#which (sigh) is not to say he's an evil mastermind either

[red-sneakers]

For the bkdk ask thingie, I'm thinking of various times katsuki blows up at something/someone and then izuku just like touching him(hand on his shoulder or something) and katsuki just deflating and causing everyone else immense confusion.

Bonus point if they're not dating (yet)

This little ficlet was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it. It's from Ashido Mina's POV. She calls him Kats because I said so.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kats drops the pan he was washing into the sink with a loud ‘clang’ and spins to face Todoroki, hair standing on end like the angry little Pomeranian he is. Mina sucks in her smile, relishing the drama from her perfect vantage point on the common room couch. If only she had some popcorn.

“I said,” Todoroki drawls and leans back against the kitchen island, stoic as always, “you can’t expect to rise in popularity polls if you don’t accept help fro—“

“After that, you pretentious-ass mutherfucker.” Kats looms over Todoroki, suddenly appearing much taller despite them being the same height. (Kats’s totally shorter than Todoroki without his stompy emo boots.)

Todoroki bends backward, his candy-cane hair tickling the countertop behind him, probably avoiding the spittle forming at the corners of Kats’s feral grin. Poor guy. He tries so hard, but he can never predict what is and isn’t going to set off blasty boy’s explosive temper, not like the Bakusquad can. That, or he riles Kats up on purpose and then plays innocent. In that case, Mina just might have to get to know Mr. Icy-Hot a little better.

“Say it again, I FUCKING dare you!” Kats’s palms spark. Oh, day-um. It’s been a while since he’s let his quirk go off outside of training and on the battlefield. Todoroki doesn’t look scared, but Mina’s a little scared for him. Or, at least, she fears for his beautiful, shiny hair which is in danger of being singed off at any moment.

“Kacchan . . .”

Midoriya emerges from a corner of the kitchen that had been hidden from Mina’s view, still in his All Might pajamas at 1:00 PM on a Saturday. What a bean. He sets his Bisexual Pride mug on the counter and places one hand on Kats’s lower back. Kats stiffens. Mina holds her breath. 

“I know how it sounded, but Shouto didn’t mean it like that.” Midoriya soothes his hand up Kats’s spine, and he straightens up, allowing Todoroki the room he needs to side-step out of the spit-zone. 

“I have errands to attend to, so if you don’t mind—“

“You’re on thin fucking ice, half n’ half,” Kats pokes Todoroki in the center of his chest, “so don’t try and act buddy-buddy the next time we—“

Midoriya squeezes the back of Kats’s neck, and Mina swears to god, he goes limp as a dish towel. And is that a blush on Blasty’s cheeks? What is going on?

“W-we . . .” Kats stutters. Stutters. “Th-the next time we have a team-up mission.”

Todoroki scoops up his bowl of cold soba and strolls away like nothing happened. An oblivious cinnamon roll or an evil mastermind. Either way, bless him.

Mina peeks over the back of the couch at Kats and Midoriya as Todoroki leaves the common room. Suddenly the spying she’s doing feels a lot more like, well, spying. There’s something different about the two 'problem students' alone together, especially Kats. His posture’s more relaxed, but even from across the room, Mina can see nervousness in his eyes.

Midoriya gives the back of Kats’s neck one more squeeze and his shoulder a firm rub before picking up his mug and making his way out of the kitchen. Kats watches him leave, and yes that is definitely, absolutely, 100% blush on his cheeks. No way!

Mina hugs a throw pillow. During first year, she’d posed a crack theory to the Bakusquad (minus Kats) that Blasty’s asshole behavior towards Midoriya was all just gay panic. She’d gotten shut down then, but could it be? She’d been right all along?

Kats delicately traces his nape where Midoriya’s fingers had been. And then he heaves a giant, lovestruck, deliciously pathetic sigh and crumples all the way to the floor where Mina can no longer see him. 

There’s no other explanation. There can be no denying it. Bakugou Katsuki has a big, fatty crush on his childhood friend-turned-rival, Midoriya Izuku. Mina bites her fist to avoid shrieking with delight. She knew there was more to the volatile chemistry between those two! Kiri and Denks are gonna get the ‘I told you so!’ of their lives. All Hail the Alien Queen!

Something thunks. Probably Kats’s head on a cupboard. Mina takes the opportunity to high-tail it out of the common room before Kats can stand up and see her. If he knew he’d been caught simping in HD, who knows what would become of Mina’s luscious curls without Midoriya to defuse Blasty’s explosions?

Once safe in the stairwell, Mina whips out her phone and furiously creates a new group chat: 

'Operation: Bother Blasty in front of Broccoli and watch Blasty simp for BroccoliJUST TRUST ME YOU HOES <3'

[albertbutyoucancallmebert]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy allowed himself to decompress as Bert’s gentle pats and soft words brought him back from the verge of tears. Nothing had changed. Yet he allowed himself to enjoy the illusion of safety for a moment. “This helps,” It still bothered him how Bert’s comfort came at the cost of distressing him but… What could he do? He knew for a fact that he hated being kept in the dark more. Answering his questions— including those which remained unasked— was the least he could do. He shook his head as he answered the easiest of all with, “Probably not.” It took a bit for Teddy to compile his thoughts. Eventually he hesitantly said, “…There’s this one Glornist named Thomas I’ve been worried about. He’s just too…” Teddy paused to sigh. “…Nice. Nice enough that there was only one reason to keep him alive…” Then he kept his eye shut as he rested his head against his good arm. “Somehow I was still arrogant enough to think that I could save him… Except I put it off because its hard to approach a guy you usually avoid to go,” He scowled and swapped to a sarcastic tone as he grew more agitated. “Hello! If you don’t either dirty up your act or fake your death you’ll be ritually murdered! Here’s how I, known natural shady creep, can help!” Teddy glowered at a stray beaker left on the desk. “So I tried to earn his trust first, but that..,” He sighed as he closed his eye. “…only made it worse…” The air became dead as he recalled how even Thomas, one of the most naïve people he knew, couldn’t believe that he had good intentions. “Eventually I just cut to the chase and it, well…” His voice quickened and he started to idly rub his finger against the counter. “I heard him pray to Grop after I made him cry so I tried to give him contact info for them and urged him to leave but then he showed up Slornday anyways and I didn’t know that Sam and Cyrus were already investigating him for being a Gropist and for a bit I thought they heard everything and Sam was gonna accuse me of being one too and-” Teddy was forced to stop working himself into a panic just long enough to take a breath and pressed his fist against his forehead to ward off an oncoming headache. “It was just Thomas but I still had to use my backup plan before our meeting came out under torture and they sacrificed me too so I told everyone that I was working with them and claimed that I was trying to set him up so he’d find other Gropists on the ship but I told him about Eve because I found out she became a Gropist after what happened to Dawn when I was in the medbay and I may have sealed her fate too and-” Another sharp inhale. “But I didn’t know that Sam was trying to frame Thomas as an infiltrator taking down the Glornch becausethat'slikewanderbeingaslysndcraftygenius so they got mad that they couldn’t use the dramatic presentation they prepared but… I think Thomas bolted before they could start because… he thought I was the evil… mastermind anyways and-” That was as far as he got before he lost the wind for a long-winded rant. While he was recovering he searched the room as well as he could without lifting his heavy head. Where was Sherri Jr? Because he could really use the big lug right about now…

Bert patiently listened to what Teddy had to say without a moment of interruption. He followed along at first, nodding his head. Alright, so there’s a Glornist named Thomas who Teddy deemed worth saving. But trying to talk to him didn’t go so well. Okay.

Bert frowned when Teddy mocked himself, but kept quiet in favor of letting him express his thoughts however he saw fit. But when Teddy’s pace quickened as he started to get more and more panicked, that’s when Bert started to lose track a bit. Sam? Cyrus? Eve? Dawn? Gropism? ...Wander? There were a lot of things being said in rapid succession that Bert was struggling to parse in his head.

At the end of it, Bert gathered that ultimately Teddy was probably in cahoots with the Sam character over the Thomas character. 

“I see,” Bert softly said despite his struggle to fully understand. He gave Teddy’s head a few more pats. He jumped down from his seat and made his way over to a refrigerator while Teddy caught his breath. 

While Bert was gone, something hit Teddy’s helmet with a light thunk and bounced off, clattering to a stop on the table in front of him. It was a cashew… 

Bert returned with a water bottle. He cracked the cap open and slid it over to Teddy.

[thewhumperinwhite]

🔨 Are there any whump tropes that you'd love to see your OC's reactions to even though you couldn't or wouldn't put it into your actual story for whatever reason?

✂ Is there a plotline that you'd planned to write but for whatever reason has been abandoned?

🥇 Pick one aspect of your story that you are particularly fond of. Anything at all.

OOH okay good question. Alright. So.

Hammer: I really really love mind control, and for some fucking reason I have written a vampire story where the vampires don't have mind control!!!! a perfect fuckin opportunity and I have wasted it!!! I think I wanted it to be clear that Karim is stuck with Micah because of Good Old Fashioned Emotional Manipulation and not because of magic, and also because i hate myself i guess.

(i do have a... maybe-canon-maybe-not post-story arc for ATTD that heavily features mind control, which i am Obsessed With, but it would be extremely difficult to write it without a Big Big Spoiler for ATTD so once again I have placed myself in a mind-control-less hell of my own making. 😔

Scissors: It's more of a scene than a plotline, but I had a whole scene plotted out for WKW where everybody's at like a grand ball and Morden tells Thorne to dance with Andry, and Thorne goes into Good Boy Mode and picks up on how funny (and maybe hot) Morden and all the rest of the Falconers think it is when he pushes Andry around in public, and he gets carried away and kisses Andry in front of everybody. Thorne is not thinking too hard about Why Morden Might Like That, he was operating 100% on Make Master Happy So Master Wants To Keep Me instincts, and he's confused afterward about why Andry, who has been starting to very cautiously open up, is suddenly cold as ice again. And then Endure happens before they actually Talk About It.

Buuuuut I couldn't find room for it in To Bid You All Welcome, which was already getting untenably long, and it feels weird to have two different Big Fancy Parties within such a short time span, so it never worked out. sigh

Medal: I really really like my villains, lol, and especially how they fulfill their roles in their various stories. in particular I think the contrast between Morden and Micah (the Vampire Daddy from atykm) is really, like. Funny???

Because, like, Morden is competent and sexy and like... a fairy tale villain? Honestly, he's just a few extra sex crimes away from being a disney villain. if you asked him what his alignment was he would say its capital e Evil. And I don't think he's like a cartoon, really, either! He's just a guy who has a lot of power and thinks he's entitled to more social status than he's been granted, and he thinks he Gets To burn the whole world down if he wants to, and he's having fun doing it. So he's always a balance between Genuinely Reprehensible And A Real Threat while also being, like... "likeable" is maybe not the right word but like. Fun To Watch, certainly.

And meanwhile Micah is like... the exact opposite of that. What appeals to me about him is that he is, stripped of all artifice, Deeply Pathetic. He's just a sexual predator with magic powers. The only thing he's good at other than Being A Vampire is sensing other people's vulnerabilities and exploiting them (and he didn't even get that right tbc: he has Deeply Underestimated most of his coven and they're going to fucking Get Him pretty soon). So he's a really fun balance too, because i get to figure out how to make it clear that he is Not A Criminal Mastermind, he's just privileged and confident, without lowering the stakes of the story--he's a pathetic old man, but he also has the power to Literally Ruin Everything.

...this got longer than i meant it to be lmao BUT basically the thing I am proud of is!! the way both of these Evil Men fit into and improve their stories while..... also being exactly What I Want From My Whumpers at different times 😁

[xiyao-feels]

It's funny that people call JGY a chaos gremlin, because he's just—really really not? Whatever the opposite of a chaos gremlin is he's it. He's frankly ludicrously goal-directed and an extremely competent planner—even when he deliberately causes chaos, as at the second siege, it's not for the sake of causing chaos but as a deliberate part of an overall plan. He can certainly act quickly and improvise amazingly well and seize opportunities when they arise, but even these tend to be folded into a long-term plan. And as always when you look at what he actually does when he has the power and can choose what to do, it's pretty clear that he enjoys and actively seeks an ordered and well-governed life with truly ridiculous amount of meetings and paperwork. Where he's broadly in charge and setting the agenda. And I mean, you could argue that the towers are chaotic in that they're upsetting various norms of cultivation society, and you wouldn't exactly be wrong, but the methods he takes to achieve this certainly aren't the kind of random chaos 'chaos gremlin' suggests—and remember it takes five years from becoming Chief Cultivator! And he was working on the idea before that! And the effects are a) likely some centralization of power b) many many people receiving help they wouldn't have before, not as a result of him individually helping them but as a result of a structural change. From his gigantic infrastructure project that took half a decade to get political agreement on. This isn't...chaos gremlin???

[hirayaaraw]

Unbreakable Ties 2 - Tell Me Where Is Home

Idol!Jaehyun x OC

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers; angst; fluff

Summary: In which Jaehyun is searching for his best friend who went missing in action 10 years ago. When she finally appears, Jaehyun not only found his lost best friend but also his son.

Vibrant.

She’s all the colors in the world wrapped in one. She’s an enigmatic force that made him stick with her whenever she goes. Jaehyun and Eunhye were inseparable after that summer.

They became two beans in a pod, partners in crime, and source of headache for their silly plans. Eunhye is the mastermind and he executes them perfectly. Their teachers often say they work well as a team who occasionally gets in a debate but Jaehyun always gives way.

“Come on, Jae! We should be doing something this summer.” Eunhye flops down at his single-sized bed with one hand propped on her to see Jaehyun.

“I already have a plan.” 12 years old Jaehyun evades eye contact as he knew Eunhye can see through him.

Eunhye raised her eyebrow. “I can smell crap.”

“What?”

“Mom told me you don’t have plans at all except for being a couch potato,” Eunhye said in a matter of fact. Jaehyun rolled his eyes. Of course, his mom gave this crucial information to her.

“Stop calling her mom. She’s not your mom.”

“Okay, Mommy’s boy.” Eunhye teased him. He is still uncomfortable for some reason whenever she calls his mother ‘Mom’. “So are you in?”

“I don’t get why do we need to enroll for a voice lesson if we can just watch Disney channel, cartoon network, or nickelodeon for the rest of the vacation or have a movie marathon,” Jaehyun explained exasperatedly. “Besides you are tone-deaf.”

“That’s why we are enrolling for a voice lesson.”

“My voice is decent compare to yours.” Jaehyun is not lying. He can sing a tune and hold a note. Eunhye knows this as she always sings Gabriela’s part for all the duets in High School Musical. “Spare our ears.”

“Okay, Troy Bolton wanna be.” Eunhye stood up and walked towards him. “What do you want? My mom is sending a box from heaven.”

Jaehyun scoffed at her old inside joke. He once thought her mom is in heaven. In his defense, Eunhye pointed to the sky when he asked her ‘where’s your mom’. He can still remember her judgemental look from her before she replied, ‘My mom is in abroad. Dumb ass.’

“Shall I ask her for the latest Nike shoes or a transformer?” Eunhye poked his right dimple. His eyes widen but faltered immediately.

“Don’t bribe me.” He crossed his arms on his chest.

“It’s not a bribe. It’s a token of gratitude.”

“That’s what a politician will say.” Jaehyun pointed out. “I will guard this country against you.”

“I only have two careers in mind.” She raised her two fingers in front of his face. “It’s either I become a politician or a singer.”

“You are terrible on both.”

“I will be by your side for the rest of our lives so I can guarantee you that I will never be near in any government positions.” Eunhye smiled endearingly at the blushing Jaehyun.

“The rest of our lives?”

“Yeah. That’s what best friends do, right?”

Best friends. They are best friends even though sometimes he imagines her as his very own Gabriela Montes who is there in his wins and troubled days.

“So are you enrolling in a voice lesson with me and spare the ears of millions of people in this world?”

“How can I let you go alone and torture other people’s eardrums?” Jaehyun sighed and Eunhye squealed then jump on him to hug him.

Thanks to Eunhye’s stubbornness. That’s how his journey to be a kpop idol started.

—

“Are you really not coming with me, Mother?” Eunhye asked her mom while she is folding her clothes in their living room.

“You know that I can’t.”

“Just trying my luck.” She shrugged at her mother’s answer.

“So many memories and regret in that land that I don’t want to remember anymore.” Her mother said without any emotion and ice cold stare. “Remember how your evil grandmother mocked me at your father’s funeral.”

“Mother…” Eunhye hissed at her mother’s bitter trip down to the memory lane.

“How about you? Why are going back to that country?”

“It’s father’s 20th death anniversary, mother.” She reminded her firmly.

“I know. Except for that what’s the reason? To see your son’s father? Did he finally bump his head and realize that he should be a responsible father?”

“Mother!” Eun Hye couldn’t help but raise her voice. “Fine. You are not coming with me but please let’s stop talking about my child’s father.”

“You wouldn’t be breaking your bones to work hard if he only knows about your son. Monthly child support won’t even hurt his pocket.”

“Mother please…”

“He seems like a good child whenever I come home. Maybe fame got in his head.”

“It’s not like that, Mother.”

“Even if he has a new partner, it is his obligation to provide to my grandson.” Eunhye sighed in defeat just by imagining it.

“Mother, it’s already 3 PM. Jeno’s bus will be here any minute.” Eunhye stood up with the pile of folded clothes on her arms before going to her bedroom. Once she laid their clothes on the cabinet neatly, Eunhye sat at the edge of her bed. All her energy were drained from the conversation with her Mother.

Her phone’s screen brightens. She opened the new message that came in.

My love: Mom, I will be coming home late. Coach extended our training. :(

My love: Can we have a kimchijiggae later? 🥺

Eunhye: how about Kimchijiggae and bibimbap?

My love: You are the best mom in the world! I love you, Mom!!!!

Eunhye chuckled. Her son is her sole source of strength and light in this world. Without him, her life must be in shamble right now. She is about to stand up from the bed to start cooking when her phone lit up again. She just stared at it while the messages come in one by one.

Jaehyun best boy: Eun

Jaehyun best boy: I heard from Mom you are coming back home from…

Jaehyun best boy: I don’t know where you are right now but you are doing good, right?

Jaehyun best boy: Can we catch up like the old days? Mom said she will cook your favorite. I will listen to your adventures.

It’s almost 5 am in South Korea. Eunhye wonders why is he still awake. He might be in the set of a music video somewhere or just about to sleep. Just like she always do, Eunhye archive the message without opening it.

You are coming home.

When was the last she felt at home? Daegu was her home. She felt familiar and sense of belonging in that place but everything start to change when Jaehyun became a trainee. Slowly, Daegu became just a place to her. Her Father died and Jaehyun left to pursue his dream they dreamt together. Nothing was left to remind her of home.

Now that she is going back to Daegu, no Father to welcome her or Jaehyun that she can bother anytime. And even though Jaehyun will appear miraculously, nothing will be the same. They live in two different worlds now. How can someone who used to be so familiar for years became a stranger?

On the other part of the world, Jaehyun stares at his phone waiting for her to seen his message.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

So, I know you made a post about Martyn's comment about Grian having Stockholm Syndrome, but I feel like there's a lot of angst potential. Maybe something about Martyn and Skizzle trying to convince Grian to join them, but Grian refusing to even leave Scar's side of they kill him.

i feel like this one kinda accidentally became Grian’s villain origin story but ngl i’m not complaining

…

Martyn and Skizz are walking together through the forest, on their way to the desert to do some surveillance. They’re just walking up the hill near the edge of the forest when a random thought occurs to the latter. “Hey, what’s that thing where you, like, get close to your captor?”

“Huh? Oh, uh… Stockholm Syndrome, isn’t it?” Martyn responds.

“Yeah, that’s it. Stockholm Syndrome.”

“What made you think of it?”

Skizz shrugs. “I dunno, I was just thinking about Grian and why he doesn’t seem to be eager to leave Scar anymore.”

Martyn shoots him a sideways look. “You think he’s got Stockholm Syndrome? Huh. Honestly, I think you might have something there. I’ve known Grian for a long time and I know for a fact that hates people telling him what to do.”

“I really wanna save him, dude,” Skizz says. “I hate the idea of him having to slave away under Scar for even another day.”

“I do too,” agrees Martyn. “But I don’t think we can-.”

“My ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice.

The two look sharply up to find Grian himself sitting on a high branch in the tree directly in front of them, right at the top of the hill.

“Eavesdropping again?” Martyn demands. “How much did you hear?”

“Just something about slaving away under Scar. That’s how I knew you were talking about me. Not nice to talk about someone behind their back.”

Skizz and Martyn both frown. There’s something different about Grian today; he’s not his usual self. It’s worrying particularly to Martyn, who’s known him for a very long time.

“Grian, we need to talk to you,” says Martyn. “About Scar.”

“Uh huh.” Grian hops down from the tree and dusts off his hands. “You’re not gonna kill me, are you? Oh, no, wait: neither of you can. Martyn cuz you’re green and Skizz because you’re spineless.”

Skizz blanches. “Wh-What the hell?! That came out of left field!”

Martyn steps towards Grian, carefully making eye contact with his old friend. “Grian, this isn’t you. Scar’s red life energy is corrupting you, turning into something you’re not. It’s not healthy.”

“Healthy?” Grian tips his head on one side. “Huh. That’s one way of looking at it.”

Martyn pushes on: “We can help you leave him. Either we can take your first life or we can help you escape him.”

“We can keep you safe,” Skizz adds, pushing aside his hurt feelings over Grian’s prior comment. “If you’re worried about what he might do to you.”

“You think I wanna LEAVE?” Grian scoffs.

Martyn and Skizz exchange a look. “What do you mean?” asks the former slowly.

“Scar is my excuse to kill people,” Grian responds. “That goes away if I leave him.”

“Yeah, you’ve already killed at least five people, including me,” Skizz responds. “Are you really sure you wanna keep going?”

A grin slowly appears on Grian’s face as he grabs a block of TNT and lights it. “Let’s find out.”

“Skizz, move!” Martyn yells in a panic.

The two simultaneously spin round and take off running but the TNT quickly explodes behind them, the force sending them both tumbling off the top of the hill.

Martyn groans as he pushes himself up, his whole body aching from the rough landing. His left ankle, which he felt himself land heavily on, throbs. He glances warily around him and finds Skizz lying on his side a few blocks to his left, unconscious.

As Martyn crawls over to him to check on him, he spots a figure emerging from the trees. His breath catches in his throat as he registers Grian slowly and dangerously coming towards them, a flint and steel clearly in his hand.

“Grian, get away,” Martyn snaps, unable to hide the fearful shake in his voice. He moves awkwardly in front of Skizz, protecting him from Grian. “Get away from us.”

“Killing Skizzle will be delicious,” says Grian, grinning maliciously. “His last life. I wonder what it’ll feel like to take a red life? To know that the person I’ve killed will not respawn?”

“Don’t you dare!” growls Martyn. “Kill me if you want but don’t hurt him.”

“Martyn, Martyn, Martyn…” Grian shakes his head in mock disappointment. “You keep doing this. Every time you swear you don’t care about people, every time you swear you won’t get attached to anyone else, you do. Would you really sacrifice one of your lives for him, Martyn? Someone you’ve only known a few weeks?”

“Skizz has proven himself a generous and loyal ally,” Martyn replies steadily. “He’s shown himself to be perfectly willing to sacrifice his last life for us so I’m willing to sacrifice my first for him.”

Grian shrugs. “Okay, that can be arranged.”

As he steps closer, Martyn pushes himself to his feet, holding his left foot gingerly off the ground. “Please, Grian, don’t. You don’t have to let yourself get corrupted by Scar any longer.”

“Corrupted?” snorts Grian. “That’s cute.”

“Seriously, you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. You don’t-.”

Grian laughs loudly, interrupting Martyn. “Stockholm Syndrome?! You really don’t get it, do you, Martyn? Scar is useless on his own. You think he would’ve been able to do HALF the damage I’ve done? If it weren’t for me, he’d have lost his red life about half an hour after his second. I’m the one keeping him alive; not because I care about him but because he’s my excuse to kill people as a green lifer. I have the highest body count on the whole server and I’m still green. Martyn…”

He moves closer to Martyn and grips his shoulder almost painfully, a terrifying smile on his face. “I’m the mastermind. Scar thinks he’s in charge and that’s what ties this whole arrangement together so neatly. Everyone focuses on Scar because he’s the red lifer and oh poor innocent Grian is stuck doing everything he says. Nobody EVER suspects that I’m anything more than just Scar’s puppet.”

“He’s yours,” says Martyn quietly. “Isn’t he? He’s just your puppet.”

“He is. But I can tell you’re trying to stall. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.” Grian takes hold of Martyn’s other shoulder, trapping him on the spot. “But I don’t want to kill my old friend, no matter how much you beg me. Not yet, anyway.”

Before Martyn can react, Grian shoves him roughly aside. His ankle rolls again as he hits the ground, causing more pain to explode up his leg. “No!” he yells, as he spots Grian advancing on a semi-conscious Skizz. “Grian, don’t!”

Skizz tries to get away from Grian but the green lifer draws his sword and presses the point against his chest, forcing him to stay still. He stares into Grian’s eyes and sees nothing but evil in them. “Grian, please…! Please, don’t!”

“It’s either you or Martyn,” responds Grian. “You pick.”

Skizz meets Martyn’s gaze, and Martyn knows immediately what he’s going to say.

“O-Okay,” Skizz whispers, tipping his head back in defeat. “Kill me and leave Martyn alone.”

“NO!”

But as Grian raises his sword, a battle cry echoes through the trees and seconds later, three figures burst out of the forest: Ren, BigB, and Etho.

Grian scrambles back in shock as they charge towards him, before turning and fleeing back into the trees. BigB and Etho pursue him but Ren stays behind to drop down at Martyn’s side. “Thank god we got here in time! Are you two okay?”

“Apart from my ankle, I’m fine,” says Martyn, letting out a sigh of relief. “Skizz?”

“I-I think I’m okay,” Skizz responds, pressing his hand against his forehead. “But my head hurts.”

Martyn frowns sympathetically. “You were out for several minutes so you probably have a concussion.”

“Let’s get you two back to Dogwarts to rest,” says Ren kindly.

But just as Ren moves to help Martyn up, a notification flashes up on their communicators.

Bigbst4tz2 was slain by Grian

Ren lets out a low growl. “That’s it. Those filthy desert hippies have gone too far.”

“No, Ren,” Martyn says. “It’s not them; it’s just Grian. He’s the one who orchestrated all this. If you hadn’t turned up, he’d have killed both of us. He’s the real threat, not Scar. Not even Scott and Jimmy. They all do what Grian says; he’s got them all in his pocket. He’s…” He pauses, recalling Grian’s words with a shiver. “He’s the mastermind.”

Ren gazes at him for a moment. “Okay, it seems we have some things to discuss when we get back to Dogwarts. But for now, I need you two to head home while I help Etho and BigB.”

“Yes, boss,” says Martyn. “But I-I may need some help; I’m not sure if I can walk at the moment.”

Skizz sluggishly stands up and makes his way over to Martyn, whom he helps to his feet. He then lifts Martyn’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him. “I got you, buddy,” he says gently. “I got you.”

Martyn lets out another quiet sigh. He still can’t believe he and his friend are both alive and relatively unharmed, but he’s unspeakably grateful for it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

[wordsfromthesol]

Avengers or Justice League (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial @anousiemay​ Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 1.2k

Part One

You woke up several hours later, still in the passenger seat. It had definitely been longer than 2 hours. How were you not in New York yet…Before you could ask, Jason spoke up.

"So…welcome back. It's been a while. A lot has changed."

"I can see that. What happened?"

"Well I met the spider thing. Very helpful, definitely a child. But he said Bats was about 3 hours north of here. In a small town called Croatoa."

"Seriously?"

"I couldn't believe it either. Couldn't even find it on a map…but the kid gave me directions. Should be there in…now." Jason commented as he turned onto a dirt road. You had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

**

You had been in this weird town for a few hours. All you had done was sit on the roof of the hotel and listen. The conversations…something was just off. You couldn't put your finger on exactly what. You were so zoned out that you didn't even hear Jason come up behind you.

"Something is off here. Right?" His voice broke your trance.

"Definitely." You nodded, reassuring him that he wasn't crazy.

"There's no crime here. At all. In the last 10 years. Not even a speeding ticket."

"Well the town is all dirt roads…" The comment was meant to put your minds at rest. It didn't. "Should we even be staying here? Crime does tend to follow us." Jason's bellowing laugh cut through the tension.

"I've already got us another room. About an hour away. It was the closest town to here." You moved to get up but stopped when you noticed Jason wasn't following you.

"Is there something else?" A look of concern graced your features.

"Why am I here? Good ole Bruce doesn't need me. Never has. I don't fit into the mold of his superhero gang. I shouldn't even be alive. Who thought I was worth saving?" It was as if someone dosed him with a truth serum. All the insecurities he felt began to pour out.

"Honestly…I have no idea why you were saved. Then again, why was I? Why didn’t that blast kill me? Why did Tony create something to save me? And why did Bruce teach me how to control the catastrophic energy inside of me?" Now you couldn't stop. There was something about this place. "We need to leave." You were barely able to muster up the words.

**

You still weren't sure how the two of you made it out of town, but as soon as you did it was like a switch flipped.

"By the way, Bruce's way of doing things…it's not always right. You don't need to fit into his mold." Even though the effects wore off, you still remembered everything Jason had said. Everything you had said. Those fears and uncertainties, you don't think you'd ever actually said them aloud. You could tell Jason hadn't either.

"Do you think he's there?"

"It's a pretty small town, I would've heard him…unless there was some underground bunker…" You turned towards Jason, realizing that that was an actual possibility. The rest of the drive was ridden in silence. Neither of you wanted to talk about the things that were said.

You had no idea where Jason went, but it had been hours. The two of you had to come up with a plan. It didn't take long for you to find him in an alleyway wailing on some drug dealer.

"Hey, Hood." You casually walked up next to him, leaning against the adjacent brick wall. He sent one final punch towards the dealer before turning towards you. "Don't you think we have more important matters?" Jason just stared at you, confused. You scoffed and starting walking back to the hotel, as you reached the end of the alley you called out, "If you want a lecture we'll have to find your dear ole dad."

You weren't surprised to hear Jason's footsteps quickly behind you. "Well do you know where to begin?"

"Kinda…I was thinking. And the power to affect people's minds like that has to be constantly going. Especially since it affected us."

"Yeah but that could be anything. A sound, emitting something into the air, even widescale mind control." You let out a defeated sigh as Jason continued. "I can call Miss Martian. If it's the latter."

"Alright, get her on standby. I'm going to call Tony. Maybe he has something we could use if it's a sound or air thing." You stopped dead in your tracks and turned towards Jason. "I just don't get why they would have Bruce. I get that he is inherently violent…but he still helps people. And they wouldn't need him if there was no crime…"

"I…" Jason started walking again, not wanting to think about the answer. "I'll get Tim on it. Just don't go back there until we know more."

Your eyes widened, "Yeah no, of course not."

**

Once you were sure Jason was asleep, you flew just outside the town limits and began circling the town. There had to be something you missed. It took almost 30 minutes for you to notice the sound. You stopped, hovering about 30 feet in the air, as you focused in on the noise. The next thing you knew you were plummeting to the ground, yet you couldn't stop yourself. It seemed as if Jason was at your side as soon as you hit the ground.

"Y/N! Are you kidding me?!"

Your eyes fluttered open to examine the damage around you. "I thought you were asleep."

"And I called bullshit the moment you said you wouldn't come back here." You didn't protest as he scooped you up and gently placed you in the car.

"It's sound." You mumbled as you fought off the headache.

"Guess I'll have to talk to the tin can again." He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he watched your face contort in pain. "You okay?"

"Just karma for not listening to the all mighty Jason Todd."

**

A week had passed and it seemed the mission grew stagnant. Tony had developed a device that blocked the sound, which you had already tested, but there were still too many unknowns. Every meeting consisted of hypothesizing different situations and possibilities that could be encountered once everyone was inside.

"Enough already!" You shouted at the arguing heroes. "We could do this for months. It's pointless. We need to go now. Batman may not even be there anymore."

"Oh, uh…he is." Spiderman chimed in.

You furrowed your brow, "How do you know that?"

"I put a tracker on him. It's still there…" As the whole room burst out in laughter, Spiderman just looked around, confused. "What?!" His voice broke through.

"Oh…sweetheart." You began as you regained your composure. "There are three reasons that tracker works. One, he was brainwashed and actually didn't know it was there. Two, he put the tracker on something useless to send you on a wild goose chase. And three, he put the tracker somewhere he wanted you to go."

"Considering the creepy town, I'd rule out the second one." Dick chimed in.

"So do we just split up and find the entrance to the tunnels?" You could tell that Tim was ready to get this mission over, so you started doling out responsibilities.

"Tony starts at the north end, Nightwing and Robin at the east, Red Robin and Spiderman, the west. Red Hood and I will start at the south. We can't go in costume though. It will be too obvious."

"So we must reveal our identities to these inane people?" Damian was not happy with the situation, especially having to work with members of the Avengers.

"Just don’t say your name? We're trying to find Batman, this is more important than your secret identity."

**

You prayed that the sonic dampeners Tony developed would hold for the duration of the mission. You had no idea how long this would take. This situation seemed much more involved than some low level, one-off criminal. It was a demonstration, a practice round.

The town was small enough, so one of the groups had to stumble upon this entrance. The only tricky part was not drawing attention to yourselves. Seven strangers come to town at once…you were hoping whatever brainwashing protocol overlooked this fact. And you were right. No one gave you and Jason a second glance as the two of you strolled down the street. It had been almost an hour before you stumbled upon a potential entrance. As discreetly as possible, you opened the hatch and lowered yourself through the hole.

"So which way do we go?" Jason commented as he followed in suit.

"Left?" You figured you had a 50/50 shot, so you went with your gut. After all, if you went right, you wouldn't be in town for too much longer. "You should probably call the others. Have them rendezvous here, in case we run into trouble."

"Trouble from who? The townies?" You shrugged off his condescending tone. The two of you had been walking for a few minutes when you started to hear footsteps. People were running towards you.

"Uh, Jason…we need to move." Jason didn't bother to argue, as the urgency was pasted over your face. The two of you raced down the corridor until you saw something. "STOP! There's a room. There." You pointed towards the concrete block to your right.

"And does this room have a door?" You could tell by his tone, Jason wasn't afraid to make one. Your eyes scanned around the area until you found it. Not bothering to answer his question, you rushed towards the opening.

"And it's locked."

"Not for long," Jason smirked as knelt down to work on the lock. It was opened in seconds. Your eyes searched around the room in awe. There was video and audio of the entire city. Even inside people's homes.

"How do we --" Your question was interrupted by a loud banging against the door. "Just subdue, don't maim or murder." The comment was a reminder to both yourself and Jason. These were innocent unsuspecting townspeople, not criminals.

"Didn't need to be said!" You shoot a glare his way, to which he responds with a shrug of the shoulders. Just as the two of you braced for a fight, the banging stopped. Seconds later, Tim swung open the door.

"In a bit of a bind?"

"Does it look like we know how to operate this?" You pointed towards the various machines behind you. Tim nodded and got to work.

**

"So, no evil mastermind or Batman." You had convinced Jason to come back to the hotel with you and let the rest of them deal with the groggy and confused townspeople.

"Guess not."

"There's probably going to be more towns like this. You'll have to keep an eye out…"

"Oh. So you're leaving Earth then?" Jason's chest sank at the thought.

"Is there a reason I should stay?" You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it. You wanted to make sure you weren't imagining everything.

"I can probably think of a few…"

[itsallmightbitch]

Covert Ops For Dummies

Possibly Part 1? Depends on the interest in a Part 2. I curse my best friend for a thousand years for making me watch this show and basically facilitating a brand spanking new addiction. I fucking love this skinny scarecrow man.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Nothing really. Smut abounds. Toshi is insecure as fuck about his body. That’s about it.

Word Count: 8000+ (I um... I might have gotten carried away...)

Summary: You and All Might go undercover, only to wind up stuck in a coat closet for most of the mission. Toshinori is insecure and you’re horny as all get out (and determined to make him see what you do when you look at him).

*gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for this story?!?!???!!

-

Covert ops with a man who quite frankly defied the laws of stealth, was going exactly the way you’d thought it would. Go you. You were practically fucking psychic.

 Not that you were subtly bragging to yourself about being right but… well.

 You were.

 When you’d been paired with him by an oddly amused Aizawa earlier, you hadn’t thought much of it. You spent most of your time together anyway, so why not work while you were at it? It was a simple job. Get in, get out. Bust down some doors, take some names, kick some ass-

 “What the fuck do you mean, undercover!? How is this-” you gestured frantically at All Might, perched precariously on a nearby desk- “In any way, going to go under anything!?”

 The man in question laughed and the desk creaked worryingly as it shook along with him.

 “You worry too much! I can be stealthy when I want to be, kid!” his voice boomed and the glass of the window rattled in it’s frame from the sheer strength of it.

 You levelled a look at him, unsure if he was joking or not.

 Standing across from you both, arms crossed and a sleeping bag bunched around his waist- was the mastermind of this future fuck up.

 “You two won’t need to be stealthy,” Aizawa explained, his tired eyes sparkling with amusement at your absolutely horrified expression. Neither you nor All Might were built for sneaking through windows after all. “We know it’s not exactly your… strong point,” he said, clearing his throat and then and there, in that little classroom in UA, you learned that Shouta Aizawa actually did have a goddamn sense of humour.

 Go figure that it was at your expense.

 “You two get to be the diversion.”

 Your eyes went wide and one twitched.

 “Oh God, how is that better!?”

Everything had gone about as well as could be expected with Mr. Save the Day on your team. Although you, very begrudgingly, had to hand it to him. He did know how to keep a crowd’s attention when he needed to- and if it had been mildly arousing watching him make your suspects cower in fear at the same time then well, that was your business.

 All Might and the absolutely appalling mass of muscles that made up his left arm, shifted a little and jostled you into a nearby pile of coats. This resulted in a mouthful of faux fur and a coat hanger in your spleen. Your feet dangled off of the ground, your body suspended against the wall by the sheer size of him.

 You grunted in pain, indignant, then elbowed him hard in retaliation.

 “Sorry!” he said and now your elbow was aching as well as your spleen. It was like hitting a boulder.

 On top of the lack of room to breathe, the heat was almost unbearable. He was like a walking, talking space heater and normally you wouldn’t mind. Really. But being crammed into such tight quarters with zero warning was already making your head spin and the heat wasn’t helping matters.

 Your mind drifted without your permission.

 It wasn’t the way you’d ever imagined being pinned down by him but- oh, for fuck sake don’t think about that now.

 You willed yourself to behave, groaning out loud.

 He took your noise of frustration in a different way.

 “I know it’s not an ideal situation but I’m sure we can turn this around,” he beamed at you optimistically but since you couldn’t move your arms particularly well, you couldn’t flip him off. He ignored your lack of response and sullen silence, instead craning his neck forward towards the door. He had to shimmy a little and brought you along with him- stuck to his side as you were.

 Your wings sagged uselessly behind you, squished into a corner that they had no business being in.

 Toshinori squinted out of the spaces between the slats on the wooden door as if he could bend light itself and see around fucking corners. You bit your tongue.

 Knowing him, he probably could.

 He shifted again, without much thought. You, on the other hand, almost died. Thick fingers brushed over your thigh as he moved his hand and all of the blood in your body rushed in two different directions. One half reddened your cheeks and the other half slammed home between your legs and throbbed deliciously.

 Jesus. If either of you shifted in just the right way-

 He must have realized because his fingers snapped away as he made a fist suddenly, eyes darting everywhere but at your face. You felt his breath stutter in his chest and he cleared his throat and moved his hand as far away as he could in such tight quarters.You didn’t know whether to curse him for being such a gentleman or not.

 “It’s a little cramped in here, huh?”

 “You know, I hadn’t noticed.”

 Yes. When in doubt, default to sarcasm. That always ended well. But he was unaffected and just fucking chuckled instead, all throaty and low so that he didn’t alert any of the guards outside.

 Your ovaries screeched. One fainted.

 Half the words you’d been about to say turned into pathetic sounds instead so you simply swallowed them back again.

 You needed to put a bit of distance between you before you simply climbed around him and wrapped your legs around his waist for a place to sit. Hissing, you shifted from side to side, wings twitching helplessly in the cramped space. If you could roll your shoulders in just the right way-

 “Are you alright?” he whispered, looking alarmed at your sudden frantic movements. You grunted out a yes as you tried to find a way to move your arms properly. He didn’t seem convinced.

 “I’m trying to put my wings away before we both suffocate.”

 “Oh.”

 It took a bit of concentration to ignore the feeling of being practically plastered to his side, but eventually, your wings disappeared with a little whoosh of air and you dropped slightly further towards the ground without their friction on the walls holding you up.

 The relief was real. At least two of your limbs could now breathe again- even if the rest were still stuck in this closet. The extra wiggle room was a gift from God as you inhaled actual air. As a bonus, you could now finally turn your scathing gaze on Toshinori.

 Bright blue met your eyes and he blinked owlishly back at your expectant ones.

 “Is that better?”

 “Toshi,” you said, as patiently as possible even though he was being terribly dense. “You could help, you know.”

 He paused for a moment- then wiggled as far away as he could. Which by your estimation was about three millimetres. You couldn’t even face palm as your hands were still stuck to your sides.

 “Jesus- Shrink down, you big oaf! Your muscles are taking up precious oxygen!”

 This closet was definitely not built to contain over five hundred pounds of thick ass muscle. His head was even brushing the ceiling. Eyes comically wide, he looked down at himself like he was actually surprised that it hadn’t crossed his mind to do so already.

 He was so not adorable. Not even a little bit.

 “Oh right.”

 Suddenly you had a face full of smoke instead of muscle and you dropped to the floor without warning. You almost fell against the door but you caught yourself at the last second with your hand on the wall beside it.

 Your body sighed in relief at the sudden space and you inhaled dramatically, stretching your arms out, grateful for the blood flow to your extremities. At least now you wouldn’t lose a hand.

 A short, wheezy cough from the other side of the closet had you wafting the smoke away, frantically trying to send it towards the little vent instead of the door. The last thing you needed was someone thinking the place was on fire.

 After so many months of trailing around after All Might, it was now far less jarring to see him going from one extreme to the other. From the hulking, muscular hero you’d been plastered against moments before, to the walking scarecrow who was now silhouetted in a cloud of smoke.

 So when the room finally cleared and left just Toshinori in all of his skinny, hapless glory, you didn’t even think twice about it. You were far more concerned with your ability to finally move your arms again.

 The non-reaction was a vast improvement from the stream of expletives you’d let out the first time you’d seen the transformation. It barely even registered as a difference these days. He was still Toshinori. A little clueless, always earnestly sweet and unfairly invading all of your sexual fantasies.

 The norm.

 But still, even now, those sharp eyes of his watched your expression closely.

 For what, you weren’t entirely sure but he mustn’t have found whatever he was searching for because he suddenly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand.

 “Sorry kid. Must be getting forgetful in my old age,” he said and flashed you a sheepish grin. His hero outfit hung on him, at least seven times too big for his skinny frame and it would have looked comical on anyone else. Not him though. The damn thing still suited him.

 You ignored the traitorous, evil thundering of your heart in your chest.

 Fuck.

 How could he be so impossibly sexy without even realizing it? You swiftly turned away to stare out of the slats like he had done earlier, pretending not to smile. Maybe he did realize it but just had no idea of the effect it had on you. It didn’t even make sense, when you actually sat down and thought about it. Which you had done, many, many times.

 He was older than you.

 An out and out good guy with a saviour complex.

 Skinny, almost worryingly thin- in this form anyway.

 On paper, he wasn’t your type. Not even a little bit. But fuck if he didn’t elicit a sinful ache between your legs whenever he was around. He made you disgustingly flustered, even if he was doing something as simple as handing you a stack of papers to grade.

 And now you were stuck in the worlds smallest coat closet with him.

 If Aizawa was wrong about this fundraiser then you were going to choke him to death with his own scarf.

 You could feel Toshinori’s presence behind you, as he silently tried to adjust his uniform to make it fit a little better.

 Until you’d followed him up the stairs earlier, it hadn’t been going as badly as you’d thought. He was a decent actor, given the circumstances and it might have had something to do with keeping up a ruse as big as his for so long.

 You’d been given the low down that morning. Big shot money man- who had built his fortune on the back of the Number One hero’s smiling face. It wasn’t the sort of thing that either of you would usually deal with but… this one seemed to have a personal ring to it. Cue his hero outfit and a fuck ton of screaming fans.

 All Might’s fans of course- not yours.

 You’d pulled up at the front gates of the lavish eight bedroom house, just outside the suburbs- and watched with absolute glee as Lanius Snow (con man, ringleader and all around asshole) looked like he was about to have a heart attack out of sheer fright.

 But Toshi played dumb as instructed, the atmosphere had relaxed- and all the attention had turned to the guest of honour and away from any potential heroes who may or may not have been sneaking around upstairs. Even the security that had been dotted around were fawning over All Might like school children, asking for autographs and pictures and all around ignoring their posts.

 You may or may not have nudged a few of the more eager ladies out of the way once or twice as well.

 Totally not your fault in a bustling crowd like that.

 All Might had taken the attention in his stride. You had slunk behind him after the first ten minutes, happy to be out of sight and out of mind.

 The evening had progressed and you knew that Snow was becoming more and more agitated by the second, talking frantically into an earpiece whenever he thought he was out of sight. None of the guards had earpieces and it was clear that the security down in the main hall was only the tip of the iceberg.

 Then everything had escalated when All Might had insisted on being his usual heroic self and had point blank refused to leave the hard work to just Eraserhead. Even when you reminded him that the police were on standby around the corner, it hadn’t deterred him in the slightest.

 “Toshi! We’re supposed to be distracting the guests! Eraserhead told us heroics weren’t necessary, remember!?”

 You had tugged at his suit in vain as he’d marched up the stairs, checking for guards as covertly as a seven foot mountain of a man could.

 “But you also heard Snow earlier,” he’d murmured. “Extra security? Drones? Eraserhead didn’t mention any of that in the briefing earlier. Which means he might be in over his head. It won’t hurt to check on him.”

 And so he’d surged onward with you trailing unhappily behind him, unable to stop him and bound to have his back.

 You hadn’t even been able to contemplate what was happening when a hand had yanked you sideways moments later and you were suddenly in the dark, pressed against All Might like you were about to become very familiar with him.

 A flutter of excitement in your stomach had made you clench your thighs together, thinking that maybe, just maybe, ‘checking on Aizawa’ had just been code for ‘fucking you in a closet’. You wished. As much as you might have enjoyed it, Toshinori was nothing if not a gentleman. He never would have dreamed of doing something so crass.

 The big guy got flustered if you just touched his arm. He’d probably flat out faint if you offered to suck his dick.

 Another security detail walked past, laughing between themselves and in the narrow sliver of space you could see out of, a glint of metal told you that these men were all heavily armed.

 Charity fundraiser your ass.

 “It’s a fundraiser for children with disabilities. The people who organised it have promised a ‘once in a lifetime opportunity’ for these children to meet All Might if enough money is raised,” Aizawa had explained, his voice it’s usual monotone but his eyes flashing with unusual emotion.

 You had turned to Toshinori curiously, head cocked and eyebrows raised at his sour expression.

 “Let me guess. You’ve never even heard of such a thing?”

 He shook his head and you fumed, fists clenching.

 “Bastards.”

 “Tonight is supposed to be for those kids and we’re stuck in a closet being useless. They’re using your big, dumb, friendly face to fill their own pockets and I’m not even allowed to punch the mastermind in the dick,” you grunted, pushing away from the wall, suddenly angry at how useless you were currently being.

And at the gall these people had.

 Taking the God damn Symbol of Peace and twisting it into something vile for their own gain. You wondered how long it had been going on. Weeks? Months? By the look of this lavish house, you’d bet years. So many children’s dreams crushed because they thought that they hadn’t won some phoney competition. Parents wondering if perhaps they had only donated more, given more that they didn’t even have to give...

 In your sudden angry outburst, you didn’t watch your steps and stumbled over a pair of shoes that you’d kicked out of the way earlier. Toshinori’s big, warm hand on your arm steadied you. Your fingers wrapped around his skinny wrist and you breathed out, using your grip on him to pull yourself closer.

 For a guy who looked like a strong wind would blow him over- he was certainly sturdy. He barely moved, despite your tugging.

 “I know,” he said solemnly and his voice was hard in a way that he just couldn’t achieve when he was All Might. “I detest the thought of the hero I try to be, being used as a front for crime. The thought of disappointing those children-”

 He looked away from you then, past your shoulder to the door. You squeezed his wrist, warm skin under your palm making your heart stutter in your chest. 

“So, I couldn’t just sit still and smile for those people down there… I had to do something proactive. Do you understand, kid?” he asked and tilted his head to the side, looking almost imploring. He needed you to understand why he’d pushed on when you told him to stop. Just like he always did.

 You supposed you understood, just a little.

 You nodded, lips twitching.

 “Then…” he said, a sly grin stretching over his face. “Does that mean you’re not angry at my ‘big, dumb, friendly face’?”

 Biting back a laugh, you let go of his wrist and pushed his head to the side playfully. All seven feet of him swayed gently when you did, like bamboo in the wind, as he rolled on the balls of his feet. You must have been a little too close for comfort because you caught the tinge of pink in his cheeks even in the dim light coming from the door.

 “I suppose you are a hard man to stay angry with,” you teased and patted his gaunt cheek affectionately. Standing on your tiptoes, you brought your face closer to his, ignoring your usual carefully observed boundaries. “But don’t think you can get away with pulling me into closets in the future, Toshi. You have to at least take a girl to dinner first.”

 You made sure he saw when your gaze dropped to his lips and you noted his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed- hard.

 Bringing your gaze back up, you didn’t even have time to wonder where your sudden bravery had come from because your eyes locked with his shockingly blue ones- the same eyes that often invaded your fantasies at night.

 Something heated and electric shocked your system and all of your inhibitions flew out of the window, waving their panties as they went.

 Your head swam, excitement causing a rush of adrenaline.

 “So-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to imply anything!” he almost squeaked, his voice reaching an octave you didn’t think it even could and you smiled up at his red face with a wolfish grin. His body was rigid, like you were about to murder him and it did something funny to your stomach thinking about just how adorably nervous he was from just a little flirting.

 It often confused you.

 Men and women fell at his feet all the time. All he had to do was step outside and he had phone numbers and offers of ‘coffee’ coming out of his ears. Usually, he took it all in his stride. A few winks here and there, oozing confidence and a hearty laugh while giving them a gentle brush off. It was like night and day compared to the man in front of you.

 As of right now, he was rubbing his arm and trying his damnedest to keep his eyes on his feet.

 Now, you were no fool and you certainly weren’t a liar. Especially not to yourself.

 You couldn’t deny that when he was all buff and muscular, he could make your pussy throb with pleasure with just a look. He didn’t even have to be in the same bloody room as you. All you had to do was happen across a picture of him and you could be ready to go in under fifteen seconds- ten on a particularly good day.

 Not that you’d ever tell him that. With his stupid grin and the way he looked like he could snap you in half with his hands. The way he towered over you and the way you just knew that he was packing some serious heat.

 Oof.

 You pulled in a shaky breath, swallowing back the drool that threatened to spill over.

 Thank fuck it was dark in here.

 Yet, with all that being said, there was something about him when he was just his regular, skinny self. All sharp angles and rough edges- with his hair a constant mess no matter what he did to it. Toshinori with his sad smile and electric eyes, shoulders sloped under the weight of the whole fucking world. You wanted to share some of that burden sometimes. Make him smile again, like he should be able to.

 If you wanted to do that by riding him into the ground then so be it. Who were you to question your own methods?

 His hands would still look phenomenal wrapped around your thighs, you decided. He still towered over you and damn, you couldn’t decide which version you liked more sometimes.

Choices, choices. You were practically like a kid in a candy store.

 “Maybe I like it when you imply things,” you said, voice nothing more than a purr. Jesus, where had that come from? Oh well. You were on a roll now. Might as well see where this took you-

 “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said suddenly, expression stormy and his sad voice like a shock to your system.

 Your brain screeched to a halt, brakes on as you tried and failed to fit his tone into the situation you’d thought was building.

 “Um, do what?” you asked stupidly.

 Toshi’s expression hardened, his eyes not meeting yours any more and trained instead on a loose thread that he was tugging out of his pants. The soft frown turned into a scowl and he looked as though he wanted to simply barge past you and back into the hallway- anything to get out of the situation.

 But guards were still patrolling and you certainly didn’t want to be caught trespassing so it was a no go.

 You hadn’t thought that he would be bothered by your flirtatious banter- and you’d felt braver here in the dim light when it was just the two of you. Had you spooked him that much?

 It wasn’t like you hadn’t flirted with him before. In fact, it was pretty much becoming your favourite past time. Stroking a hand over his muscular arm. Standing way, way too close to him. Touching him in public where you knew he wouldn’t be able to escape and would have to stand there, red faced and blushing like crazy.

 “Pretend,” he murmured sullenly, fidgeting harder as he fought the urge to flee from the situation.

 His expression was almost pained, like this was genuinely hurting him. You, on the other hand, still didn’t have a clue what was going on. What were you pretending about? Your brain, which had been switched to ‘horny’ mode for the last few minutes, tried furiously to gain some traction.

 “Toshi, I don’t understand. Pretend to what? Explain it to me like I’m an idiot.”

 He scratched his forearm roughly, shrinking in on himself as much as a seven foot tall man could. You had a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. He took a long, shaky breath. In. Then out. Like he was readying himself for a battle that you didn’t even know was coming.

 “You don’t have to pretend that you- ya know… find me attractive. Like… like this,” he said, his voice trailing off until it was so soft that anyone else might have struggled to hear him. Hell, even you had trouble- with only the sound of your thundering heart in your ears and of the world crashing down around you.

 Your throat went unbelievably dry and you gaped helplessly. How did you even respond to something like that? It took a long moment of uneasy silence before you managed to find your voice again.

 “But Toshi… I flirt with you all the time,” you managed to say, your brow creased. If it was possible, he shrank away even more, like you were shouting and not whispering. He hid his eyes behind his hair, either too cowardly or too embarrassed to meet your gaze and then shrugged, not answering.

 But his body language told you everything you needed to know.

 “You flirt with All Might,” he whispered.

 Oh. Oh!

 Holy fucking shit, you’d never realized it before. Not to be self deprecating but you were one dumb motherfucker. You’d always had so much fun making him blush when he was All Might. Breaking down that hero visage to remind yourself that he was still him under all that bravado. You’d never felt the need to do it when he was smaller.

 When he was Toshinori… everything he did made your idiot heart skip a beat.

 “Toshi… Look, I’m not going to lie to you, okay?” you said and then waited until he looked up before continuing, refusing to have this conversation with the top of his stupid head. “I find you really, really attractive when you’re All Might. I can’t deny it.”

 You gave a dumb, embarrassed laugh because hell, you’d never thought you’d be admitting your attraction somewhere like this.

 That seemed to be what he’d been waiting for, though.

 He openly flinched, head twisting to one side as if you’d punched him. His jaw set, teeth gritted and that sad expression made your stomach twist painfully. Was this what he’d been afraid of the whole time? Why he always searched your expression every time he changed from one form to the other?

 “I can change back, if you like,” he offered, in quite possibly the saddest voice ever. You went pale- practically felt the blood leaving your face. What had this man even been through that he thought no-one would want him the way he was? That they would only want the muscle bound hero that smiled all the time? You could have kicked yourself for feeding the dark part of him that thought like that.

 Did he honestly think that you would only shower him with affection when he changed back? That he was only worth something when he had fucking muscles?

 A cluster of emotions welled up inside you without warning and with a huff, you promptly slapped him upside the head.

 Hard.

 “Ow!” he yelped, forgetting himself and where he was for a moment. “What was that for!?”

 Suddenly, he was the confused one- staring down the barrel of your anger with wide eyes.

 “Because you’re being an idiot, Toshinori!” you hissed softly. “Yeah, I want to fuck you when you’re all big and muscular. Just like every other person on the planet who has eyes.” The use of the words ‘I want to fuck you’ seemed to catch his attention more than the rest of the sentence but you let his blush and tense posture slide because he was only human, after all. “It just so happens that I also want to fuck you when you’re- well.”

You gestured to him from head to toe. 

“You. You moron.”

 Red faced and annoyed, you crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your bottom lip. How could you possibly make it any clearer to him?

 The silence was thick in the little coat closet, your words still ringing in the air.

 “Um… really? You’re not just saying that?” he asked, his voice still small but with something hopeful tucked away in the back. Your anger softened.

 “You’re more to me than just your body, Toshi” you said after a long moment. “I like you.”

 “But that first time, when I changed- I thought-” he argued, like he was trying to convince you that you didn’t actually find him attractive.

 “That first time, was the only time I’ve ever reacted. And I reacted because I was surprised. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you shook your head, a smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t flirt much with you when you’re like this because I’m not vying for your time like I have to when you’re All Might. It’s just you and me… like this. And I like it that way. I don’t need to make you blush to get your attention,” you shrugged, slinking closer to him.

 He shut his dumb mouth then and while he was still a little skittish, he didn’t take a step back when you invaded his personal space. Instead, he let you snake your way close enough to him so you could lay a hand on his chest- eyes trailing over his sharp features and resting on those big sad eyes.

 “I wasn’t turned on when I was pressed against All Might,” you murmured and he sucked in an uneven breath, his fingers twitching at his sides and his lanky body curving towards yours. Without much thought behind the process of what you were doing, you laced your fingers through his and tugged his hand to your body.

 The first shock of him touching you was electric and you shivered- guiding his hand down, over your breasts and then across your stomach until you met the waistband of your pants. Nuzzling his jaw, you smiled when he returned the gesture and rubbed his cheek across the top of your head. 

His breathing was fast, heavy and you might have worried about him over exerting himself but he seemed fine for now, so you let him enjoy the moment.

You could take a wild guess and say this was the most action he’d had for a while. Not that you were faring any better. Your brain still hadn’t caught up with whatever the fuck your hands were doing.

 Fingers still tangled with his, both of your breaths caught when you slid his palm underneath the denim and then down further- under the elastic of your panties. You let him go on his own then, having given him enough encouragement by now. Besides, you were busy trying not to pass out, lightheaded and giddy as you were.

 He made a strangled noise, twisting his head down so that his forehead was pressed against yours and he could look at your face like you were personally gifting him the crown jewels.

 He murmured your name, questioningly.

 “Touch me?” you replied, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice because the hand that you’d often fantasized about was now cupped over your aching pussy, pressing lightly like he was afraid that he was going too far- even though you’d given him the clearest ‘GO’ sign you possibly could. “Please.”

 “Okay,” he said, voice wracked with arousal and despite the bagginess of his clothes, when you chanced a glance downwards you could see his erection outlined- eagerly way ahead of his brain. “Okay,” he choked out again, nerves making his whole body tremble.

 One long, rough finger, finally slipped between the lips of your pussy and you drew in a sharp breath. Your hands came up to grip his biceps and the sinful groan he let out caused another rush of arousal to seep out of you. He found you soaking and hot and without needing prompted further, he added another finger to rest inside- barely nudging your clit but causing enough friction to make you whine needily.

 “That’s what you do to me. Not your muscles. Not your quirk,” you said, breathless, as his other arm snaked around your back. His fingers splayed wide between your shoulder blades. “Not your fame. Just you.”

 “Fuck,” he moaned pathetically and without warning, he was moving. Your pants were off and your back was against the wall, legs wrapped around his slim hips before you had a moment to draw in breath. He pushed upwards and pressed his middle finger all the way inside you. You almost saw stars, shivering weakly against him and you opened your legs further to give him more space. With the added fact that you’d never heard him swear before, you were practically melting in his arms- your nails biting little crescents into his skin through the material of his suit.

 Your hips bucked, wanting more and so you voiced your desire softly.

 “More Toshi,” you urged, breath coming in pants. He nodded. He pulled his finger out and you felt another teasing your entrance before he pushed back in, stretching wider the second time. Then again. And again. And-

 “Hnng,” you managed.

 You muffled the next pleased sound that escaped you against his neck, then pressed a kiss to the curve that led to his shoulder.

 Honestly, you should have been ashamed at the state you were in with just a few tentative pumps of his fingers but that combined with his proximity and your long time crush was almost too much. His cheeks were still pink, his mouth open as he rocked his palm against you and you found yourself on the brink of an orgasm far too quickly.

 You nuzzled him, your nose brushing against his and his hot breath ghosting over your lips. The noises you were making were obscene, coupled with the soft wet sounds of his fingers sliding inside of you on repeat.

 He sought out your gaze and held it, his hand bunching up your shirt at the back as he slipped it under. The skin on skin contact was divine.

 The heel of his palm pressed upwards, sliding against your clit and you jerked hard in his embrace, inhaling a harsh breath as your fingers tightened their grip on him.

 He stopped all motion immediately and you pulled back from where you’d been laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses on his jaw.

 “Toshi?” you said, blearily, wondering why the pleasure had come to such an abrupt halt.

 “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern in his voice.

 “What? No!” You shook your head from side to side almost comically. “No, no, no. Keep going,” you urged and he nodded, swallowing thickly. The delicious motions of his hand continued then, rocking back and forward over your swollen clit and dipping his fingers deep inside- hitting places your smaller hands could never dream of reaching.

 “So good,” you purred, nearly delirious with lust. You dipped your hand down and palmed his cock through his pants and he grunted obscenely in your ear, breath scorching. His thighs twitched as you traced the length of him- impressive and hard under your fingers. “I always knew you’d be packing,” you laughed, drunk on the atmosphere in your own personal bubble.

 You felt him smile, felt his shoulders shake lightly and your heart soared.

 There he was.

 “Kiss me?” you asked, all wanton and breathy. Here you were already hitting third base and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. He obliged, albeit tentatively at first. His lips found yours, warm and surprisingly soft. You tangled a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth on yours and rocking your hips lazily in pursuit of your orgasm.

 He bucked helplessly against your hand when you squeezed and when he groaned into your mouth, it gave you the perfect opening to slip your tongue in to meet his.

 You kissed him long and deep, until he hit a sweet spot and you had to pull away to breathe hard. You were so close. So, so close…

 “I’m gonna come,” you said, before cupping his face so you could simply revel in his expression as you did.

 “You are?” he asked, gaze lingering on your well kissed lips as he tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. Oh, you would definitely have to do something about all that self doubt in the near future- but as of right now you just flashed him a wicked smile and clenched your muscles around his fingers.

 All the while, the knot of tension in your stomach balled tighter and tighter.

 “Oh yeah, Toshi,” was the only response you could actually form because he suddenly sped up his movements, rocking his hand back and forth until you were just- right- there.

 The cry of his name was choked in your throat and your legs trembled with the effort of staying around his hips- although he had the foresight to wrap his free hand around one of your thighs to keep you up. Your muscles fluttered frantically around his fingers and through the wild haze of your orgasm you could only anticipate what it would feel like with his cock inside you instead.

 The thought sent another spasm through you and you shook softly, holding onto him for dear life.

 There was a long moment where the only sound in the room was of you trying to get your breathing back to normal.

 Gently, Toshi pulled his hand away- leaving you feeling dreadfully empty, his nose tracing your cheek as you leaned into him. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt and honestly, all you wanted to do was curl up against him for the next twenty four hours and reassure him that you’d just had the time of your life.

 But, you were still in a closet and he was still hard, so instead, you tugged his hand to your mouth and wrapped your lips around the fingers that had just been inside you.

 Keeping your eyes locked with his, you silently revelled in the sheer embarrassed arousal on his face. You ran your tongue between his fingers, and his eyes grew heavy, lips parted and his breath hitching.

Reaching between you, despite the awkward angle, you found his cock straining eagerly against his outfit. The moment you ran your fingertips along the length of him and stopped at his head, he growled low and long in his chest and buried his face into the curve of your neck. 

The fingers of his free hand dug into your ass as he held you aloft- backing away a little to give you more room while you refused to release his other hand from your mouth.

You sighed around his fingers, already imagining that they were his cock instead and he must have been imagining it too- either that or he was far more pent up than he’d ever let you know. You only had to suck softly and palm his cock a few more times before he was shuddering against you, panting and groaning as he came.

 You finally let him go with a wet pop, letting him shake and spasm in your arms while you laid soft, unassuming kisses to the side of his head and muttered sweet things in his ear. His breath was hot against your neck as he slowly regained his senses- to a certain extent anyway. 

Not enough to break away from you just yet.

 “Sorry,” he managed, his voice hoarse. You shook your head, thumb tracing circles in the baggy fabric that separated you.

 “For what?”

 “Made a mess,” he said, giving a breathy, shy laugh that was music to your ears. You pressed a kiss to his palm, then brought his hand to rest over your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of it, enjoying the sweet way he was staring at you It was a far cry from the terrified expression he’d worn earlier.

 “Next time you can come inside me. Then you won’t have to worry about the dry cleaning.”

 He almost collapsed against you, trembling as he hid his blush against your neck.

 “You have to stop saying things like that kid. This old man might just keel over if you do.”

 There was nothing but warm affection in his voice when he said that and for once, you realized he wasn’t being hard on himself. Just playful. With you of all people. Granted, you had just made him come in his pants after he’d given you a spectacular hand job. 

You’d expect a little of his confidence to return in the afterglow- even if you knew you still had a long way to go before he was back to himself.

 “Hmm, you’d better not. I expect at least a thousand more orgasms like that before you get a break,” you said, resting your arms around his neck to play with his hair. Almost as though he was testing your boundaries (ha, they were long gone) he tentatively nuzzled and nipped a few light kisses along your jaw, his hands settling on your waist. It was nice, being this close to him without him stammering and making excuses to bolt.

 “Only a thousand?”

 “My bad. A million?”

 He was just about to steal another kiss from you when-

 “Are you two quite finished in there?”

 Like deer caught in headlights, both of your heads swivelled around towards the door- wide eyed and suddenly flushed with acute embarrassment as the realization dawned on you.

 Was that-?

 “I have to let the police up here eventually and I doubt either of you would enjoy being caught in a closet doing… whatever it is you’ve been doing. I could hazard a guess if you like, though,” Aizawa’s dry voice drifted through the slats in the door. “I could hear you both down the hall.”

 Before you could stop yourself, nervous giggles erupted from your throat.

 You muffled them in Toshi’s neck while he gaped stupidly in the direction of the door, and swiftly forgot what words were and how to use them. It took him a moment to find his voice again.

 “Shit,” he finally muttered but he made no move to release your legs from his waist- frozen to the spot and possibly about to die from all the blood rushing to his face.

 You got your shit together fairly quickly though.

 “Give us a moment, please Eraserhead,” you called out, still grinning like an idiot despite being caught doing something so out of character. For both of you. “Tell them it’s still dangerous up here or something.”

 “Shall I say there’s a banshee?”

“Just do it, you jerk,” you grumbled and you heard Aizawa grunt something in agreement before his footsteps faded down the hallway. Had you really both been that loud? Just how long had Shouta been standing guard exactly? You’d almost call him sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You could only guess how Toshinori felt.

 “Hey, lover boy. Come back to me,” you patted his cheek and brought his attention back you swiftly. His eyes found yours and you practically melted, forgetting what you were going to say and tugging him in for another kiss.

 He murmured your name against your lips after a few seconds, breathless and warm.

 “How can you be so calm?” he asked, cupping your cheek and looking at you in confusion.

 “I’m still on an orgasm high, I guess,” you answered honestly. It would hit you properly later you were sure, but right now Toshi was still achingly close between your legs and you were still giddy from coming so you could hardly feel much of anything other than satisfaction.

 “Oh,” he laughed shyly, finally lowering you back to your feet at long last. Your legs felt like jelly and you held onto him for support.

 You felt his eyes on you the entire time you were shakily pulling on your underwear and then your pants and you might have felt a little bit of a confidence boost at the hushed noise of loss he made when you were fully covered up again. You couldn’t resist the sudden urge to slide yourself against him- sighing contentedly when his arms came up to wrap around you.

 “Want me to stand in front of you until we can leave?” you asked, amused, kissing his Adam’s apple and he swore again, seemingly only just remembering that he’d come in his pants like a teenager.

 “I don’t think it’s too bad… I think my underwear got the worst of it.”

 You cocked your head to the side, finally looking up from where you’d been finding new places to kiss on his neck.

 “You wear underwear with your hero outfit?”

 “You… don’t?” he asked, clearly confused.

 Waggling your eyebrows at him, you flashed him a sinfully cheeky grin.

 “That’s something for you to think about the next time you see me in it, isn’t it?”

 He groaned loudly, tugging you closer and laying a kiss to the top of your head. The affection wasn’t at all unwelcome. How long had you been wanting this exactly? It felt like forever. You revelled in the sudden change in him, despite still being his skinny self. His shoulders weren’t as sloped now and his expression was almost playful.

 You couldn’t wait to see what he would look like when you got him into a bed- could barely focus on anything other than the thought of stripping him bare and riding him long and slow until he knew, for sure, that you wanted him just the way he was.

 You opened your mouth to tell him as much.

 “If you two don’t come out of there now, I’m coming in.”

 That was Aizawa’s teacher voice and you both sprang apart, muttering apologies through the wood. With a cough, you were suddenly half propelled out of the opening door by hard muscle- All Might behind you now instead of Toshinori- and came face to face with Aizawa.

 “Eraserhead,” you said meekly, your bravado suddenly wilting under his unamused stare. All Might ducked under the door frame behind you, his face beet red and looking everywhere but at the irritated pro hero. It was almost comical but you swallowed the nervous laugh that threatened to bubble up.

 As subtly as you could, you shifted in front of him- just in case his underwear hadn’t been as effective as he was hoping.

 “How… um, how much did you he-”

 “Everything from ‘Ow, what was that for’,” he answered before you could finish. Ah yes, when you’d slapped the back of Toshi’s head and he’d forgotten himself. Your eye twitched and All Might made a choked noise that sounded like he’d started to think of something to say . You opened your mouth to speak, but Aizawa brought a hand up and cut you off abruptly. “It might be none of my business but, how long has this been going on?”

 You cocked your head to the side. Not the question you’d been expecting admittedly but…

 “Just ah, it’s just been the closet. So far,” you tacked on quickly when you felt All Might tense slightly. He relaxed though, his fingers brushing yours behind your back. You could practically feel his eyes on you, curious and warm. You resisted the urge to grin like an idiot and wink at him.

 Aizawa grunted out a noise of... approval?

 “Good. Just making sure. Go home, both of you. We’re basically wrapped up for the night.”

 With that, he nodded and turned on his heels to walk away- leaving you both to stare after him. You only found your voice when he reached to top of the stairs and before he could disappear out of sight, you managed, “Wait! You’re not mad that we got distracted?”

 Aizawa paused, an unsettling and unfamiliar grin spreading across his face.

 “Hizashi owes me a rather large sum of money, thanks to you. What’s there to be mad at?” he said, in an oddly upbeat voice. He continued on his journey, disappearing from view as you gaped at his back.  But he had one more thing to throw back over his shoulder. “Oh and you might want to wrap a towel around your waist if you’re going to use the front door, All Might. There are eagle eyed reporters everywhere.”

 Well.

 Fuck.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 16: Night Before the Battle

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry accompanies Y/N to meet the other queen.

Word count: 3.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka Peach)

.

.

.

Y/N and Harry arrived at the southern border at dawn and found a single tent with two horses outside. Calanthe and whoever had accompanied her must have camped here overnight. Y/N assumed it was one of The Monks; however, she’d never met any of them, except for the one who had been sent to kill her at the market last year.

Y/N dismounted Thunder, unsheathed the dagger at her side and tucked it into her riding boot. They would be asked to submit their weapons before Calanthe received them, and even though Y/N doubted Calanthe could hurt a single fly, it was still better to be careful.

Mary had come to see Y/N the other night, and if the witch had been honest, Harry’s and Lance’s speculations had been true. It wasn’t at all shocking to Y/N that The Monks were only using Calanthe as a chess piece in their game. Calanthe didn’t seem like the mastermind behind this elaborated plan, starting with the attacks at the borders and Harry’s capture. Calanthe was desperate and angry, but she wasn’t vicious enough to want to take over the world.

Hearing Y/N’s and Harry’s arrival, a tall dark man with a thick beard emerged from the tent, dressed in a large black cloak – the signature look of The Monks. He swept his fierce eyes over Y/N with his thick eyebrow arched. Her heart thudded violently as she held her breath in fear of him acknowledging the weapon hidden inside her boot. Thank Gods, he didn’t.

His dry lips spread in an attempt of a smile, which didn’t look at all genuine and less intimidating. He put a hand on his chest and took a bow before Y/N. “Queen Y/N, my queen was expecting you.” His gaze flicked to Harry’s sword. “You must submit all weapons. And your servant is not allowed to enter.”

“That’s my commander,” Y/N said.

The man gave Harry a scornful smirk as he told Y/N, “If you say so, Your Majesty.” Y/N glanced at Harry to see her lover have his fingers wrapped around his sword-hilt. It must take everything for him not to say something when being disrespected by the enemy.

“If Harry is not allowed to enter, he must keep his sword,” Y/N said.

The man held her stare thoughtfully before another eerie smile transformed his long face, sending chills right down her spine. He didn’t ask Harry to hand in the weapon anymore as he told Y/N to come with him.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit by firelight. Calanthe sat in her chair in her riding clothes, her hair tied up in a braid at the back of her neck. The shadow on the wall looked as though it wanted to engulf her. She looked small and young and helpless. Without Y/N’s uncle’s crown on Calanthe’s head, no one would be able to tell that Calanthe was a queen and not a young maiden being held captive by the evil man in the black cloak.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit by firelight. Calanthe sat in her chair in her long golden velvet dress with her hair tied up in a braid at the back of her neck. The shadow on the wall looked as though it wanted to engulf her. She appeared small and young and helpless. Without Y/N’s uncle’s crown on Calanthe’s head, no one would be able to tell that Calanthe was a queen and not a young maiden being held captive by the evil man in the black cloak.

“I thought I told you to come alone,” Calanthe spoke once the man had left.

Y/N took some time to study the Queen of Theros. A lot had changed about Calanthe since the last time Y/N had seen her in person. She looked sick with her bony physique, lifeless eyes and pallid skin. What had they done to her? What had she done to herself?

“Harry’s my commander,” Y/N said, keeping a straight face. “It’s not safe for a queen to travel that far on her own. And didn’t you bring someone as well?”

“Vossler’s my new consultant.” Calanthe rose from her chair, eyeing Y/N with contempt. “Since you killed the old one.”

“I’m not here to be accused of murder. I wasn’t in the castle that night.”

Calanthe tilted her head and pouted with feigned innocence. “Who should I complain to then? Your husband?” Her face turned cold. “Let me remind you why you’re here, Y/N. I asked for the witch. Where is she?”

Y/N’s expression remained unchanged. “I told you I came with just Harry.”

Calanthe’s eyebrows knitted. It wasn’t until now that Y/N realised how quiet it was. There was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the sighing of the wind. She wondered if Harry was still waiting for her outside. He wouldn’t leave her by choice. She could take down Calanthe, and hopefully, Harry could handle Vossler, unless this was a trap and they’d just walked straight into it. Y/N doubted it, though. The reckless little girl who’d been forced to put on her dead husband’s crown would probably have Y/N and Harry murdered tonight. However, Calanthe wasn’t playing this game. The Monks were.

“The witch belongs to me,” Calanthe said, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. “You return her to me, and I will spare your life in the war.”

“I don’t ask for mercy in a war I’m not losing.”

“Even if it means you’d get to keep the North?”

“Get to keep the North?” Y/N scoffed. “The North belongs to me. I’m the rightful ruler and heir to the crown. My family is the oldest family that’s ever lived–”

“Said the only family member survived,” Calanthe cut her off. It was a jab in the heart, still, Y/N didn’t let it show. “The first High King angered the Gods,” Calanthe went on with a smug grin. “His bloodline would end with your death.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Y/N.

“I never threaten.” Calanthe’s brows were drawn together. “I guarantee that you won’t live to see your people bend their knees to me.”

Y/N chuckled. “Should it be easier if you kill me now, though?”

“And become the villain in the story? No, darling,” Calanthe asked with fake surprise. “I must win on the battlefield, my dear. But if you give me the witch, I’ll let you live to be a sad loser. You can keep the North, marry your handsome king and live happily ever after in your winter castle. But if you keep the witch, I’ll have to declare war against the South based on the fact that your brother murdered my husband, and you murdered George Wallace.”

“There’s no proof for either of your accusations.”

“Trust me.” A corner of Calanthe’s red lips lifted. “It’s so easy to convince the other kingdoms that you’re just as mad as your brother.”

Y/N swallowed hard, balling her fists. She wasn’t going to let herself be provoked by Calanthe’s harmless words. This woman wasn’t the real enemy.

“If you declare war with the North,” Y/N said, “you declare war with Attwell, too.”

Calanthe rolled her eyes and smirked. “With Rouxvania’s support, I would surely win.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “The East is on your side?”

“While you were too busy looking for the cure for your lover, I was busy nurturing my allies.” Calanthe turned her back to Y/N, facing the fire. Y/N caught a glimpse of two long scars on Calanthe’s right palm. It seemed like she had been learning to wield a sword. Y/N guessed The Monks was going to send Calanthe onto the battlefield where they’d make sure she would not return. They wanted all kings and queens to fight to the death so they’d take over one hundred kingdoms.

“They’re just using you,” Y/N broke the silence. Calanthe glanced over her shoulder, her eyes troubled. “They’ll kill you like they did to my brother and the first High King,” Y/N went on, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. “Egon and Lokesh also believed they were ‘the chosen one’. You’re their next victim, Calanthe.”

Calanthe whirled around as she snapped, “And why should I trust you?”

“Because I don’t want the South for my own,” Y/N calmly said. “And I’m not standing here as your enemy. I’m here as a woman who doesn’t want to see another woman suffer from abuse from men.”

Calanthe’s eyes squinted with doubt. “You’re only saying this because you fear you’re going to end up like every single one in your family. Dead.”

Y/N clenched her fists, now highly aware of the existence of the dagger in her boot. Still, she kept her composure. “I know you hate me because of what my father did to your family and kingdom. I am sorry. If I could go back in time and stop him, I would. But I can’t. I’m trying to help you now by telling you the truth–”

“You don’t know what the truth is,” Calanthe cut her off. “You think you’re so special huh? Just because you found the lake and survived the North Forest, it doesn’t make you special, Y/N. You’re just as twisted as the men in your family. Lokesh sold his baby’s soul for victory, didn’t he? And we both know you didn’t just ask a witch to bring your friend back to life for free. You killed you ba–”

Y/N didn’t wait for Calanthe to finish. She shoved Calanthe into her chair, drew the dagger out of her boot so fast that Calanthe could barely gasp when the shiny blade was held at her throat.

“Your Majesty, is everything all right?” asked Vossler as his shadow towered over the entrance of the tent.

Y/N applied a little bit more pressure to her dagger as she leaned in and whispered into Calanthe’s ear, “I’d cut your throat before he could set foot into this tent.”

She could see that Calanthe was trying her best to look calm while her big blue eyes were showing the opposite. “Everything is fine,” she told Vossler.

Y/N looked back over her shoulder and saw that Vlosser hesitated before he left. He probably suspected something was off but had no choice but to obey the command.

“I know you can’t kill me,” Calanthe said through gritted teeth.

Y/N turned back to her. “I can. I just chose not to because I’m not stupid.” Her fingers relaxed around the hilt of her dagger. “But as you can see, it’s very easy for me to kill you. And we’re not even on the battlefield, Calanthe.”

When Y/N pulled away, Calanthe let out a loud sigh as she immediately reached for her throat as if to make sure her head was still attached. Y/N thrust the dagger back into her boot, smiling.

Calanthe gave her a dismissive wave, too embarrassed to even make eye contact. “You may leave.”

Knowing there was nothing she could do to change this foolish woman’s mind, Y/N kept her thoughts to herself and walked out without a single glance back.

Outside, Harry was waiting with the horses while Vossler was sharpening his blade by the tent. Y/N could feel Vossler’s dark eyes following her as she exited the tent and padded straight toward Harry. His eyes stayed fixed on Vossler as he asked her, “So?”

She shook her head and mounted her horse. “Let’s go.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he knew this wasn’t the right time to have this conversation. Giving Vossler one more glare, he got onto Lightning’s back. Together, they rode away.

When they came across a river, Y/N suddenly stopped, got off her horse and walked straight to the riverbank. She stood there in silence, just gazing out at the water.

Harry came up from behind her. “Peach, what happened back there?” He sounded worried. It made her feel bad.

She sucked in a breath and put her arms around herself. “I had a dagger at her throat, and she still wouldn’t surrender.”

There was a pause. “Peach, you can’t do that. She’s still a queen.”

Y/N whirled around to face a concerned Harry. “She’s an idiot. Now people are going to die. I can’t stop this war from happening.”

He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control everything.”

“Everything is my fault.” Her head drooped as her voice cracked. “This all started with me running away. I killed my father and my brother, and my uncle was murdered because of me.”

“You did what you thought was right at the time. You couldn’t have known.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re not responsible for their deaths. If I were to die defending you, it wouldn’t be your fault, either.”

Her heart stopped. She looked up into his green eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. You won’t die.”

A knot lodged in her throat as his eyebrows sloped. “When someone dies, they die, Peach. You cannot stop it. But no matter how or when it happens, it will not be your fault. And you will not waste one moment on guilt.”

Tears blurred his features. Y/N couldn’t even think of something happening to Harry again. Losing him once was already too much. Other than Lance, Harry was the only person in her life who knew what kept me up at night. He knew her more than her own family had. It would be like losing her mother all over again, but she’d known long before her mother’s death that it was going to happen. Her mother had been sick. If Harry died under the hand of the enemy, it would happen suddenly. How could she ever recover?

“Tell me you understand that.” His voice shook her back to reality.

She didn’t want to understand, but she nodded nonetheless because that was what he needed to see. She slipped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her tightly. She never wanted him to let go.

“Your father and brother weren’t good kings.” His voice thickened. “But you are a great queen. You’re the chosen one, Peach. You’ll lead your army to victory. I believe in you..” Stepping back, he squeezed her shoulder once more and offered a smile to fool her into thinking everything was going to be okay. At least it worked. “Come.” He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be a long trip back to the castle.”

.

.

.

It was official. There was going to be a war.

Two days after Y/N and Harry had come home, the news had travelled to all high and low courts that The High Queen of Theros had declared war against Isolde to avenge the deaths of her husband and her consultant. Y/N had faith in her well-trained army as well as Lance’s for they had all expected this outcome. Her father had been well-prepared for this. Nevertheless, this wasn’t at all what Y/N wanted.

The night before the battle, it snowed thickly outside. The castle was too quiet. It was as if the universe was holding its breath for the bloodbath tomorrow.

Y/N rose from the soaking tub. Jo helped her slip on a thick robe, and she padded on her bare feet across the fire-warmed stone to the lone mirror. Using her palm to wipe away a bit of steam, she tilted my cheek and observed the faintly red and bruised skin along her chest and the corner of her mouth. She’d got them from the fall off the cliff; they were barely noticeable now. Sometimes she missed that feeling of free-falling to her possible death. If it hadn’t been for the people she’d leave behind, she would have chosen the easy way out.

Was it easy, though?

Death.

It sounded easy if the choice was given to you. However, her death would only prove Calanthe right. That she was destined to receive the same fate as the men in her bloodline. And she didn’t want to be associated with their crimes and weaknesses. If she were to die, she’d die brave and honoured, holding her sword.

Blinking, she caught Jo’s dreadful eyes looking back at her in the mirror. “I’m scared, Y/N,” Jo muttered as she twisted the towel she was holding.

Y/N turned around. “Don’t be scared. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t know that for sure, but she’d say anything to put her friend at ease. It didn’t work, though.

“If they took the castle, what would happen to me?” Jo asked, her forehead creased. “I’d surely die. I cannot protect myself.”

“I won’t let them take the castle.” Y/N mustered an encouraging smile as she took Jo’s hand. “And you can protect yourself, Jo. I’ve shown you how to use a dagger—”

“Being shown the basics of how to use a blade and using it on another living person are two different things.” Jo pulled her hand back. “I would’ve stood there and screamed.”

“You would’ve defended yourself,” Y/N said, this, she genuinely believed. “I’ve seen how vicious you get when Harry ate your last piece of pie.”

The skin around Jo’s eyes crinkled as she giggled. “I would duel him to the death for that delicious cake.”

A short laugh burst from Y/N. “Just imagine all the attackers as Harry trying to steal your last piece of pie and you’ll be good.”

They laughed about it together and pretended that it was just a joke. In reality, Y/N knew Jo had a good reason to be scared, as was she. She’d failed to save Jo once. How could she be sure she could succeed this time? There was no witch to help her. She’d have to do this on her own.

.

.

.

Sweat dampened Harry’s skin as he dipped down and kicked out. Caught off guard, Lance staggered to the side and froze before he could start striking back. His gaze dropped to where Harry held the dagger to his throat. The corners of his lips lowered.

Harry smirked. “I win.”

“It’s not about winning.” Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s about surviving.”

“Isn’t that winning, though?” Harry lowered the dagger and stepped back.

Lance shot him a glare and sheathed the dagger at his hip. “The battle tomorrow isn’t a game.”

“I know that.” Harry put away his blade. “But I still won.”

“Boys, can you stop being boys for a moment?”

They both whipped around to find Y/N standing on the steps in her white fur coat, staring out at the yard.

“She’s talking to you,” Harry and Lance said to each other at the same time

Y/N marched up to them. Her face scrunched up like an angry teacher as she regarded them both. “You two are aware that we’re heading to battle at dawn, right?”

Lance’s eyes widened as he aggressively pointed his hand at Harry. “I’ve been trying to tell him!”

Y/N crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who put on a grin. “I’ll be in serious fighting mode at dawn.”

She rolled her eyes. Her lips arched faintly. Harry knew that she knew he was just trying to keep everyone calm and in good spirits. Deep down, he was a bundle of nerves. He hadn’t been sleeping since they’d returned from the border. Whenever he closed his eyes, he’d see death. He wasn’t afraid of dying. But if he died, he couldn’t protect her. There would still be Lance, but he couldn’t count on anyone else but him and herself to keep her safe at this point.

The three of them headed back inside. Y/N stopped Lance when he was about to retreat to his chambers. “Come to the throne room and drink with me,” she said. “Both of you.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get drunk before a battle,” Lance said.

Harry and Y/N exchanged the same kind of look. To Lance, Harry said, “We’re not drinking to get drunk. Besides, this might be the only chance we get to drink together.”

Lance flicked his gaze between Harry and Y/N before throwing his head back and exhaling sharply. “You two are unbelievable.”

Y/N laughed as she slipped her arm around Lance’s and tugged him along. Strangely, Harry felt fine with it. Maybe knowing this could be the last night of his life had made him more sensible. He would think about what she’d said on the night she’d asked him to marry her. About how she loved Lance even though it wasn’t the same way she loved Harry. He would look out for Kenny, too, even though Kenny and Stefan were married and had a baby together. While Lance’s feelings were not reciprocated, Harry knew he’d still jump in front of an arrow for Y/N.

“Here’s to us staying alive,” Y/N said, raising her cup. “Long live the Queen.”

Lance chuckled as he lifted his. “Long live the King.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Long live Harry.” And chugged the wine from his cup.

Y/N sat on her throat while Harry and Lance sat on the step on either side of her. She stared thoughtfully into her cup as she took a deep breath. “I want you to promise me one thing.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m proposing, Lance.”

“Well, I have a feeling that I won’t like it,” Lance said and poured himself some more wine. Harry gestured for Y/N to continue anyway.

“If you see me having trouble on the battlefield,” she said, “just know I can get myself out of it. I want you to mind your own business, watch your own back unless I scream for help. Do not try to help me and get yourself killed.”

Lance shook his head. “Y/N, you know I can’t promise you that.”

“You must.”

“You’re not giving me orders. We’re equals.”

Y/N let out a soft breath. “I’m not giving you orders, Lance. I’m asking you.”

Harry could see Lance softened at once. The King averted his eyes and stared down at his cup. “I promise,” he replied weakly.

It was enough for Y/N. She turned to Harry. Forcefully, he nodded and gave her his word.

[jaggedlittleteacup]

Three Acts

Note: @call-me-moo Here goes nothing…

Epilogue

(From this point onward, the chapters will not be illustrated. I attempted to illustrate them, but it diverges from canon so much that I couldn’t find a single scene that worked. I’m really sorry about it. But still, I hope you enjoy the epilogue…and whatever that entails.)

I’m in a wheelchair at Mary’s funeral. The doctors told John I was too weak to leave the hospital, but I insisted on going. Their concerns were warranted, after all- the last time I left, I nearly bled out in an abandoned building. But having my best friend…

Perhaps maybe more…?

I shake the thought away.

I can’t ruin this.

Being with John is the least I can do, and the most I could ever ask for.

I don’t deserve him.

Everyone that was there to pay their respects have already left- not that many people came to begin with. Most washed their hands of the whole situation when they found out who Mary truly was, and what she had done to us. Only John and I stayed afterwards.

Together. Once again, together.

We remain at the grave, respectively sitting and standing in companionable silence. Neither of us are sure what to say- to each other, or to Mary, I’m not sure. It’s fairly overcast, and I can see the beginnings of storm clouds rolling in above us.

How appropriate.

I exhale and tentatively steal a glance at John. He looks calm, but I can see a range of emotions flashing in his blue eyes as he stares at Mary’s gravestone. One of his hands is balled into a shaking fist, and the other loosely holds a bouquet of white lilies.

“Sherlock,” he murmurs, his voice cracking with emotion and painful, unsaid words. “Sherlock, what…what am I supposed to say…?”

He killed his wife.

I swallow hard. I’m not sure what to say, either, but anything I could do…“Do…would you like me to speak first?”

He killed his wife for me.

John nods stiffly and stands back, before hesitating and pushing my chair a bit closer. He looks as though he wants to say something to me, but he bites back the words and keeps them to himself.

I take a deep, shaky breath. “…Mary. I…I…want you to know that…Even if- if you shot me. Even if you…with Rosie…Even after all that, I- I think…I forgive you. You were selfish. And you- you lied, and you hurt everyone. But…you were also kind. And you were selfless, sometimes. And I saw some of the love you had f-for everyone, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Where is this coming from? I hated Mary, I hated her, I really did, I hated her smile and her words and her subtle manipulation throughout the entirety of our fabricated friendship-

“Sherlock…” John says softly, urging me to stop getting lost in my mind. It’s funny how he can do that with a single look…

I can’t stop. Not now.

“-And…and I know I should be…the last person who tells you about love, because…because I’ve only truly…truly known what it meant after meeting John.” I don’t look at John. I’m too afraid of how he’ll react. “And…and you. I don’t…believe in the afterlife, you’re aware. But…I- I hope…” I feel hot tears burning my eyes. “I hope you’re at peace, Mary.”

John rests a hand on my shoulder as I choke back tears. I flinch at the sudden contact. He doesn’t say anything further as I take deep breaths to regain my composure.

I shouldn’t be this emotional. I shouldn’t care.

“Sherlock,” he repeats again, the barest trace of a smile on his face. “How- how do I compete with that?”

I laugh and lean into his touch. It feels warm, comforting, loving.

It feels right.

I smile weakly back at him. “Just say what's on your mind. You’ll be all right.” And I mean it. He will be all right.

He sighs and walks forward. A moment passes before he finally builds up the courage to begin speaking- and once he starts, it all rushes out of him like an unblockaded river. “Mary. You were my wife. Once. And…and yes, I shot you. But you shot Sherlock, so I think we’re even. You were a liar. And a killer. But I suppose that’s my type, yeah? I can’t help going for the crazy ones. It’s…it’s my addiction.” He glances towards me, pain in his eyes, before looking back. “I just…I don’t think I could forgive you, normally. But…if…if Sherlock could- if my favourite bloody sociopath could find it in his heart to…I…I think I can, too. Goodbye, Mary. I think I’ll be happier now.”

He deserves it. John Watson has been through far too much heartache, he deserves to have a bit of happiness.

“John, are you all right?”

His expression lightens a bit, as though he’s gotten a lot off of his chest.

I suppose, in a way, he has. Catharsis can be a wonderful thing.

“Yeah, Sherlock. I’m all right. For the first time…in…in a while. Come on. I’ve got to finish moving my stuff back to Baker Street, and I’ll be damned if you use being shot as an excuse not to help.”

I smile softly. “No excuses?”

“None,” he agrees, before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss against my lips. “I think we’ve been making excuses for far too long.”

I know we have. Things will be different, at first. It’ll take a bit of getting used to. But I think we can do it.

Sherlock Holmes…and John Watson.

¿?MThIeSS?MEnd¿???

“R, sweetheart, do you have eyes on Sherlock Holmes?” A smooth voice- just like honey- creeps into R’s ear like a particularly cunning virus.

R swallows bitterly as her lips curl into a snarl. “Yes, sir. He’s at the grave,” she growls, her American accent feeling much more natural than the British one she had been faking for so many years.

“Excellent,” the voice says, which isn’t the most original comment, considering how many criminal masterminds have said ‘excellent’ in regards to evil plans before. “Ugh, isn’t he boring?”

“Who?” R asks reluctantly.

“John. So plain, so obviously in love- oh, I think he finally kissed his little boytoy! Bravo, John, it only took you five years!” The voice is taunting, emanating energy as though it would never again have a chance to play. “I’m sorry, that’s a bit of a sore spot, isn’t it?”

“Of course not, sir,” R says curtly, ignoring the previous musings. “Would you like me to eliminate them?”

“No, no, no!” the voice shouts viciously, making R flinch. “Don’t you dare touch a single curl on that pretty thing’s head! I want Sherlock to recover and be healthy for our next round.” He says ‘round’ as though it’s such an intimate thing- it’s altogether rather surreal.

As much as R would like to put a bullet in each of their heads, she controls her impulses. God knows what he would do to her if she did. “Yes, sir.”

The voice groans. “Stop with the formalities, Mary. It’s so dull, and you of all people should know how much I despise dull people.” He lowers his tone to something dark and deathly soft. “Refer to me as ‘sir’ one more time, and I will string your bloody corpse up in Regent’s Park for the birds to have at you.”

Mary swallows, her gun shaking violently from her sniper’s post. “With all due respect, Mr. Moriarty, Mary is no longer my name,” she whispers.

“Ah, well, it suits you!” Moriarty exclaims over the comms, his voice back to its regular gusto. “Head back to the car, Mary. We need to discuss your punishment.”

Mary pales. “Punishment, Mr. Moriarty? But- I haven’t-“

He laughs. It sends shivers up her spine. “Mary, Mary, quite the contrary,” he quips. “You nearly killed my favourite pet. Shooting him near the heart- tsk, tsk, I expected better of you. The little joke about saying ‘hi’ to me was clever, too, but I can’t have this go unnoticed. We’re both professionals, I’m sure you understand!”

“But-“

Moriarty interrupts her with a shout. “BUT I suppose I’ll be lenient, just this once.” He seems to be barely holding back deranged giggles. “Instead of taking your hand, I’ll settle for a finger. Off you pop!”

The line cuts off abruptly as Mary feels a needle plunge into her neck, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t worn a bulletproof vest when confronting Sherlock…

~

(To Be Continued!)

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Act Three linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656990419321864192/three-acts

Act Four linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657145687996301312/three-acts

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (5/10)

James And The Diesel Engine

1978

When 46 040 had declared that she would become friends with James, nobody in the sheds had really believed it.

James was vain, occasionally pompous, and immensely suspicious of diesel traction. It was a minor miracle that Bear and BoCo had been accepted by him, and Gordon speculated that it was due to the fact that neither engine was in a role that would displace the red engine.

040 on the other wheel, was in direct competition with him - right down to her shiny red paint. The big diesel had been eager to prove her worth, and had gladly accepted any work that the Fat Controller had given her. This meant that for most of the past year, there had been two red mixed traffic engines on Sodor.

Naturally, James was quite upset by this - he felt that he was being supplanted instead of supported, and tried valiantly to make 040 go away.

Unfortunately for James, 040 was determined to make a friend out of him, and treated him and everyone else with an almost impenetrable level of charm and good cheer that soon ingratiated herself with the other engines.

“She is of good stock.” Gordon said when she came up in discussion.

“A hard worker” was Duck’s assessment.

“Aye, if more diesels were like ‘er, the other railway would work a treat!” This from Douglas - high praise considering his well established and totally understandable dislike of diesels.

When he first met 040, he’d growled at her to ‘stay away’, and after a moment’s reflection, she’d apologized.

“What MPD were you at?” She’d asked after he’d growled at her.

“Glasgow - Eastfield.” He’d replied after a confused moment.

“Yeah, that figures.” She sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, by the way. They only had enough of the “I hate steam engine” bits for the 45s, so us 46s and 44s never quite understood why everyone was so eager to replace you. Well, everyone except Spamcan, but he’s an arse to everyone.”

“Aye?” Douglas was very surprised.

“Of course. We tried to make them be nice - they certainly didn’t need to be so vicious about it - but once they know you care - well, it’s said that you can smell weakness in someone’s exhaust, so we weren’t treated much better than you were.”

“I... had no idea. Do they truly do that? There’s no’ even unity amongst diesels?”

“Not a whit. At least, not in the Midlands. Don’t worry though - they’re getting what’s coming to them. All three of us Peak classes are ‘non-standard’ now, so they’ll see what it’s like to be on the wrong side of progress soon enough.” Her tone was not light, but neither was it overly dark. She clearly had private opinions on the subject that she wanted to keep private. 

Douglas stared at the big diesel with newfound respect.

James soon found himself in the minority of opinions about 040. His resolve began to waver when she would cheerfully keep her composure even in the midst of a heated argument.

“You’re wrong and I can prove it!”

“How?”

“You haven’t got a boiler! You wouldn’t understand what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong my steam-powered friend! I do have a boiler - for steam heating! I know exactly what boiler sludge feels like!”

“Cinders and Ashes you are impossible! Why are you so cheerful?!”

“I like arguing with you Jamie, it’s fun!”

“Jamie??!”

-----

One morning, the Fat Controller arrived in the sheds with some important news:

“The Thin Clergyman and his son will be visiting the island once again!” He declared cheerfully.

The engines were surprised. “I thought that he had retired from writing?” Gordon said.

“He has,” explained the Fat Controller. “But his son has decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and will be writing books of his own.”

Most of the engines were excited, but 040 was decidedly not. As soon as the Fat Controller left, her face fell into an uncharacteristic scowl. “I am not appearing in those fucking books.” She said menacingly.

This was arguably more surprising than the news of the Thin Clergyman’s arrival.

“Whyever not?” Asked Henry, who was quite pleased to have stories written about him.

“None of you know this,” She grimaced. “But the only more damaging thing than those books was the fucking Beeching Report! When he wrote about that 08 that tried to cause trouble for Duck, he might as well have thrown a bomb into every yard in the country! Everyone was either saying that we diesels were evil masterminds or that steam engines were idiotic dupes! There was zero civility between engines! Friendships ended! Lives were ruined! Locomotives were scrapped over this! I wasn’t even built then and I still have been forced to deal with it!”

She laughed at the jaw-dropped stares of the other engines. None of them had been on the mainland at that time, and they had no idea of the trouble that had gone on.

“And then there’s one-nine-nine! That nincompoop has gotten every one of us Peaks called a Spamcan! And that’s impressive considering there’s three different classes of us! I didn’t even know what Spam was before that book!”

Silence fell over the sheds for a good while.

“I had no idea...” Gordon eventually said in a small voice.

“I know.” 040 said as she slowly regained her cheery demeanor. “And that’s okay. But I really do not want to be in the books.”

“What’s this about books?” James had been out on an early stopper train, and had missed everything.

“Oh nothing Jamie, do you want to have an argument?”

“No! and stop calling me that!”

“Great! So I think we are actually having an argument right now, but what’s your take on it...?”

-----

The Thin Clergyman arrived onboard Gordon’s express, and was given a warm welcome by the Fat Controller at Tidmouth. Fortunately for 040, Gordon had been able to pass the word on with an earlier train, and she was able to flee the station before the author arrived.

The next week of her life was not unlike a scene from the Benny Hill Show - wherever 040 went, the Thin Clergyman and his son followed.

She ran a parcels train to Barrow - the Thin Clergyman was waiting on the next platform,

She hid behind the Works, only to find his Son riding on Skarloey’s footplate,

At Haltraugh she tried to hide behind Duck - with exactly as much success as one would expect,

The two men starting interviewing engines in the shed, and she was forced to hide amongst the coaches in the yard,

Thomas’ driver unexpectedly fell ill at Tidmouth, and she leapt at the chance to take his train - despite being longer than Annie and Clarabel put together! She made it as far as Elsbridge before curious trainspotters began flocking to take her picture, and she beat a hasty retreat to the main line just before the Clergyman arrived,

The engines at the Kirk Ronan branch were quite annoyed when she tried to squeeze into their shed - she was so big that the door wouldn’t shut!

Planned track work meant that one of the Ballahoo tunnels was closed, and she bluffed her way onto the work train so she could sleep in it. This was an effective hiding spot, until she told Henry, who laughed so loudly that the Thin Clergyman heard the entire story from across the yard,

She even tried sleeping in the electric branch sheds at Peel Godred, but was not only glared at by the very antisocial locomotives who lived there, but also had to hide from both the Thin Clergyman and His Son when they came to see the Culdee Fell Railway.

Finally, there was nowhere left to run - she had managed to find all of these hiding spots while still doing her jobs, but today she was the ‘relief’ engine at Knapford, which meant that she had to sit in the yard all day in case another engine failed.

In full view of the station building.

At midday,  James bustled in with a load of vans for Thomas’ branch line.

“What are you so anxious about?” He asked 040 with a mixture of scorn and surprise. The annoying red diesel was looking positively frantic as her eyes scanned the station building. It was most unlike her.

“Jamie! Hide me!” She hissed as James’ driver uncoupled the vans.

“What?”

“Hide me! Quickly!”

“Why?”

“The Clergyman! He’s right there in the station!”

James looked over, and sure enough, the Thin Clergyman and his son were sitting down to lunch in the station café. “Why?”

“Because he might write something about me!” 040 was frantic.

James was baffled, but remembered Gordon mentioning something about some engines not wanting to be written about. He’d assumed that Edward was just being introverted again, but perhaps there was more to it than that...

He was tempted to do the exact opposite - to blow his whistle, attract attention, and pay back the loudmouth diesel for all of her arguments and nicknames, but when he looked back at her, he realized that 040 was frightened of the Thin Clergyman.

James was many things, but sadistic wasn’t one of them, and he ran around his train and shunted the vans so that 040 was almost entirely obscured from sight.

“Thank you!” She whispered as he backed away.

“Keep it dark,”  He hissed back. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I’ll try and draw his attention to me so he doesn’t go looking for you.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.” She said with a small smile. “You always are the centre of attention!”

James smiled back as he backed into the yard proper, doing his best to make as much noise as he could until he came to a stop at the far end of the yard - as far away from 040 as possible.

His plan worked flawlessly. The Clergyman and his son had been so engrossed in their meal that they hadn’t noticed that any engine was there at all, and quickly made their way across the yard.

Unlike 040, James was always pleased to have someone write about him, and spent the better part of an hour answering the Clergyman’s questions.

“There was one other thing I wanted to know, James.” The Clergyman’s son said after a while. “We’ve been told that there’s a new diesel on the Island, but we can’t seem to find him anywhere!”

“Her.” James corrected before he could stop himself.

“Her?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes. She’s a girl, and she’s quite shy.”

“Really?” The Clergyman said as he scribbled in his notebook. “Can you tell me about her? Or where she is?”

“I don’t want to talk about anyone behind their back...” James said, knowing exactly how often he did just that. “But I saw her going to the works a few hours ago. You might be able to find her there and ask her yourself.”

This pleased the Clergyman and his Son, and they immediately set off in their hire car for the works. James waited until they had vanished from sight before he called out: “They’re gone!”

“Thank God!” 040 shouted from across the yard.

“Don’t thank him! Thank me!” James called back.

“Thank you James! Really, I owe you one now.” James couldn’t see the diesel, but he could somehow tell that she was smiling.

----

040′s luck finally ran out on the last day of the Clergyman’s trip. She was rostered to pull the night express, and didn’t realize that the Thin Clergyman was going to be on board. She almost jumped off the rails when she saw him climbing the stairs to the platform, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he entered the train, and her face fell when she realized that he was merely putting away his luggage before he got out of the train and walked up to her.

“Hello there! I haven’t seen you before!” He said jovially while admiring her paint and stripes.

“I’m new.” She said, trying to keep her tone somewhat polite. The ugly anger rising in the pit of her engine block was making that a very hard thing to do.

“I can see that - you have been quite hard to find!”

“Have I?”

“Very much so, but nevermind that. I was wondering if you would be willing to let myself and my son write about you? You see, we write books abou-”

“I know what your books are about.”

“Oh you do?” The Thin Clergyman said, not missing the sudden undertone in the diesel’s voice.

“Oh yes. And I’m not even talking about Spamcan.” She smiled viciously as the Thin Clergyman winced at that reference.

“Yes, well-”

“I’m not done. I'm talking about the other book you wrote. About the 08? The one that got more than a few engines killed?”

“What?” The author recoiled at the now-undisguised venom in 040′s voice.

“Of course you don’t know. You don’t care about diesels, just your precious steam engines.” She glared at him with undisguised malice. “Do me a favor - take that notebook and go fuck yourself with it - I will never be in one of your books.”

As she said that, the signal dropped, and the guard - who couldn’t see the Clergyman due to a porter’s trolley in the way - blew his whistle.

040 set off immediately, leaving the Thin Clergyman standing on the platform, taking his baggage with her.

-

When the Clergyman’s son started publishing his books several years later, 040 was nowhere to be seen in any of them.

[starlightaxolotl]

With Friends Like This

Happy 10th anniversary! Have some au where Lloyd never got kicked out of Darkley’s because Brad and Gene worked hard to keep him there. 

mention of vomit but no actual vomit.

Lloyd flopped down on his bed, tossing the stack of flash cards beside himself. "Brad, tell me I'm not hopeless." Their final exam in Mastermind Philosophy was in the morning, and even after quizzing himself for hours, Lloyd was no closer to understanding the different options in evil philosophies. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes, turning his head towards Brad.

Brad spat toothpaste out of his mouth, rinsing his toothbrush. "I don't think you're hopeless. We just need to find a way to make the material stick. Short of literally gluing the answers to your desk." Brad paused, looking back at Lloyd. "What if we sneak into the classroom and do that? Wouldn't that count as evil?" He laughed a bit.

With a sigh, Lloyd shook his head. "That won't work. It isn't evil enough to excuse cheating. We need to find a way to-" The door of their dorm room opened, and Gene walked in with a thick stack of books in his arms. Lloyd sat up. "Please tell me that you've got some way to help me pass-some neurotic device or something to remember the six branches of thought or-"

Gene slammed the books down on his desk. "Shut up, Garmadon. First, it's pneumonic device. Second, you think I went to study with Finn because I value my friendship with him?" Gene rolled his eyes, holding up a rolled up and sealed piece of parchment. "I went because I was asking him for a memory spell. For you. Not that he knows that."

Finn hated Lloyd. It was a known fact throughout every grade in the school. The first day of school, Finn had drawn Lloyd's name as his mortal enemy assignment and he took the assignment to heart. He had made every move possible to create a miserable school year for Lloyd.

First it had been little things, helping Brad prank Lloyd by putting fire ants in his bed. Then it had become stealing his things and either destroying or hiding them. Lloyd had just given Brad all his school supplies to keep safe. Then it had become doing everything in his power to get Lloyd out of the school either by expulsion or in a body bag. Either would make Finn happy, Lloyd was pretty sure.

Lloyd hopped off his bed, bounding over to see the spell. "How does it work?"

Gene held it out of Lloyd's reach, which wasn't hard considering his recent growth spurt gave him at least five inches over Lloyd. "First, we'll tape it to you in the morning. Under your sleeve of your writing hand. For now, we need to get the knowledge written down on the paper. I have the best handwriting, so I'll fill it out with all my notes and from the study guide." Gene set the parchment down and began to unroll it.

Lloyd and Brad beamed. Lloyd practically skipped around their room to grab his toothbrush. "Gene if this works, I owe you uh...uh..."

"Your desserts for a week?" Gene teased, knowing just how much those meant to him.

Lloyd bit his lip and then sighed. "Yeah, that sounds fair."

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

Lloyd had to think to not roll up his sleeves after lunch the next day, which was hard given how warm the day was. He looked at Brad as he pulled out flashcards, handing them over. They had ten minutes until the test. "Quiz me!"

Brad laughed, shaking his head. "You've got this, Lloyd. Trust me, I've quizzed you enough. It's gonna be fine." Regardless, he took the flash cards and shuffled through them. "Okay, give me the villainous philosophy where the focus is on the big picture, focused on painting in big strokes as opposed to short sighted, pettier criminals."

Lloyd felt a burn on his arm, and the words came to his tongue like a shot of lightning. "Visionary Villainy."

Brad beamed. "So it's working?"

Lloyd nodded, rubbing his arms. The burning sensation hadn't gone away yet. He kept his voice quiet. "It kinda hurts."

"Well you only have to keep it on to take the test, as soon as you can get to the bathroom and tear it off, it'll be done with." Brad said with a kind smile. He closed his locker and walked with Lloyd to the classroom.

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

By the time the test was over, Lloyd's arm felt like it was on fire. It was somehow worse than the fire ants, maybe because of how concentrated it was, maybe because of the general itchiness of the tape and the heat of his sweater.

Lloyd winced as he peeled it off his arm, biting down on his lip painfully as the paper pulled at his skin, the tape practically melted. Under it, the skin was painfully red and the words looked half-burned into the skin. Lloyd wanted to cry, and gasped as he ripped it away fully, dropping it into the toilet bowl to flush it.

It stung so bad. There was no way Lloyd could put his sleeves back down, but there was no way to explain away the burn marks left behind by the spell.

Lloyd heard the bathroom door open and bit down on his lip as he reached for the toilet paper to make it sound like he had been using the bathroom. Someone knocked on the stall door, and Lloyd's voice cracked. "Occupied!"

"It's me." Brad's voice was quiet. "You looked like you were dying to get out of there, teach sent me after you. What's wrong?"

Lloyd dropped the toilet paper wad, and unlocked the door to show his arm to Brad. Brad let out a low whistle. "That's bad."

"Uh-huh." Lloyd felt numb everywhere except for his arm. "I can't hide it it hurts too much."

Brad chewed his lip, and then looked at Lloyd. "Then go back to the dorm room. I'll cover for you. Say Gene and I put an emetic in your food at lunch and you're puking your guts up."

Lloyd smiled half-heartedly. "You'd do that for me?"

"What are friends for?"

[archived-gtronpa-account]

you mind writing anything with shuichi and kokichi? i just love how you write them iejfjdkdij

Tysm bby 🥺🥺 I too love writing those losers pfpfpfpf

(sorry this took so long btw!! at this point ur prolly thinking your ask got eaten by tumblr bsbsbsbs writer's block just hit me HARD)

____

Word count: 2800

Summary: The participants of the killing game stay away from Kokichi, and big villain Kokichi antagonizes himself. Meanwhile, Shuichi just wants to have a talk.

____

After Monokuma's new motive, everyone agreed that Kokichi had to be the mastermind. It didn't help that even the boy himself pushed the idea on to his classmates. Shuichi didn't buy into the obvious lie.

The motive put Kokichi at a severe disadvantage; he couldn't access the main school building, the dorms— really, he couldn't get inside any building. Not only that, but he was much easier to spy on and sneak up to. Still, Shuichi could see why it was so easy for his peers to think of Kokichi as the villain hiding among them; on surface level, it would make sense for the mastermind to put himself in a position of power to strike fear and force the killing game to start, and somehow making himself grow taller than every building overnight seemed like a good way to do that.

Shuichi's footsteps were slow with reluctance as he walked through the courtyard. Kaito and Maki wouldn't let him go talk to Kokichi if they knew— at least not alone, but they didn't have to know nor find out. The three of them had already separated long ago after they were done with training, and come to think of it, he hadn't met anyone else wandering out on his way, besides Ryoma who hung around the dorms. He was glad no one would question him, but nervous at the idea of having little to no witness should something happen that night.

Kokichi was thankfully awake, sitting behind the main building and staring hard at his checkered scarf that had for some reason been laid out on the ground. Shuichi felt even more hesitant to break whatever odd thing was going on. All of a sudden, he remembered why he was so nervous; Kokichi looked much, much more intimidating when he could grab anyone in a fist and dangle them twenty feet above ground. Shuichi decided he could try to talk to him another time, and spun on his heels to retreat when a voice made him freeze on the spot.

"My beloved detective! I was just thinking about you~"

When said detective looked over his shoulder, he found a giant Kokichi peering down at him with a radiant smile, and he somehow found himself regretting both his decision to come and to leave.

"Kokichi, ah… Wh-what were you thinking?"His hand unconsciously reached for the hat on his head to pull it further down, and he didn't miss how Kokichi's eyes flickered to the hat and reflected something that vanished too fast for Shuichi to read into.

"Nothing, nothing! Just thinking that you're basically my best target to kill," almost too easily, his smile stretched into a familiar leer, "An investigation without our dearest, coolest detective just wouldn't go the same. Besides, no one could suspect me of killing my beloved, so you're my ticket to get out of this hell school! Ah, or maybe I could bury your dead body so that there would be no body discovery and no class trial, only the pain and despair of loosing yet another classmate. How's that sound?"

What the— that was harsh, and quick, almost instantaneous. Kokichi was definitely on edge, all the more reasons not to talk to him. Still…"Please don't joke about that," Shuichi pulled his hat further down, silently apologizing to Kaede for still being this weak after the death of so many of his friends. He didn't dare look up to the large face of the evil leader.

A beat passed, then another, and when nothing more happened and the boy thought nothing more would happen and he would better leave already, "… Sheesh, fine. I'm sorry you're so sensitive, Shuichi."

"A-ah," the sudden mood swing caught him off guard. Kokichi's voice had fallen much lower and quieter than its usual childish high pitch. "It's fine." He still didn't dare look up, instead focusing his gaze on the scarf that laid on the ground. "I… What were you doing?"

"Oh, this? Nothing, really, just lil' old me playing games with lil' old myself. Hey, maybe I won't kill Saihara if he beats me at a game of chess!" Without looking up, he could feel the giant boy shift and lean above him and saw his shadow stretch until it engulfed him.

"Wha- I didn't- I only wanted to talk a bit."

"Wha-? Ah? I did-didn't- I only want to play a game. So really, it's your choice."

There was really no arguing with him. Maybe Shuichi could get him to talk if he accepted to play with him for a bit. "Alright, but," he stepped closer up, inspecting the scarf. It had been folded into a sixty four squares chessboard, but, "How are we playing without pieces?"

"You just have to imagine real hard that they're there, and suddenly you can see them right in front of you! I also hope you know the algebraic notation, since we'll be needing it." Shuichi tried to ignore the unnerving feeling of the ground faintly shaking under his feet as Kokichi shifted and fidgeted on his spot like an overly excited child.

"I think I do, but doesn't this sounds a little too hard?"

"Geez, Shuichi, I didn't think you of all people would have trouble imagining what's not there. You look like the kid in middle school who only talked to his imaginary friends. Besides, games are always more fun on hard mode anyway." Shuichi sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to waste precious sleep hours playing an impossible game of chess with a giant clown. He stepped closer still and positioned himself in front of the makeshift gameboard, then glanced up to Kokichi. Instead of the mocking smirk he'd expected, he was only met with a big, almost amused grin and eyes sparkling with excitement. Shuichi looked down again, some of the previous tension leaving his body. "Alright, I'll start, since black fits your aesthetic better. E-four."

And if the 'game' itself wasn't already hard enough, Shuichi couldn't, for the life of it, stay focused with how fidgety Kokichi was being. His fingers hammered down on the ground incessantly and his head rocked left and right the same way Angie's would, both motions sending faint vibrations in the ground under Shuichi's feet. He didn't get a break either when it was the others turn to play, since he'd state his next move without missing a beat— almost as if he'd already known what Shuichi would do. It was uncanny yet interesting to get an insight on how the supreme leader's brain worked, only it would have been better if it had happened before the weird growth motive, when Shuichi didn't have to fear he'd get snatched up in the air at any given moment.

Sometime in the next hour, he ended up taking his hat off to help him focus and get a clearer look at the gameboard; gameboard which he stood in the middle of, in an attempt to help him keep track of the pieces' placement. He frowned, spun around and looked left and right as he tried to remember where he'd left his rook. So focused and lost in the game, he failed to notice when his foot got caught in the fabric; on the next step he took, he fell back on his back. Startled and faces reddening, he fumbled to get back on his feet, when a large face came in his view and stopped him in his track.

"Nishishi~ Shuichi, you're really funny being like this." An encore of the insect incident; Kokichi's upside-down face loomed over him, so close he could faintly feel his warm breath ruffling his hair. Shuichi instinctively reached for a hat that wasn't there, before shuffling his hand back down in shame. He wished it had been there for reassurence, but ultimately decided it was for the best that he couldn't hide behind it. He couldn't be anything but intimidated by Kokichi when he towered over him like that and could so easily do so much, but he didn't want to be scared when he knew that Kokichi, despite all the awful things he was (and he was a lot of awful things) wouldn't go far with his games and wouldn't use his new stature to his advantage.

"It's…" he took a second to breath, regain his composure and look the giant supreme leader in the eyes, "It's hard to remember how the board is set after every move," he got up and brushed himself off. Why can you do it so easily? He wouldn't expect a serious answer to that, so he kept the question to himself.

"Oh hush, this is the only excuse you got to justify losing so badly?" He leaned away and smirked, "I could do you a favor and capture a couple more of your pieces, hmm? Or maybe, here," out of the corner of his eyes, Shuichi saw a large hand come his way, and all the courage he'd been building up for so long all but melted away as his eyes shut tight and stumbled several steps back, once again getting his foot caught in fabric and falling back on his butt. Atua help him, at that point, he only wished the fabric would swallow him whole so he wouldn't embarrass himself again.

He kept his eyes closed tight and waited, but when there was no pressure around himself he cracked an eye open and saw, to his relief, the hand hanging a few feet away from him. The relief was quickly replaced with shame, and he felt a little stupid for having gotten scared so easily after having put so much faith in Kokichi. From above, he heard the boy groan and say, "Relax Max, I said I wouldn't kill you until we're done with this game," with a tinge of annoyance. Fear lingered in Shuichi's mind when he saw the hand approaching him once again, but this time he managed to stand his ground when fingers slipped behind his back and easily scooped him up in an open palm.

In the next second, he was lifted and dropped off in one swift movement, leaving him dizzy and slightly sickened. He clutched on to whatever his hands found first, and took a moment to process his position on Kokichi's shoulder, and another moment to answer him when he said, "Better? Now you can't come whining that you can't see the board clearly."

"Yeah…" he muttered, still busy trying to find his balance. He found his hand balled up in a fist around a lone lock of purple hair, so he moved closer still until he was huddled against Kokichi's neck, and he hoped the other boy wouldn't hear his heart pounding with unease.

They were able to carry out the game for a while longer. At some point, Kokichi's hand ended up on his lap, and Shuichi, despite his anxiety spiking up at the gesture, stayed quiet about it, deciding to accept the extra bit of safety. He took it as a sign that Kokichi, too, was comfortable enough, so he decided to try to strike up the conversation he'd wanted to have.

"Are you sure you're not cheating ?" Maybe not the best way to start some small talk, but the first to come to mind when he was loosing more and more of his important imaginary pieces with every turn and he was sure Kokichi was somehow cheating.

"Who? M-Me?" Kokichi sniffled, and his shoulder jolted with a faked sob, leaving Shuichi to clutch onto the large hand on his lap like a lifeline. "I can't believe my beloved would accuse me of such- such a nefarious deed! Shuichi, you really broke my heart here."

Then all at once, his voice switched from 'heartbroken' back to nonchalant when he said, "Besides wouldn't you except the mastermind of this thrilling game of murder and betrayal to be good at some kids' strategy games? You know, I lied about my real talent, I'm actually the ultimate chess master…"

"You have poor taste in motives if you're really behind this killing game." Shuichi cut him off before he could drift away from the subject. A perfect opportunity not to waste. "I mean, this is more disadvantageous to you than anything. You can't access any building, nor can you hide anywhere if you need to be discreet for your secret evil plans. And if you were really the mastermind, you wouldn't want to single yourself out and leave our classmates feeling safe and secure…"

More and more inconsistencies came to his mind as he presented his deductions, and Kokichi listened, silent and unmoving. "I think… I think the reason behind this motive is for the mastermind to push our classmates away from you and to," he bit his lip and prepared himself to present yet another truth he didn't want to believe, "To force you to kill someone. The school can't accommodate for you for more than a few days at most, so unless the motive's effect is reversed soon…" he left the end unsaid.

Kokichi remained silent and still, so much so that Shuichi was almost tempted to reach out to his neck and check for a pulse, when he settled for, "Maan, Shuichi, you really are naive. You really thought this was all there was to this motive?" The hand on his lap slid off, and Kokichi leaned back against the wall behind him in an viciously abrupt movement that made Shuichi slip and almost fall, then he went on without a pause, "You know, your logic doesn't apply to every situation, mister detective. The only reason I care about is my own entertainment, simple as that. And if I get bored, I can reverse the motive whenever I want."

Shuichi couldn't see his face from his angle, but he could imagine the leer easily plastered on it, like a mask worn a hundred times. "Wouldn't you be breaking your own rules then? And admitting defeat to the participants of the game?"

The debate that ensued made Shuichi feel like he was back on trial grounds. Kokichi shot him arguments to prove he was mastermind. They were full of contradictions, half-hearted and shaky as a card castle in the middle of a storm, and too easily, his truth cut through the other's words like a bullet. Kokichi sounded bored, like he'd prefer keeping his lie true but wouldn't mind an outcome in which Shuichi busted him. And Shuichi wanted that, to see through Kokichi's lies, to get a chance to understand why he was so hellbent on making a villain out of himself when he so obviously worked to stop the killing game just like his classmates, he wanted to reach out to him and pull him out of his self-inflicted loneliness and work together with him to save their friends, if only he would take his hand.

Their debate came to a halt when a crash was heard from Miu's lab. Shuichi distinctly felt Kokichi stiffen and tense up at the sound. He brought a hand back up to his smaller classmate and wrapped it around him in a loose fist, before he got up and made his way to the inventor's lab in quiet, quick steps. There, Shuichi was lowered back on solid ground and rushed in the lab.

His knees almost gave out, his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Ryoma's body lay in the middle of the room in a pool of his own blood. Lifeless eyes stared at the detective, and the detective stared back. Shuichi felt his throat constrict, his vision swimming, he clutched his chest and tore his eyes away from the scene. He had let another one of his friends die, he would soon have to investigate the crime, to doom the killer among them by his own hands.

"Shit," he turned around, and there was Kokichi peering in the lab and their classmate's body with a frown. It vanished as quick as it had come and was replaced by a blank face with a click of his tongue. "Well then, Shuichi, I guess I'll leave you here to do your detective work while I go call the others, hmm?" And he got up without waiting for an answer. Before he left, Shuichi heard him mutter, "I hope the next motive doesn't make me really tiny or something."

_____

Gosh this took so long yet I still feel it's so bad. Hope I was at least able to quench some of your thirst for saiou bae

[minmotl]

Chapter 53: Sui Zhou Saves A Kidnapped Tang Fan; Tang Fan Drools on Sui Zhou’s Back

Context: Wang Zhi enlists Ah Dong to help him out on the missing children’s case, but gets kidnapped. Tang Fan is kidnapped too when he goes to find Ah Dong, and while he is being held captive, the two leaders of the Nan Cheng Bang (Southern City Gang) who kidnapped him are fighting over whether to leave him to be used or just kill him. In the ensuing power struggle between these two leaders, Tang Fan tries to escape with nothing but the skin on his back and rescue the missing children as well. 

Just as he’s about to be caught and killed, the cavalry finally arrives.

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Tang Fan has been doing his best to waste time, but Sui Zhou and the rest of them fail to show themselves time after time, so even if he has a hundred tricks under his sleeves, they are futile against someone with real skills.

Feeling entirely helpless, Tang Fan knows that he cannot outrun his opponent. Resigning himself to his fatal fate, he ends up closing his eyes and waits for death without struggle.

After a few breaths however, when the steel sword that is supposed to deliver the final blow to his head fails to land and the expected pain does not come, in its place the sound of weapons clashing echo in his ears. He cannot help but open his eyes again, only to find that the situation before him has already changed completely!

The two buff men who were about to slash him to death collapse; one of them has a xiu chun blade stuck in his back, while the other one has an arrow embedded into his head. Other arrows fly towards the horses and land on other bodies. The herd of horses, frightened and hurt, throw their riders onto the ground.

Deng Xiu Cai is both furious and stunned, immediately shouting to his men, “Hurry and run!”

However, it’s obvious that he is already half a step too late, and from the forests in front of them, four figures descend and rush towards Deng Xiu Cai and his men. A closer look shows that it is indeed Sui Zhou and the others!

Sui Zhou’s hands are empty, and it is not difficult to see that it was he who threw out his xiu chun blade, ending the life of one of the men who was about to kill him.

Tang Fan hollers, “Your blade is here!”

He pulls the xiu chun blade out from the dead man’s back and uncaring of the  blood splattering on his body, he flings the blade towards Sui Zhou. Sui Zhou leaps up beautifully and catches the blade in mid-air steadily, and with a backhand, he injures another bandit.

Deng Xiu Cai’s henchmen are not weak either, and especially that handful of his most trusted men, their skills are spoken for. Even at their best, with only Sui Zhou and his men’s return, they manage to get rid of several of Deng Xiu Cai’s men, but this is not enough to send them into panic.

The real factor that has turned the situation around is the cavalry that Wang Zhi has brought with him!

The arrows from before were all shot from the hands of Western Depot’s men.

As Wang Zhi approached from the distance with his army of men earlier, he first shot a first wave of arrows to assert his dominance in the fight, and then entering the battle after, this made it seem as if Sui Zhou had divine support. And it is this that has put pressure on Deng Xiu Cai and the rest.

Both sides fall into battle and it is only a matter of time before the winner and loser emerge.

However, Tang Fan is filled with trepidation - taking advantage of Deng Xiu Cai’s inattention, he runs towards the horse carriage that is filled with the children, because if he’s one step late, these children may be used by the panicking Nan Cheng Bang members as hostages.

The partition to the carriage is lifted at a corner and he sees that Ah Dong, who was supposed to be restrained and tied up, is crouched there looking outside. She is also hiding a few heads behind her as the children clutch at the corners of her clothes tightly, their expressions filled with fear. The only reason why they can move freely now is precisely because the broken ceramic piece that Tang Fan left Ah Dong has been useful. Ah Dong freed herself in the chaos, and then helped her little companions to get loose too.

This has definitely saved him some time and Tang Fan, delighted, runs over to the side of the carriage, taking Ah Dong and the other children one by one and putting them down on the ground. Then, he gets Ah Dong to bring the children to the huge rock on the side and hide behind, telling them that unless all the evil men are dead, they should not come out.

It is as he’s sombrely relaying his instructions when Sui Zhou yells, “Run Qing, move aside!”

Tang Fan’s head snaps around hard, and that is when he sees Deng Xiu Cai rushing towards him with a steel blade dripping in blood in hand. His face is twisted from insanity, his murderous intent plain to see. He is obviously reluctant to just give up despite the battle’s sudden turn of events which have led to his defeat, and intends to grab some of these children as hostages.

Although it was only but a slight moment when things changed, Deng Xiu Cai’s mind is extremely lucid, even though he looks as if he’s descended into insanity. He knows that catching Tang Fan as a hostage is useless as the man is only a minor official, and thus his efforts would be futile. Since Tang Fan is useless and can be given up on at any time, if Deng Xiu Cai is to find a hostage, his best bet would be to grab the two children of those two major officials. The two children are the real targets and the reason why the courts have chased the gang relentlessly. Deng Xiu Cai will truly be safe only if he catches both of them.

How would Tang Fan not know what he is thinking - Once Zhu Yong’s daughter lands into Deng Xiu Cai’s hands, no one will be able to stop him then, so without thinking about it, he does not hide to the side, but instead rushes at Deng Xiu Cai!

This action may seem foolish to bystanders who are not involved in the matter, because Tang Fan himself does not know the slightest bit of martial arts and is a normal person from head to toe. Moreover, he neither has any weapons in hand nor the ability to confront Deng Xiu Cai. This move of his is futile.

And yet, Tang Fan rushed at Deng Xiu Cai anyway. In that fraction of a moment, he does not move without reason, nor does he pretend - all he does is act out of unconscious instinct. In Tang Fan’s eyes, he does not think that he is of higher rank than the children just because he is an official, but it is precisely because he is an official, that all the more he should step up and protect the common people.

Fool!

Big fool!

A huge, huge fool!

Wang Zhi naturally sees this moment. He is a distance away and so is entirely unable to stop Deng Xiu Cai’s knife from approaching Tang Fan, and so he can only watch, while scolding Tang Fan loudly.

Sui Zhou is closer and originally, he would not have been able to make it, but he still intends to try with all his might, so he does not start yelling like Wang-gonggong and instead quickens his pace. Swift as lightning, as if he was just a black shadow, Sui Zhou lunges towards Deng Xiu Cai with his xiu chun blade in hand.

Unexpectedly, however, just as Deng Xiu Cai is about to strike at Tang Fan, Tang Fan suddenly grabs at something in his hold, and aggressively attacks Deng Xiu Cai with it. The object is black and there seems to be a few pieces of it. It resembles a concealed weapon, is very sharp and there seems to be some substance coated over it.

… could it be a concealed poisonous weapon?

Deng Xiu Cai’s face loses all its colour and the blade in his hands dances as he moves to protect his own body fully, only to hear the crisp sounds of that object being struck away, part of it shattering into pieces and dropping onto the ground. Deng Xiu Cai takes a look, and that anger he feels then!

What concealed weapon, it is clearly just a few broken pieces of a porcelain bowl! And the areas that looked like they were covered in poison, are simply the bowl’s blue patterns on its exterior! 

At that moment, Deng Xiu Cai wants to cut Tang Fan up into pieces. However, a moment can change everything on the battlefield, and the few short seconds that Tang Fan earned with throwing out the bowl pieces is sufficient for Sui Zhou to arrive!

With immeasurable force, the xiu chun blade is driven towards Deng Xiu Cai with killing intent. The man has no choice but to turn away and deal with Sui Zhou with gritted teeth. His opportunity has vanished in a flash - with Tang Fan’s interference, Deng Xiu Cai has lost the best chance he had to take the children as hostage.

Shortly after, the Embroidered Uniform Guards follow, and so do the men from the Western Depot. Everyone knows that Deng Xiu Cai is the mastermind behind today’s events, so if they catch him, it would be a huge accomplishment.

The other culprits are caught and restrained one after the other, and this frees up some of the guards and Western Depot’s men who were dealing with them. They rush like a swarm of bees and have Deng Xiu Cai surrounded. Deng Xiu Cai’s defeat is set in stone - it is only a matter of time.

Tang Fan, who has managed to escape from the threat of a blade and survived, finally heaves a sigh of relief. After the fear of that moment, his body goes soft entirely and he simply sits on the ground.

“Da-ge, are you okay?” Ah Dong runs over to help him up.

“I’m fine,” he says wearily.

“Da-ge, you’re bleeding!” Ah Dong points at his neck.

Tang Fan touches at his neck and indeed there is a fine, thin trail of blood. He was probably in the line of fire when Deng Xiu Cai parried against the flying porcelain pieces and sent them flying again.

Ah Dong retrieves a handkerchief and gives it to him. This is the prize that Tang Fan won earlier at a game of riddles from the mid-autumn festival celebrations. At that time, Ah Dong had a pile of items in hand and just handkerchiefs alone she had three pieces. When would she use them, if not now?

Tang Fan casually presses the handkerchief over his neck, and caressing at her head, he says, “Go take care of those little brothers and sisters, don’t let them run around.”

Ah Dong agrees, and turns around to leave.

Then, from behind Tang Fan, a snort is heard, “How pathetic!”

He doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“Why did Wang-gonggong not head over to help, and is relaxing here instead?”

Wang Zhi replies, “The result of this battle has been set. As long as the case is solved, the credit comes to me, so why should I personally involve myself?”

Tang Fan says, “Didn’t you go in the direction of that state route, how did you get here so quickly?”

“That time, after you went into the small roads, I turned back to the official’s post and found some horses, then sent out two batches of men and got them to go around both state routes to give chase, and then came over here to find you. The journey in between, going and returning, and then having to find horses, this wasted quite a bit of time, otherwise I wouldn’t have only turned up now. Those Embroidered Uniform Guards are truly useless. If it was the Western Depot going this route, we would have defeated this bunch of clowns much earlier, not to mention preventing you from landing in the hands of these bandits!”

Tang Fan sighs, but it looks as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, “Who is to blame? I told you earlier that we should take this route, but you refused to believe me and wasted so much time! We already caught a Nan Cheng Bang member earlier, but who knew he still had a knife on him and severed two fingers, then deceived us. Sui Zhou and the rest, there were only four of them, and fearing that they would not have enough men, all they could do was focus on chasing their way up the mountains. Your arrival was timely and these bandits are on the brink of death, otherwise I figure I would have to die here as well!”

He continues, “The reason why Deng Xiu Cai and the rest of them came out of the cellar in the ground is because Nan Cheng Bang has a stockaded village up ahead on the mountains and they can head towards there to temporarily wait for danger to pass. When you take them back later, remember to ask for the exact location. It will be best to eliminate the village entirely as well. Also, Deng Xiu Cai’s small number of men does not fully make up Nan Cheng Bang’s full extent of power. There must be some other connections in various points of the city. I would like to request that Wang-gonggong roots our all sources of evil and eliminate their operations entirely.”

Wang Zhi’s brows furrow and it is obvious that he is unwilling to go the extra mile, because in his eyes, his mission is complete now that they have successfully found the children.

Tang Fan happens to turn his head at the same time and seeing Wang Zhi’s expression, he too knows what the man is thinking of, and says, “Nan Cheng Bang has connections to the White Lotus Sect.”

Wang Zhi freezes, “Is that for real?”

Tang Fan nods, “That’s what I heard for myself in the basement. The Nan Cheng Bang is only a faction under the White Lotus Sect, and is also one of the sect’s sources of funds, but because Deng Xiu Cai was reluctant to take orders from others, there was an internal disagreement between him and the sect’s head ambassador and this led to her death. After you catch Deng Xiu Cai, you can try searching him, there should be a White Lotus Sect token on him.”

Li Zilong’s demonic ways once made members of the palace fearful, and after investigations proved that he is connected to the White Lotus Sect, whenever these three words are officially placed in front of others, people have no choice but to take it seriously.

It is a pity that in these two years, even with the Embroidered Uniform Guards, Eastern and Western Depots investigating secretly, not much progress has been had. This organization is hidden too deep, so much so that even Wang Zhi and his men are unable to see anything amiss and can only catch some small fry to deal with this.

Now that the link between the Nan Cheng Bang and the White Lotus Sect has surfaced, Tang Fan does not need to say more; even the Jing city’s underworld leaders such as Boss Lai and Six Fingers Li, Wang Zhi and his men will naturally investigate them as well.

In the span of their conversation, despite Deng Xiu Cai’s extraordinary martial arts skills, he is still unable to overcome his opponent’s advantage in numbers, and is finally caught.

Not counting those who were shot dead from indiscriminately flying arrows and those who were killed in the battle, there are seven people alive, including Nan Cheng Bang’s second and third in-charge. More importantly, Zhu Yong’s young daughter, Official Geng’s grandson and the other children are unhurt, only shocked.

After powering through the night, even though their meritorious contribution lies before their eyes, no one has the energy to celebrate with everyone’s deep exhaustion showing on their faces. If this is the case for those who are trained in martial arts, then for a normal person like Tang Fan, his various experiences of near-death is truly way above his pay grade.

The horse carriage that Deng Xiu Cai and his men prepared to transport the children with is still being used for the same purpose, the only difference being the destination and direction.

Tang-daren, immensely exhausted and sporting injuries from head to toe, also cannot be bothered to ride on a horse alone. Afraid of dozing off halfway and falling off, Tang Fan shares a ride with Sui Zhou directly.

Everyone is tired and the horses’ pace is not quick either, and coupled with the uneven roads, Tang Fan who is sitting behind Sui Zhou, dozes off under this rhythm and his drool even drenches Sui Zhou’s back.

Sui-qianhu looks towards the sky, speechless.

===

Notes:

*绣春刀 xiu chun dao

A special blade that only Embroidered Uniform Guards are given.

*风紧扯呼 feng jin chi hu

This is described as 黑话 (hei hua), and literally translated means black/dark words. These are code words frequently used between thieves and bandits, and means to hurry and run/escape.

*南城帮 nan cheng bang

Literally translated it means Southern City Gang, but I left it as Nan Cheng Bang because it sounds better XD Although ‘bang’… I’m not sure if that sounds better.

*以卵击石 yi luan ji shi

Metaphoric idiom, literally meaning to strike at a rock with eggs. This is used to describe taking on an opponent or challenge with useless weapons/attacks.

*官道 guan dao

I don’t have a much better translation for this except for state roads, or literally translated, this would mean a channel (route) used by officials. A search translated this as ‘state highway’, but I left it as state route instead.

*拿着卖白菜的钱，干着卖小命的活 na zhe mai bai cai de qian, gan zhe mai xiao ming the huo

Literally means to be paid very little (the amount you would pay to buy some cabbage) to do work that will lead to your death. In Tang Fan’s case, it means that he’s being paid peanuts (if at all) to put his life on the line for the case.

*千户 qian hu

There are four ranks within the Embroidered Uniform Guards - 千户 (qian hu)、百户 (bai hu)、总旗 (zong qi)、小旗 (xiao qi) arranged highest to smallest rank, aside from the Commander 统领官 (zong ling guan).

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

~~

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his  forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

~~

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

~~

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

~~

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

~~

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

~~

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

~~

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

~~

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

~~

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

~~

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

~~

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

~~

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

[makoto-naegi555]

the bloody bloody despair arc: chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31737307/chapters/80467357 https://drive.google.com/file/d/19dSWapOdGFDia_kftPmpLbdeUL94HJH5/view?usp=sharing

Gp: it is time…. ok so let’s start

0:13

Don’t do it! You aren’t entitled to tell her anything and she isn’t entitled to know just go on with your day!

0:28

Hook line and sinker

0:45

Good news Mitarai you got jabaited.

Face palm

Oh the hubris of man.

1:33

Mukuro no!

But I mean she is mentally sound ….was mentally sound you know its like you know shes like a dads old car just kept together by so much duct tape so much….

But I mean compared to Junko shes a perfectly healthy individual.

Soulbound: they all need therapy.

2:20

Gp: YOU WHAT YOU LIAR YOU HACK YOU FROAD I LET YOU IN MY HEART AND YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THAT

Soulbound: your passionate

Gp: ITS BRAINWASHING HES A SCAM

Soulbound: I do agree brainwashing is unethical and the fact he did it is not cool.

Gp: if you need brainwashing to make your animation good your animations not good YOU DIRTY LIAR Pixar, Ghibli, James Baxter! There animations are to cry for, and they don’t brainwash people!

Soulbound: at least I hope they don’t.

Gp: so you! You you you! Forcing people to like your anime! Of all the unethicality’s! you iddddiiooooootttt oh well let me give you your just deserts if you think brainwashing people isn’t anything to worry about how about you get a taste of your own medicine ay!? Ay?!

Soulbound: oh no

2:27

Gp: YOU’VE DOOMED US ALL!!!

2:33

But Then Junko got an idea. An awful idea. Junko enoshima had a wonderful, awful idea.

Soulbound: You're a mean one, miss Junko You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus You're as charming as an eel Miss Junko, you're a bad banana with the greasy black peel.

Gp dancing in the background

Gp: but in all serious MITARAI YOU IDIOT YOU DOOMED US ALL

2:34

NOOOOO MUKUROOO! STOP IT RJ NOT NICE NOT NICE NOT NICE!

Soulbound: mukuro dosent get paid enough for this… -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mukuro: I don’t get paid at all. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

2:45

Gp: THAT IS A LOAD OF TORUS POO if you believe that mitari I will lose all faith in you!

Soulbound: you had faith in him?

Gp: well not anymore with the path he takes

2:50

Oh theme song! Man so short I didn’t know we could talk too much.

4:30

IT’S A REAL-LIFE BEAR IN DANGARONPA so that’s what they look like nice.

5:33

OH MY GOD BAGEL BOOTY

6:33

My word

7:07

And that’s how mikan died.

Soulbound: she didn’t die?

Gp: she died on the inside but we all know shes doomed poor baby

7:15

And now its these guys again

8:11

Poly

8:54

Oh dear rj you killed him didn’t you?

9:05

My word

And once again Junko had a wonderfully awful idea.

Soulbound: You're a monster, Miss Junko, your heart's an empty hole Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Miss Junko. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole!

Gp dancing

9:36

Gp: it’s kinda annoying how fake she is though, if your gonna be evil rj at least be upfront about it! your faker then a capitalist companies carrying policy!

Soulbound confused about the mushrooms.

9:48

Soulbound: there real!? I thought they were a metaphor!

Gp: a metaphor for what?

Soulbound: SADNESS of course!

9:55

Gp: DOOOOMMEEDD DOOOMMEEDD

10:11

Soulbound: WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!!!

Gp: ou yeah she does that sometimes

Soulbound: SHE LOOKS LIKE LIKE- I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE BUTS IT LOOKS WRONG

Gp: oh chill buddy shes just using her super smart brain skills no Biggy

Soulbound: THAT’S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!?

Gp: yeah why did you think it was an automatic process or something?

Soulbound: YES

Gp: well you thought wrong its like a switch on off on off do doot do

Then gp slaps both sides of his face to wiggle his eyes as if they were playing ping pong

Its weird but cool like shes on drugs which is fair I think her mom owned a drug cartel.

10:25

No mukuro you’re fine!

10:50

That…. That was something but now its time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for

11:08

I FORBID IT YOUNG LADY!

Soulbound: she can’t hear you.

Angry gp noises

11:58

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH its gonna happen I need to prepare myself.

12:07

Good news! you are all going to heaven Bad news! RIGHT NOW!

13:44

Soulbound: why don’t they just use the weapons to kill her?

Gp: well you see, there’s a little thing called fear, stress and pressure it makes you stupid and not see any other way besides the ones told to you happens all the time in horror movies …..

14:14 (just play the scene and hear the song)

[GP] Well…  pulls out guitar. here’s the first killing I have a good song for this...

Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #1 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #2 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #3 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #4 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Gp: oh the depravity…

But you know I don’t think I’d call that despair either like whoop de do you threatened people and put them in a room of stress blackmailing them causing them to panic and kill eachother who would have ever guessed that would happen literally everyone like it’s a scientific provation so what do you get from it? unless you were secretly hoping they were better than that and that they would just shoot you in the head then and there hahahah…. Maybe

19:33

AND NOW WE’RE ALL DOOMED

20:01

Oh yeah the other guys reaction to it well let’s just say the committee didn’t want people to catch wind of this but why tell you when I can show you.

Soulbound: did we ever get their names.

Gp: … no actually I think not …. ok ok let’s go in order left to right

Ok first guy archie gator then haru gilla old dude with the hair is Jio Futoago and last guy is Callisto de viper.

Got it? Good!

[GP] And now, an explanation of the Corrupt Bargain, which took place in the back halls of hopes peak while no one was watching.

[HUSK] Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Archie gator says:

[GATOR] We need to find a scheme to Keep the power in the Hands of the chosen few.

[HUSK] Jio Futoago says:

[FUTOAGO] If my dad was in the council I should get to be in it too!

[HUSK] Haru gila says:

[GILA] I’ll make you councilmen. If you keep me as Secretary of State

[HUSK] Callisto de viper says something in Italian That none of us can translate Whoo!

Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do

All you educated people You can talk of liberty But do you really want The Japanese people To learn of this tragedy? Ooh!

Do do do doot (repeated)

Jio Futoago says:

[FUTOAGO] If we cover it all up Then the mastermind will surely cave!

[HUSK] Archie gator says:

[GATOR] You can do what you want If you don’t try to take away my slaves

[HUSK] Haru gila says:

[GILA] You’ll keep the reserve course ‘cause I know How to play realpolitik

[HUSK] Jin kirigiri said something prescient about this But he not important Let’s dance!

[ALL] Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do

[HUSK] You can compromise all you want They’re still drunk and smell like pee! But Do you really want the mastermind To cause the tragedy?

Jio Futoago:

[FUTOAGO] The people are stupid!

[HUSK] Haru gila:

[GILA] They can all go rot!

[HUSK] Archie gator:

[GATOR] They’re lame!

[HUSK] Futoago:

[FUTOAGO] They suck!

[HUSK] Haru gila:

[GILA] The mastermind’s a total twat!

[HUSK] Archie gator:

[GATOR] These guys are idiots but It’s the mastermind who’s a real threat.

[HUSK] I’m sure sora enix would have an opinion But he hasn’t been born yet

Junko is a loser!

[DEPRAVITY] Junko is a loser! Junko is a loser! Junko is a loser!

They all laugh maniacally as they celebrate what they think is their victory.

[JIN] DON’T I GET A SAY IN THIS?!

Gator and Gila sigh, perhaps not caring an ounce on what jin has to say.

Gp: but Junko was in fact not a loser

because this was all part of her plan with them covering it up it gave her free rain to leak it out but with a certain extra… brain washing flair tainting all their souls with darkness becoming slaves to the great hivemind But I think the best way to explain this is… IN SONG!

22:00

[GP] Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell

Blindsided by the beat Clapping your hands, Stomping your feet You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh-oh-oh Now you've fallen under our spell Oh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh

We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky

Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell

Listen to the sound of my voice Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Soon you'll find you don't have a choice Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Captured in the web of my song Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Soon you'll all be singing along Oh-whoa-oh

We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky

Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our Spell... hahahaha MAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHA!

23:13 Like lambs to the slaughter  and if it all goes the way the creator wants then literally!  Well that’s all for now tune in next time for when things go wronger!