#tolja i have many MANY feelings about my boy here

[queen-scribbles]

Steady as Stars: Tragen Meta

So time to ramble about Tragen because I am overly attached to this goober and have TOO MANY FEELINGS. Quick note, everything about his home planet is my own headcanon bc canon and Legends diverge pretty sharply so I just said “Screw allll of it” and am doing my own thing  😎 Also, i tried to keep some sense of order to it, but did not 100% succeed. Lots of parenthetical asides incoming. 

Brief backstory, for anyone who’s not familiar with my wonderful paladin son, Tragen is from Stenos, which is in the Outer Rim, right on the edge of Imperial space. They remained neutral during the Great Galactic War, but did host several Imperial supply lines. These supply lines eventually wound up integral to Stenosi economy, which the Empire used to blackmail them into actually joining shortly before the Treaty of Coruscant was signed.

Tragen’s love of the stars goes back to his childhood, but up until about 10 years old, it was just typical child’s awe and wonder at how many there were all the different places you could go among them, that sort of thing. Around ten is when the Empire started really pressuring Stenos to join, making threats, etc. This wasn’t common knowledge, but since Tragen’s parents were both high ranked government officials/nobility(the two are somewhat linked on Stenos; there’s the king/queen, their inner circle, and then a moderately-sized parliament of sorts drawn from the nobility. I’m still hashing out all the details, but that’s the basics), he’d hear them talking behind closed doors or after they thought he and his sister were asleep. They were worried the Empire would actually attack or invade or something like that, based off the displeasure the Imperial diplomat was conveying.

With the planet/culture’s future uncertain, Tragen started really appreciating the stars’ constancy. They’re always there, always the same, even if you can’t see them or are looking from a different angle. They’ve been there for ages and will be for ages more, and he finds that comforting.

Even moreso after the Imperial diplomat discovers how important the supply lines are to the economy and blackmails Stenos into joining the Empire with that knowledge. There are assurances things won’t change, of course, or at least won’t change much, but they do. And that’s before the Sith start looking for Force Sensitives. It’s very disconcerting for an acquaintance to be there one day and not the next. There are so many rumors about what happens to the people who go with the Sith(willing or no), it’s impossible to figure out the truth. With all the uncertainty, and his parents working even longer hours trying to merge Imperial statutes with Stenosi culture, Tragen finds even more comfort in the stars. Everything else might be changing, but they don’t.

And then the Sith find him. It takes a little over two years from winning Stenos to the Empire for the Imperials to work their way bottom of society to top looking for potential Sith, but Tragen’s one of the first they find when they finally get to the nobility/officials. By this point, the Imperials have abandoned all pretense of this ‘honor’ being optional, and so off Tragen goes to Ziost at thirteen years old. (He doesn’t want to, but loyalty/honor/duty are so central to Stenosi culture his father uses those to talk him down from a full-on freakout and into at least accepting this new path for his life, even if he doesn’t love it)

Tragen is not particularly gifted with the Force. It’s there, he has a decent enough connection to... amplify other things(ala Force scream, etc), but his real saving grace talent is martial combat. He’s been trained with a blade since he could hold one, is extremely observant and good at reading body language, and has a good head for strategy/thinking on his feet. The Sith training is where he’s introduced to the idea of dual-wielding(he’s ambidextrous, which is why one instructor suggests it), which is the only enjoyable thing about it.

Right from the start, Tragen has to hide his true self, bury it beneath a mask of anger and hatred he doesn’t really feel. He knows if he lets it slip he’s dead. He’s watched it happen; decent people who couldn’t ‘get over’ their scruples fast enough fall in duels to fellow acolytes who did, or are cut down by trainers as an example. He skates the edge of discovery the entire seven years he’s there; beating opponents to unconsciousness(so he doesn’t get stabbed in the back) but never killing anyone if can be avoided, claiming it’s so they have to wallow in the humiliation of defeat and/or “I rather like them owing me their life”. Still, he gets lectured multiple times about this merciful “flaw” he has.

During this time, he clings to the stars; to knowing that even when they’re hidden they’re still there, still shining bright, still the same. Just like him, sometimes their true nature is obscured or the constellations aren’t where you expect. bc you’re looking at them from somewhere different. None of that changes them, just how/if people see them.

Tragen’s survival tactic of hiding behind a mask of expected emotions he doesn’t really feel gets tested to its limit once Tremel summons him to the Academy for his trials, especially after Baras takes an interest in him. He’s constantly trying to outfox one of the most paranoid and brilliant Darths around, and sweats bullets the first few times he’s near the man. Once it starts to seem like Baras isn’t suspicious of him, Tragen relaxes ever so slightly. Not enough to do anything stupid, just enough he’s not a mess of suspicious tension every time he’s in his master’s presence. (And let’s not get into how hard the whole ‘wish the Jedi found you instead of the Sith’ thing with Dorgis hit him bc I’ll get too emotional to function. So many feeling for this dork.)

It’s a little easier once he picks up Vette. He doesn’t entirely drop his guard or his mask around her, but she at least is okay when he does nice/reasonable things, instead of lecturing about how he’s a terrible Sith yada yada. The two of them strike up a friendship pretty fast(she reminds him of his sister, actually), and Vette is usually the one to tag along when Tragen leaves the ship, even after Quinn joins.

It’s a still-tricky balancing act to accomplish enough of Baras’ objectives he doesn’t get suspicious while not violating his own code, but somehow Tragen manages. He leaves everyone alive he can, trotting out the ‘yes, but now they owe me their lives, giving me power and humiliating them’ excuse when needed. The entirely of looking for Jaesa, he’s adamant and upfront that he just wants to talk to her, leaves everyone alive(even makes Master Yonlach question his view of Sith :3) and resolves things as peacefully as he can. Even when faced with Jedi who are raring to fight and operating with the bias Sith = evil(tbf, he’s a rare exception...), Tragen always tries to talk things out first. He’s found pointing out he’s acting more Jedi-like than them works really, really well. On the whole, his conscience is pretty happy with how the search for Jaesa is going, though it does make him uneasy when he hears Baras got his hands on her parents. There isn’t really anything he can do at that point, so he just has to hope for the best and keep going.

While he is happy with the increased freedom and decreased oversight of having his own ship and underlings to do his job, it’s still lonely. He can’t completely relax on the ship, and he’s so used to having his mask up, he can’t bring himself to drop it around people, even Vette. Quinn there’s the obvious reasons(the man’s born and bred Imperial AND owes Baras his career; there’s no way Tragen’s trusting him with this), but Vette it’s more... worrying she’d accidentally spill the beans. She’s such a chatterbox and very impulsive, so even though he thinks she’d try to keep his secret, he’d rather not take chances with something this dangerous. This means the only time Tragen can drop the facade and be himself is when he’s alone, in his cabin, with only the stars for company. This adds a layer to his love of them; alone with the stars is the only place he can be honest, and living this lie is so exhausting he treasures those moments more than he can say.

He’s very used to opponents(especially Jedi) jumping to conclusions about him based purely on him being Sith, so Nomen Karr’s reaction on Hutta is.. expected At least, the initial hostility is. Tragen tries and tries and tries to be reasonable and just talk to the man, but Karr doesn’t cooperate. That he starts calling on the dark side is a bit of a surprise(not a huge one, though; a lot of the Jedi Tragen’s met have been hypocrites, and he could sense Karr’s pride and anger from the start), but Tragen is a skilled enough swordsman(I guess swordsman still applies to lightsabers??) he handles it.

Then Jaesa shows up. Tragen sends Vette to check in with the soldiers outside, and for the first time in eight years, drops his facade. If Jaesa can sense a being’s true nature anyway, there’s no point fighting it, and he hopes a gesture of trust like this will convince her(I did a lot of flashpoints/side quests etc with him, so he’s Light II by this point, better than a lot of my SWs). Dropping his guard like this makes him feel exposed, vulnerable. Naked, almost. He’s been so hidden for so long behind that mask, it’s mildly terrifying to let go of it.

*ahem* (But trusting Jaesa feels right, and safe, and this was the best course of action, right?)

(Wrong. She’s confused this Sith reads as merciful and compassionate against Master Karr’s arrogance and rage, and attacks him anyway)

During their fight, Tragen can’t help but admire her form; he knows dualsabers are tricky to wield and she’s very good. Good enough that it’s a challenge to beat her without hurting her(too much). By this point, Vette’s brought the Imperial soldiers back in, so he has to hide how giddy he is when Jaesa agrees to join him and help change the Empire from within. 

(Having her along is like surfacing for air after much too long underwater.)

It’s a little bit... cautious at first--they can’t speak freely enough on the ship to really connect. Tragen does encourage her to have confidence in herself; she’s grown since her days as a handmaiden, and understands all too well her struggles with pretending to be something she’s not. A lot of the advice he gives her  is the same things he’s clung to for years(”Keep your eyes on the goal” and “masks worn for survival are different than those worn for personal gain”) Jaesa has a million questions and Tragen’s dying to talk to someone he can be himself around, but they don’t get a chance until Taris. Tragen marks a couple firsts for me there; minorly, he’s my first male toon who did the planet arc but didn’t flirt with Thana, and more importantly: first Sith Warrior to talk every. single. War Trust target into surrendering. He didn’t kill a single one. (which I didn’t know was possible until him; I thought at least one of them[Frelka] fighting was unavoidable, but he did it.) This is where Jaesa starts accompanying him pretty much everywhere(she’s his apprentice, why shouldn’t she?) and they start building up trust and friendship and she gets a real look at his character.

Tragen keeps his word to the Siantide miners, shows restraint, and is basically the least Sith-y Sith Jaesa’s ever seen, let alone met. This is what brings her curiosity out in Shining Bright. That conversation opens the floodgates and they talk freely as they work their way through Taris, a freedom both miss once they’re back on the Empire Dawn. But even if Pierce’s quarters weren’t right next to Jaesa’s, being more open is not a good idea. Too much risk.

It is, however, very difficult to keep their conversation quiet when Jaesa tells him about the other light-leaning Sith. Tragen’s ecstatic (and relieved) to know he’s not the only one(also, impressed by how much stronger + more skilled Jaesa’s gotten with her power). He’s very eager with his encouragement she keep looking, and so giddy when she actually finds them, they’re both equally to blame for Pierce almost catching them. (It’s very hard for a pair of excited 21 year olds to keep their voices down) He sends her to make contact with these light-leaning Sith and paces his cabin in antsy, impatient circles until she gets back.

Thanks to their Force bond, Tragen can tell even before Jaesa boards the Dawn that something’s wrong. When she tells him how badly her attempt went, the first words out of his mouth are reassuring her this wasn’t her fault. She tried, and no matter the outcome, that was the right thing to do. (He does hug her, even if it’s risky, just for a moment. She’s his friend and she’s hurting, he doesn’t care if it raises suspicions)

(side note: this is where the first seeds of Jaesa falling for him are planted, when her feelings matter more than her failure, even if she doesn’t realize it until years later)

Disappointed as they might be by this setback, there’s not much they can do about it(both somehow find solace in the stars, though neither mentions it), so they soldier on. Both improve in combat prowess, Jaesa’s strength with her power grows, they become uncannily good at working as a team. (this is part experience and part Force bond--Tragen might barely be decent at most Force stuff, but he and Jaesa bond STRONG)

It’s almost a relief when Baras tries to kill him. He can stop even pretending loyalty. Though he does find it deeply ironic the Emperor’s Hand reaches out to recruit as Wrath someone so diametrically opposed to Sith values. He shares Jaesa’s excitement for potential influence he can wield, being so high-ranked and even less subject to oversight bc who’s gonna be brave enough to question the Emperor’s Wrath? Between that and Lord Emmoridg reaching out to Jaesa, Tragen’s actually feeling good about their chances at reforming the Empire. It turns out a bit more complicated than he’s anticipating--while there’s less oversight, there’s also a stricter and more definite set of expectations placed on the Emperor’s Wrath than on a run of the mill Lord. Expectations that are harder to look like he’s fulfilling while actually subverting.

Belsavis, for example. Tragen has no problem or qualms about killing Ekkage. And he knows Jaesa’s not going to tell anyone how readily he partnered with a Jedi(who he not only let live, but parted on good terms with) to achieve his goals. But he didn’t kill Col. Trill for not helping him, and he lets Lord Melicost walk away, and he has no guarantee those actions won’t raise eyebrows. Sure he can argue he doesn’t want to weaken the Empire/Sith in their war with the Republic, but a) it doesn’t stop other Sith and b) he has a history of being less brutal than a Sith should. With being Wrath now, Tragen’s starting to really stress over the balance and his facade is straining him to the breaking point.

The stars remain a huge comfort to him. He spends a lot on his time on the ship just sitting in his cabin and staring out the viewport(he calls it meditating if anyone other than Jaesa asks). The stars are still there, still the same. The constellations and which ones he can see might be different depending on where in the galaxy he is, but even when he can’t see them, he knows they’re still there. Still magnificent and beautiful no matter what happens. That thought is one of the few things that keeps him going strong.

Another is his friends. Tragen is all too happy to help Vette find her family(it makes him miss his even more) and backs her up in her reluctance to seek revenge for her mother’s death. The two of them are pretty close, and Vette always manages to make him smile, so helping her is no trouble at all. There are times Tragen wonders if she suspects how truly un-Sithy he is, but he can never quite bring himself to admit it to her for sure. That mask is such habit, it stays on around everyone.

Except Jaesa. Even if their Force Bond and her power didn’t make hiding things an exercise in futility, they’re a team and Tragen a) trusts her and b) is eternally grateful to have someone he can be himself around. Completely himself. And he feels like no matter how daunting this goal of reforming the entire Empire is, with her as his partner it’s possible. Jaesa found the light-leaning Sith, Jaesa reached out to them. Despite the initial disaster, she’s the one Lord Emmoridg reaches out to and she’s the one who keeps in touch with him.

Tragen is feeling very good about about their goals and actually starting to hope he won’t have to hide forever when they learn about Cendence. Jaesa is so distraught  when relaying her encounter with the tortured and dying apprentice, Tragen shuts and locks the door under the pretense of meditating so he can comfort her without being disturbed. Knowing there’s a Sith out there hunting down ‘their kind’ is more than a little troubling(terrifying is the word he would use), but Tragen’s too busy with the Hand’s assignments to do anything about it, so he entrusts this foe to Jaesa. He knows she can handle it. She a gifted Force-user, skilled saberist, and stronger than she realizes. He’s so proud of her when she goes face to face with Cendence and beats him bc he knew she could do it.

Regarding the Quincident--bc how do you meta a Sith Warrior without touching on the Quincident?--Tragen of course forgives him. Has to dress it in the usual ‘Your life is mine now’ rhetoric, but he’s secretly amused at the irony. Baras is the Proper Sith(TM) between the two of them, is more in line with Sith values and would technically be the right choice by that metric. Tragen’s just more powerful--even if it’s still more combat skill instead of the Force. (He’s better with the Force than he used to be, but still largely relies on lightsabers. He’s more comfortable with blades)

After defeating Baras(which is a relief) and being confirmed as Wrath by the Dark Council(which is stressful af), Tragen takes a long time wrestling with how to balance his goals and his new position. Yes, he has more influence, but people will also be more wary/skeptical that the EMPEROR’S WRATH is light-leaning and trying to change things,and he’s pretty sure the more times he’s merciful, the more questions will be raised. If he and Jaesa thought what Emmoridg is doing is dangerous, training LS Sith right under the Council’s nose, this is.... too perilous for words. He actually talks to the Emperor. Tragen interacts with Vitiate; pure, remorseless evil and incredibly powerful, who he’s actively working to undermine. It makes the next few years extremely harrowing, but at least things are never boring(and most of his orders--what few there are--come through the Hand, so he doesn’t talk to Vitiate MUCH). The only thing that keeps all his plans from crashing down and totally wasting the years of wearing his mask, is that the Wrath is allowed to maintain autonomy rather than being bound to Vitiate’s will via dark side rituals. That would have led to his discovery and torture/execution, Tragen is 100% sure. Even as things stand he has to be incredibly careful.

It helps him immensely that Jaesa’s sticking around; both for her help with their goals and just bc Tragen values her as a partner. He admires her growth and resilience, she admires his bravery and sacrifice(both admire the other’s inner strength), they work fantastically well as a team--by the SoR prelude they can practically read each other’s minds, and his future plans rely heavily on her being there. Which she’s all too happy to do.

(both of them are halfway in love at this point and both are completely oblivious to it. There’s no pining--yet--bc neither has a clue the true nature of their feelings-- largely bc they both come from planets where marriages are usually for politics over love, and then their respective orders; the Sith encourage lust, not love, and the Jedi ofc with their acting like Love Is Bad Bc Attachments)

I’m toying with headcanon-ing that Tragen’s acquaintance with Lana and Theron starts with the Depths of Manaan flashpoint, bc I’m verrryyyy conflicted about him doing Attack on Tython. It feels OOC for him(I played him through it, but it didn’t sit right >.>).Whatever I do there, his familiarity with Vitiate’s nature makes him all the more frantic to stop Revan bc seriously, man, you don’t know what you’re doing, this is going to end so very VERY badly. He is, of course, right, and he hates it.The disgust he’s always felt for Vitiate multiplies exponentially at the end, when Mr. Embodiment of Pure Evil and Dickishness escapes and promises to consume his Wrath last since Tragen’s “special” to him(which makes his skin crawl; he doesn’t want to be valued by something so evil). And like all my Force-users, Ziost hits him really hard. He’s more familiar with how evil Vitiate is, so on that score he’s braced himself. But even with his mediocre Force connection, all of that terror and death so fast hits him hard--though not as hard as it hits Jaesa. She goes catatonic for a little bit, which scares Tragen half to death. It’s only about 5-10 minutes, but he recovered in under a minute, so it still feels like an eternity. And she’s quiet and closed off the rest of the day.

The one good thing to come out of SoR-RotE (aside from new friends), is Tragen can now openly, full-throttle oppose Vitiate and it’s okay. More than okay, Darth Marr himself approves. And being the Empire’s Wrath instead of the Emperor’s has him back with the increased leeway to do his own thing which makes it possible to work(still subtly) toward reforming the Empire. And he’s more sure they need it than ever now; with Vitiate out there as a threat, he’s pretty sure the Empire and Republic will have to ally again to deal with him. That’ll be much easier to do it they aren’t so wildly different. His progress may be measured in inches, but he has time; he’s not going anywhere.

Or so he thinks.

(KotFE onward coming soon in a separate post)

[b4kuch1n]

two ghosts in Morioh

another day of running around taking care of businesses with my mom. Got some down time in the afternoon and spent it on this. yes Im a fluff writer now. somebody take me out the back

warning for non-plot, terrible poetry (Im serious. Ive never written a poem in english before. its not too nice to the hand), a filler OC thrown in on the spot, lotsa outta-nowhere headcanons, and all else possibly applicable. 

Read on AO3 

Okuyasu finally picked up.

Which was a good thing, because Josuke didn't wanna seem fussy or overbearing. 'twas a lost cause anyway, his mom would tell him, given that he had been anxious ever since he came home from the supposed double date that afternoon, and had walked from one end of the hall to the other over forty time (yes, she counted up until forty), mumbling to himself, hands firmly in his pants' pockets because he knew the moment he stopped holding it tight he would ruin his pomp by running his hand through his hair in frustration. An emotion that he caused to himself, his mom would remind him, because he refused to just walk over to Okuyasu's house and knock.

When the boy in question finally picked up, Josuke was a bit stiff from the draft in the hallway as well as from the tension built up by being stubborn. Okuyasu's voice only just managed to break through.

“Josuke?”

He sounded a bit hoarse. “Yeah, dude, I'm here,” Josuke said. The tension didn't leave him immediately like he hoped. “You didn't come.”

“Fuck, sorry about that. I'm jus'... 'm not in the best mood right now. Didn't wanna ruin it for you guys.”

“Shit, what happened? You okay?” Josuke could hear something fell on the floor with a metallic clunk. “What's that?”

“Oh it's-- 's the paint can. I'm fixin' up big bro's room upstairs. Been meaning to for a while now so... It's.” Okuyasu trailed off.

Josuke felt his shoulders stiffen up a bit more.

“It's some'n to do.”

Josuke bit his lip. After a moment of consciously picking off all traces of anxiety from his manners, he said, calmly, “I'm gonna come over.”

“No, dude, y'don't have to!” Okuyasu immediately barked, with something like panic in his tone. “I'm a bummer right now,” he added, almost sheepishly. “It's dumb, it'll go away on its own. Jus' some'n from the class.”

“Don't even think of it as me coming over to comfort you if that's better.” Josuke had to actively try to stay nonchalant now. “I'm helping with the room fixin'. It's gonna take the rest of the night with just you. That cool?”

He just caught his free hand moving towards his head on its own when Okuyasu sighed and he could hear the paint can being picked up. “Fine. I'm gonna be upstairs, let yaself in when you're over.”

By August 1999, Okuyasu had been sleeping in the guest room downstairs for ten months.

Keicho was a private person, and nobody could blame him at that. No kid would want to leave their toys trailing about when their father was so quick to anger. Keicho had faced so much of that misdirected rage, had put himself between his father and his younger brother so many times, that anything he had that wasn't broken he held on with an almost death grip. His routines, his CD collection, his rules, his own anger. He never learned to let go, and Okuyasu, whom Morioh had given more chances than it ever did his brother, had been feeling something like pity for that, and then guilty for pitying his brother.

He didn't really want to use Keicho's room again, especially when he never got his brother's permission. When Keicho had left balancing the book in Okuyasu's hand, their life became a clash between Okuyasu's fussing about trying to take care of things and Keicho's own rhythm and order, the solution to which that they came up with being that Keicho got the entirety of the second floor to himself. Okuyasu didn't mind – everything was simple with him, really – but after Keicho's death he felt even more out of place in that part of the house.

“It's fine if you wanna seal it off, dude,” Josuke told him one evening when he stayed the night, “you're the one living here. It's not like people know or care about that stuff, either way.” Josuke was smart, but he also believed in courtesy and manners even though he had been subjected to so much of the opposite of that, and it made for a strange kind of trust in humanity. One that was different from Okuyasu's own.

So in the end he decided to only seal Keicho's room. He had been slowly packing everything his brother left behind in the house into small carboard boxes and stashing them in the hallway. He wanted to keep a whole afternoon and evening free just to fix up the room itself, but he didn't think today would be it.

“Yeah, Koichi actually steered me home the moment we were sure you wouldn't show,” Josuke said mid-sweep. “I don't think Yukako mind. Actually I'm pretty sure Yukako doesn't really want me there third wheeling them. Gotta say I was about the same.”

“Sorry for leaving you hangin',” Okuyasu repeated, just as apologetic as when he said it the first time.

“It's not your fault you aren't well, dude,” Josuke stood up straight, free hand in his pocket. “Though a word beforehand would be good. But you were home late from the class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Goto-sensei holding you up again?”

“Nah, he's nice.” He would be, after Josuke and Okuyasu dragged him out of some serious troubles last month. He was also a nice man in general. Okuyasu thought his writing style really didn't reflect that.

Josuke raised an eyebrow at his answer. Well, Josuke would have a different impression of Mister Goto Azuma, moderately famous novelist, given that the one who had to take a pen in the arm to grab the man (then under a Stand's control) was him and not Okuyasu. That kind of viciousness must keep people wary for a long time. Not to mention the apology gift they got was a place in Goto's ten-hour creative writing course organized by the uni, which was of no use to Josuke, but which Okuyasu snatched right up.

Outside of that event though, Goto-sensei was a mild-mannered, if a bit emotional and wordy person. He had anguish in his heart, sure, but he told Okuyasu once in class, in the tone of someone who was citing their name and age, that he wanted to love everything and anything more than he wanted to wallow in his sadness, so he channeled all of it into his writing and left his personal life free for his other emotions. Okuyasu found that a good way to do things as any.

“I'm gonna trust you on that,” Josuke said after a stretch of silence. Okuyasu grinned. “Anyway, something happened during the writing class then?”

“Yeah-- well, nah, but yeah.” Okuyasu rubbed his hands nervously under Josuke's confused look. “I mean, kinda? Goto-sensei gave us a prompt, and then I wrote something sad, and it bummed me out. 's all.”

Josuke's eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said, “huh.”

“Yeah, it's dumb. Tolja don't mind it.”

“It's not dumb if it bums you out, dude.” Josuke leaned the broom against the desk and stepped closer to Okuyasu. His pomp looked almost plastic-ish under the buzzing light of the room. Okuyasu blinked when he held his biceps with both his hands. “I like you happy, Okuyasu. We gotta go there somehow, and I'm not a waiting man.”

Okuyasu looked at Josuke, eyes somehow brighter than the light should've made them, hands holding him firm as if willing him to believe. As if that had ever been necessary. He took a deep breath, and broke out in a grin.

“Thought so. You're a musical man.”

“Hell yeah I am.” The grin crept up onto Josuke's face, and he dragged Okuyasu in for a quick hug. “So, what's that piece you wrote today about?”

“I mean, you can read it.”

It must be impossible for Josuke's eyes to grow wider than this. This was maximum wide eye for him. “Really?”

“'s not fine art or some'n, but if you're cool with that, why the hell not. Wait here.”

Josuke waited in Keicho's half-cleaned room while Okuyasu went downstairs to fetch his notebook. Goto-sensei didn't care what his students did with what they wrote after class (“It's yours,” he had said, with passion, “and me telling you what to do with what's inherently yours is against everything I live for. Any experience you have with your own writing is deeply personal and unique, and if that includes setting your drafts on fire and inhaling the smoke, who am I to keep that from you?” He seemed to actually got misty-eyed at that idea.), but Okuyasu liked the man, and he thought keeping the things he wrote in his class in order was a way to show respect to a good teacher. Or it could at least make up for his terrible handwriting.

He flipped through the notebook as he went back upstairs. Man, he wrote more than he thought he did.

“Here,” he handed the notebook – opened to the correct page – to Josuke, who had finished sweeping the room and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a subdued excitement. Josuke seemed extra careful with his hold on the thing.

“It's a poem?” Okuyasu didn't think that was actually meant to be a question, but he faltered a bit nonetheless.

“It's-- yeah. You aren't into that?”

“Dude, I barely read actual literature no matter what kind, that's not the thing. I'm just... poems are supposed to be even more about emotions than, like, novels and shit, right? I, uh...”

Josuke bit his lip. Okuyasu tried to follow the thread of logic.

“Goto-sensei said our writing is whatever we will it to be. If ya worry this won't be manly and cool, I'm gonna. I'm gonna will it into being for ya.”

“It's not that, dummy.” Josuke smacked him over the head with the notebook. He was smiling again though, so Okuyasu didn't mind. “I just don't think I can get the whole experience without you, like, walking me through it. Since you're the one with the emotions in this poem and all. So can you...”

Okuyasu grabbed the notebook. He looked at Josuke, and then at the words on the page between them, and then tentatively finished that hanging thought. “...recite it for ya?”

“Forget it if it bums you out again, okay?” Josuke held his hands up. “I'm cool either way. I wanna read it properly, sure, but if it's gonna ruin the night for you then forget it.”

Okuyasu stood there with his own notebook in his hand, with his boyfriend, in his brother's room that they were cleaning. He looked at Josuke, and then up at the buzzing light, and then at Keicho's CD collection on the shelf, newly dusted.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I'm not gonna hold onto it like that, dude.” And then he took Josuke's hand and said, “Let's come up to the roof for a bit.”

They left Keicho's room behind and went up to the attic, from where they climbed their way awkwardly up onto the Nijimuras' newly re-tiled roof. August was too early to feel chilly at night in Morioh, but there were winds, and the sky was wide open. Okuyasu thought it was a good place as any to give the poem a reading.

They settled on the warm tiles, and then Okuyasu had to stand up to go get a flashlight, and when he came back to the roof Josuke was still there – as if he would go away the moment Okuyasu blinked – the notebook balanced on his thigh.

“Ready,” Josuke said once Okuyasu had sit back down snug next to him, partly as a question and partly as a confirmation of his own status, and Okuyasu nodded.

“Alright.”

Okuyasu had never recited a poem before. His mom was a storyteller when she was alive, but there was a long stretch of time during which her conditions worsened slowly and the occasions lessened until both her and the stories were gone. His dad wasn't a wordy man, not outside of anger and grief. Keicho really would rather have silence than a human voice outside of his own, and again Okuyasu couldn't blame him for that. Or even question it, really, not when Keicho had his CDs and treasured them so. Outside of all that, Okuyasu had also never been good at school. He had other things to do, and the few literature classes he actually sat in for never saw him chosen by a teacher to read anything out loud from the textbook.

So, Okuyasu didn't really know what he was doing, no. But he was also a simple man, and right now it was doing it or not doing it. And Josuke had casted his vote – the only one that counted here and now.

“It's called 1999,” he said, and found his voice a bit raspy. He didn't figure out to clear his throat.

Cigarette butt on the ground

he chose one to pick up

and hold like a torch

Hand over head

Whispers like smoke

flow

1999

numbers he carried

one

in his left pocket

on the pad

along the line

into the waves

it's important, that's what he said

Cigarette butt in the air

His hand red

His eyes red

through them, the sky orange

twilight is for a while,

if statues are the same

1999

replays dissolve

into statics

into waves

away

one

on his lips

I didn't mean it like that,

or was it

I never told him,

or even

I don't think he knows,

that's what he said

Cigarette butt against the sky

futile

1999

variables

one

dissolved into the waves

my name is doubt,

and his I never got

1999

I met two ghosts in Morioh.

They were quiet a long time after that. When Josuke spoke up, he sounded like he just cried a bit. “Dude, that's so fucking sad.”

Okuyasu tried to keep himself from shining the flashlight on Josuke to see if he really had been crying. “For real? I don' even know what it's exactly about anymore. Jus' a buncha, uh, concepts put together randomly.”

“It got emotions into me, alright? So it's good to me, deal with it.”

“It makes you sad!”

“It's good sad though. Like listening to a late artist's album sad.” Josuke threw an arm around Okuyasu's shoulders. “That's how art is.”

“Sure,” Okuyasu harrumphed, but then smiled to himself, just a bit.

The two sat there on the roof well into the night. At one point they found their hands intertwined; Okuyasu let himself lean into the contact, flashlight and notebook laid aside, essentially forgotten. Late night breeze felt like sleep.

“The point of that poem is that I love you,” he said, and let it be.

The hand in his own tightened, and Josuke replied, with all the conviction his being could store, “I know, dude. Love you too.”

[isthemedia]

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 NSFW

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 NSFW

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 NSFW

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 NSFW

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

~~~~~~

                                                Chapter 12

He hated this. Hated it! He didn’t care what those reports said. Ain’t no way this villain was some type of saint in disguise!

Snipe scowled behind his mask. He KNEW what the blonde was capable of. He remembered helping Shouta try and trace the blonde after a heist. Managed to funnel the whole lump sum of donations from a function right under their noses--

Alright, sure Snipe know the guy who was putting on the function would weasel out of making sure every cent went to charity he claimed he was supporting...but since HE managed to drain it all, that meant that it weren’t going anywhere but the blonde’s own pocket!

He was a crook. A thief. A villain. And there was no way he’d keep playing this game with him.

“YAMA-SAN!” He tried to ignore, just how happy those kids sounded when they arrived at Wings of Refuge.  

How could everyone be so blind? Oh yeah sure he didn’t notice him at first either, but...come on. He stuck out like a sore thumb! The guy was WAY too noticeable.

He watch as Mic picked up one of the kids and carried them inside. Snipe was just counting the seconds. This was a waste of time.

HE was making THEM waste their time.

Mic greeted and gave a soft kiss to the top of one of the caretakers head. An older man with prominent wrinkles around his eyes, who just seem just too goddamn happy to see the blonde.

Villains were villains. And heroes were heroes. No acceptions. It was a clear black and white matter. There were no grey areas in this.

--

Mic sat with the boy on the bench seat at the piano. Ahhh, he remembered how hard it was to get them one. Took a hell of a lot of work. But so worth it...and it wasn’t all that bad if he was being completely honest. Had to be the most time he spent with HIS hero before all this. He held back the laugh as he remembered.

Ahhh...good times.

Even though with all that’s happened, and he’s now under this...protection program, he had to admit that he did miss those times. He felt like he was getting lazy a bit. He needed to get back out and just do something!

Maybe he could convince the kids to help him sneak out?

No...no he couldn’t do that. They’d be in more trouble than they already are.

He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down to see the boy grinning, waiting patiently. He gave a soft chuckle. “Alright, what do you want me to play kiddo?”  

--

As the kids were getting ushered into the to mess hall, Snipe roughly grabbed the back of Mic’s shirt. The blonde could hear seams pop some as he was roughly hauled up against a wall.

“Listen here,” Snipe drawled. “I don’t know what ya did to get Thirteen and Cementoss ta trust ya, but it won’t work on me.”

“Tch, they’re adults they can make their own decisions,” Mic huffed. What was this hero’s deal with him. Alright he didn’t like him. Did he have to be such an ass about it?

“You’re making us waste our time with all this,” the homing hero hissed. “We could be doing something more important, but instead we’re babysittin’ your ass!”

“If it bothers you so much than why not leave?” Mic sneered. “If it’s OBVIOUSLY that annoying to you.”

Snipe scoffed as he shoved the blonde aside. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t know what your game is, but I sure as hell ain’t playing it.” He turned away and headed out. If he left, and then there was a distress call, then that would just prove this guy was jerking their chains. It would PROVE that he was just playing them.

Give them the chance to just haul his ass to jail where he could just sit and rot! He grumbled and kicked the door open...flinching as he remembered that probably wasn't the best thing a hero should do to an orphanage.

Fucking Voice villain.  

Mic huffed as he watch the hero leave. Jeeze, what had him so uptight? Not like he MADE the hero come with him. It was Princi-pet’s idea. And nobody else seemed to have a problem with it. So what the actual fuck?

“Yamada?” the elderly man asked as he stepped out. “Is everything, alright out here?”

“Ah yeah Atakita-san,” Mic jumped a bit, shit did he hear? How much?!

“Hmm? Where did that hero fella go off too?”

“He, ah, g-got a call! Ya know, hero work and all,” the blonde explained. “No worries...come on, bet the kids are starvin’!” He continued as he ushered the elderly man back into the mess hall.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a set of eyes were watching the orphanage from afar.

--

“There’s a distress call coming in,” Thirteen stated.

“Ah from where?” Ishiyama asked.

“...Wings of Refuge,” the space hero said.

“Ah, M-Mic-kun was suppose to be there,” Toshinori said as he stood up and went over to the other two.

“Wasn’t Snipe suppose to be with him?” Thirteen asked.

“What’s going on?” a voice asked as the door slid open. Shouta stepping in, sleeping bag tucked under his arm.

“And incoming distress call from...ah, Wings of Refuge,” Ishiyama summarized.

Shouta’s eyes widened some...Mic was there. Did he do something?

Or...did something...happen?

‘He’s in trouble,’ the voice urged. ‘Save him.’

“Ah Eraser-san,” Thirteen called after. Shouta faltered some, realizing he was already rushing out of the faculty room and down the halls.

It was, almost like instinct. He...needed to go find the Voice villain.

--

Oh...oooooh! This was going to be fun. Mic covered his mouth trying his best to hide his grin, to muffle his laugh.

Ah fuck! It has been too long since he’s had any action like this! Even if they weren’t heroes--he just HAD to do it! It was an itch he just couldn’t scratch himself. Couldn’t get the same relief.

He just...couldn’t help himself.

--

Snipe’s phone went off. When the homing hero answer he was greeted by a curt tone.

“Where are you?” Nedzu asked sharply.

“Patrolling the center of the City sir. Wasn’t needed to just keep babysittin’ our guest,” he stated.

“That’s NOT what you were assigned to do,” the principal stated.

“We’re just wasting our time! Sir, you should know that there’s something he’s hiding! I know he’s up to somethin’. Eraser and I had to deal with his crimes before. Just ‘cause he can act like he plays nice doesn’t me he actually does.”

There wasn’t an immediate response from the high spec user. In fact the silence stretched for about a minute. “Is that why you left your post?”

“It is.”

There was a heavy sigh. “We’ve gotten a distress call.”

“I can take it sir!”

“...at Wings of Refuge.”

He fucking knew it! He called it! That blonde bastard WAS just using them! When he’d get there he was going to make sure the Voice villain was locked up for good! Snipe hung up without any further explanation and ran off.

--

Seems that the villains didn’t expect somebody to fight back. Let alone ACTUALLY be able to fight back. They were all so slow. They were sloppy with their moves too.

Ahhh, so boring. Nothing like when he fought Eraser.

God he wanted to fight his hero again. Fuuuuck to just feel that weapon around him...tightening. Maybe he’d gag him again? Just glare at him with the eyes. Look at him with disgust.

Dammit he missed that. And this poor fight wasn’t helping him in the sligh--

“You fucker!”

Mic laughed as he sidestepped. Too predictable. Just too, too predictable. He grabbed the wrist of his attacker, about to toss him when...he suddenly couldn’t move his hands. “What?”

Green eyes took a quick look and saw where his hands were on the other’s wrist, were now hidden under what looked like a metal coating. Shit! A Quirk user!?

The other laughed. “Metal Coat. Sure can’t cover my full body...but I can cover any area and anything that fucking touches it.”

Fuck! He fucked up. Mic was too busy reeling that he didn’t see the coating retract, and reform about the user’s other fist…

Until the blonde was met with a hard and near devastating uppercut.

He royally fucked up.

--

“I tolja the guy couldn’t be trusted!” Snipe yelled.

“We don’t know if he’s the one behin--”

“Are you hearing yourself Cementoss!? Do you really think a villain would do this stuff in his off time!?” The homing hero argued.

“H-he just doesn’t seem to be the type…” Thirteen stated. “He seems to be very much against hurting kids.”

“Villains are villains! It’s as plain as that!”

Shouta couldn’t take it. The arguing between the three, he rushed to the door and kicked it in. ‘Your villain is in trouble. He’s YOURS.’

--

Mic gagged as he threw up from to a strong kick to his abdomen. Shit, that metal coating quirk.

His vision blurring slight...shiiit he saw blood in it. Another swift kick had him rolling across the floor.

Kids were screaming...crying...the caretakers were pleading and trying to calm them down.

Fuuuuck he couldn’t use his Quirk. Too many risks. Everyone would be affected. He could end up bringing down the roof. HE’D be found out, and this place would just forever be a target. Purrs and Paws….Open Doors Open Hearts...his old apartment--

U.A would be in another fucking scandal--

He struggled as he tried to push himself up...a laugh bubbling out of him. Dammit...where was that fucking hero? Did he REALLY up and leave? What a judgemental ass.

“You just don’t know when to quit do ya!?” A villain sneered as they knocked Mic down again. A sick grin split the metal coat user’s face as he kicked him in the side.

The Mic gasped as he clutched his side.

Shit shit shit! Fuck shit!

The villain stomped on his left hand, it wasn’t enough to break anything, but mother fucker it still hurt! Mic bit his lip. It was getting harder and harder to hold back his Quirk.

But he had to.

He HAD to!

The sound of the door being kicked in stuttered the blonde’s thoughts as sunlight poured in. He had to squint his eyes--

And felt his right arm suddenly getting grabbed and pulled up. Eyes widened as he felt a foot placing itself along the outside of his elbow.

--

The sound of bones cracking was the first thing Shouta heard. It was deafening. It had him freeze in place...in fact, everything just, slowed down for him. Eyes widening as he saw Mic bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming as his right arm, now bent at an angle that was unnatural, as it flopped useless to the blonde’s chest.

‘Help him. Help him...he’s yours. Don’t let anyone touch him!’

The blond curling in on himself. The villain that stood over the blonde laughed as that metallic coating shifted and covered the base of his foot as stepped down on side of Mic’s face.

“Just gotta play hero doncha!? Well look at where it ge--” He was nearly thrown off the blonde when Shouta’s capture weapon wrapped around him.

The Eraser hero only saw red. All he could hear were the pained muffled whimpers of the Voice villain.

He yanked the villain to him, and delivered a punch to their gut as he came down.

--

Thirteen rushed to the kids and caretakers trying to calm them down and direct them out of harm's way.

Snipe stood in shock inside the doorway. What-what was this? W-wasn’t the blonde suppose to be the one causing the trouble? Why was he lying out all battered and broken?

Just what the hell--

A pained howl left the metal coat user as Shouta elbowed him hard in the face. Breaking his nose. The villain was already pleading. Surrendering.

Stop stop stop! I give up! I give up!

He had no problems dishing this out to Mic. He thought, he ACTUALLY thought that if he begged that would make him stop!? Shouta scowled as pulled the cowering villain up and gave another punch to their already brushing face.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

And--

Cementoss had to forcefully pull Shouta away from the villain, as he snapped out of his blind fury. The villain’s face was battered, bruised, and bloodied.

“SONNUVA!” Snipe swore. “He tried to bite me!”

Shouta looked over and saw the homing hero kneeling besides Mic. He felt his blood boil again as he shrugged off the other’s hold on his shoulder. He marched over. “Maybe it’s because YOU left him here.”

The underground hero glared at the other before he knelt down. His heart was racing. H-he didn’t know what was going on. B-but seeing Mic...seeing him in such pain.

Usually the blonde would laugh when he was in pain. But...he wasn’t. He wasn’t laughing now. He wasn’t grinning.

Carefully he rolled the other onto their back. He could see small trails of blood down the blonde’s chin from biting his lip to keep him from screaming and activating his Quirk.

“Mic,” he called softly.

Slowly, glassy green eyes opened and looked over. “Era...ser.” His voice was choked and cracking some.

Finally the extent as to the blonde’s injured started to crash down on him. The reason why who didn’t use his Quirk. The fact he put the lives of the kids and the caretakers ahead of himself, That fact that he--

“H-hey,” Mic began with a choked laugh as he reached out with his left hand and touched Shouta’s cheek, causing the man to jump. “Breathe, Eraser.”

Shouta didn’t realize he already reached up to cover Mic’s hand with his own. The blonde hissed at the contact and he pulled back. His eyes studying the hand. It was...black and blue, possibly fractured.  He opened his mouth to say something. He wanted to ask how he was. But all that came out...

“I...thought you...liked pain.”

Mic gave a wet laugh. “Oh...baby,” Shouta watched as the blonde’s body hitched as he tried to take a deep breath. “I-it onlys feels good…” he hissed and bit his lip again. “W-when you do it.”

‘Only you...only from you.’  Shouta felt his heart race a bit. J-just what was this villain...doing to him?

--

“--so you’ll just need to rest up until you’re fully healed,” Recovery Girl instructed.

“...do you wanna see a man with a broken arm climb the walls? Cause that’s what gonna happen,” Mic huffed. He couldn't believe this…He was going to lose it. He knows he would!

He could barely stand staying at his apartment for more than a few hours before he started to go stir crazy. How the fuck could he handle bed rest for...however the long this whole fucking thing would take?!

He had a lot to do still! Who was going to pick up his slack if his couldn’t get to his volunteer shifts?

Who was gonna make sure Girly didn’t over do it when she practiced her Quirk and got sick again?

And Shining Girl! He was gonna show them simple things they could do with their hair since they didn’t feel comfortable growing it out yet.

Not to mention there was--

FUCK! He was not going to be able to just lay here!

Recovery Girl just laughed. “I could bring in Eraser Head to tie you down.”

The blonde perked. “You promise?”

The healer only giggled slightly. “He was insistent that you rest up, and to call him as a last resort. His direct orders, according to him.”

Mic felt himself grinning as he laid back again. Eraser...Aizawa...his hero’s orders. Goddamn, he just knew how to get him to do anything. Though part of him wanted to disobey. His hero tying him up? Oooh, he was sure that would make him feel so much better than he did now.

The sound of the door sliding open drew the blonde from his thoughts.

“I-is, he awake?”

Recovery Girl nodded. “But please try to keep it down.”

Kirishima grinned as he stepped in followed by several other students. “Yama-san!”

“Oh fuck, ah RockBoy? What are you…” he trailed off when he saw all the kids. “The hell?”

“Well, um,” Kirishima began. “W-we heard that you got pretty hurt...and so ah--”

“Well we know you don't like getting bored so we-we came up with something!” Uraraka finished. “I-I mean it-it’s not like your volunteer work...but we hope it’s something!”

“Lay it on me, ya got me curious,” Mic said as he gave a small grin.

“Well, ah,” Ashido held up a notebook. “Um...I...I kinda suck at English. And I...well since I feel bad asking A-All Might for help…”

The blonde stared at the kids. Homework? Th-they wanted him to help them with their homework? He...he couldn’t help as he chuckled a bit. He saw the looks on all their faces fall--fuck! “No no, don’t take it like that,” He assured as he tried to get himself to stop laughing. “I-it’s a fucking great idea!”

“R-really!?” Uraraka asked as her eye sparkled slightly.

“Yeah,” he nodded and grinned.

Shit these kids...he fucking loved them.

He...almost forgot that...when he was younger how much he wanted to be a teacher. This wasn’t quite the same but, fuck it. It was close enough.

-------

A/N: No I'm not trying to vilify Snipe. Snipe's personality and just how he carries himself has this notion that there is no grey area. To him there is no in-between. Yes he's stubborn for thinking this, however in the series in general we really haven't seen a character that is completely morally ambiguous (haven't had a chance to read Vigilantes so I don't know how they handle moral ambiguity there); so the idea of Mic being just that is something that's a new concept to him and a lot of other people.

The kids are more accepting because they're young enough to see and learn that sometimes life just puts people into these boxes because it's just easier to keep them separated that way then.

(Also we're getting more looks into Mic's more illegal acts)