so close to rejecting the one he had, when he was trying so hard to find one of his own. She stands with him, comforts him, reminds him to turn his light on when he’s studying on his computer after the sun goes down, brews a cup of tea for him when he needs it, or coffee if that’s what he needs instead (usually, she knows better than he does), nags him about the shoes he hasn’t forgotten to take off for a long time, makes dinner for him when his classes run later than hers so that he can focus on studying.

Marinette is, without a doubt, a hero. And even if neither of them are fond of the term, so much so that Jon will never speak it aloud, that doesn’t make the term any less apt. Jon only wishes he can find the words to tell her how ardently he loves her. Thanksgiving was a good attempt, but now that they’re together properly, especially because they’re together properly, he has to keep saying it.

(After all, he thinks, he already plans to spend his life with her, so… if they get married, he’s going to need his vows to be perfect, won’t he? But that’s thinking far too far ahead for now. No, now, he just needs to remind her how important she is.)

His most recent opportunity to do just that was when Thanksgiving came a second time. It’s a perfect time to fluster her the same way he (inadvertently) did back at last year’s Thanksgiving. It’s clumsy and inelegant, just like the first time, and he repeats a lot of what he said that time, too, but the effect it has on Marinette is just the same as well. And Jon just grins like a fool because he’s never been happier in his life. He doesn’t mess up this Thanksgiving starlight kiss. Not a chance.

Then the next semester starts, they’re back in their tiny apartment in New York, Marinette is giggling over a faux-leather jacket she makes for Conner that Jon admits works with his personality, and a pair of faux-leather pants for him that just leave him gawking at Marinette wondering if she wants him to strip in them or something. (He’s assuaged that it’s just a joke, though the thought lingers sinfully in his mind, and he’s entirely unsure how he feels about it. He does wear them, just once, because he loves her, though. She’s allowed a picture under strict confidence that Jon’s boys never ever see it, though he feels so awkward wearing them that he’s sure the picture isn’t great anyway.)

Of course, even though the pants are just a joke for Marinette’s giggles, the “gift” still starts another gift war (Motivated primarily by Jon knowing how much fabric costs. The pants aren’t real leather, thankfully, but that still can’t be a cheap joke. Jon begrudgingly adds them to his closet and wears them on rare occasions for that reason alone – they do look good, if not his usual style, especially as he slowly gets more comfortable in them – despite Marinette’s insistence that it’s unnecessary). Jon makes his grandma teach him to bake over the summer and holidays and he has recipes to shower Marinette with, so it’s a perfect opportunity to use them. This gift war eventually ends when the both of them decide they don’t want to get fat from eating baked treats all day every day. Even with them sharing with all their friends, they have a bit of a surplus. Their friends, needless to say, mourn the day this particular gift war ends.

That’s life, though, isn’t it?

Well into his final semester, Jon is frowning at the chessboard set up on their table, contemplating his next move, taking a sip of his tea (which Marinette gets him into – tea is great, actually), when his opponent says, “I am curious. Do you still believe the Girod to be an impossible ideal?”

Jon blinks at the kwami perched on the edge of the teacup on the other side of the table. Wayzz shoots him a knowing smile, which drops when Jon makes his move on the chessboard. “Yes.” Jon answers honestly. “Why?”

Wayzz hums a little, floating up higher to get a better view of the board. He moves his piece before he says, “I’m simply wondering. I never did ask; if you believe it’s impossible to achieve, why strive for it at all?”

Jon bites his lip, torn between the next chess move and his answer to the question. “Well…” Jon says, reaching for a piece but hesitating. “To me, it’s not so much that I need to… exemplify the Girod. Frankly, even if that is how people were on Krypton, I’m not a proper Kryptonian, anyway.”

“You do not feel a desire to keep Krypton’s culture alive?”

“…Not particularly.” Jon takes another sip of his tea and decides on his move. “I know I’m studying it, and it is interesting, but… I don’t know. Maybe Aunt Kara will be mad at me for saying this, but… it’s pretty much just academic to me. Despite all the powers and my heritage and all, I’ve never really had a connection to Krypton. It was destroyed before I was even born. There’s definitely value in learning about it, and I am into it as a subject for study, but I’m not going to change the way I live just because Kryptonians did something a different way. I’d never be happy just emulating history.”

“A thoughtful answer.” Wayzz says sagely. He takes his turn and returns to his own teacup to take a drink. “Then why bother with the Girod at all?”

“Because there’s value in it.” Jon says. “Even if I don’t believe it’s possible to be all those things at once, even if it’s impossible to be wholly virtuous, that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying for, don’t you think? It… gave me direction when I needed it. Marinette helped, too, obviously, but it was something to hold on to.” Jon frowns at the board, reluctantly making his move. “Maybe I don’t need it anymore. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s too soon or not to stop trying for it, but… the Girod gives me virtue outside of heroism. Used to be that I thought I had to be a hero, because Dad’s what’s good, and Dad taught me that being good means getting involved and helping anyone I can, and that because I have these powers, that means that I have to be a hero to be good.

“…Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think he really meant it that way.” Jon says. “But I was just a kid learning all that, so it was easy to confuse. The Girod was my… ethics guidelines that I can use without the need to run off and save the day all the time. Really, it was just an excuse so that I can stop calling myself a bad person for stopping hero work. But…”

Wayzz nods slowly. “There is value in it.”

“Yeah. Even if I’m not trying to live like a Kryptonian, I think there’s room in my life for truth, and justice, industriousness, peace, blah, blah, blah.” Jon waves a hand dismissively, chuckling just a little. “And hope. Hope is really important.”

“Hm.” Wayzz moves another piece. “Good thing Marinette is always carrying it around, then, yes?”

Jon’s mind immediately conjures the image of the delicate silver “S” hanging from Marinette’s neck. The symbol of hope, and also of his family. His cheeks warm, but he smiles and nods and sips his tea calmly despite that. “Yeah. It’s great.”

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak @toodaloo-kangaroo @too0bsessedformyowngood @justcourttee​ <3

[tsarisfanfiction]

Pulse VII

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Grandma Tracy, Scott Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, EOS

Seventh and final part of my entry for @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Touch. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

This little fic got a huge reception, so thank you everyone who’s read and enjoyed this little experiment.  See you next sense!

It had been a very difficult four months since her grandchildren had come back from a mission in pieces. Some wounds were easier to fix than others – while Virgil and Kayo were somewhat grumpy patients, especially when faced with an enforced six week grounding apiece for their injuries, the physical hurt was, sadly, nothing new.  For the grandchildren within her easy reach, the emotional hurt was so much worse.

Alan, trying so hard to be like his older siblings, so determined to be an adult.  He might have been the one physically supporting Kayo off of Thunderbird Two when the green giant finally landed at home, but it was clear that while he was physically fine, he’d been in a situation no boy his age should ever have to face.  Sally knew, of course.  Her grandchildren knew better than to cut off communications with base, even when they were actively running everything through John and EOS on Thunderbird Five, and the situation Alan had been forced to handle by himself had been streamed to her in real-time.

She’d been helpless then. She wasn’t helpless now.

John was home.  Four months since he’d last been in Thunderbird Five – a record since the Zero-X and all the hell that had brought with it.  EOS was doing his job admirably, if with some stumbles where the AI hadn’t yet learnt all the little quirks that made humans human. Sally might not fully understand all this newfangled tech – she remembered her parents and grandparents being much the same way with the advent of the internet and smartphones and touchscreens at the turn of the millennium, things once new and advanced technology; all of her grandsons called that outdated junk – but she understood that EOS could learn at a frightening pace.  One day the young AI would be able to interact seamlessly, although what that meant for John’s penchant for lurking in space as much as possible would remain to be seen.

On the other hand, Gordon had barely been home.  The Tracy family had money, and in a cruel mirror of a few years prior, her water-loving grandson was burning as much as he needed to for his brother’s sake. Most healthcare was free nowadays, but long-term hotel accommodation in the closest hotel to the hospital was definitely not.  If she hadn’t insisted on him at least coming home to pick up some changes of clothes and home comforts – for his brother as much as himself – she was under no illusions that she would not have seen hide nor tail of him outside that hospital ever since the accident.

Unable to fly with a broken arm, and with Kayo also grounded and Gordon stubbornly refusing to leave New Zealand until Scott did, Virgil had spent his six weeks of injury leave agitated. International Rescue was down to skeleton staff, with John and Alan left to field any and all rescues they couldn’t palm off on the GDF or other appropriate authorities (EOS was very talented at palming rescues off, thankfully, as none of them held their usual enthusiasm for their job).  Thunderbird One hadn’t left her hangar since Scott’s hospitalisation, John citing an unease at piloting either Thunderbird solo and Alan still bursting into tears at the slightest hint that he should sit in his biggest brother’s pilot chair, so Thunderbird Two was taking on more and more of the strain.

Getting off the island to visit Scott after the initial just been hospitalised, boys still in full uniform had proven difficult with no-one available to pilot them.  In the end, when Virgil had got agitated enough he was threatening to take Thunderbird One to the hospital, broken arm or not, Sally herself had stepped in.

She’d never touch Thunderbird One – Thunderbird Two she could just about handle, but Thunderbird One was hyper specialised beyond her skills – but they did still have their rarely-used family jets.  Tracy One might have been a fair bit slower than any Thunderbird in their fleet, but Sally could pilot her – regardless what certain grandsons felt compelled to quip about her age – and had finally laid eyes on her eldest grandson in person.  She’d seen him in holocalls, but technology was a talented liar.  It wasn’t the same.

Scott had looked awful, quite frankly.  Laid on his front after what she’d been told was his third surgery – one more than expected, and she didn’t like the implications behind that – he’d been lightly bantering with Gordon when they’d walked in.  If she didn’t know her grandsons better than they knew themselves, she might have been fooled into thinking he was doing well.

Sally knew better.  The tone was wrong, as was his skin colour, but the real tell was his eyes.  She hadn’t seen him so lost since the Zero-X snatched his father from his fingers. But she didn’t comment.  Instead, she’d fussed over her grandson as much as he let her, saying nothing when he didn’t protest about being too old for being treated like a kid like he usually did if she fussed over him in front of his brothers.

It had been a quiet conversation with Gordon when Virgil took over, fielding questions about his own injury patiently because they all knew Scott wanted distracting from his own situation and nothing ever distracted him as well as looking after his brothers, that told her the news.

The bone had almost finished healing but his nerves hadn’t bounced back as expected.  He could, at least, now feel his legs Gordon reported, calling it a constant case of tingly pins and needles, and everything above the waist could be moved with minimal discomfort, but he still couldn’t so much as wriggle his toes.

He’d known it was too good to be true, Gordon had confessed in a little waiting room off to the side, out of sight and earshot of his brothers where he didn’t have to keep up a brave face and could wilt just a little.  Good things like a comparatively easy fix for a serious injury just didn’t happen to their family.  The doctors had one more trick to try, one more surgery for Scott to endure, in the hopes that the damage could be minimised.

Then and there, Sally had made the decision to stay in New Zealand until the results of the fourth surgery, scheduled for the following week, were clear.  More money was burnt for more accommodation, but what good was having a fortune if it wasn’t used in situations like this?  Virgil and Kayo had been eager to remain with her, not baulking for a moment at the sudden change of plans.

The fourth surgery came and went. Doctors had hushed conversations with her, with Gordon who refused to be kept in the dark about a single part of his brother’s condition.  They had private conversations with Scott, which Gordon muscled his way into every time without fail – the doctors didn’t even try to stop him.  Sally wondered how long it had taken them to stop fighting and accept that Gordon wouldn’t let Scott go through a single step of the long and torturous road he’d been thrown on alone.

Knowing her boys, not long at all.

She’d been there when amid tears of frustration and depressed declarations of I’m not strong enough, Gordon had yelled in triumph and overridden Scott’s defeatist attitude with the observation that something had moved beneath the covers.

She wasn’t needed there, and even Virgil had hung back as Gordon unceremoniously flung the covers away and encouraged Scott to try again – one more time, Scott, I know what I saw.  You’ve got this.  Gordon was of course correct, and tears of frustration had turned to tears of relief as a big toe curled.

You’ve got this became a mantra.  Or perhaps she should say the mantra you’ve got this returned.  Scott had said the same thing to a younger, broken Gordon, over and over again until it came true.  Now, the situation was reversed but the words were the same.  Sally knew Scott recognised it for what it was: a reminder and a promise.  Just as he’d believed in Gordon when Gordon himself hadn’t, Gordon believed in him when he didn’t.

Luck wasn’t a friend of the Tracy family, but Faith was.

Now, four long months after an earthquake dropped a building on him, Scott was coming home, and to nobody’s surprise at all, Virgil had insisted that Thunderbird Two be the plane of honour. Sally knew her middle grandson had been frustrated at how little he’d been able to help during the hospitalisation – usually the one best suited for anything and everything medical, this time Gordon took the lead, leaving the medic of the siblings awkwardly on the edge, not quite able to take his usual place.

No more.  Away from the hospital, back home where he belonged, there were no doctors bustling around and primary care fell straight to the family – Sally and a fully-healed Virgil were ready when Gordon pushed a hoverchair of frail, still not capable of walking even if he could now get his limbs to respond, Scott from the green giant into their home.

It wasn’t over.  It wouldn’t be over for a long time – Scott’s physical therapy had only just started, and they all knew how much of a challenge that would be – but as the hoverchair came to a halt in the den and Scott was swamped by an entire family without a single dry eye between them, Sally had faith that as always, her boys would pull through.

After all, they’d got this.