#HE CANNOT HELP BUT RIP HIS MASK OFF AT THE FIRST OPPORTUNITY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years

Note

Your Hisoka headcanons were so good😭 and i completely agree with all of them- I wanted request something, u can ignore if u want. 🏃

I am just thinking of a scenario where Hisoka got hurt, by someone who 'cheated' in the fight maybe, and his first instinct was to go to his 'friend's place. And Reader helps him without hesitation, they're even worried and stuff. And he is just like "are they just so naive or dumb? Kind? What do they get from this? And tf is this feeling in my chest? A poison maybe-" Maybe hcs? Or an oneshot? Whatever you like to do. Have a good day or night!:)💛 damn i wrote too much lol sorry

This warms my heart. Thank you SO MUCH for your support!!! And no, you did not write too much! I love having my ego stroked ;) 😂 seriously tho I love hearing from you guys!

I love this prompt. I hope that I was able to bring this to life for you, please feel free to request more!

To be honest, I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I haven’t written in a long time and feel really rusty. I may rewrite it at some point, because I thought of a different way this could also go! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2880 (yeh, it’s a long one :o)

A little song inspiration I had:

As The World Caves In: Matt Maltese

Hisoka x Reader One-Shot: The Man Beneath the Monster

...

Well... this wasn't supposed to happen.

Currently, the jester of everyone's nightmares lay on the ground, golden eyes staring up at the dull night sky while shrapnel and debris etched patterns into his back, remnants of the attack he'd just barely survived. Hisoka didn't normally have much of a problem mowing through his opponents- but then again, they usually didn't possess the ability to play with their enemy's mind. It was insanely unfair, the way he'd been attacked, and while it had been an interesting battle to say the least, Hisoka had barely pulled through.

Admittedly, he was invigorated by the feeling of almost being beaten- save for the searing pain that inched its way through every nerve in his body. Hisoka wasn't usually so affected by pain in general- in fact, more often than not, it gave him a certain indescribable gratification. He tended to brush off the feeling of most wounds he obtained during battle, distracting himself with shuffling his cards or fantasizing about the next battle he'd be facing. Only this time, if he didn't get help, he wasn’t sure there would BE another battle.

Hisoka strained himself to sit up, and looked down at his body, analyzing just how much damage he'd sustained. A deep gash opened up his chest, revealing glimpses of the muscular content underneath, and it was oozing a lot of blood. His arms and legs were burned, and some of the skin was a little charred, which smelled just lovely against the night breeze.

This is going to be difficult to cover with Texture Surprise... he thought, forcing himself a bit angrily to his feet, when he heard the cracking of the joints in his left ankle, indications of a break. He needed medical attention, badly. His gash wasn't going to heal itself, and he would bleed to death within hours if it didn’t get bandaged.

But where could he go? Hospitals wouldn't dare take him- even though he was a hunter, most people wouldn't be caught within miles of him, let alone would provide him any remedy. In fact, most people thought the world would be better off if he were dead anyway.

Maybe they were right.

He chuckled a little at the thought, but as he tried to brush those creeping inner fears off, he soon realized that his normal detached approach wasn't going to work this time. Already, his legs were getting weaker, and his vision was getting a little darker by the second. In that moment of weakness, when he felt the most vulnerable, the magician was puzzled by the singular thought that came to his mind.

Y/N.

She was a girl he’d encountered more than a few times in his travels; not by accident, but through carefully orchestrated meetings he initiated himself. She was strong in his eyes, which was not a compliment that he offered freely, especially to someone who didn’t regularly seek out altercations to smash their enemies. She was strong in a different way- not because of her nen or battle tactics- but because of her resolve. He found it intriguing that she didn’t run at the sight of him (even when he popped up behind her in the park), and he liked that she wasn't afraid to tell him exactly where he could shove his cards, if warranted. Y/N was appealing to him in an indescribable way that made him continue to think up excuses to meet her ‘randomly’- but he could never put his finger on what it was that made her unique. However, through brief conversations and what he considered to be highlights of his travels, he’d gotten to know her only a little, but he hardly had enough contact with her to call her a ‘friend’.

It wasn't like she had any special sort of healing nen. She probably couldn't help him anyway. But if he did bleed out, and his last thought had to be of something...l it might as well be of her.

The pink-haired clown looked to the city up ahead in the distance- he was close to her house already. It didn't take him long to get there; Y/N lived on the outskirts of town in a small place away from most other homes.

It was a place he knew well, although he'd never been inside. He'd spent more than a few long nights watching the residence from the rooftop of a distant neighboring home as he denied his human emotions. He often watched her pack groceries, or try to figure out why her porch light wasn't working (which he certainly had nothing to do with), or watch TV on the couch all alone.

Hisoka quite liked those stupid romantic comedies that played late at night on the local channel. His only opportunity to watch them was through her window- and in his mind, he was sure that she left the subtitles on because she can somehow sense his presence. She usually fell asleep watching those, and missed the part where the hero gets the girl. He always watched that part with particular interest, but he can't figure out what makes the protagonists so special to each other. If there was a feeling that caused them to sacrifice so much for one another… he sure didn’t know what it could be.

But he's not a hero, so why would he know what that feels like?

As Hisoka reached her door and lifted his hand to the doorknob, not bothering to knock, a pang of what could only be anxiety ripped through him. It was well past 2 AM, and he knew she had things to do early in the morning. Their previous encounters had been abnormal, to say the least, complete with him teasing her and being a douchebag. He's been nothing but an annoyance to Y/N, so why would she help him?

As soon as he was about to pull his hand away, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled looking y/n in its place. Hisoka was bent over in pain, holding his chest, but as she startled him a little, he straightened up and put on his mask, acting complacent and confident. He wanted to say something smart and witty like he always does- that always helped to bat the pain away. But his lips wouldn't move- his tongue wouldn't function as he stared at her, unable to reach out in a way that normal humans seem to find so easy.

He felt frozen in that moment. He was normally so deliberately irreverent, but seeing the look on her face made his blood run cold.

Don’t let her see this weakness. It was a plea to himself.

But Hisoka had no choice. He was broken, and he needed her to fix him. He wasn’t used to depending on someone else to save his life, but now his life rested in the hands of someone who most likely despised him.

"...Hisoka." Y/N breathed, her eyes widening as she placed a hand over her open mouth. Only seconds passed before her delicate hands were pulling him inside the door without hesitation. She didn't bother to ask what happened, what kind of trouble he'd gotten into, or whether she would also be in danger. Instead, she sat him down on the couch, laying a pillow under his head for comfort, which he annoyingly refused to use until he absolutely couldn’t hold his head up any longer.

Hisoka was a bit dazed from the loss of blood, and the crimson river was flowing all over y/n's lightly colored couch. He was puzzled by the swiftness of her reaction, and he watched tepidly as she shuffled frantically through the drawers in the bathroom for something to heal him. Though he was on the brink of death, his default deflection of emotions still shone through, a reflex that he didn’t even mean to activate.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” He said with an impudent grin, watching as she began to work on his wounds. “It’s just a scratch. But I can see how badly you want to touch me…” Why was he like this? Here she was, giving up everything to help him (a criminal and the scum of the Earth),yet he can’t so much as even show her an iota of gratitude. He knows, but will never admit that it comes from his inner vulnerability; that fear of getting hurt by these things called emotions. She could just as easily let him bleed to death in front of her; he knows she has the capability to be stone cold. But she won’t… why?

Why?

Y/N could have easily let Hisoka’s false complacency hurt her. But she knows that what he cannot express in his words, his heart cannot truly hide. It was the way he was built, she told herself, and she pushed on through his antics because she wanted to see him safe again. Through the laceration in his tough exterior, she could not only see the flesh beneath, but a glimpse of the man he tried to hide using the monster that he assumed everyone saw.

But she was different.

The jester was confused by her silence. Normally, she would have retorted at his smugness, but right now, she didn’t even seem concerned with it as she began to fumble with cleaning his wounds. The alcohol seared his flesh just as the emotions boiling within him burned his heart. Why would she ever care to help him when he’s been nothing but rude and degrading to her? Could it be that she really can see through the detached front and overbearing persona? Impossible, he’s spent years building that reputation!

Suddenly, he became enthralled with the way Y/N’s eyes focused on threading the needle to sew up his gash. The way that those fingertips danced over his pale skin made him jolt unexpectedly at her touch, exhibiting a softness that Hisoka has never known before. In fact, he can’t even fathom someone wanting to touch him without the intention to hurt him in some way.

The details slowly became a blur in his depressed mental state- but he still analyzed every motion Y/N made.

Oddly, the promised sting of death had never scared Hisoka before; he did as he pleased, without care for his own life nor anyone else’s. But as his vision faded, and he watched her through the gaze of someone nearing death, he realized that he did not want to leave this world yet. He wanted to live- and maybe he wanted to discover and experience what he’d been missing in those movies he’d watched through her window.

With that, Hisoka’s heart began to beat faster.

Blood loss. That’s what it is… Hisoka thought; but he wasn’t stupid; only unwilling to admit that he was beginning to exhibit the same qualities he saw in the protagonists of those hopeless romantic flicks. He was unable to accept that the tightening in his chest was not just because of her stitches pulling his lacerated skin together.

“Are they dead? Did you kill them?” Her voice brought him out of the trance-like state he was in, and his golden eyes focused on her face. Her hands were covered in his blood (which in itself made him feel delightfully feverish), but his gash had been mended, the bleeding stopped for now. Once again, he didn’t say anything. It was unusual for the smug magician to keep his mouth shut.

“Because if you didn’t kill them, I’m going to.” A protective tone dripped into her voice, bewildering Hisoka again. That quality in her voice was both threatening and comforting, and the duality sent a chill up his spine. It inspired him to use his voice, though it had lost some of its signature modulation.

“You have that little faith in me…” A cough escaped his lips before he could smile as if nothing was bothering him at all. “Of course I killed them, my dear.” Somehow, calling her ‘dear’ no longer felt right; that was typically a placeholder, a default name to use for someone he had no connection with, and she seemed to be worthy of more than that now.

As Y/N suddenly dipped to her knees, Hisoka refrained from any lewd thoughts that he normally might have had in such a situation. That sensation in his chest was too distracting to allow this memory to be defiled with something he often indulged in fantasies of. She began to slide the high-heeled shoe off of his swollen foot to wrap it. She began to struggle with ripping the fabric she’d gathered to act as a cast for the bone.

Surely, she knows who I am. Why would she bother to help someone like me? What is she gaining? She knows that with the flip of a card, I could end her life. She’s not even protecting herself in any way. She’s leaving her guard down right in front of me.

Perhaps it was his dark desire to set fear into everyone he came across, or his distorted need to drive away anyone who might care for him, but his body suddenly acted on its own. By instinct, almost as if it were a test of her intention, a card spawned between his middle and index finger, which was right against her neck. With just a slight movement of his knuckles, he could spill her blood. His golden eyes analyzed the way she froze for a moment, and he believed that to be the end of this fragile trust between them. That was until she lifted the fabric she was holding, sliding it along the edge of the card, and cutting it to the perfect length.

“Thanks.” She spoke, beginning to wrap and set the ankle in place.

At that small motion, Hisoka’s discretionary eyes widened, and his lips fell open in surprise. Rather than interpreting his advance as an attack, she’d innocently taken it as an offer of his help. Was this a joke? Was she stupid enough to trust him, or was she bold enough to outsmart his games? Was Y/N this confident that he wouldn’t just kill her? This naive girl at his feet seemed to be the only person in this convoluted world who didn’t see him as a disgusting, heartless monster… and that warmed his icy heart.

“I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before. I know you’re graceful, but high heels are always a recipe for a broken ankle.” She offset the pain of wrapping those bones by talking to him all through the procedure, and it worked wonders. He scoffed, but by that time, Hisoka’s snide comments and emotion-killing thoughts had been expended. Somehow, she’d broken through the barrier that he’d spent so long building around himself.

Unable to ignore his whims anymore, Hisoka reached out to touch Y/N’s hair, the soft delicate strands pleasing his senses. It’s the only movement he can make now, his body weakened from the loss of blood. His gilded eyes were barely open, but they looked directly into hers with an unfamiliar realization. His hand travelled weakly down her face, caressing her cheek with the most delicate touch he could muster, and held her head in his large hand as she froze there. He wondered for a moment if she was afraid, or if something deeper that he cannot see calms her.

A small, genuine smile is all he could muster for her before his hand dropped to the side of the couch, the same couch he watched her curl up on most nights. For once, it’s not a smirk, and it’s not a smug smile- but something she has never seen before- a true smile with good intention behind it. His eyes closed, with uncertainty that they would open in the morning.

After she’d finished her work, she stood up, and looked down at him. The only remaining light in the room was the silent flicker of the television set in the background, which illuminated both of their faces.

“I need you to be alright, Hisoka,” She cooed, unable to know if he could still hear her. He didn’t know if she even realized how much he wanted to kill her right now, because the way her kindness was attacking his heart while his chest was already sliced open was something he should not excuse.

As Y/N’s final healing gesture, she bent over his body gracefully. He was taken off guard when he felt the feathery soft sensation of her lips on his forehead, the kiss of an angel on his clammy skin. As she went to pull away, however, she was startled by the lunge of Hisoka’s hand initiating a death grip on her wrist. He used the last bit of his strength to pull her lips into his, causing her to lose balance and be forced to brace on either side of the couch cushion below him. His lips were cold, but Y/N graciously returned the sensation, and boldly moved to embrace both sides of his face with her mending hands. Before she pulled away, and he passed out, she felt that same smile against her lips.

And in that moment, before he fades away, Hisoka realizes what he’s been missing.

Y/N.

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

Hmm... part two? I KNOW, it’s super freakin’ sappy. I could have taken a lighthearted approach to this (and maybe I will later), but I wanted to kind of challenge myself to write a more depth-driven version of Hisoka. Maybe I bit off a little more than I can chew :0.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and once again thanks to anon for the request! Hope you all enjoyed!

Mac

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #x reader #reader insert #hxh #hunterxhunter #feeling sappy #love #lovelorn #ooc? probably #hxh 2011 #hisoka

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professional-benaddict · 3 years

Text

Prince!Peter x Mafia!Tony - oneshot ll

original moodboard & oneshot written by @snowstark

Prince Peter, Mafia boss Tony, forbidden relationships, mentioned gun violence, injury and recovery, whump, Stephen being the good doctor, Peter feeling lonely and misunderstood

Peter had screwed up perfectly. There is no way he could have screwed up more than he did. That is the thing with rock bottom. It can only go upwards from there.

When Peter closes his eyes, he can hear the frantic clicking of the paparazzi’s cameras. Their invasive assumptions and prying questions make his throat close up in panicked embarrassment.

It was not like that. It was not like that at all.

Peter had for a long time despised his royal title and the privileges and burdens it entailed. If you asked him, there were hardly any privileges at all. Only burdens and troubles. Due to his dislike of his role, he had used every opportunity he got to make as much trouble as possible. As a child, he would often sneak into the kitchens and dining rooms to switch the sugars with salt, and vice versa. For a while he also cut many of the strings holding back the heavy curtains in front of the grande windows in the palace. They would then randomly come undone, and one time the undone curtain even made a diplomat’s mother fall over while she was gazing out the window.

Those small catastrophes added up, and rumours started circulating of ghosts haunting the palace. But, most of the staff and the royal family members knew that there was a certain young prince at fault for the seemingly haunting incidents. Now that Peter is older, his tricks have become more psychological and manipulative in nature. Some would call him cunning, others plain stupid, because his tricks involved putting himself in real danger.

At the adventurous and rebellious age of 19, Peter went to a BDSM club for the first time. He had manipulated the new substituting bodyguards to take him there without telling his family. To Peter’s knowledge, no one besides those two guards know of the visit to the BDSM club. That first visit was life changing to Peter, and ever since that day, he hungered for more.

Peter’s full time bodyguards, Steve and Bucky, are not as easy to fool as the substitutes. So, instead of fooling them, Peter gives them full disclosure, letting them know just who he is going to see and where. Naturally, the two men were not pleased, so Peter brought the big guns.

He knew it was a nasty trick, but it was years ago that he decides to ditch playing nice. Just like the rest of his royal family, he is only looking out for himself and he is not afraid to harm others to advance his own interests. And going out to this club to meet a certain someone is his sacred priority now, and Peter went as far as openly threatening to reveal Steve and Bucky’s forbidden romantic relationship to protect his own blossoming relationship at the club.

Perhaps a certain someone’s bad habits and ways of acting is rubbing off on him, Peter thinks. This is quite the step up from sabotaging meals and curtains as a child. However, his threats had earned him a useful deal.

Steve and Bucky will take Peter to the BDSM clubs without saying a word to the other staff nor the family, nor will they speak to anyone who Peter is meeting at the club. To put it mildly, the royal family and the public would be quite horrified to learn that the prince is seeing the most famous mafia boss at a BDSM club.

And so they were. They were horrified to learn that, but Peter is choosing to focus on the comfort of the morphine in his veins rather than all the gossip going on outside the four walls of his room. Steve and Bucky are sometimes on watch duty outside his door, and Peter can practically feel their guilt radiate through the wall. His family have been to see him, of course, but only briefly. Peter pretends to be asleep whenever they come. He can only imagine what they are going to say to him. Or perhaps they will never speak to him. Perhaps that would not be so bad.

Being outside the palace gates is dangerous enough, but being in the same room as a mafia boss only increases that danger. And Peter had sat on Tony’s lap when a rival boss’ minions had shown up with violent intentions. The prince had been hurt in the crossfire, and the incident made it impossible to hide the fact that Peter was in a BDSM club with a mafia boss. Even if he wore a mask to hide his identity, it had to be ripped away when Peter’s life was at risk. Cat’s out of the bag, and there is no forcing it back in.

Peter must have lost consciousness at some point, because suddenly he woke up at the palace and was met with the slightly disappointed but relieved face of Stephen Strange. The surgeon is the chief physician at the palace, and Peter has always seen him as an ally in the prison he calls his palace home. The doctor says it like it is, and the prince wishes he had more people like that around him.

“You scared the shit out of all of us, Your Highness.” Strange had said. Peter quickly lost consciousness after that.

Strange told Peter he had been shot in the abdomen, but luckily the shooter had missed any vital organs and large blood vessels. It still hurt like hell, but that did not stop Peter from trying to get up.

“Your Highness, I really cannot believe you sometimes.”

Both the pain shooting up from his wound and the voice from the doorway make Peter stop in his tracks. He did not get far, just a bit higher up on his bed in fact, but Strange still looks displeased.

“Shud’- shut up.” Peter spits back, hissing in pain as he tries to sit up further.

“Come on, I’ll help you lay down again.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I’ll get you more morphine.”

A few minutes later Peter is a bit higher than he was before. A quiet gasp escapes Peter’s open lips, and for a few short seconds the few colours in the bland medical room blend together. The doctor hums approvingly and goes to dispose of the syringe he used to inject the pain medication into Peter’s IV. Then, he returns to his patient’s bedside, watching him carefully. The boy blinks multiple times, and then nods at the doctor that he is ready to lay back down and get comfortable.

“So, who is this guy you met at the BDSM club?”

Peter’s eyes go comically wide at the question. The intrusive question is sobering and Peter fixes his eyes on the doctor.

“You know? How do you know?” Peter asks dumbly.

“Everyone knows now, You Highness. Can you lift your head up a bit for me?”

Peter does as he is told, and thanks the doctor mentally for placing the pillow so perfectly under his head. The prince sinks a bit into the mattress. However, he cannot relax fully. He can feel Strange’s eyes on him, expecting an answer.

“Fuck. Fine, I met Tony.”

“And who’s Tony?”

“Doesn’t everyone know that as well?”

“Well, not what he is to you.”

“And that’s what you’re asking?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Peter’s gaze is still sceptical as he eyes the doctor. Strange has been at the palace even before Peter was born into the buzzing world and his cruel role. Luckily, Peter has not seen Strange frequently. Sometimes he would do Peter’s annual check up, sometimes another palace doctor would do it. On even rarer occasions, Strange or one of his employees would show up at Peter’s room, having heard rumours about the prince coughing or complaining about stomach pains. One time, Strange ordered Peter to stay home from a planned trip abroad due to a strep infection. He had been quite furious with the doctor for that, only to learn that he loved staying home while his family was away. The palace had never been so peaceful. It gave him another glimpse of what life could be like for him.

“... And you’ll just go running to tell everyone else then? Fill in the gaps for them? Hell no.” Peter snaps.

“I won’t tell. I’m just curious.”

“Why? This doesn’t have to do with your work. You just patch me up, is all.”

“No, I’d say it is part of my responsibility.”

“How?”

“He might break your heart. And I don’t want that to happen to you, Your Highness.” Strange says, his voice gentle and caring. The genuineness in his tone catches Peter off guard and makes him realise just how hungry he is for that sort of interest. “So, what’s Tony to you?”

Peter’s eyes burn with tears at all the emotions that the question triggers in him.

“I-I think… I think I’d give up my title.” Peter says quietly. He has to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing. “For him. To be with him.”

#cutie jae #my fics #my prompts #starker #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange

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cdelphiki · 4 years

Text

She couldn’t do this.

Damian. Her precious little Damian. The baby with a beautiful smile. Infectious laugh. Adorable babble. Who so sweetly, so gently, pet any stray cat that sat still long enough for him to ‘catch.’ Who hugged anyone that cared for him, and even the random servants who lingered long enough.

That baby. Her baby.

Watching him, at 18-months-old, be taught how to wield a sword. Watching as the trainer smacked his hands, his side, his face, every time he wobbled, or lost interest, or got confused.

Hearing his cry, and seeing his pleading eyes, whenever it happened.

Seeing him look at her, and call for her, then get distraught because she did nothing.

She just stood there.

Next to her father.

And watched.

There was nothing more she could do. Going against her father would only bring more harm on her son. It would only risk Father taking Damian from her entirely.

But she couldn’t do this.

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her body.

Someone was inside her, with red hot claws, scratching away. Destroying everything. Killing her.

Her stomach was filling with vile acid, and just one move, one word, and it might come up.

Weakness, her father would say.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Perhaps that is why he ordered her presence, for this training session.

She’d hardly been allowed time with her son. Not in nearly a year had she been granted daily visits with him.

Her father had been disappointed in how attached she’d been becoming.

‘He is to be a warrior,’ Father had said, ‘worthy of his station. He cannot become the Demon’s head if he is soft.’

Perhaps it was then she should have done something.

Said something.

But instead, she just bowed her head and followed orders.

Like a good daughter would do.

What use was that now?

Damian whimpered again, as his trainer smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade. He’d started slouching. They were working on form.

Talia resisted closing her eyes. She knew, she knew if she did, she would not be able to stop the tears that followed.

She had to remain strong. Stable. Unaffected….

Unaffected in her father’s eyes, at least.

When she’d lied to Bruce, when she’d told him she’d miscarried…. What was she thinking?

She- she hadn’t wanted to betray her father. Hadn’t wanted to betray the League. This was her life. She’d been raised in this, she owed everything she had. Her training. Her wealth. Her skills. Everything to her father.

But-

But what did that matter?

Was it worth it? Was her son worth it?

“All done,” Damian pleaded, when he fell over and scraped his hands on the hard cement, “all done all done all done.”

The trainer just stood him back up and handed him the sword again, ignoring his cries.

When Damian looked at her and cried, “Mama,” again, Talia could taste the bile.

How could she have just handed her son over to Ra’s like this? What kind of monster was she?

Her son was crying for her, and she was standing by, watching him be hurt.

All because her father told her to.

The fact that he knew to call her ‘Mama’ was all because she snuck in to see him. Ordered his nursemaids to leave the room. Swore them to secrecy.

Had killed, a few of them…

She’s more than sure Ra’s had noticed, now.

As Talia stood there, watching her son struggle to stop crying and listen to his trainer, Talia made a decision.

Because nearly two years ago, when she’d told Bruce about her ‘miscarriage,’ she’d made a huge mistake.

Her father’s influence was toxic.

This training?

It was hell.

Talia loved what it’d turned her into, she loved her skills and abilities.

But if this was the cost?

This?

Her child?

There was only one place on earth where she’d be safe, where he’d be safe. One person able to offer that protection.

And once Talia told him, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to get them away.

- - -

To say Bruce was suspicious would be an understatement.

Talia had broken ties with him two years prior.

On not-so-friendly terms, at that.

She’d betrayed him. Joined her father, and all but stabbed him in the back in doing so.

He’d loved her.

He really had.

She had been- he thought she was-

They were going to spend their lives together. Raise a child. He thought she was-

But that was over. In the past.

And yet, there she was, staring back at him through a webcam, asking for his help.

Asking for help, after hacking into his computer, in the cave, where his son could enter at any moment.

How on earth was he supposed to explain his past fling with Talia al Ghul to Jason?

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Because how would he be able to deny her request?

Once upon a time, he would have died for this opportunity. Would have cried, from utter relief, to get her away from the League. To bring her home. Keep her safe.

Yes. She could keep herself safe. Defend herself. Hold her own, against even him, but he could offer his protection of the entire Justice League. If it came down to it.

He’d loved her.

But she’d chosen her father. Chosen a life as an assassin. Rejected him. And it was hard for him to forget that.

“I lied to you,” she said, pulling his attention back to the present, “I lied.”

She said it with such finality, Bruce narrowed his eyes. And just stared.

He was sure she’d lied about many things. Why was this the ‘reason?’ And why would lying be a reason to trust her now?

To give her a chance, now?

“About?” he pressed, ignoring the thought in the back of his head asking whether this was all a distraction so the League could move in on Gotham.

Alarms would be going off, if that were the case. Literal alarms, in the cave.

Besides, the League hadn’t been doing anything in the United States for many months.

They were too busy building up their forces in the Alps. Bruce still had no idea why, but they’d been beefing up their presence there for over a year and a half.

“You know about what,” Talia said, gently. Almost apologetically.

His heart fluttered, a little.

There was one thing. One thing, that had she been lying about, he’s not sure he’d be angry about.

Not right now, at least.

“Bruce,” she pled, “I- I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice cracked, and she rested a hand against the side of her face as she looked off to the side, away from her camera. “Father is so cruel to him, Bruce. I need your help.”

No.

Anger was definitely not the emotion he was feeling. It- it was down there. It was deep, deep down there, and later that night. Or, perhaps, in a few days, he knew he would hit a punching bag until his knuckles were bloody.

But on top? Right now?

On top was hope.

Hope, excitement, and… and utter devastation.

“Him?” Bruce whispered, resisting the urge to rip his mask off and rub at his face. He was on camera, he had to remind himself. He had no idea how many people were watching.

And this could all be one magnificent lie. A trick to get him off balance. So they could strike, while he had his guard down.

While he was yearning for something he’d thought he’d lost, two years prior.

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice catching on the next sentence, “He looks just like you, and I can tell he gets his empathy from you. But,” she paused, a ferocious determination taking over her face. A trait of her’s that had caused Bruce to fall in the first place.

“Father will destroy him if we don’t get him away.”

There would be no ‘ifs.’

If Bruce had ever had a mission that had no option for failure, it was this one.

He didn’t care if Talia changed her mind, ten minutes later. This mission was happening, and he was bringing home what he thought he’d lost.

Bruce has no idea how he got through the following ten minutes, planning out with Talia exactly how and when the pickup would go. Nightwing, Robin and himself would all approach the compound in the batwing, in stealth mode. He’d pulled Clark in on the call, and Superman agreed he would be on standby, watching from afar for anything to go wrong.

If they were spotted, or if the League tried anything, the entire Justice League would respond, if necessary.

Clark promised he’d keep the mission itself classified. No one but the core team would know the details of what they were picking up. The core team being himself, the Flash, and the Bats.

His ears were ringing the entire time, and he felt like an outsider, looking in.

‘He looks just like you,’ Talia had said.

That’s all he could think about.

Bruce had a son.

There-

Was there anything more to say?

He had a son.

“Talia,” he rasped, just before she cut the call with him. After a deep breath, he looked deep into the camera, doing his best to convey his seriousness. His promise, should it be necessary. “If this is a trick.”

With sadness in her eyes, Talia smiled and said, “We will see you tomorrow, Beloved,” and with that, ended the call.

It came as no surprise when, not even a quarter of a second later, the papers on his desk flew up into the air. Each one wafting back down, before Bruce even had the chance to close his eyes and take a breath.

Bringing Clark in on this was necessary.

As much as he hated bringing personal missions to those outside the family, there was no way he could risk this one.

If Talia was telling the truth, and he wasn’t successful on his own. Wasn’t able to take on the entire League while protecting a helpless infant.

Well.

He’d never forgive himself.

Ever.

But none of that meant he had to be happy his best friend was there to witness this.

“Bruce, this is,” Clark started, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, but Bruce cut him off.

“Clark, just,” he said, pulling his mask off so he could finally wipe his eyes. He wasn’t even mortified at the crack in his voice, because there was far too many other things swirling through his head. “Give me a minute.”

He had… so much to do. He hadn’t time for this.

And yet…

It was the only thing he could do.

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a second to recenter himself. Find his strength and embrace his duties. Right now, he needed to be Batman.

But before he was able to complete a single deep breath, he heard from the top of the stairs, “B?”

And everything just became much more complicated.

“Bruce?” Jason asked again, a little hesitantly, as he made his way down the stairs, “Superman? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, reeling it all in and trying his best to blink back the wetness in his eyes. So maybe he wouldn’t have to wipe his face in front of his son.

His… middle son.

Because, Bruce actually had three…

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked a little more frantically, because despite his best efforts, Bruce sniffed.

“He’s fine,” Clark soothed, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder a little tighter as Jason hurried his way down the stairs, “Nothing is wrong, Jase.”

“Then why is…” Jason said, trailing off when he finally made it to where Bruce was sitting.

They had so much to do. Bruce hadn’t the time for this.

It was time for Batman.

“Suit up,” he told his son, shrugging Clark’s hand off and squaring his shoulders. They had just under three hours before take off, and there was so much to do. “We have a mission.”

- - -

By ‘a mission,’ Bruce meant they were infiltrating the freaking League of Assassins.

Like.

In the middle of the day. Completely randomly.

Well, they were set to leave in three hours, with a 5 hour flight time. And considering the time difference, it would actually be about 4am when they arrived at Nanda Parbat.

So.

Middle of the night, kind of.

Jason was both super excited, and kind of freaked out.

Especially when Bruce called in Dick.

Those two worked together, sure. Sometimes. But it was always so fucking tense, and Jason kind of hated it.

Bruce also always refused to call in Dick for anything. Dick always just kind of, forced himself in on the mission.

But for this?

Whatever the fuck this was?

It had Bruce calling in not only Dick Grayson, but Superman, too.

Because that’s why Superman had been there. He’d already called the guy in.

Whatever was going on, it was huge.

And whatever it was, Jason actually started feeling very nervous. Because Bruce said he had news to share. And he called Alfred down first, before he shared it.

Bruce paced. Back and forth, back and forth. In front of the conference table for two full minutes while the four of them sat there, waiting for him to fucking say something.

“Do you want me?” Clark asked, and was immediately shot down by a glare from Bruce.

Was Bruce dying?

Were they going to the League to steal some pit water??

Because he said he was okay.

Clark said he was okay, and Clark wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right? Jason wouldn’t put it past Bruce at all to be a freaking hypocrite and lie to him so not to make him worry, but not Clark.

He was way too much a boy scout.

Yet, there Bruce was. Pacing back and forth. Freaking out about something.

“B, you’re freaking the kid out,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair, like he was fucking relaxed during this.

Their freaking dad could be dying and he was chill about it.

No wonder his name was Dick.

“I am not,” he protested, but Bruce quit his pacing and sighed, anyway.

“Honestly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, from where he sat next to Jason, “Whatever it is, I am confident we can handle it.”

“A couple years ago,” Bruce started, pausing to sigh again before he turned his back to them, but continued, “I got… involved… with Talia al Ghul.”

“Gross. I knew it,” Dick said, pulling a face for Jason to see.

“From the League of Assassins,” Jason said, just to clarify.

So… were they staging this mission so Bruce could go…

Ew.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Jason hated his mind for putting that picture in his head.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, apparently uncaring that he’d just put horrible awful pictures in Jason’s head.

He was thirteen. This was probably child abuse.

“It was serious,” he continued, “We had been… discussing marriage.”

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Jason had ever heard from Alfred.

Jason didn’t blame him. Bruce had never really struck Jason as a ‘serious’ kinda guy.

Not with the ladies, at least.

Mostly because he had a different chick hanging off of him at every party.

“She had been with child,” Bruce finally said, nearly stumbling over his words as he spit the sentence out.

The air in the room seemed to still, and they all stared at Bruce.

Well, all of them, except Clark. Since apparently Clark already knew.

“Why… why,” Dick stammered, then stopped.

Jason didn’t really know what to ask first, either.

But apparently Bruce knew what to answer first.

“She told me she miscarried. She, she told me. I thought-“ with another sigh, Bruce turned back around, finally allowing them to see the exhaustion on his face, as he rubbed at it and sat down at the head of the table.

“I thought she’d miscarried. She dumped me, after that. Refused to leave her father and the League, and sent me home. I- I should have checked up on it. Verified her story, but… I was just so-”

Bruce put his face in his hands, and just sat there, for a very long minute.

Dick, to Jason’s surprise, was the one to break the silence, because neither he nor Alfred seemed to be able to find any words. Jason had never heard Bruce so close to tears, before.

He was kind of scared of getting Bruce to talk more.

And if Bruce was saying what he was saying, well…

Jason really had no words for it.

Batman apparently had a baby.

And they were going to rescue it from the League of Assassins.

That was just…

Wow.

Holy.

Shit.

“So,” Dick said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he did, “is it a boy or a girl?”

- - -

Everything was going smoothly.

They had agreed on a meet-up time eight hours from the end of their call, which meant Talia had most the night to figure out her plan for getting Damian out of his nursery.

In the end, she’d decided on using simple tranquilizer darts.

It was dirty, a completely dishonorable way to fight, but Talia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The very last thing she needed was for one of the nursemaids to notice her break-in and alert the guards.

She’d packed her bag before heading to Damian’s room, so all she had left to do was grab him before Bruce arrived.

Sneaking into his room was painfully easy, and she only had to sedate one nursemaid, who had already been asleep, anyway.

Honestly. It couldn’t have been easier, and it was putting Talia on edge.

Damian stirred, when she lifted him from the crib, so Talia shoved the pacifier into his mouth she knew he’d been deprived of for eight months at that point.

He’d taken to sucking his thumb, in its stead, and Talia had always hated that about her father’s rules.

Why was it so difficult to indulge her son in one simple comfort.

The pacifier worked like a charm, and Damian latched onto it with one hand as he sucked away, curling into Talia’s hold as she wrapped the cloth around them both, creating a make-shift carrier.

Out of everything, the hardest part was getting him tied to her securely. Because with the pacifier, he was as quiet as a lamb, not making a single peep of protest. She wasn’t even sure if he’d woken enough to see who had been holding him.

After the day he’d had, Talia was grateful he could still find peace in his sleep.

Climbing up to the roofs was a little more difficult. Damian did whine, a little, when she had to press herself up against the wall of the third floor, to hide from a patrolling guard below.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, begging every deity she could think of to keep Damian silent as the guard paused and looked around. After adjusting her grip, so she could hold them both with one hand, she placed her newly free hand on his head and tried to soothe him.

Damian shifted against her, even though he was pinned rather tightly between her and the wall, then stilled. His little pacifier bobbing in and out as he grasped tightly to her blouse.

The guard looked around, up and down the narrow courtyard below where she was climbing, but after a long minute, turned around and continued on with his patrol.

Talia didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief.

With three more moves, Talia reached the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, without scraping Damian against the edge. He didn’t notice in his sleep.

Soon, he’d be able to pass all his nights in such peace.

His days, too.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bruce would offer them the sanctuary they needed, to allow Damian to grow up without fears.

But, if he didn’t, she’d find it anyway.

This child. Her child, would never know the pain he’d experienced that day again.

As silently as she’d been trained, Talia raced across the rooftops to the pickup location. Bruce was promised to be there in two minutes, and she needed to be three buildings over.

“Shh,” she whispered, hugging Damian tightly as she ran. The movement was, apparently, disrupting his sleep, and he’d started to stir, “sleep, my prince.”

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling against her.

“Yes,” she choked, preparing to make the last jump to the roof where Bruce was to meet them, “Mama is here, baby.”

She’d given Bruce the coordinates of the highest roof in the complex, in hopes that he could simply swoop in and grab them, not needing to stop or interact with anyone.

He was bringing his team, though. He was bringing Superman.

Talia had never had any sort of admiration for the alien. His technique was abysmal, tending to toss around his unearthly strength, rather than exhibit any skill during his fights.

But knowing that, if it came down to it, she could likely just shout ‘Superman,’ and in an instant he’d be there, ready and able to take Damian to safety… It helped keep her calm.

Father would not be expecting the help of a Kryptonian. Bruce had never been one to ask for help, so it was unlikely Father would have his kryptonite within reach.

The final jump was a little longer than comfortable, and Talia had to land in a roll to avoid injuring herself or falling off completely. She rolled on her back, using her arms to keep Damian from making contact with the roof at all.

Her heart was hammering when she finished the roll on her feet. She had thirty more yards to go, and she’d been at the exact coordinates she’d given Bruce.

Thirty more yards, and one more minute.

Talia shook, as she stood in the exact spot. Damian was fully awake now, and wriggling against the cloth wrapped around him.

“Be still, my dear,” she whispered, hugging him a little tighter as she searched the night sky for any sign of their rescue, “Just a few more moments.”

“Out,” Damian cried, not quite at a normal level, but much louder than Talia felt comfortable with, as he started struggling against her arms, “Down.”

“In a moment,” she whispered desperately. Her arms felt like rubber, as the adrenaline that had kept her running started to ebb.

It was a minute past pickup, and Batman was no where in sight.

If he didn’t show…

Damian whined out again, this time loudly.

“Be patient, my love,” she whispered, now fighting back tears, “Your father is coming for us.”

He had to be.

“Mama,” Damian cried, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth completely to whine at her more efficiently.

She looked around frantically, making sure no guards were near enough to have heard him.

When she didn’t see anyone coming at them, she bounced Damian some and tried to force the pacifier back into his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated, over and over, really unsure, at this point, if it was for Damian or herself.

Because if Bruce weren’t coming, was any of his team?

Was she just standing on a roof, risking the life of her son for nothing?

Father would not take lightly an attempted defection.

What would he do to Damian?

Probably take him away from her forever. She’d never see him again. Never know the pain he was in. Never be able to hold him, after a hard day, and comfort him. Remind him of her love.

She’d lose him forever, and-

Talia’s knees nearly buckled when, without warning, a jet materialized out of nowhere not ten feet above her.

His technology was amazing. She hadn’t even felt it coming, much less heard it.

And before she even realized it, tears were streaming down her face.

A hatch opened, right on the underside of the jet, and Batman himself leaned out, reaching a hand down to her.

“Talia,” he breathed, shaking his hand, as if desperately begging her to grab it.

She’d never accepted an offered hand so fast in her life.

As he pulled her up into the jet, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were nothing, Talia felt herself relax. All the adrenaline leave her body entirely as she collapsed right onto the ground of Bruce’s jet.

She didn’t even care who all was there to see.

Because for the first time in her life, Talia felt like she could breathe.

- - -

She hadn’t been lying.

That was the only thing circling through Bruce’s head as he pulled Talia up into the jet, them stopping barely long enough for him to do that before Dick was turning around and racing away.

As far as they could tell, they hadn’t been spotted until they turned off the craft’s cloaking system.

If all went to plan, the League would not be able to respond quickly enough to catch them. Nightwing was supposed to take them on an indirect route back to Gotham, completely in stealth mode.

Ra’s al Ghul could search the skies all night and never find them.

He hoped.

But all that was for Nightwing to worry about. That had been the plan. If Talia was telling the truth, he’d agreed, Bruce could focus on that, while Dick handled keeping them hidden and taking them to safety. Jason could give him backup, if necessary.

Bruce trusted Dick with his life.

And he was so thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much beyond what he was currently doing.

Which was watching as Talia collapsed onto the floor, clumsily freeing a baby from a carrier as she cried into his hair.

“Tal-“ he started, reaching an hand out to her, really unsure about what he was going to do. But he froze, when the baby squirmed and twisted out of the cloth holding him.

Because Talia was right.

He was beautiful.

His bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Bruce felt his heart seize as the baby looked at him, ever so briefly.

It wasn’t until that very instant did Bruce realize his life had been incomplete.

There had been a piece of him missing, and he hadn’t even realized it.

The baby turned back to his mother and said, “Mama,” reaching up for her face.

“Yes,” Talia sobbed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek, before she wrapped him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tight, “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce watched helplessly as Talia devolved further and further into incoherence, as she whispered her apologies and proclaimed her love for the very confused looking baby in her arms.

The baby didn’t protest, though. He leaned into her hug and stayed there, like he understood his mother needed a hug back.

How old was he?

If he’d been born on time, by Bruce’s estimations, he’d be about…

Seventeen months old?

Eighteen?

He didn’t know much about baby development, but he did know that it was during the first year they turned from basically babies to tiny, outspoken little people.

How developed was his son? How much had Bruce missed?

Bruce knelt down in front of Talia and sat there, waiting for her to recover.

What she had been through, he had no idea.

It had to have been a lot, for her to reach out and actually ask for help.

She was stubborn, like that. Never asking for help. Never even expecting it.

And her reaction to being pulled into safety, well.

He was afraid to learn what she’d been through.

Jason caught his eye, lingering just on the outskirts of his vision. He looked up and tried to offer a reassuring face, but probably fell flat, because Jason frowned at him. But Jason held a thumbs up at him, both letting him know they’d flown into the clear and Superman had been informed of the successful mission, and asking if Bruce was good.

With a single nod, Bruce thanked him, and turned his attention back to Talia.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him, now, but still hugging the baby tightly to her.

“What happened?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the baby.

Touch his son.

Bruce had never been one to want to hold babies, usually perfectly content to just observe them, but his arms yearned for the weight of this baby in his arms.

He didn’t even know his name.

“Father,” she said, her voice almost squeaking with the effort.

Bruce hadn’t seen her in two years, and he still wanted to pull her to his side.

Never had he seen her like this.

But he kept his distance. Let her recover on her own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, in that moment.

At all.

“Father,” she said again, this time much more confidently, one hand absently combing through the baby’s hair.

The beautiful baby who had twisted in her hold, just enough, to stare at him.

“Started his training.” There was so much pain in her voice, Bruce could only imagine what kind of horrors that meant.

Who trained a baby?

“Bruce,” she choked out, squeezing the baby again, “it was so bad. I- I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything else. He would have harmed him more. Or taken him from me.”

“What happened,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

Any anger he had about whatever ‘training’ implied was being pushed down. Buried deep into the recesses of his brain.

No one needed his anger right now.

When the baby continued to stare at him, Bruce realized he still had his cowl on.

What kind of introduction was this? Being presented to his son as Batman, first.

Hopefully he hadn’t scared the kid too much to want to be held.

Talia started crying again, and shifted so she was sitting criss-cross, the baby still cradled in her arms as she blubbered out, “They hit him so many times, Bruce. I’m so sorry,” and before Bruce could even respond. Could even think of how to respond, she turned her face down to the baby and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll never let- I’ll never-”

But she didn’t complete the sentence, because she’d lost it again, and the baby… Damian?

Damian.

That was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

Damian looked very confused and concerned for his mother’s mood.

“He’s safe now,” Bruce tried, scooting over to her side to set a hand on her back, “He’s safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, curling further onto Damian.

“Mama,” Damian said again, this time pointing at Bruce when Talia opened her eyes and gave him her attention.

“Yes,” she said, smiling for the first time as she wiped her tears away, “Yes, dear. This is-“ she paused, looking up at Bruce, then said again, “This is Daddy.”

Bruce could cry.

He was not going to cry.

“Do you want to hold him?” Talia asked, apparently seeing the intense desire plastered all over his face.

All Bruce wanted to do was hold him. There was nothing on earth he wanted more.

“May I?” he asked, almost afraid to even try.

What if Damian didn’t like him?

What if he started crying, when Bruce took him?

“He’s your son, Bruce,” Talia said, lifting Damian from her lap and offering him over.

After hesitating for only a second, Bruce reached out and held his hands out to Damian, who looked at him appraisingly, like he were judging Bruce and determining if he was worth his attention.

But then, before Bruce could even hold his breath, Damian leaned toward him, and Bruce could definitely cry.

Because then Damian was in his arms, looking straight into his eyes as he let Bruce hold him close.

And-

And.

Bruce had no thoughts.

“Hi, Damian,” he choked out, trying his hardest not to cry, “I’m- I’m your-“ but he couldn’t get the word out.

Couldn’t get anything else out.

Damian didn’t seem to care, because he smiled at Bruce and said, “Hi,” back.

And Bruce was definitely crying, now.

Just a little.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because he had the son he thought he’d lost two years ago cradled in his arms, and nothing could ruin the moment.

- - -

Jason was thankful that the jet was large enough he didn’t have to hear Bruce talking to his new baby son.

He honestly had no idea how to feel about all of this.

Bruce had apparently done it with the daughter of one of their most dangerous villains, and he was now probably definitely crying tears of joy while he held the son of said villainous daughter.

But Jason wasn’t jealous.

How could he be?

The baby was just a baby. It’s not like the posed any sort of threat to Jason.

Except.

By… stealing away Bruce’s attention.

Jason was not being jealous of a baby. The baby deserved his dad’s attention. Especially since he had a dad as great as Bruce. Jason would know. He’d been playing the role of dad for him for a year.

Now, though… now he had a real son.

He was not jealous.

“Stop worrying,” Dick said, from where he was flying the jet, sitting in the seat next to Jason.

Jason had taken the spot of co-pilot just because it was the farthest away from Bruce he could be. He wasn’t really helping Nightwing fly.

Mostly because Nightwing didn’t need help flying. He actually had the auto-pilot engaged.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, laughing a little as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re freaking out.”

Crossing his arms, Jason tried his best to look completely and totally unaffected by everything ever as he said, “Am not.”

Apparently he was unconvincing, because Dick gave him a shit eating grin and ruffled his hair.

Like the asshole he was.

“You’re right. You’re the epitome of calm and collected.”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. Dick should mind his own fucking business.

They still weren’t, like, friends or anything, either. Dick had been clear about how happy he was Jason existed. Sure, they’d kind of made up some in recent months. And Dick even offered his blessing for Jason to be Robin, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

Apparently Dick didn’t agree, because he kept being an asshole and talking to him by saying, “Look, this isn’t going to change anything between you and Bruce, okay?”

Through a pout, Jason mumbled, “How would you know?” Bruce getting a son was going to change everything.

“Because this happened to me, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Just because Bruce adopted him didn’t mean Dick knew what it was like to have his adopted dad get a biological child and not need him anymore. If anything, Dick should be freaking out, too, because they were both the adopted kids and the baby was the real son.

Except Dick didn’t live with them, so he wasn’t at risk of being homeless again if Bruce kicked him out. Since, well, Bruce couldn’t kick him out.

Maybe Dick should fuck off and leave him alone.

“Did Bruce adopting you change how he felt about me?” Dick asked, nudging Jason’s arm as he did.

Asshole.

“Fuck you, it’s different,” he snapped. In fact, they all knew Dick was the favorite child between the two of them, so it was completely and totally different.

Maybe Dick should be worrying more. He wasn’t going to be the favorite anymore.

Bruce was so happy about having a biological son he was crying about it.

Bruce had never been that happy about Jason.

“Not really,” Dick said, sighing some, “I thought he was writing me off completely when he adopted you.”

“Bruce never shuts up about you, it’s always ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that’ whenever I do anything, so shut up. But we’re both adopted, and that baby over there ain’t.”

Dick cocked a head at him and then let out a huff of a laugh. “Bruce never even told you. Wow.”

“Told me what?” Jason demanded, crossing his arms harder, because he didn’t want to storm off. Mostly because that would mean facing Bruce with his stupid new baby.

“I knew he was terrible with communication, but geez.”

“What, Dickface, just tell me.”

“Jase,” Dick said, offering a softer smile than before, “I’m not adopted. Bruce never adopted me. He was simply my ‘guardian’ until I aged out of the system. He has no legal obligation to me at all, now.”

“He-“ Jason started, because there was no way that was true.

No. Fucking. Way.

Bruce cared about Dick way too much for that to be true.

And why would Bruce adopt him, but not Dick? That also made no sense.

Dick was the favorite.

“You’re lying. He calls you his son all the time.”

“I know,” Dick said softly, still smiling like an asshole, “Because even if he’s never said it, and probably never will say it, he loves me. Just like he loves you.”

“Shut up,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out anything else to say. Obviously he knew Bruce, like, loved him and shit. But they didn’t have to talk about it.

But… Dick was kind of right about one point. He was adopted.

It’s not like Bruce could go back on that.

So kicked out probably wasn’t on the table.

“I promise, Jason, this isn’t going to change anything between you two. So don’t worry too much.”

Jason was stuck trying to come up with something to respond with that was more witty than 'fuck you' when he was startled by Bruce’s footsteps approaching the cockpit.

If Bruce saw him pouting, there was no doubt he’d be able to read Jason as easily as Dick Fucking Grayson had read him, and that would not be good.

He wasn’t ready for that.

“Jason,” Bruce said, sounding like he was smiling wider than Jason had ever seen him smile.

Except.

Maybe.

On his adoption day. When Bruce hugged him and said ,“Welcome to the family, Jaylad,” with his stupid dopey smile…

And… and…

“Dick,” Bruce continued, now inside the cockpit, with the little baby in his arms, “I want you boys to meet your little brother, Damian.”

And maybe…

Maybe Dick was right.

Jason had nothing to worry about.

He’d always wanted a little brother, too.

#Talia Al Ghul #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batfam #Baby Damian #batfamily #Redemption arc?#sort of #Probably definitely #good mom talia #good dad bruce #Robin #Jason Todd #nightwing #Dick Grayson #cross posted to Ao3 #under the name Second Chance #c writes

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 13

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Still in the custody of SHIELD, Loki hears some troubling news from his brother. He can only hope that there relationship is repaired enough to be allowed to help set things right. Chapter Warnings: pretty dialogue heavy A/N: Not too much happens in this one, but it’s setting up for the grand finale! The last chapter and epilogue will both be posted next week, so keep your eyes peeled. Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)

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“And why in the Nine not?” Loki demanded of his brother, desperate to know why he wouldn’t be set free. “You said you believed me. Even after all this, was it still not true?”

“Of course it is true, but father will not allow it,” Thor explained, unable to mask the hurt in his voice. “He still demands you be brought back to Asgard.”

Loki frowned at that. If Odin had plans for him, he doubted he could weasel out of them. He wondered if you would ever find out what happened to him if he died. Probably not. Put up against the possibility of being made to live out his many years without ever hearing from you again, death seemed like the merciful option. He couldn’t handle any more torture and being kept from you would be the worst he’d gone through yet. Though the thought of you with anyone else, especially Denzel, made Loki’s stomach roil, he would rather that than you be lonely. Hopefully, you could be happy without him, even if he could not without you.

“Loki, I will speak with him. It will be alright, brother,” Thor assured him.

“So when do we leave?” Loki asked, trying to make himself numb to the pain he was feeling. He dared not hope that his brother could set everything right.

“As soon as you are cleared to leave Midgard.”

“May I make a request?”

“With all due respect, Reindeer Games,” Stark added, though the question was most obviously not addressed to him, “I don’t think you’re in the position for that.”

“I will hear you out, Loki,” Thor said, making no comment on Tony’s remark. “I cannot promise anything more than that.”

“I understand,” Loki anxiously agreed. “The family I was staying with, I do not need to see them again, but may I have some news on them before we go? Just to know they are alright?”

“I have already given you my word that no harm will come to them.”

“I am aware, but-”

Loki was cut off by the door swinging open. The young agent made a beeline for Fury, who was standing there observing the scene with his one good eye, making no remarks of his own. The God of Mischief arched an eyebrow as the agent whispered something in the director’s ear before the two walked outside.

“I’m still wondering why you care so much about a random family from Oklahoma,” Tony said. “What were you even doing there in the first place?”

“I must confess, it was not originally my choice. When I used the Tesseract to escape, I told it to take me somewhere safe,” Loki recounted. “I have not the slightest clue as to why it chose there.”

“Well, that explains how you got there, but why’d you stay?”

“I was,” Loki responded, clearing his throat, “persuaded.”

“In what way?” Thor puzzled.

“They did not know who I truly was, so they welcomed me with open arms,” Loki sighed. “I suppose I... I bonded with a few of them.”

“Yeah, they did all give glowing reviews of you,” Tony said.

“Wait. So you have heard from them? How are they? You must tell me. How is... everyone?”

Loki would not yet risk showing he had any particularly special connection with you, lest it put you in any more danger than you were already in. Thor and Tony exchanged a look, though, that said they could tell he wanted to know about a specific member. He hoped you hadn’t had to tell the agents too many details about your relationship. Somehow, it seemed like a mortifying prospect for them to know such a personal thing. Especially his brother. He was not yet ready for another heart to heart.

“They are all fine,” Thor hesitantly said. “Brother, I don’t suppose you bonded with one of them more than the others. Say, as something more than a friend. You can tell me, you know.”

Yup, Loki was right. Absolutely mortifying. Back on Asgard, he and his brother never really talked about relationships. Their own was already too far gone by the time they reached an age where they thought much about it. The trickster god still remembered his first kiss. It was with one of the palace stable boys. He’d even started riding more just to have an excuse to go and see him. Of course, Odin found out and deemed it improper. Loki never did find out exactly what had happened to him, but he remembered wanting to go and talk to Thor about it. Needless to say, he didn’t. But maybe, just maybe, this was an opportunity to make up for that. So, against his better judgement, Loki told Thor of his special connection with you, though not to the full extent out of the desire to still guard his emotions. Unfortunately, that meant Stark heard, too.

“Not a word out of you,” Loki menaced as Tony opened his mouth. Thankfully, he backed off, putting his hands up in surrender. “Thor, please tell me that they are alright. If they were hurt because of me... Well, just tell me how they are.”

“They are a little shaken up, I will admit, but they are ok. Safe. As I have already said, you have my word that they will remain that way.”

Loki choked out his thanks before Fury burst back into the room. That man was so unreadable that Loki couldn’t make out a single damn expression on his face. How he wished he could have that talent to be so guarded again, but once the floodgates were opened the first time, he never could quite get them closed again. Regardless, the raven haired man knew something was up—something bad. It was the same feeling he’d gotten the day prior, and look where he ended up. But he couldn’t be apprehended by SHIELD again, so now it was back to the question of what. But deep down, he knew. He whispered your voice so low that only Thor heard, and the thunder god shot his brother a concerned glance. Before he could say anything, though, Fury spoke.

“I need your asses out here now,” he said, addressing the two Avengers. “It’s urgent.”

“Wait, brother,” Loki called before he could exit. “I feel in my gut that there is something very bad happening to my beloved. You will tell me if that is the case, correct?”

“I do not know if that is wise.” Thor looked like he was thinking very hard, brows furrowed in concentration. The desperate, pleading look written plainly on Loki’s face must have convinced him because he finally relented. “But yes, I will. As soon as I can.”

Loki gave a quick nod of gratitude before Thor left again. Now that he was left alone in the room, there was very little stopping him from descending into a full on panic. If you were in any sort of trouble, it was undoubtedly his fault. He never should have done that to you. Then again, if he hadn’t stayed around you for so long, he would still be being crushed by the weight of loneliness. His heart would still be fractured. Perhaps it would have been better than having you violently ripped away from him, though. He feared this cycle of guilt and hypotheticals would never end.

He wasn’t sure if it was minutes, hours, or only mere seconds that passed before Thor was coming back in, but he was relieved to see him. After all, his thoughts were a very scary thing to be trapped with. Even scarier was the deeply worried expression upon Thor’s face.

“Brother?” Loki asked, though he was more nervous for the answer than he ever imagined possible.

“The Chitauri. They are back.”

“In New York? But you closed the portal, did you not?” A sickeningly horrifying idea occurred to Loki, and he swallowed thickly. “Is it Thanos? Has he returned? If he is here to make good on is threats to me, then I beg you, brother, just turn me over. It will be easiest, safest, for everyone.”

“If you think for one moment that I will allow that, you are further out of your mind than I suspected,” Thor raged. Loki was shocked into silence. Never before had Thor yelled at him like that. Sure, he’d shouted at him, but it was always because he was angry at him, or because he was pinning the blame for something on Loki. Not because he cared about him. Thor calmed himself down a bit before he continued explaining the situation. “The portal is still closed. We just did not actually round up all the ones that had already come through, apparently. And, they are not in New York, either.”

“Then where?”

Thor looked nervously around the room. “It hardly matters, brother. You will not be able to come.”

“Thor, where?” Loki growled.

“Oklahoma City.”

Loki sucked in a sharp breath and went pale as a ghost. There was only one logical explanation as to why they would be there of all places. Him. They must have tracked him somehow and were there to get revenge. But he wasn’t there anymore, thanks to SHIELD. And if they truly were tracking him, they wouldn’t stop at the city. They would keep going until they reached your farm. Until they reached you.

“Let me go. I can stop this.”

“Were you not listening to what I just said? You cannot come.”

“Brother, please,” Loki whispered, “I beg of you, just let me take care of this. What if it was your mortal who was in danger? You would stop at nothing to save her, I know. That is how I feel, except it is not only the one I care so dearly about. Yes, there is my beloved, and I would die a thousand deaths for them, but it is their whole family, too. I would give my life to keep them out of danger.”

“Thor,” Captain Rogers said, appearing in the door. “We have to hurry.”

“I am sorry, brother,” Thor told Loki before turning away. There was some look in his eye that Loki did not get a good enough look at to place, but he was certain he was trying to tell him something with it. Regardless, he turned and left. “I am coming, Captain.”

Helplessly tugging at the chains holding him to the table, Loki began to hyperventilate. He started cursing himself. If only he were a stronger sorcerer, then maybe these chains couldn’t restrain his magic. If only he hadn’t become so bitter and hopeless, then maybe he never would have let go on the Bifröst. If only his will wasn’t so weak, then maybe Thanos never would have gotten him to attack Midgard in the first place.

He gave up the futile struggle as the blinding anxiety slowly faded. Letting his head drop into his hands, Loki allowed himself a few quiet sobs before trying to clear his head. He needed a plan. For so long, he was ten steps ahead of everyone, but now? Now he was about a hundred miles behind, locked in a room, unable to protect you. But, no. He wouldn’t give up. He was going to get out. He only needed to think. Surely there were still some cards to play, right?

“Psst, brother.”

He looked up to see Thor sneaking back into the room. Maybe this was a hallucination. It was quite possible that he’d finally cracked under the never-ending pressure. Because, really, when had the God of Thunder ever done anything like this before? Though, the fact that he was unlocking the cuffs did seem to be in favor of the idea that this was a jail break.

“What are you doing?” Loki hissed, rubbing his now freed wrists, still not entirely trusting this wasn’t a trap.

“Is it not obvious? I’m freeing you.”

“Well, how daring of you, brother. I admit, I did not think you had it in you.”

“Yes, well, I can see how much you truly love your little Midgardian.”

“Nonsense. It is like I said, I am concerned for all of them. They did, after all, take care of me.”

“Oh, yes. I am sure that is it.”

Loki just rolled his eyes and made his way over to the exit. Almost every instinct in him was screaming to just teleport away from the scene, get to you as fast he could. The thing stopping him was that for once in a very long time, Thor wasn’t dismissing him. In fact, he was trusting him. He couldn’t just turn his back and betray that now, not if he had any hope of getting their brotherly bond back.

Banner was standing right outside the door as Loki opened it, making him jump a little. Before he could whip out a weapon, though, Thor was reassuring Loki that he was just standing guard during the break out. It was quite the strategic move, Loki thought, to have the one Avenger who could really do damage to him be right outside the door. Perhaps he wasn’t giving his brother enough credit. Or perhaps there were just others involved in this scheme.

Sure enough, after dodging a number of agents, the rest of Thor’s friends were waiting in the Quinjet. The tension in the air was palpable as they stood there in silence, sizing each other up. It was obvious Thor wanted to say something to get them all amicably chatting, but knew whatever he was going to say would probably just make things worse. Though the very idea made him gag, Loki knew what he must do if he wanted to reach you in time.

“I apologize,” he said, trying to make it sound completely sincere. “I know that I have hurt some of you—all of you—in some way. I cannot erase the past, but I am trying to do the right thing now. I was not in my right mind the first time we met. Let me prove that now.”

The Avengers all made eye contact with each other, communicating without words. It was agony waiting for their approval, both because he was anxious just to get to you, and it was sickening to have to be judged by them in such a way. Knowing that it was his only opportunity of helping you without complications, however, he waited with bated breath for their reply.

“Ok,” Romanoff finally spoke up. “We forgive you. For now, anyway. Right now, we have to get to Oklahoma.”

“Yes. Please, let us be on our way now,” Loki urged.

And that’s how the God of Mischief ended up flying around with the Avengers. At least he wasn’t chained up like the last time. It was, though, perhaps the most tense situation he’d ever been in. But it didn’t matter, not now. No, now he was on his way, and there was only one thing in his mind, repeating over and over like that one song lyric you can’t get of your head.

He was going to save you.

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unsteadygalaxy · 3 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 11

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

previous | next

11. one day life will be kind

Mother is soft.

They don’t know a lot of things, but they know that much. Mother is soft as she cradles them in her arms. She’s singing something sweet and soothing, and it distracts them from their tears. Why are they crying again? They don’t remember.

They look up at her with wide, shining eyes, and watch her mouth as it moves. Her braids fall over her shoulders, and their fingers grasp at them, pulling lightly. She laughs and tugs their wandering hands away, kissing their little palm.

“I love you, little one. Keep your curious heart with you always. It will serve you well.”

They’re too little to understand what she’s saying, of course, but the tenderness of her tone makes them smile and laugh. Mother is so kind and warm. And soft.

------

Father is soft. Mostly.

He tosses them gleefully in the air, and they just giggle. He catches them, of course, like he always does. Their mother looks on, caught between amusement and worry, and she cautions Johann not to drop them.

“I won’t!” he replies, smiling at her. “Brigida, my love. You worry too much.” He looks at them. “Your mother means well, little one. She just wants to protect you.”

They know their parents love them. They know they’ll always be there to protect them.

Until, of course, they aren’t.

------

Artur is not soft.

His hands are rough and scarred and cracked from how dry the air is, and they pass uncomfortably against their knee as he bandages their bleeding wound. They wish Mother was here. Her hands were always soft, made so by the lotion she spread between her palms each morning. But Mother is gone now. She’s resting under the ground, like Amma and Afi. And Father.

“Okay,” Artur says gruffly. “No more bleeding. Better now?”

They nod, their tears smearing across their arm as they wipe their eyes.

“Good. Be strong, young one. Save your tears.”

He stands up and pats their head, leaving them alone on the porch. The pain in their knee stings, but it soon subsides to a dull ache. They run across the meadow to lay in the grass, running their fingers through the long green blades. The grass is cool and soothing. And soft.

------

Sigrid is only soft when she’s not teaching them how to throw an axe.

“Again!” she commands, but there’s a glint of fierce pride in her eyes. They run to the target and pick up the axe from where it had fallen and scurry back to the mark.

“Feel the weight of it in your hand, young one. Balance it, and breathe deep…”

They follow her instructions carefully, aiming for the center of the target. They suck air into their lungs, raise the axe, and throw as hard as they can, a small grunt leaving their chest.

The axe embeds itself into the target, just barely off center.

Sigrid smiles. The lines around her eyes soften.

------

Some of the villagers are soft, afterwards. And some are not.

They know it’s not their fault. Their brain knows it, but their heart can’t keep up. After all, they had failed to obey Artur in the first place, and he was dead because of that.

He was dead because of them. And the villagers knew it.

“Take responsibility for your actions,” one of them says, seething at them. “You will forever be in the Gods’ debt.”

Bloodhound had watched Artur’s funeral ship disappear over the lake. They had watched as something in Sigrid’s heart died when she looked out over the horizon.

And years later, they watched as their aunt, too, dissolved into the water.

There weren’t many of them left after that.

------

Boone is soft.

He often tells Bloodhound of his dreams to leave the village, to leave Talos, to become a doctor or a nurse somewhere he could properly flourish. These confessions are whispered between feverish kisses and gentle caresses in the dark- always in the dark; it’s easier that way- and Bloodhound wants to go with him.

“There are so many opportunities out there, Hound!” he gushes to them, lying bare next to them under the thick furs, his blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. “We could save people. We could help them.” He is quiet for a moment. “We could learn things that would have saved Artur.”

Bloodhound is silent every time he says that. He mentions it many times. To Boone, the IMC is that opportunity for something more. Bloodhound cannot forgive, nor can they forget that the IMC’s arrogance buried their parents under the ice.

But Boone can.

Boone turns nineteen and leaves the village, his beautiful eyes full of pain and anger.

Days later, Bloodhound also turns nineteen. They walk through the forest one last time, giving the old facility a wide berth, and no one from the village sees them for years.

------

Bloodhound very quickly finds that the universe is like a jötunn.

They’re nineteen and a half years old and sleeping on the streets.

The city is too loud. It hurts their ears and rumbles constantly and plucks at their mask with its curious eyes, demanding everything. They are not careful enough. It takes from them without mercy, shreds every bit of dignity from them without restraint, rips open their chest without any care in the world who they are or who they have been.

In a way, they’re grateful for the anonymity. They’re grateful for the trial. Every night, they offer up their pleas to the Gods to guide them and help them choose the right path. But the Allfather is no longer listening. He abandoned them the moment they left Talos.

They think they deserve it. Just a little. (Or a lot.)

Sometimes, people offer them a place to stay. They decline. They are used to huddling under doorsteps, crouching beneath benches, sleeping underneath the canopy of trees in the park.

They miss the forest. They miss the village.

They miss Mother.

------

They are twenty and they think everything might be okay.

Ophelia smiles at them wearily, sliding them a large stack of plates to be cleaned. “Careful with these!” she always cautions. “These are the only plates this whole place has got.” Wisps of her red hair poke out from under her hairnet, and she reminds Bloodhound of Sigrid. Their heart aches in their chest.

Their hands and forearms throb from washing pots and pans all day, but they scrub each dish carefully, stacking them next to the sink. When they are done, they sigh, remove the rubber gloves, and lean against the counter. They and Ophelia talk about everything and nothing, exchanging stories and jokes as they clean up for the night.

But Bloodhound slips on a puddle of water and crashes into the counter, sending the stack of freshly cleaned plates tumbling into the ground. The glass shatters into millions of tiny pieces, littering the floor with a minefield of shards, and George fires them on the spot.

George is not soft. Not in the slightest. But Bloodhound can’t even blame him.

------

They are twenty and a half and their whole body aches.

“No,” they choke, clutching their chest, pressing the respirator into their face. They’re barely keeping themself off the ground, having been brought to their knees by the burning in their lungs. “No more. Please. I cannot.”

“You think that because your lungs are broken that you cannot master the blade?” Huizhen barks, pointing one of the dao swords directly in their face. “You are wrong, young one, as you often are. It is not your lungs that limit you.”

Bloodhound wants to scream, to yell, to rage against his expectations, but this language is firm and unyielding, and their tongue cannot form the words.

Huizhen sighs and offers them a hand. At least he is soft, sometimes.

------

They are twenty-two and Kwan’s knee presses uncomfortably into their chest.

“Please,” they gasp, trying to wrench her off of them, feeling the impact of her blows all across their body. “I am done, please, get off-”

“No, you are not done,” she says sternly, the line of her mouth thin and severe. Bloodhound struggles against her grip, their hands scrabbling against her knee. “You are not done until your Gods will it. Do you wish to betray your Gods, child?”

“No, never-”

“Good.” She lifts her knee and stands, leaving them gasping on the ground, massaging their ribs in anguish. “Honor them. Beg for their forgiveness and bring them glory. You are capable of so much more than this.”

Kwan’s eyes are hard, critical, pitying. She shakes her head at them and walks away.

------

They are twenty-five and they want nothing more than to go back home to Talos.

A fist connects with their chest, and their breath exits their lungs in a thorough whoosh. The impact knocks them back a little, and they stumble over their own feet, trying to stay upright. Another fist comes flying at their face, and they dodge it just barely. Bloodhound ducks and jabs their fist up into the man’s stomach, but he barely even flinches. He sends a fist into their gut, and another into their jaw, and they fly backwards, hitting the ground hard.

They feel the mask break around their face, and they panic, trying to press the pieces back together. But their hands are shaking and their breathing won’t settle, and their lungs burn horribly with exertion and shame. The mask falls fully to the ground, and a thousand pairs of eyes bore holes into their face.

“A face only a mother could love, that is!” a spectator jeers, as someone plops a wad of bills into his outstretched hand.

“Poor ugly bastard, no one would want a face like that,” another laughs, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper into the ring. The crowd begins to laugh and boo and jeer, and Bloodhound’s heart dissolves in a roaring maw of acid.

Their opponent looms above them, and they can’t do anything but stare up at him in terror. His eyes glint with a triumphant spark, and nothing about him is soft at all.

------

They are twenty-six and their money has run out.

They lurk in the shadows, waiting for some unsuspecting poor soul to wander out of the bar. A man stumbles out the door, leaning against the frame for a moment before he promptly throws up into the trash can.

Bloodhound seizes their chance.

“Are you all right?” they ask as they approach him, trying to make their tone friendly so he’s not alarmed by the mask. It doesn’t work.

“Who’re you?” he slurs, trying to pull away from their outstretched hands.

“Do not worry. I am just going to call you a cab,” they soothe, grabbing him to hold him upright. He immediately goes slack in their arms, and Bloodhound swiftly searches his pockets for his wallet or billfold. They locate it with ease and pocket it, and they’re left feeling a strange sense of longing.

They haven’t touched another person like this in years. Never mind that it’s not romantic. Never mind that it’s not even platonic. The pressure of this man’s body against theirs satisfies a deep ache they have been harbouring for an eternity, and they have to force themself to instantly let go of him. He stumbles blearily and collapses against the wall of the bar, groaning.

They walk away, the man’s wallet burning a hole in their pocket.

------

They are twenty-eight and what they’re doing feels so, so wrong.

“Just hold still,” she murmurs, her soft, well-manicured hands moving down their chest and stomach to undo the belt around their waist. Bloodhound tries to relax, tries to press their head back down into the pillows and let Keres do her work. She’s beautiful, and certainly attractive, and they know that she would treat them well, but this feels so foreign, so alien. They… they don’t deserve this. Not after… everything. Panic and fear seize their chest, and flashes of memory flit across their eyes- Boone’s beautiful blue eyes locked on theirs as he moved in to kiss them; his hands on their body as they moved together; his heartbeat in their ear as they relaxed in his arms, breathing heavily-

Her fingers make quick work of their belt, button, and zipper, and she’s eagerly teasing the pants off their legs when they cry out, “Stop!”

Keres’ lust-filled eyes wander up to theirs, and she looks irritated. Cross. “What is it?” Her voice holds no softness, only a hard frustration that Bloodhound flinches against.

“Please, just stop,” they beg, pulling their pants back up in a hurry. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.” They nearly kick Keres in the face in their rush, and she dodges, scoffing.

“Fine,” she spits, sitting up straight and pushing all her gorgeous brown hair over one shoulder. “I bet you couldn’t handle me anyway.”

Bloodhound scrambles off the bed, grabs their bag, and is out the door before she can insult them any further. The moment they had refused, she had been so biting, so annoyed. Bloodhound does not think they would have enjoyed it like she thought they would.

But she could have been soft.

------

They are thirty-five and tired. So tired.

They slide the card back across the table, fold their arms across their chest, and shake their head. “I have no need of your petty squabbles for fame and glory,” they say, their tone flat and emotionless. “I have my own path to follow, and I do not wish to disrupt it.”

Blisk shrugs. “Up to you. You know where to find me.” He pushes his chair back and stands, and then begins to walk away. But he stops, seeming to remember something, and turns. “You know, that accent of yours sounds a little familiar. Met a doctor a couple years back that sounded just like you. Wouldn’t happen to be from Talos, would you?”

Bloodhound stiffens. “No.”

“Shame.” He shrugs again, and yawns. “Knew some scientists that were there when the meltdown happened. Nasty stuff. Wonder if they might know anything about the team that died?”

Their blood turns to ice.

They pick up the card and pocket it. “Count me in.”

Blisk smiles. There is no softness there. “That’s what I thought.”

------

They are thirty-eight and their senses are muddled and crossed.

Bloodhound can just barely make out a couple of voices fighting, but they’re much too tired to try and figure out who they are.

“Hey, look, I’m just trying to see if they’re okay-”

“And I am telling you that their medical details are none of your business. Bloodhound’s privacy contract very clearly states that no one aside from myself or Ms. Che is allowed inside their room after matches without their express consent. You will just have to wait, Mr. Witt.”

“...Damn. You’re just as stubborn as they are.” A pause. Then, “Why do you sound just like them?”

Bloodhound’s eyes flutter, then open.

An ache immediately settles into their limbs, concentrating in their skull and neck and radiating outward to their extremities. The light from above the medical bed pierces their eyes and makes them sting, and they turn their head away in discomfort. Their head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Bloodhound groans a little, their hand moving to rub their eyes. Someone has removed their helmet and goggles, but they’re not afraid. They trust their doctor with their life.

The sound of quiet feet greets their ears and they look up, squinting through the bright lights above them. “What happened?” they ask in their native tongue, and their mouth is uncomfortably dry.

“It seems that you lost.” Boone’s voice is tired, annoyed. Bloodhound’s vision clears up, and they watch as Boone scribbles on a clipboard, his blue eyes sparkling under brows furrowed in concentration. His white-blond hair is tied up in a bun, little wisps falling out at his hairline and his nape. A long-forgotten curl of fondness takes place under Bloodhound’s ribs, but they allow it to drain away, knowing they’re just high on pain medication. Their time with him has long since passed.

“And so it does. How long was I asleep?” Their voice feels brittle and drained, and they swallow to bring some moisture back. It’s difficult, but eventually their mouth no longer feels dry and sticky. “And where is Artur?”

“I sent Artur on his way. He’s fine. Not a scratch on him. It’s only been a couple hours since the end of the match.” Boone replies. He finishes writing and clicks his pen. “You’re good to go. Rig did its job. You should only have a headache for a couple hours.” Boone inclines his head toward the door, finally looking at them. “You’ve got a visitor, by the way, and he’s quite insistent upon seeing you. Keeps bothering me every time I leave the room.”

Bloodhound’s eyes wander to the door, and they spot shadows of a pair of feet passing back and forth on the other side of it. They would recognize Elliott’s anxious pacing anywhere. A smile wanders onto their face, and they forget that they do not have their goggles on to help hide their emotions.

Boone scoffs and rolls his eyes, his jaw set. “Really, Hound? Mirage? That’s just pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Bloodhound asks, a hint of defensiveness creeping into their heart.

“Heartthrob of the Outlands, isn’t he? Bet he’s got a new person in his bed every other night.” Boone strides over to the whiteboard on the wall and jots down a few notes.

A strange flash of annoyance strikes Bloodhound’s chest, and their eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know that, Boone. For all you know, he could be completely inexperienced.”

Boone laughs, his face incredulous and doubting. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Houndie. Mirage, a virgin? Even you know that’s a load of shit.”

“Don’t call me Houndie,” they snap, locating their goggles to put them back on. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Oh, fine, Bloodhound,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He hands them their helmet from where it had been lying on a side table, just as they finish stretching their limbs. “Just get your things and get out of here. And if he kisses you, don’t say I told you so.”

Bloodhound’s cheeks burn fiercely, and they’re more than happy to put the helmet back on. “Him? Kiss me? You’re out of your mind, Boone.” They get up from the bed and test their balance, keeping a hand on the sheets. Their head pounds and spins just a little bit, but they breathe deep through the respirator and the spinning soon stops. “Elliott would never bother with a face like this. Besides, who said I was interested?”

“Oh, it’s Elliott now?” Boone smirks. “That familiar with him, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” Bloodhound says, already irritated with him. “Do I get anything for the pain, or must I suffer even more because of your nonsense?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t like taking an entire magazine of R-99 bullets to the head?” he says sarcastically, already starting to change the bedsheets. “Of course I’m helping you out. Top drawer, over there.” He points to the counter in the corner, and Bloodhound goes to retrieve the bottle of pills. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“You know I would never say that,” Bloodhound sighs, rolling their eyes and pocketing the small bottle. Boone was often so sarcastic and assuming- those were qualities that Bloodhound did not like in him. Even after nearly a lifetime of losing each other and finding each other, there were some things that never changed. “Thank you, Boone.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Hound.” Boone nods to them as they walk out into the hall, and Bloodhound inclines their head towards him as they shut the door.

Bloodhound winces as a wave of pain radiates throughout their skull. They can’t wait till they are safely in their apartment so they can take off the mask, down some of the pain pills, and hopefully take a nap. The medical bay is mostly empty now, with only a few doctors and nurses walking through the halls towards their patients. They look around the hallway, and sure enough, Elliott is standing up from his chair, a relieved expression on his face.

“Hey,” he says, a smile breaking through as he walks toward them. “Your doctor finally let you go, huh?”

“Yes, he did,” Bloodhound replies, glancing behind them to make sure they properly closed the door. “I trust him with my life. I hope you can understand his reluctance to allow anyone inside while I am not aware of who is present.”

“Of course,” Elliott replies, nodding. “Hey, why does he sound like you? You guys have really similar ac- accents. Are you siblings or something?”

A funny little jolt electrifies Bloodhound’s veins, and weirdly, they laugh. “No. Boone and I are not siblings, but… we did grow up together.” The casualness with which they drop such a guarded piece of information startles even Bloodhound, and they snap their mouth shut. Thankfully, Elliott has seemed to pick up on when they feel uncomfortable, so he does not push the question further, even though Bloodhound can tell he wants to.

“Are you okay?” He fidgets with his fingers a little, and Bloodhound notices that he has not yet gone home to shower- his hands are caked in dirt and blood. He still smells like sweat and gunpowder, but Bloodhound can just barely make out the scent of his cologne beneath it all. They blush.

“I am fine, Elliott. Why are you still here?” they ask, a little harsher than intended. They find themself wishing they could take off the mask so he could see the smile that they force onto their face so he knows they’re not mad.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replies, shrugging. “Can’t a man check on his friend?” He raises an eyebrow, and Bloodhound can sense the playfulness in his tone.

“You are right,” they admit, bowing their head a little. “Thank you. You are very kind.” They stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to leave or stay, but Elliott begins to walk to the exit, and Bloodhound follows him without a second thought. “Congratulations on your win today, félagi. It was much deserved, and I am proud of your improvement.”

Elliott laughs and ruffles his own hair, and the way it sticks up makes a curious little feeling rest under Bloodhound’s ribs. “Hey, thanks! I’d say sorry for landing you in the hospital, but it’s just an uc- up- occupational hazard at this point.” He shrugs. “Least I could do is make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be fine,” they assure him. “I have a headache, but it will soon subside.” Bloodhound rolls their neck as they walk, sighing. They suddenly remember the way they had run out on Elliott the night before, and shame floods their stomach, twisting it painfully.

“I am sorry for leaving so abruptly last night,” they murmur, their own fingers beginning to fidget with the bits of fabric on their coat. “I… I was overcome by an unpleasant memory, and I did not want to disturb you with my emotions.” The apology does not feel sufficient enough. Elliott has been so patient with them, so kind and supportive, and they’ve done nothing but hide from him. They want… they want to open up to him. Would that be safe? Would it be smart? They don’t know, but the burden of keeping everything to themself is beginning to weigh on them, and they hope that Elliott can withstand the enormity of their secrets.

Elliott shakes his head. “I was really worried about you.” His voice is low and warm, and it feels like an embrace of warmth. His arm twitches, and it almost feels like he wants to grab their hand. But he thinks better of it, and instead goes back to fidgeting with his fingers. “It means a lot, what you told me. I know that must have been hard.”

Bloodhound’s heart fills with a hope they haven’t felt in years, and if they weren’t still in the hospital, they would have pulled him into their arms right then and there. The urge is so unlike them, so uncharacteristic of their usual persona that they wonder just how much the pain medication is affecting them. They settle their emotions and touch his arm briefly. “Thank you, vinur minn. I am blessed by your willingness to listen.”

An idea comes to their head, and if they had thought of it a couple weeks ago, they would have immediately rejected it. But things could change so quickly, and they had. Elliott is a testament to that. So they open their mouth and ask, “Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening? After we have both sufficiently washed, of course.” Their cheeks burn spectacularly at the implication, but he cannot see it, and for that, they are grateful. “I owe you a great many explanations.”

Elliott looks like he’s just been hit with a frag grenade. He stares at them blankly for a few agonizing moments, and Bloodhound thinks they have overstepped their bounds, but he begins to babble. “I- are you sure? I mean, yeah, absolutely! That would be great!” The grin that splits his face makes their heart leap spectacularly in their chest. “I would love to. You definitely owe me, H- I mean, Bloodhound.” His cheeks blaze, and it’s so endearing to Bloodhound that they smile at him stupidly underneath the mask.

“It is settled, then,” they announce, just as the pair of them reach the exit. “You are welcome to arrive any time after eight. That should give us both plenty of time to wash up and eat dinner.”

Elliott nods vigorously, smiling like a schoolboy. “It’s a date! I-I mean-” His face drains of color and he shakes his head. “It’s a, uh, it’s a m-meeting, or whatever you want it to be. I mean, it could be a date if you wanted but I, uh, I mean, that would be fine, I… guess?” The poor man looks like he wants to melt into the floor, and Bloodhound’s heart pounds in their chest as they chuckle.

Bloodhound is enchanted by his eagerness, by his willingness to be with them, and they hope they are not making more out of this than it is. “I will see you then, Elliott,” they say, touching his arm once more. They give him one last lingering look before they walk out the door and into the crisp Solace air.

#apex legends #miragehound #apex #bloodhound #mirage #bloodhound apex #bloodhound apex legends #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #elliott witt #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #miragehound fanfiction #my writing

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itbe-jess · 3 years

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Masklophobia: Chapter 7

October 18th, 1992. Just one day after the Tam Studios massacre took place. There still remain some footage.

All the corpses were cut into pieces, and they crammed those pieces into every fridge in the studio. The ones that couldn't fit were cooked well done. Nobody alive in the studio but the Paradise Critters, and King Karl himself. He was the only human alive. Just like in the show. Since that feast yesterday, all the Critters did after that was sleep off their meals. They did that again after dinner. And after that day, they passed out during breakfast as well. They seem to sleep long as cats.

All Karl did was play around the studio. He never did eat one bite of anything. Don't know why. The man seems to be pulling strong without food. Every often, he would go over to the security room, possibly to check if there's any survivors hiding in the studio. Then, that day, some uninvited guests dropped by at Tam. Some tough looking guys with black uniforms, guns, and vests burst in through the front entrance. It was the police squad. Even though all the phones and electronics were destroyed, one crew member managed to contact the authorities on their final living hours. Better late than never.

There was nobody in sight. The squad hollered for the perpetrator to come out. With the blood stains visible, that was proof that a murder did take place in the studio. Suddenly, the door slammed shut. One of the officers attempted to open the door, by violently yanking the handle. Other officers joined in, hoping a little more strength will force the door open. Suddenly, they stopped as a disturbance carried through the studios. The ambience of children's music.

🎵Heyyyyyyyyy!

Wouldn't you like to go far away?

To a wonderful place, you say?

Where all your friends are here everyday!

Karl's Paradise is where to stay!🎵

The squad decided to worry about the door problem later, and went their seperate ways to find the homicide. Clutching their guns, they prepared themselves for whatever was awaiting them. When the survivor called the police, they didn't have time to mention how many were there, or what the homicides looked like.

The first cop entered the central appartatus room, where a sleepy Junior was taking a nap against the racks, with a ball besides him. Pointing his gun, the cop gave the mammoth a rude awakening. Junior opened his eyes, and began to pick himself up. He also picked up his ball. The cop demanded the Critter to take off his mask and put his hands up. Junior bounced his ball, not feeling intimidated by the officer. The cop continued to yell as the mammoth gave a sly look in his eyes.

Catching the man off guard, he quickly threw the ball at his face, then rammed him down to the floor. After that, Junior stepped on top of the cop's gut, and merrily hopped on him. He was as heavy as three full grown men put together. The choking cop tried shooting at the Critter, but the bullets didn't effect him a bit. For that, Junior then started to hop all over him, putting in his full weight, and practically crushing the man beneath him.

A pair of two came into the sound station, looking around carefully with ease, then pressed back to back in case somebody was with them. All of a sudden, LabRat, who was in the recording booth, stood up and waved to the cops. As both spotted the oversized rodent, they held their guns up, and demanded him to step out. LabRat taunted the officers, by communicating in body language that he wanted them to come in the booth.

With caution, they took their weapons, and entered the booth. Both stood at a different side of LabRat. Feeling surrounded, or at least that's what he wanted them to think, the rat put his hands on his head. Just as they were about to slip on the cuffs, LabRat grasped them by the necks, bringing them into a choking hold. But choking them wasn't his procedure to finishing them off. He gave the boys a lift, and impaled their heads into the hanging microphones. Then, he decided to do something for fun. He exited the booth, closed the door, turned on the panel mic, set the volume up high, and screamed until both of their heads exploded.

The fourth cop decided to check both of the restrooms. First he went into the men's room. It took about three minutes. Nothing much goes on in that footage. All you can hear were the cop's shouting, and the stall doors slamming open. When he came out, he planned to check the ladies' room next, while joking that he may face "a killer with tits." Just as he pushed the door open, Fins' head stuck out, and she took half of the man into her mouth. Then she violently jerked off his torso, like a rabid dog.

At the crew lounge, Yum-Yum was just making herself comfortable, watching TV with a glass of orange juice. The fifth cop barged in, aiming her gun towards Yum-Yum. The annoyed bear casually placed her juice down, and stood. Before asking her to put her hands up, the cop ordered her to "take off that damn mask first." Yum-Yum hesitated for a moment, before deciding to give the officer what she asked for. The bear firmly grabbed hold of her own head, while sinking her claws in, then hauled upwards.

She hauled with all her might, and pulled the head from her neck. Blood oozed, and the meaty particles split. When the head was fully off, she dropped it at her feet. The vertebrae was still attached. The disturbed and traumatized cop slowly approached the "mask" to examine it better. When she saw there were only muscles and tissues instead of a human head inside, her heart raced. Yum-Yum seized the opportunity by grabbing the cop, and enclosed her in her arms. As soon as Yum-Yum regained her sight, from her new head growing in, she morbidly tore the cop in half with her "bear" hands.

The sixth cop walked into the Director's office, where he found Van Goose taking a nap on the couch. Unlike the other cops, instead of rudely awakening the Critter, the officer decided to pull off the mask while she were asleep. He gave a few gentle tugs, but he had no luck. He put his gun away, and decided to use both hands. The cop pulled a little harder, but the mask still wouldn't come off. He tugged harder and harder, then eventually went into a struggle, but he still couldn't get the mask off.

You know what happened next? Van Goose woke up. Letting out an angry snarl, she threw the cop over her shoulder, and into the wall with a hard bump. She then picked up the cop, and scrapped his head against the wall like a crayon. She drew herself a simple little self-portrait, but was careful not to use up most of the body.

The seventh cop was patrolling the second floor, cautiously checking in all directions. When suddenly, he began to hear clattering sounds in the air ventilation. He stood in one place, and waited for whatever the hell was crawling around to come out. The vent cover hit the floor, and the cop turned his head to the sound. Mama Longlegs popped out of the vent, from the waist up, and let out a shriek. Startled, he shot her five times, then LongLegs plopped down dead like a rag doll.

Thinking he had killed her, he kneeled down to see if he could remove the mask. He shouldn't have gotten close, because then Mama LongLegs snapped out of playing dead, and bit the man on the cheek. When the cop tried to pull away, she flayed the skin off of the man's face using her teeth. The cop wanted to shoot her again, but she grabbed him by the arm, and ripped it from its socket. The cop, still alive, collapsed while moaning in pain. Mama LongLegs' crawled over to the man on eights, then helped herself to a raw snack by sinking her teeth into his chest.

The eighth cop rushed into the dressing room, where a door was left wide open. The room looked empty, but she wasn't too sure of it. In the mirror, she caught Barkstone coming out of hiding, from behind the door. The giant dog slowly walked up to the cop, while holding a beer bottle. She told him to halt, but he ignored her orders. She tried shooting at him, but the Critter was immune to the bullets. Just as she was about to call for backup, Barkstone grabbed for her hand, crushing both it and the radio she was holding. He broke the bottle over her head, and stabbed the glass into her face.

In the main stage area, Saxxo was busy drawing attention to himself, playing the saxophone and letting his music lure in the rest of the police squad, which were only three left. When he had them right where he wanted them, he put his sax away and accepted arrest, pressing both of his paws together as a gesture to take the cuffs. The female cop handcuffed him from the front, while the two males watched. Little did they know, this was all part of a diversion. Slouch descended from the power grids on a rope, and he happened to be holding an ax.

The orangutan didn't hesitate to slash the two cops across the torsos, then chopped them into pieces. When the female cop took notice, Saxxo immediately placed his cuffed hands around her neck, and choked her by the chain link. He not only choked her, but he pulled back and let the chain cut its way through, decapitating her. When all was said and done, Saxxo gestured Slouch to help remove his bloody cuffs. Except instead of slashing the chain, Slouch chopped off Saxxo's hands. But the tiger didn't seem to mind, for he could grow a new set of hands.

Nobody is matched for the Paradise Critters. No matter who you are, they will get you dead. You cannot escape Tam Studios, aka Karl's Paradise. All you can do is run, hide, and be sure to stay in a locked room with no vent. There must be one way to stop them, but that yet remains a secret.

A few days later, more cops were sent to Tam Studios. And after they haven't came out like the first squad, a SWAT team had persued Tam. They weren't heard from either. Tired of facing so many disappearances of authorities, the homicide case was then dismissed, and nobody was aware of what happened behind the doors of Tam Studios. Not one soul alive could make it out to report any news.

#The Banana Splits Movie #Remake #horror #Masklophobia #blood tw #gore tw #This chapter was in excuse to have cops die 😈

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summerstardust · 4 years

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Did You Miss Me? Part 3

Dhawan!Master x Reader - Previous Missy x Reader

Summary: The Master and the reader try to reconnect, despite The Doctor getting in the way. Did You Miss Me? Masterlist

Warnings: suggestive dialogue, mentions of Nazies and the events of Spyfall pt.2.

Word Count: 4514

A/N: Decided to make more parts in the series, I hope that everyone enjoys it! 💜

After what seemed like hours, The Master’s TARDIS let out a string of frantic beeps. You had been roaming the halls and rooms, and eventually settled in the main library, choosing to wait to be seen to the bedroom when The Master was no longer busy. All of the happy thoughts and scenarios about your future with your reunited love that interrupting your reading were completely lost when the beeping started. You dropped the book in your hands, not caring about placing a bookmark to mark your page. When you ran into the console room, you saw The Master clearly wounded and in pain, clutching onto any surface close to him desperately.

“No!” He yelled at you after hearing your footsteps, he didn’t even look up at you, or perhaps he couldn’t because of the pain. He was doubled over, blood seeping through his clothes and the openings between the fingers of his hand putting pressure on his wound. You ran forward to try and help him, but he shouted again, “I said no, get back to wherever you were in the TARDIS.” You had heard him yell at you before as Missy, but it was shocking hearing his new regeneration’s tone. No matter how much he yelled at you, you refused to let him remain in pain when you could help.

“Make me.” You retorted, regaining your composure quickly, traipsing up closer to the console, as The Master collapsed onto a nearby sofa.

“Now is not the time for that.” He growled, upset that he couldn’t ponce on the opportunity you had just given him, but smirked when thinking about what he would do to you once he was healed. You ignored all of his insinuations, but you knew that he wasn’t in incredible danger and pain because he was still being slightly playful.

“Thank you, I’m glad you agree with me. Now where’s your first aid kit, or at least your spacey wacey version.” His face dropped when he understood your intentions.

“No! I’m not letting you get involved.” He tried to move forward to stop you, but he clenched his side in pain and fell back into the cushions of the sofa.

“ I, frankly, don't care, I’m not going to allow you to walk around here wounded when I can very easily help you. Now where is the first aid kit?” He stared at you for a moment, taking in how much more courageous and determined you've become since he last saw you as Missy. Even though you struggled with anxiety and depression after your loss, you were forced to be independent, and he had to admit, it looked good on you. He sighed, letting his head fall, knowing that you would not leave him to solve this problem by himself. He pointed to a little cabinet beneath the console, the TARDIS helped by illuminating it with some flashing lights.

You quickly followed his finger to the cabinet and bend down to rummage through it. The Master took this opportunity to check you out. But he wasn’t able to look that long when you quickly stood up with a first aid kit and some ointment creams in your arms. He knew that you caught him in the act when he saw you roll your eyes.

“Thank you for getting this, but I can do the rest myself, love.” He moved to snatch the kit away from you, but you were too fast for him, especially when he was wounded.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m helping you with this. You’re just being irrational and emotional. What did The Doctor do this time?” You opened and ruffled through the kit, in search of plasters and some pain relief medicine, but looked up at The Master when he didn’t say anything. He looked even more solemn when you brought up The Doctor, his face growing red with anger and frustration, he mumbled a quiet and restrained, “Nothing,” before moving to rub his face with his unused hand to hide his face from you.

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” The Master remained quiet as you prepared everything to clean his wounds.“Tell me, please, for your safety.”

“I’m supposed to be the one keeping you safe.” He grew quiet when memories from your past resurfaced.

“I lost you, too. If you think that I don’t want to keep you safe, then you are sorely mistaken, Master. Now tell me what happened.” You grasp his free hand, squeezing it reassuringly. You were finally able to look him in the eyes, which were bloodshot, with tears in the corner, threatening to spill.

“When did you get so bossy?” He smirked and winked at you, but you could see that he was still sad about the past and how he feared that couldn’t keep you safe in the future.

“Since you discovered that you enjoyed it. Now sit down and take your top off and tell me what happened.” You knelt down in front of him, his breath hitching. You noticed this and rolled your eyes, again. “Again, like you said, we don’t have time for that. This is just to help you feel better.”

“I’m pretty sure that that will help me feel better.” He smirked cheekily at you again.

“Stop it.” You helped him remove his coat and vest and shirt, stopping occasionally whenever he would hiss in pain.

You knew that the banter made him feel more comfortable because it offered him a way to mask his true emotions, but you made it clear that you were here for him and you wanted to be a part of his life. You cleaned his wounds and patched him up while he finally revealed why he was doing all of this. He said that he learned something about Gallifrey, about the creation of the Time Lords, but he refused to go into detail further to keep you safe.

You questioned him about Missy and why he decided to do this after being locked in the Vault. You knew that she changed and it wasn’t exactly consensual when revolving around the Vault and The Doctor forcing her to be in there, but she did change for you, and The Master emphasized how true that change was. The Doctor made him change then, you never did, you always accepted him, happy and understanding that the two of you would grow together. He said that The Doctor’s old pleas for change were meaningless because of what he discovered and how she always forced change from him but not herself. His childhood, his life, his memories around Gallifrey and The Doctor were all wrapped in lies. You were the one thing in his life that was good and true, and that’s why he wanted to keep you safe and away from The Doctor.

You peeled the used space plasters off of The Master’s skin and wiped off some of the excess healing ointment before pressing a small kiss to the now healed area. The Master said that he had to go get changed and find The Doctor. You tried to stop him and implore him to take a break, he had a time machine after all, but he said that he couldn’t. He knew that The Doctor would not be hesitating and would do everything in her power to stop him. He knew that he had to aggressively act tenfold against her. Before he trapsed off to the wardrobe, he plotted coordinates into the TARDIS console. A second later the ship landed in Paris 1943.

You waited for him in the console room, after retrieving your book from the library. You planned on seeing him off to wherever he was going, but you weren’t prepared for what was about to happen.

“Are you wearing a nazi uniform?” You looked up from your book, hoping that your eyes were mistaken.

“Ummm...yes…” You rolled your eyes, not amused by this.

“You’re disgusting. I want to rip that thing off you, and not in a sexy way.”

“A little bit in a sexy way.” He was hopeful, too hopeful, but you gave a curt “no” to kill his hope as quickly as possible.

“Ugh! Why not?!” You were so flabbergasted at how he could see this as a joke, not taking in the seriousness of the situation.

“I understand that you are a time traveler and you have seen many horrendous things in history, but you cannot be this jaded into believing that you are completely innocent in wearing the uniform of a group of people that caused so much pain. I know that you’ve done bad things, but this crosses quite a bit of a line. Also, ANTIFA.”

“Ant-what?” You rolled your eyes when that was the only thing he responded to in your speech.

“ANTIFA. It’s an anti-fascist belief system.”

“Meaning?” He was still confused because to him this was all an act to destroy The Doctor, nothing more.

“Meaning, I should knock your kneecaps in with a baseball bat for having the sheer audacity to wear that horrendous uniform.” You tried to go back to your reading, The Master promptly growled. He could not fully understand your disgruntled nature, he wasn’t Human, and he just didn’t get it, but he hated upsetting you.

“Ugh, will you just give me a hug and kiss before I leave?!” He huffed and threw his arms in the air, them hitting his sides when they came back down.

“I don’t know if I want to anymore. I don’t think you deserve either of those things when wearing that uniform.” He glared at you, you wanted to be more involved, for him this was involved, for him this was how he was going to defeat The Doctor. He could not see this as a problem. You were going to compare the significance to certain moments on Gallifrey to actually get him to have some empathy, but you didn’t think that now was the time. He was already upset and reckless due to The Doctor, you could inform him of the disgraceful nature of his act later.

You got up, grumbling, and gave him a brief hug and kiss on the check, moving back to see him off. His glare on you increased, resolving to pull up into a passionate kiss and a bone crushing hug.

“Ewww, I'm going to shower.” You snapped after he let you go. Causing The Master to roll his eyes, stating that he would wish for you to wait for when he came back. Again, you gave him a curt “no”, and waved him a goodbye and wished him good luck and safety with whatever he was doing.

“I love you, you know that.” He stopped in the open doorway of the TARDIS, turned to you looking solemn and serious. Despite feeling uncomfortable, you walked back toward him and hugged him tightly before kissing his forehead.

“Of course I know that. I know that you are just trying to keep me safe, and I keep making you include me in things that I probably shouldn’t be in. I just really care about you and I want to make sure that you are keeping yourself safe, as well.” You hugged on last time before he headed out into the streets.

After your shower, you headed back towards the console room. You hoped that The Master would return in better shape than he had previously, but given when and where he was, you were more uncertain about his safety. You tried to read, again, in the silence and loneliness, but you were unable to concentrate. You briefly walked to The Master’s supply room, it was large and filled with literally any item you could want. You pulled a ladder to a shelf in the corner and picked a journal you liked, along with some pens and pencils.

You returned to the control room and began speaking to the TARDIS. The two of you had always been close, she knew that you were good for The Master and approved of you offering an escape into normality for him, away from all the pain and destruction. You wanted to be involved and to help The Master from your position in the safety of the TARDIS. You convinced her to allow you to try and learn how to fly her and to learn important information about Gallifrey and Timelords. You wrote everything you were able to understand down in that little journal. You swore that you would make The Master teach you eventually. You were in the middle of trying to understand the TARDIS’s beeps and noises informing you about the buttons and levers on the console when the door burst open. You were so happy to see The Master return, but were shocked and confused when you saw The Doctor. Clearly something had gone wrong.

“Ahh! Y/N! There you are!” The Doctor came bounding into the TARDIS, followed by two strangers, one in Victorian clothing, the other in World War II military garb.

“Where’s The Master?” To say that you were worried was an understatement. You knew that The Master would never allow The Doctor to set foot in his TARDIS without his permission or without him present. And neither of those options seemed to be occurring at this moment.

“You’re safe now.” She reached out to comfortably grab your shoulder, but you jerked away before she could touch you.

“Where is he?” You stood straight backed and spoke in a tone that told the Timelady that you weren’t in the mood for her lies, but she didn’t take the hint.

“You don’t need to worry about him.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at The Doctor’s self imposed heroism.

“I always worry about him. Now where is he, Doctor?”

“He’s, ummm, busy. Did I introduce you to my friends?” The Doctor pointed to the two women, but didn’t bother to introduce them herself. She distractedly ran to the console to try to pilot The Master’s TARDIS, which she did not like, letting off a series of beeps and alarm sounds. You tried to calm her, causing The Doctor to confusingly glare at your actions. The Doctor walked around the console, circling it multiple times, apparently looking for something. You followed her the entire way, continuing your questioning on where The Master was, but she continued to ignore you and distract you, chaotically jumping from one topic to another, agani emphasizing the presence of the women.

During this time of The Doctor, mainly, doing her own thing and ignoring you and the two guests she brought into The Master’s TARDIS, those two strangers tried to talk to you while you tried to comfort the ship. They told you who they were, and you were understandably awestruck. But once their amazing stories about their adventure filled lives were told, they started telling you stories of The Master’s misdeeds. Ada, the Victorian, told you how he killed innocents at a science fair, all in an ego filled power trip against The Doctor. And Noor told you how he terrorized the people of France after aligning himself with the Nazis. You swore that the only reason The Doctor brought them along with her was to show you this side of The Master. You knew him, however, and you knew that despite how he treated everyone around him, he would never hurt you. You were loyal to him and he was loyal to you. Where The Doctor and The Master lost faith in each other, you and The Master swore that the two of you would not do that. The Doctor would disagree with you saying this, but The Master had indeed learned from his friendship with his fellow Timelord. The two of you never demanded change of each other, like how The Doctor always demanded more and more change and improvement.

You were pulled from your thoughts when The Doctor made a triumphant noise when she finally got the TARDIS to work. You were unaware of where you landed, but that wasn’t what concerned you. Upon landing, you realized that The Doctor really did leave The Master behind, this only drew up even more concerns in your brain about what was actually going on between the two of them and what this meant for the future of your relationship with your recently returned love.

The Doctor ordered the two women of history to follow her. She did not vocalize that you were supposed to follow, but you did. You were not about to leave the fate of The Master up to her. Whatever was going on, you wanted to play a larger role, only to help The Master. You were comfortable with The Master’s possessiveness over your life. You knew that he spent many years surrounded by bad people, doing bad things, and that he wished to protect you from that. But just as The Master refused to suppress your innocence, he also refused to suppress your fight for justice. It was your stance that no matter how bad a person was, they needed to be forgiven. Not necessarily by everyone, but by at least one person. You were The Master’s person and he was your’s. If The Doctor wished to argue, as you assumed that she would, all you had to do was point out her relationship with River. They were clearly each other's everything, and neither of them had perfect pasts, but they were still able to love each other.

The Doctor ran faster toward the door when she saw you following and before you could exit, she slammed the TARDIS door in your face, all of the locks falling into place. The TARDIS let out a string of beeps indicating her anger toward The Doctor, who overroad her console, and her apologies to doing this to you. You could forgive her, but you didn’t share the same sentiment toward The Doctor.

“Doctor! Doctor, let me out now! You can’t do this!” You banged your hands against the doors, but they wouldn’t open. The TARDIS beeped, you knew that she was also trying to open the doors, but what The Doctor had done was still prohibiting her.

“I have to do this, Y/N. It's for your own safety.” The Doctor talked to you through the door, you couldn’t see her face, but her tone was emotionless. She didn’t care about you, she didn’t care about your love for The Master, she only cared about winning and protecting her companions. She was unable to understand the nuances in your and The Master’s relationship. Even if you were given the opportunity to explain, and compare your life to that of her previous regenerations and River, you still didn’t think that she would understand.

You saw The Doctor running through the hangar toward the fam. On the other side of the building, you saw the large hangar doors open and The Master stride in confidently. Even from where you were being held, you could see how tired he looked. You couldn’t hear the exchange taking place, but it didn't look like it was a happy conversation. The TARDIS emitted a few beeps, you didn’t want to leave the window, but you left it to check the console. There was a button that was flashing a red light. You were unaware of what this button would do, but you didn’t think that it would hurt your current situation. Suddenly the discussion that was being held outside was transferred inside. You ran back to the window to see what was going on, relieved that The Doctor hadn’t overridden all of the TARDIS’s systems.

“I’ve just had the most infuriating 77 years of my life.” The Master continued to taunt the fam but he was distracted by a banging emanating from the background. He looked at The Doctor accusedly, once she joined the feud, but he was not shocked by his suspicion. “Did you lock Y/N away in my TARDIS.” His disgust for his best enemy grew.

“They’re safer away from you. You know this.”

“If you want to argue on the definition of safety, then I suggest that we table that for a different day. Because I could rant for hours, possibly days, on your poor treatment towards your companions. I, however, allow very few people into my life and vow to protect them at all costs.”

“Do you call this protected? You risked her life by letting her interact with the Kasaavin and risked her life again by letting her on the plane. You left them alone in Nazi terrorized Paris. You knew that all these things were dangerous, yet you involved them.” The Doctor pointed accusingly at The Master.

“Y/N wanted to be more involved because they still care about you and your companions, they wanted to make sure that all of you were safe from the Kasaavin. I don’t know why. They have me, that should be enough. But what my faithful companion wants, my faithful companion gets. If I had my way, Y/N would have been safe on my TARDIS for the majority of the events. I wanted her safe from before the plane incident to now. You are the one that insisted that she was a part of those events, just as you insisted that your fam should be there, too. But despite how much you supposedly care about humans, you have no right to lock the love of my life away from me.” As The Doctor walked into The Master’s personal space during her speech, he walked into her’s during his speech.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”

“That’s funny because, if I recall, my TARDIS is loyal to me, not you. No matter what you might have done to her, all I have to do is this.” The Master dramatically snapped his fingers. The Doctor’s eyes grew wide, knowing that her planned protection of you failed. You instantly ran out of the now unlocked door of the TARDIS and headed toward the confrontation. When you saw The Master you instantly felt relieved and you saw the same relief splash across his face. You ran to him, but The Doctor yelled for Ryan to keep you back. You tried to dodge him, but he caught you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You tried to struggle out of his grasp, but were unsuccessful. The Master moved to help you, but The Doctor blocked him.

“This is low, even for you, Doctor. I thought leaving me to the hands of the Nazis was bad, but you won’t even let me be reunited with my faithful companion. Cold.”

“Doctor, what have you done?” You were confused by his statement. You knew that The Doctor had left him in Paris, and you instantly feared wheat had happened to The Master.

“Nothing, Y/N. I was just trying to protect you and the rest of humanity.”

“She’s lying. Don’t believe her.” The Master snapped.

“I’m not lying.”

“Says the person whose number one rule is ‘The Doctor lies.’” You sighed at the petty argument that devolved between the two ancient Timelords.

“Has it really been 77 years for you?” You directed your attention back to The Master, who instantly stopped his argument with The Doctor when he heard you speak.

“Yes, it's been too long and too painful, my love. But I’m here now.” You were going to speak, but The Doctor interrupted you by bringing the conversation back to The Master’s involvement with the Kasaavin. You could see The Master growing panicked when The Doctor closed in on his plans. You could sense his heightened state. He stayed stoic, but his eyes were wide with the fear of thinking of more consequences he would have to go through, and what he might make you go through.

“Master!” You cried to him desperately, tears slipping out and pouring down your face. Ryan’s hold on you was deathly tight, you were starting to lose hope that you would be able to reach The Master.

“It’s okay, my love, we will get out of this together.” There was fear in his eyes, as if he didn’t know if he was lying to you or telling the truth in that moment. The Doctor went back to threatening your Timelord after your interruption. To everyone’s shock, The Doctor brought back the Kasaavin with the Silver Lady. The Master’s face turned to one of triumph for the first time during this interaction with his best enemy, he believed that the creatures of light were going to be on his side and he joked that The Doctor would have to explain herself to them.

“Am I? Listen, you lot, I've rigged the Silver Lady to exile you back to your own dimension. This planet's off-limits. Oh, and you know that deal he made with you?” The Doctor suddenly pulled out her sonic screwdriver and played an audio clip of The Master, revealing his plan against the Kasaavin.

“Oh.”

“That’s your name. Don’t wear it out. That’s the trouble with modern technology. You never know when you are being spied on.” You cried out to The Master again when you saw his eyes completely cast over in fear. You then redirected your attention to The Doctor, pleading for her to stop this. She stood stoic and cruel, the Oncoming Storm. You then called out to the fam, asking for their help, but they shook their heads in obedient loyalty. You looked back at The Master as the Kasaavin began to appear and encouch upon him. His eyes were filled with tears, but he tried to smile and wink confidently at you, to make you feel better about the circumstances. He blew a slow kiss to you and whispered a soft “I love you.” You couldn’t hear him over the overwhelming noise the Kasaavin were making, but you could read his lips. You cried out those three words back to him. He smiled so sadly, tears slipping from his eyes and his wish to be strong for you failing. There was no doubt that his face was telling you that this very well might be the last time you see him, but even now, you refused to believe him.

The Kasaavin vanished in a ball of light, wrapping their tendrils around The Master and taking him with them. You could hear him screaming your name as he was taken. You were finally able to break from Ryan’s arms, but it was too late. You collapsed onto your knees where The Master once was, keeling over and crying in pain. You brought your hands up and pulled your hair violently, crying in pain again. You were left like that for a few moments, crying on your hands and knees on the dirty ground of the warehouse. You didn’t know what The Doctor and her fam were doing. You didn’t care. They would never understand what you were feeling. Your world, your love, your life, was gone again, you were utterly alone.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #sacha dhawan #doctor who x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #the master imagine #the master x reader #fanfiction #personal post #request

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

Ok I’m at work and I cannot stop thinking about a soulmate au with Dwayne (because he’s my fave) where a psychic or someone tells him that he’ll meet someone with like a specific tattoo or birthmark

Sure thing! Currently the child birth post is taking a lot longer than I expected, I’ve only just finished the David segment, I still have Paul, Marko and Dwayne to go but hopefully they’ll be done before Wednesday.

Dwayne’s Fate

Halloween rolled in and yet the plethora of tourists never seemed to cease. All over the boardwalk they flocked to every newly decorated attraction, sporting cheesy plastic masks, sharing caramel apples, hugging each other as they went into the haunted house... Dwayne couldn’t help but feel the sharp pang of envy overtaking him. The young native pushed his mess of windblown black hair from his face, utterly tuned out while Marko and Paul were scoping out the beach honeys clad in bikinis and shorts. Instead he leaned on the handlebars of his bike, watching the couples pass by. Eighty-One Years.

He had been a vampire for eighty-one years. In all that time he’d never considered anything outside of his own pack, his coven of brothers who had become vampires alongside him. It was decades of wild nights! He thought he could never want anything else. But when Michael waltzed in and swept up Star and Laddie... he felt almost dark, in a sense.

Something changed in him the night he came back. He wasn’t sure how. What mattered was that he, and his brothers were alive once again. Well, not alive, but still. Now he was back to terrorizing the night time streets of Santa Carla like he always had. Only, it wasn’t like always. A part of him wished there was something more to all this. He had hoped one day to settle down when he was still alive but opportunity seemed to be almost gone by this point. Drumming his fingers on the handlebars of his bike, Dwayne grew increasingly impatient remaining in place. Swinging his leg over his bike he sighed with Marko turning to watch the road hog waltz away.

“Hey, Dwayne, where you headed, man,” he called, looking up.

“For a walk. I can’t sit here all night like you suckers,” Dwayne retorted, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. Silently he wove through bustling crowds, barely lifting his eyes. Anyone who was in his warpath quickly learned to dodge him. Thoughts plagued his head, more than he had before to the point they were cluttering against each other.

“You there,” a voice called over the unruly sounds of Santa Carla. Dwayne hadn’t thought much of it until an elderly woman quickly wove through. “You! You! Yes, wendigo-boy!”

The term gave him pause, looking back at the silver haired crone waddling his way still pointing her dried up finger until it was inches from his nose. “Yes, I could sense the aura of you and your friends across the way. Your dark presence is unmistakable.”

Dwayne swatted her hand away with a grimace, taking a step back. “Bug off you old bat, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed, turning from her.

“Your past may not define your future! It is not too late to find one who can bring light to your darkness,” she insisted, running in front of him.

Again Dwayne groaned, This broad was persistent. Even when he tried to walk away a third time she managed to swoop around him.

She was easily in her late 80′s with wiry silver hair barely contained in a low hanging bun. Feathers stuck out of her hair, clanking armfuls of metal bangles rang whenever she moved her hands. Each boney finger cracked, dawning a ring on each that barely hung of aged flesh. Beady brown eyes practically stared into his center which made it impossible to to look at her face. Whenever she spoke he could see her crooked snaggle tooth accompanying her worn voice, raspy as if she had swallowed sandpaper. Wrapped around her burnt orange dress was a worn leather belt chipping away sporting a purple satin bag tied around it. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss was not going to wait. When his internal debate grew to be too much, she finally snatched him firmly by his wrist and began to pull him where she was determined to be. There was no point in questioning any of this, all she did was answer in stupid riddles.

"All will be answered! But you come with now, otherwise you will miss it! Then who knows when it'll happen again."

"It". Whatever this "it" was carried some weight as she used the term frequently. Although reasonably irritated, something in Dwayne felt the need to follow. He resisted the urge to rip her arm out of it’s socket, and instead rapidly shuffled his feet so he didn’t step over the hobbling broad who couldn’t be more than five feet tall- even when she wasn’t hunched over. The way she wove through tourists was eerily timed. Almost perfect. Nothing caught her off guard. Bobbing and weaving. Worst of all no one was moving, everyone around them seemed utterly oblivious to her presence! Pulling him forward she shuffled her way to a small caravan. The dusty old piece was barely illuminated by a single light hanging over the door, wedged between the old donut place and the Santa Carla Gift Shoppe.

Still clutching his arm, they continued up creaking wooden steps that practically sang as he carried himself atop them. He can as convinced any moment this whole thing was going to collapse. The red door swung open slowly on it's own. Must've been rigged or something to do that. Meanwhile Dwayne had to duck just to avoid hitting the doorway, not that it mattered to the scatterbrained lunatic he decided to follow. Only when they were indoor did she finally release his hand and immediately shut her door behind him. It was decently bigger than what was let on initially. Tucked away behind a thick red curtain was a bed built around an arching stained glass window. It must've been somewhat decent before, athough this woman was such a hoarder you wouldn’t be able to tell at first. What books didn't fill her towering cases were strewn about the the floor in piles. Pages were stained with ink, notes written in old languages stuck to the walls between massive oil paintings depicting glorious battles, mystic creatures, ancient ones he had never seen. Plants were either hanging from the ceiling or over grown in corners. Dwayne made the mistake of sniffing at the strange red mushrooms poking out a dense pot of wriggling soil. He immediately recoiled watching worms surface just to burrow beneath the cakey mud. There were chattering cages hidden behind the bedroom curtain, ones he couldn't see into. Lined up along the wall was an oak desk draped in a velvet purple fabric coated in metallic gold zodiac symbols, completely covered end to end in bizarre herbs, animal parts, even live critters kept in an array of apothecary jars. Shelves held more, beakers of unrecognizable fluids bubbling over rickety bunsen burners. Thick crystals caked in dust jutted out beside a faded wooden box with bizarre pieces of jewelry spilling over, cobwebs gathering in untouched nooks. Rather than lamps or lanterns she had candles everywhere. Dribbling onto the floor, pouring over wrought iron candelabras, wiggling wisps of light spilling around the corners. By the kitchen space were cabinets sporting different colors of even more candles, many carved into with unfamiliar writings. When Dwayne picked up a dirty bottle covered in cobwebs off the crowded oak desk, there was a loud THWACK that made his ears wring.

“Ow! Hey-!”

Before he turned around she had a broom to his face and smacked him again. “No touching,” she demanded, yanking the bottle from him.

“If I wanted to, I could kill you, you old hag,” he snarled, rapidly stepping towards her with fangs bared. Again, broom.

“Hush! You are not as your bothers are. You desire the knowledge, yes?! You shall not get a word if Alma is dead. No use then!”

Dwayne grumbled a sour huff, rubbing the top of his head. Again he questioned his personal sanity for humoring this hag wielding a mighty broom.

All the while the self proclaimed Alma shuffled around him, snatching up handfuls of bottles and plopping then atop another overcrowded table. Repeatedly she used the words "fool" and "knows nothing" clearly referring to him. Mostly because every time she said those words she'd look over her shoulder at him.

Black as night, her worn iron stove roared when she stoked the fire withing it's oven. Just atop the surface was a heavy black kettle nestled above a scalding red coil. It rattled and hissed, moaning when plumes of steam billowed out into the air. She mumbled and “harumph”ed her way through the caravan. Clanking down a tea set on a worn old silver tray she rapidly shuffled back to her stove to retrieve the screaming kettle still singing it's tune. Without missing a beat she dropped something inside it. It took two trembling hands she poured the water over the strange herbs she had previously retrieved into two cups. The dainty porcelain pieces were etched in golden, ancient writings atop another circular table covered by a deep blue table cloth. With that, she plunked herself atop a creaking old chair, staring at Dwayne with those beady eyes .

‘Why the fuck am I still here with this old bat?’

Dwayne barely managed to fit in the rickety old seat that squeaked beneath his weight, staring down at the petit cup. The muddied liquid still bubbled, steam spiraling to carry an unbelievably sickening scent. Not necessarily horrible, but utterly confusing. The more he looked at it the more it seemed alive. “I am not touching that.”

“Hush! Nonsense! You shall drink as Alma does, and you will see.”

Dwayne hesitated, watching her sip at the herbal concoction. This was clearly the dumbest decison of his afterlife, but he had already died twice. What was there to be afraid of?

“On the boardwalk.. you called me ‘wendigo’. What makes you say that?”

“I can see your true form,” she calmly explained, setting down the cup. The leaves barely floated at the base. If he turned his head he swore he could see it forming into the shape of a fanged jaw wide open. “Blood and flesh pave your future, but even those who dwell in darkness deserve a lantern to ease the suffering.”

So, she knew what they were. What he was. “Then why help me if you know I’m a vampire,” he questioned, expecting the tea to be brewed with holy water.

“It is not my place to judge your path. I have come across many of your kind in my years of living. They all do what they must. So, drink.”

Dwayne hesitated once more, only to lift the beverage to his lips. It was bitter. The taste was reminiscent of biting into tree bark, all he could do is scrunch his nose.

Then, Alma’s figure began to vibrate. He could see pieces of her breaking off, the room surrounding him peeling away, like old paint off a dirty wall. Strips crumbled to his feet. He attempted to move only to find himself firmly planted to his seat. There was nothing. No sound, no sight, only black.

With a sharp inhale he opened his eyes to streams of orange. A... sunset?

Dwayne was amazed he could even remember what a sun set looked like. However, there was nothing that could take away the memory of the fire that filled the edges of the sky. Drips of night seeped in, miles of tall wheat grasses swaying in the breeze enveloping him. Still wedged in place he could only sit there, savoring a sight he would never see again.

But when he heard it, and he froze. A laugh. A twinkling bell chiming from far away. Flashes of E/C orbs flickered holding the sun within. A pearly smile whispering his name so softly it sent chills running down his spine. S/C as smooth as satin running a hand on his arm. The face cut in and out, but what he continued to see over and over was a symbol. An inky raven with wings draped over a woven dream catcher. Thick cords wove between each other into intricate details, each hole giving him pieces of who she was. Yes, she. He could hear her voice vibrate through the air. Not what it was saying, but only the sounds it made. “Alright alright, enough,” a raspy voice commanded.

Dwayne finally jumped up and out of his chair, crashing back down to earth and only the dusty floor of Alma’s caravan practically wheezing for air. He felt like he had just been running for hours!

“Come, come let’s not be dramatic,” Alma snorted, shuffling over to take his tea over to her rusty old wash pan piled with dishes.

It took a moment to get ahold of his bearings, swearing if he had a heartbeat right now it’d be jumping through his ribs. “What... the fuck... did you give me?!”

“No time for that, child. The bird is waiting for you just beyond the docks,” she began to babble again. Bird? Again that raven flashed before his eyes while Alma pried him off the floor.

“Wait- but I don’t- will you quit shoving me?!”

Alma continued to yank him until he was out the door barely catching himself as they ran down the steps. “Oooh any minute, any minute. No time for dawdling!”

Quickly she took him by his arm and swung him back out into the crowd, stumbling into a young woman who nearly yelped.

“Oh shit are you okay,” she asked. A few girls giggled at him until she made a face, waving them off. “Sorry I didn’t see you there. Are you alright uh-?”

Just across her collarbone sat a raven tattoo nestled across her chest with winds spread over a dream catcher trailing into her shirt, the trickles of beads left hidden in her blouse. When he looked into those perfect E/C orbs holding the sunset beneath them he could only smile, setting her heart immediately ablaze. With a massive blush tinting her cheeks an adorable crimson hue she pulled him to his feet, unaware once he was standing that she still had not let go of his arm. Looking behind him Dwayne still expected to see the batty old woman sitting outside her caravan. Instead... there was no one in sight. No caravan either. Just an empty alleyway only sporting a few dented old trash bins overflowing with garbage. Slowly he turned back to the girl, positioning himself closer as his crisp smile beamed over cinnamon flesh.

“Well what’s your name first?”

“Y/N,” she spoke with a tender tone, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Y/N. I’m Dwayne. Nice to meet you, princess.”

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mandosbeskar · 4 years

Text

Stranger in Armor

the mandalorian x reader

summary: an guest enters your home uninvited, and you have no choice but to greet them

The clash of metal made the whole house shake and your ears ring. Fear bubbled in your chest. You pushed the heavy blanket off of your body as you made slow movements towards the bedroom exit.

You scaled the walls of your own home, though now that you had the inkling of a possible intruder, it now felt unfamiliar.

As you approached the main hallway, mumbling was heard. A conversation between two people, you hypothesized. You held your breath as you started to peek around the corner.

The minimal amount of light in the room bounced off the silver armor of a stranger who was being set back against the wall by a dark haired woman.

You could not see much of the armored stranger due to the woman creating a wall between you two. The woman, who was now whispering kind affirmations to the stranger in armor. Her blaster was hooked to her hip. Inches away from where you stood.

With her focus elsewhere, you took your chances.

A mad dash forward towards the unwelcome company. You ripped the blaster from her possession with no fault and took a large step backwards before you aimed the weapon at the two.

The dark-haired girl had whirled around at that point, and the mess of armor on the floor had corrected his posture, though he did not stand.

"Don't!" The woman shouted. A hand up in defense. "Don't shoot."

You had both hands on the blaster, switching the aim back and forth between them both.

"'Don't shoot?'" You echoed. "Why shouldn't I? You barge into my home uninvited and you dare to ask me to not shoot?"

"I'm wounded." A deep voice. You aimed down at the silver armor on the floor. He spoke from behind the safety of his helmet. "We didn't have any med kits left. Need help."

You were hesitant.

"He's lost a lot of blood." The woman added. "Please."

You took in a shaky breath. Never before were you in a situation where a masked man was dragged into your home, begging for medical assistance.

"Okay." You said quietly. The next statement had more confidence. Lifting the blaster, you added, "but this stays with me."

- - -

You had directed the woman to bring the man into a less confined space. While you were gathering the necessary supplies, you heard the man give some instructions to the girl, and when you came back to his side, she was gone.

"Why did she leave?" You asked, setting both the blaster and the med-kit on either side of you.

"Business." He groaned, trying to sit up.

"Is it just this cut on your flank?" You ask, noting his gloved hand that was struggling to cover his wound. It started at his side then wrapped around towards his spine.

"Yes."

It surprised you that this was the only wound considering how much blood it was producing. It seems like he just came out of a war, and having only one large cut was rather impressive. Carefully, she started to peel his hand away from his side. The air stung the cut which had sliced through his undershirt right below his chestplate.

"May I?" You toyed with the end of his undershirt.

A breath. "Yes."

You pulled up the shirt past the cut. His tan skinned provided a great contrast to his reflective armor. You began to tend to his wound.

He hissed when you applied contact.

"It might burn a bit." You reminded.

"Thank you." Although he said it seriously, it was tainted with sarcasm.

For the first time this night, you chuckled. "So, you're a Mandalorian?"

A cringe of pain. "Yes."

"I've never seen a Mandalorian before." He was quiet. You couldn't tell if it was because he was in pain or because he was completely uninterested in your conversation. "Are Mandalorian really the strong warriors that people have always said they are?"

"I am grateful for your assistance," the armored stranger spoke. "But I am not quite interested in engaging in conversation at this moment in time."

It was the latter.

You didn't speak after that. Irritated by his lack of empathy for the person whose house he broke into, you gave in and just did what you were unwillingly assigned to do.

After a long, painful moment of silence, the Mandalorian turned his head towards you, the visor facing your direction.

"I'd like to think so." He broke.

Your eyes fell on his helmet, surprised by his actions.

"Have you ever lost a fight?" You asked, a smile playing on your lips.

"If you're going to make a joke about me losing the one I just had, I don't want to hear it." There was a breathy chuckle that exited the modulator. "I've walked away with stuff like this," he nodded down towards his wound that you had finished mending seconds ago. "haven't died yet."

She didn't try to fight back her laugh. "I'm happy to have helped the Mandalorian live another day."

He was quiet again. The Mandalorian had his helmet turned towards you still, though you weren't sure if he was looking at you.

He was.

"And for you, I am thankful."

Proud that you somehow got the Mandalorian to utter kind words to you, you placed a hand on his back a little ways up from the wound. He flinched, but you hardly noticed. For it wasn't that he worried that you would hurt him- he feared your kind touch for reasons you could never understand.

"Do you think you can stand?" You ask.

He didn't answer your question. Placing pressure on the cleaned up wound out of fear of it reopening, the Mandalorian forced himself to gain footing. You quickly shuffled your way under one of his arms, allowing him to use you as leverage to stand himself up.

Another breathy laugh exited the modulator of his helmet as he finally stood. "I'm inspired by your determination to help a stranger who was dragged into your home uninvited."

"Didn't give me much of a choice, did you?" You remark. You slip out from under his weight, standing toe-to-toe right in front of him. Planting both of your palms on his body right below the armored chest piece, you made sure he was steady.

It wasn't a necessary movement, of course, but the Mandalorian didn't deny nor did he take his eyes off of you as you analyzed his form.

"How's that?" You finally met the mask.

"Good." The Mandalorian said. "Thank you."

You chewed your bottom lip for a moment. Ripping your hands away from his side once you realized you had probably held them there for way too long, you took a step away from him.

"Well, Mr. Mandalorian, it was a pleasure to tend to your wound." You joked. He thought the smile you gave him then was better than the view of a billion stars.

He was hesitant. Not even quite sure what his next move was supposed to be. Finally, he bowed his head in thanks. "I never got your name." He said urgently.

"(Y/N)," you told. "And from what I heard about Mandalorian, you cannot tell me yours."

He signed. "No." Silence. "But I'll remember yours for the next time I see you."

That's when he started to leave, questions buzzing in your head.

"The next time you see me?" You quizzed.

He nodded confidently. The moonlight that came through the windows danced on his armor. "I would hate for all these med-packs to go to waste. I'll be back and bruised eventually- another opportunity for you to put them to use."

You cocked your head to the side, a playful smile on your lips. "So I've been hired as the Mandalorian personal nurse, then?"

"You got the job."

#the mandalorian #pedro pascal #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian imagine

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floatingfish626 · 3 years

Text

MC Server ಥ_ಥ

Me and a group of friends made our own MC server. Unfortunately, the server was abandoned. Me, being the person I am, still feel the server has potential, so I still play/write lore for it. This may be wayyyy out of the usual for my page but lets be honest, who actively stalks my tumblr page? This is mostly gonna be a place for me to dump the failed server ideas/backstories. So, here goes nothing. If you wanna read them, random stranger, feel free to! I wanted this server to last a while, and we made it almost 2 months with about 12 people in total. So, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,603 (11,679 Characters)

**ALL ORIGINS ARE WRITTEN BY SEPERTE PEOPLE, ALL EDITED BY ME, NONAME**

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Character Origin 1, Seven: Seven was born into a life of poverty, shortly after he was born, he got sold to work as a slave on a sea village, quickly being transferred to a sand village outside of a prison. He did is work as a farmer to a small, yet kind and caring family, who adopted him as their own. His name, Seven, coming from a number tattooed on his neck while in the market. During Seven’s time at this small village, they had a fatal accident, having a berserk enderman ruin the home he had grown custom to. He rebuilt the fallen Village, only to have a Piglin army slaughter whomever remained. Seven only escaped with his life, befriending a Guardian named Marvin, who became his best friend (RIP Marvin, we miss you <3). The Guardian helped Seven grow stronger, and learn to fight. A few years later, he came across two children, Tex and Rox. Seven, taking sympathy for the two, took them as his own. As the revenge grew further from his mind, his children grew older. As they grew, he taught them what he knew about farming and combat. His kids grew older and left him, a crazy old man in a dirt hut with the guardian, forgetting the revenge he wished for many years. On a normal day, Seven had witnessed something unforgivable happen. He had met Oxlo, Void, and Levi. After spending every waking moment together, the three ended up falling for each other, having adopted Levi and marrying the other two, Seven had have a happy life, with his 3 stolen adopted kids and poly relationship. (End Seven.)

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Character Origin 2, Levi: Levi was born into captivity from a hybrid mother. By the time he could walk, he was taken from his mother, and raised like a solider. Levi had large, beautiful wings, that got removed as a child, leaving him scared and unsure of who he was all throughout his ‘childhood.’ Being he was a hybrid being, he was used on for testing, by horrid endermen. Having experiments done constantly, he had mutated a mouth (basically Venom from the movie Venom) that he had grown to hate. As Levi grew older, he became rebellious against the unfair people. He gained many cruel and inhumane (lol) punishments. During one of these ‘rebellious moments,’ he had expected to be caught. instead, he was left alone to do so. He heard a loud crash and began to investigate. He had walked outside to see 2 large entities trying to fight against the endermen, and winning. Levi took this as an opportunity to escape. He left the end before the two closed the portal to the end. He blacked out and woke up to a short, sandy blonde man and 2, really tall men, resembling endermen, staring at him. After many, many years of building trust and learning how to communicate, Levi became one of their family. He Moved out many years later, only to return to his home town to find everything left barren and abandoned. (End Levi.)

Looks: Light blue, messy hair, dark blue eyes, scarf covering his mouth/nose, unhinged and slimy mouth, white and blue tshirt, black jeans (you can tell this one is my, NoName’s, OC cause he is a lot more detailed LMAO)

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Character Origin 3, Tex: Tex is 15-17, a strider hybrid. He comes from a Nether village called Riften, but now resides in Toadstool Field. He works as a dealer and supplier for the Midnight Mafia. He can easily build and mine, and is also good at navigating the Nether and finding gold (piglins wanted gold all the time so he grew accustomed to getting it) he's obsessive and goes into a blind rage near piglins, and gifts objects and builds often. Tex was a runt in his village, so when it was attacked by piglins when he was 6-8 he was left behind for a offering, after years of being with piglins he came to despise them. He escaped around 11-14. (He isn't good with remembering his age) He had multiple siblings, but cannot remember them very well. He assumes they are dead along with the rest of his village and now only is comfortable around Seven, Void and Levi Tex has pointed ears, and scars from water/staying with piglins. He has sharp teeth. He cannot see well, water is hurtful to him and his memory is bad but he can easily swim in lava/fire resistant. He is twitchy and quick, he has curious movements and is very touchy and talks quickly and mumbly. He wears a magenta sweater, black overalls, purple flowers scattered about and no shoes Tex wants to be renewed in his new family's eyes, he wishes not to be known as a runt he thinks everyone sees him lower bc of him being a runt. Tex doesn't understand human feelings/ striders don't have many emotions, his anger was very new to him he is scared of Piglins/hoglins and hates water

Looks: Messy, dark hair, pointed ears, black eyes, fangs, darker, loosing fitting clothes

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Character Origin 4, Amber:

So amber was born in a town called Fransin in the nether and lived there with her single mother, she was bullied a lot as a kid because she didn't have spare money for the nicest clothes or shoes she stayed there until about 15 when her mother had kicked her out because it's the same as her mother did when she was younger, she stumbled upon a portal and went through which lead into dark woods and after wandering around for a bit she came upon Toadstool Fields. She was a bit scared, but after meeting the town's folk she adjusted to the overworld, yes she had a few bumps along the way (especially when her friends suggested they go swimming, as she’s part blaze), but she has grown more and made more friends, plus they even let her build her own home! She has always been grateful because they've always helped her and given her everything she needs, especially since she grew up kinda rough

Looks: Light brown hair, Golden eyes, ash colored freckles, Bee striped shirts

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Character Origin 5, Rox: When Rox was young around 4, she was made as a science experiment, (hence the endwalk state that will eventually happen later) she was later sent out to the street after all of those tests (for over 3 years), that she hated so dearly, After about one week on her own in the world, she was soon adopted by seven. She was taught how to fight and defend herself. As she got older, he became smarter and was filled with anger from the past. (hence chaotic good and neutral evil yknow?) So yes, around 16, she married milly and has been with her for a year now, she is just trying help people with her bakery and fight people if necessary (Since she’s in the mafia clan thingy).

Looks: short, pink hair, glasses, blue eyes, dark clothes

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Character Origin 6, Void: Void was born in the end, to a noble Enderman, though they don't remember that. They don't remember their original name, or their parents, or anything about their life. All they know is that they're not welcome in the End anymore, being ostracized after a series of unfortunate events in the End. Their first interaction with the Overworld wound up in them in a village and slaughtering everyone in it due to someone making eye contact with them, shortly afterwards picking up the masks to avoid eye contact and avoid looking at the scars on their face. They fled the premises with their sister Redacted and hid deep into the woods, starting on making a mansion for themself and their sister, where they would be safe. They want to keep all those dear to them safe, bordering a bit on possessiveness with the protectiveness. They have a lot of secrets, and in general are an unknown entity to those around them. They're extremely morally ambiguous and run a mafia, with their pet as their right hand man.

Extra: -Redacted is not Void's blood sister. -Void has worn their masks for so long they don't know what they look like. -Void only takes their mask off to threaten people. -They have such a love of birds because the first mob that didn't run away from them was a parrot. -They hate government because one tried to kidnap them once and study them as an Enderman, using water torture against them. Void escaped and killed a few people, grabbing two masks off the wall as they went to hide their identity. -Void's eyes are different from fellow Enderman, and if you look into them it's an unpleasant experience for you both. -Void is a peaceful entity until provoked, just like Enderman. -Void has an immense hatred for sand. -Void likes gazing at the stars because it reminds them of gazing into the void in the End, which is where they got their name from. -Void has a dog named Spark because shortly after they found him they were struck by lightning, which they found hilarious.

Looks: Tall (height unspecified), Dark, fancy clothing, Mask (smile, no he isn’t dream), dark, messy hair)

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Character Origin 7, Milly: Milly is a neko hybrid, she's part feline, part human. Her existence came to be when her mother, a neko, and her father, a human, fell in love. She grew up in a small town which wasn't very popular, she wasn't picked on but she did get pushed around by some people growing up. Despite bullies, she had a normal upbringing; her parents were nice and supportive, teaching her everything they could. Her mother often told her how horrible the world can be, teaching her how kindness is a must and how no matter what, she should always help people in need and keep up a smile if she could. Milly followed this advice the best she could. While her mother taught her things through talks, her father tried to teach her things physically: he told her how he agreed, how the world was horrible, so he taught her to fight- to defend herself and protect others with her fighting skills and feline abilities. Although Milly loved her parents and the friends she had, she grew adventurous when she turned the age of 15- she wanted to explore, to see and meet more than she has. Her parents respected her wishes since they loved her dearly, they gave her all the supplies and advice they could before they hugged her goodbye. It wasn't long after that she met Rox, an enderman hybrid who she grew to cherish being around. So, her and Rox got married at 16 and She moved in with Rox, in the smp she loved living in for all her days. Hence where the story starts.

Headcanons: -Milly has about five cats she keeps, she loves cats. -She likes to draw, collect flowers, bake sweets, and help out people. -She's a lawful good person and pacifist -She likes dogs but they don't like her :( -She has special feline characteristics: she can jump two blocks higher than a normal person, she can purr, she will take random naps sometimes during the day, she has fangs, and she gets distracted by cat toys sometimes

Looks: Long pink hair, light pink eyes, collar (it has a bell), white shirt and a pink skirt

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Unmentioned Characters (ones without backstories): Sammy, Oxlo, Will

this took me an hour. JUST EDITING- (ó﹏ò｡)

#smp #mc #minecraft #we spent so long and for nothing-#ocs #oc #Toadstool Field SMP #TFSMP #this is going to take over my page istg

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komorebirei · 4 years

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A Detailed Lukanalysis

Before getting into this post, let me just say that I have a pretty moderate stance toward canon Luka. Yes, I think he could play a more important role in the show as more than just Marinette’s alternative love-interest. I’m not defending the way Luka is used in the show.

I watched all the episodes with Luka in them and took detailed notes on what happens and what we can imply, mostly as ‘research’ for when I write Luka in my fics. In light of Luka salt I’ve seen lately, though, I decided to share my findings to make the case that Luka does have a well-rounded, consistent personality, and has had plenty of on-screen opportunities to display his character.

Even if no one reads this whole post, my purpose is accomplished from the sheer amount of evidence I found when scouring the episodes for indicators of his personality.

Analysis starts below the cut.

Observant/Accommodating Nature

Though being ‘observant’ and ‘accommodating’ are two separate traits, I put them together for this point because they are interlinked in Luka’s personality. He observes so he can be more accommodating.

Attentive to Conversation Partners

When Luka is introduced in Hardrock, we see him watching Marinette intently when she talks to him, and he notices/points out all her verbal mistakes and fluctuations in mood. (See “Role of Music —> Smoothing Ruffled Feathers” for more on this scene below.)

Attentive to Surroundings

In Frozer, although he is shown gazing out toward the ice rink while Marinette and Adrien are talking privately, he interjects his advice for Adrien regarding Kagami, showing that he has been listening the whole time, and that even when he seems not to be involved or paying attention, he is taking in his surroundings. (He’s an eavesdropper.)

Luka’s advice for Adrien sums up Luka’s character very well. He says, “Be natural. Follow her rhythm, let yourself go, and let her guide you.” (Quoting in a rough translation from French version because I feel it’s clearer and more direct than the English version.) His policy is to observe first, then mold himself to accommodate the other person/people involved, letting go of his own will and desires. He is not one to insist his own way. That does not mean he always stands by without acting, though (see below, “A Man of Action”).

“Follow Her Lead”

Luka’s advice, “Follow her lead,” does not mean to literally let one person dominate all the time. Assuming he follows his own advice, let’s look at his dynamic with Marinette. Rather than literally letting her lead him onto the ice, he in fact is the one leading when they skate together. “Follow her lead” means to observe the other person, intuit what they need, and provide that. Since he senses that Marinette is unstable (on her feet mostly, but potentially emotionally as well), he provides the guidance and support that he thinks she needs.

As a related point, in Miracle Queen, when he offers Marinette a shoulder to cry on, he does not ask her what’s wrong or attempt to pry anything out of her; he tells her it’s okay to talk to him, or not talk to him, whatever she wants. He forces nothing on her, but tries to be what she needs.

Cool-Headed (by Choice)

When Marinette interrupts him meditating, he takes his time to open his eyes, and doesn’t break his posture (Hardrock). He is not easily flustered. Meditation is often a solution to a problem (stress, anxiety, emotional fluctuations, etc.), so Luka may suffer from some of these problems by nature, and has found a solution that works. See “Hot-Headed” below for evidence of anger issues.

In Silencer, he is visibly very angry, but has enough self-control to let go of the angry feelings and walk away at first. (More on this under “Focus on Others —> Indignant for Others.”)

Whenever shown, Luka channels a very calm, easygoing disposition in general. However, in the section below, there are hints that this is not his nature, but rather, something that he chooses.

Hot-Headed (by Nature)

When Luka sees XY wearing the Kitty Section rip-off costume, he immediately gets angry. Later, when XY boasts, Luka does not make excuses for him, he is ticked off. He jabs XY in the chest and snatches the mask off him. When Bob Roth says more infuriating things, Luka growls, shakes his fist, and clenches his fingers so hard they shake and start to crush the mask, before he is even touched by the akuma. Usually we see this sort of reaction in the victim once the akuma has entered the cursed object.

Luka does not exhibit the self control that he shows in other situations, but rather, animalistic rage, like the expression, ‘seeing red.’ He treats XY and Roth as if they have been “blacklisted” in his mind and no longer has the forgiving, calm attitude toward them that he has toward people who are in his good graces.

Luka also shows signs of anger in the form of clenching teeth or lowered brow (even toward Chat Noir in Desperada for not showing up) whenever he feels like the situation is not right.

Focus on Others, Not Self

Concern for Others’ Comfort / Emotional Perceptiveness

Luka tends to prioritize the happiness and comfort of others over his own, and is very attentive to whether people are comfortable or not. Because of this attentiveness, he can easily sense other people’s emotions. He laughs at Marinette when he meets her, but when he senses that she is hurt, he immediately switches tracks to try to cheer her up. Later, when he senses that she feels more comfortable and that it’s okay to tease her without hurting her, he does so (Hardrock).

When his mother is akumatized, Luka looks distraught and begs her not to ruin the music festival for other people, showing that he does not like to disturb others or make them unhappy, and that this is more of a concern for him than the fact that his mother is akumatized.

Respect for Others

Luka also shows respect toward others, from his mannerisms (guiding, helping hands, picking up miraculous box with both hands, etc.). Considering his mother shredded tickets issued by a police officer, he did not learn this under the rod, meaning it’s an innate sense of respect for other human beings he has developed on his own.

Counting His Ducklings

Whenever someone he cares about is not accounted for (Marinette in Hardrock, Adrien in Desperada), Luka is concerned and is the first to ask about their well-being when Ladybug shows up. Luka looks out for ‘his own’ and worries / takes action until he sees them safe.

The Positive Enabler

Luka is quick to speak praise for other people and plays the role of the ‘encourager’ / positive enabler within the group. In Silencer, when Marinette is excited about the opportunity to submit a video to XY, Luka immediately brings up her designs. As soon as they finish rehearsing, he immediately praises everyone’s performance and the group dynamic. In Reflekdoll, he tells Juleka she’s pretty and encourages her to follow her dreams. He says positive things to make people feel good about themselves, and confident enough to take action.

Indignant for Others, Not Himself

Luka gets more angry when other people are concerned (Marinette, or his friends/family, as shown in Silencer and Desperada) than himself. He is more upset about Marinette’s costumes being stolen in Silencer than his own song being plagiarized. Moreover, while he is willing to walk away after being insulted as a musician and having his own song stolen, when Marinette is directly attacked by Roth, he becomes infuriated and akumatized.

Hawkmoth’s speech gives us insight, since Hawkmoth can feel people’s emotions. He says that Luka cannot bear to see the ones he loves suffer. This shows that the reason Luka gets akumatized is not because the work was plagiarized, but rather, because Bob Roth is yelling at Marinette, subjecting her to humiliation and insult and trying to crush her self-esteem. This emotional abuse is what Luka cannot bear.

He accepts the snake miraculous in Desperada because his family and friends were attacked.

Genuinely Concerned for Others’ Happiness

When Marinette goes running after Adrien, Luka is left alone, yet he smiles, showing that he is not only putting up a positive front for Marinette; he genuinely wants her to follow her heart and be happy. He also looks on tenderly, like a proud parent, when Adrien and Kagami come to the houseboat, saying “I’m glad Adrien has found someone he can leave the house with.” He wants his friends to be happy and do what they want to do.

In Felix, Marinette accidentally talks about Adrien in front of Luka, and feels embarrassed that he’s heard. In response, Luka tells her that he will be happy if things work out between her and Adrien, but that if they don’t, he (Luka) is there for Marinette. The fact that he answers this way is an acknowledgement that Marinette is aware of Luka’s feelings. However, Luka doesn’t want her to feel guilty or conflicted about having feelings for Adrien. He wants her to be happy and feel at ease, and that is more important to him than asserting his own feelings. (See “Speculation —> Why Luka Doesn’t Pursue Marinette” at the bottom for more on this.)

Generous with Belongings/Space

Luka doesn’t closely guard his personal belongings and space. He’s comfortable with having it invaded, and generous with his belongings. He shares and accepts people into his life freely. When he meets Marinette, he doesn’t mind her touching his things and gives her a pick right away. He warms up to her right away and is already teasing her within five minutes of meeting her. When Adrien appears, he welcomes him into Kitty Section without even knowing anything about him (Hardrock).

In Desperada, Luka frowns when Marinette suggests Adrien, and gets a hopeful smile when Jagged Stone mentions him (Luka). This shows he is aware and not indifferent to what is happening. However, when Marinette asks Luka to lend Adrien his guitar, Luka hands it over, saying “If you like, Marinette.” Later, he also gives up the guitar to Ladybug.

His willingness to hand over one of his most important items shows that he is not a possessive and jealous person. But also, the fact that he did so at Marinette’s bidding with the words “If you like” shows that he is willing to prioritize his love and support for someone (Marinette) over his self-insistence.

Positive/Trusting Outlook

Luka shows that he is quick to trust. When Marinette escapes from Captain Hardrock’s chains, Luka goes along with her plan, allowing himself to be recaptured in order to let Marinette escape without fully knowing what her plan is. Without trusting Marinette, that seems risky since he is also free and has the agency to seek help, but is losing that agency by allowing himself to be recaptured.

In Silencer, Marinette freaks out when there’s no response about the video, but Luka makes excuses for the studio, saying they probably got a lot of submissions and are still picking. He’s probably the type of person to give people the benefit of the doubt when there is no evidence of a reason to distrust their motives. E.g. if a random person is rude to him, he will more likely think “They’re probably having a bad day,” than “What do they have against me?”

He is not the type to freak out, assume the worst, and catastrophize.

Luka also seems to value upholding other people’s trust in him, and that trust is important to him as a whole. When he gives Ladybug back the snake miraculous, he thanks her for trusting him.

Methodical Thought Process

The way Luka uses the snake miraculous reveals a lot about his thought process and ties into the next point, “Role of Guitar/Music.” Let’s take a look at Viperion’s first fight in Desperada.

In battle, Viperion hangs back and watches, IMMEDIATELY hits Second Chance when something goes wrong, and gives instructions to Ladybug/Chat when they loop back. (By contrast, in Miracle Queen, Snake Noir reacts emotionally to the situation—freaking out, gaping in shock, realizing what’s going on—for a few seconds before hitting Second Chance.)

A couple Second Chances later, we see a clip of Viperion playing the lyre, sitting on the Eiffel Tower, out of the fray of battle. When Desperada reacts to the lyre playing, Luka smiles delightedly, like an experimenter who is seeing the lab rat respond the way he hopes. He then hits Second Chance again despite no errors happening, because he has accomplished his purpose for the loop.

Luka is methodical in his way of using the snake miraculous. He doesn’t just use it and hope things will go better next time. He uses it strategically, testing different variables until he sees which ones lead to the results he wants. Armed with knowledge that he gains piecemeal through multiple Second Chances, he formulates the perfect plan and instructs the team on what to do. In this battle, he is the brains, not Ladybug. His observation skills are his strength as Viperion.

This leads to the next point… that clues indicate that Luka uses music the same way—to get results that he wants, because he has observed that it works more efficiently than words. (“Sometimes, music is clearer than words.”)

Role of Guitar/Music

Smoothing Ruffled Feathers

Luka uses his guitar to affect/manipulate people’s emotions in a way that words cannot easily do. When he senses that he has offended Marinette upon meeting her, he plays something, and she cheers up (Hardrock). When he notices Marinette is down in Frozer, he plays something cheerful and she brightens up. Considering characteristics mentioned in “Methodical Thought Process,” it’s likely he has picked up this efficient tactic for changing people’s mood through music.

Connecting with People

In Party Crasher, we see Luka keeping to himself at first, but he is later shown playing the guitar while Jagged Stone plays the piano. Aside from when Luka is playing music with Kitty Section, we only see him on his own, yet his friendship with Kitty Section members seems strong (Silencer video prep montage). As his friendship with Adrien develops, we also see them playing instruments together while looking at one another. This shows that Luka’s way of forging connections with people is through making music together.

Expressing his Sentiments Toward People

In Frozer, when Luka says “I think I have a new song to write,” some may interpret this as a cheesy metaphor to mean that he has feelings for Marinette.

However, in Miracle Queen, we see Luka actually composing a song for Marinette. This shows that it was not a metaphor (or is only partly a metaphor)—he literally intended to write a song for her. People express their affection and love in many ways. Marinette makes clothing or baked goods for people. Adrien mimics the gestures of others (making a charm because Marinette made him a charm, giving roses because that’s what romantic cliches do). Luka writes dedicated music.

When Marinette kisses him on the cheek, he becomes happy and promises to come up with the perfect melody for her song, indicating that he will finally express his feelings for her in the song he’s composing.

Playing/Joking

Three times, Luka makes jokes with the guitar—the ‘guitar curse’ in Hardrock, the baby song in Desperada, and the sound effects for Juleka in Reflekdoll. His “guitar emoting” is done playfully and probably with a degree of self-awareness that it’s silly, but as mentioned above, he finds it effective in cheering people up.

...But All Within Reason

In Miracle Queen, when Marinette breaks down, Luka does not play music. This indicates that he uses his guitar as a tool when appropriate, but he does not one-sidedly rely on it as a cure-all for how to interact with people. In Miracle Queen, Marinette does not need the guitar, she needs someone who will listen and give her a shoulder to cry on, and Luka provides that.

Internal Law, Not External

Especially having been raised by a mother with little regard for authority, Luka shows that he is ruled by a strong sense of inner morality, but is willing to bend rules that are imposed on him externally. He doesn’t mind breaking the law when he doesn’t feel the act is morally wrong (Hardrock).

This point extends slightly to encompass that Luka is motivated by inner factors, not outer factors.

Strong Moral Compass

In Desperada, when Ladybug calls Chat for help and he does not answer, Luka looks pissed, indicating he feels like Chat is shirking on his duties. Also, even though Chat makes excuses about Adrien’s whereabouts and pushes Luka into a locker with the instructions to keep hiding, later Luka runs into Ladybug and Adrien in the sewer. This means he did not listen to Chat, but went looking for Adrien to make sure he was safe, because he felt that was the right thing to do.

Impulsiveness

Luka is driven by what he feels is right to do at any particular moment. In Love Eater, he is working at a job, and tells the customer “Sorry, I have to go” and immediately goes off to visit Marinette to play a song he has thought up for her. He is still using the company bike, and may still be on his shift / have a job to do, but his priority is to fulfill his creative need. He doesn’t hesitate to give Marinette a ride on her own errand, despite probably having duties to do himself. His top priorities/loyalty lies with his loved ones and his creative goals.

He brings his guitar with him on his deliveries, implying that he could stop at any moment to play something if inspiration strikes, a hint of an impulsive personality.

Self-Motivated

Despite being easy-going, Luka does not have a complacent nature, but challenges himself to be better. When he plays the song for Marinette in Love Eater, at first he says it’s perfect, but after she listens and he gets her feedback, he decides he can do better and takes it back to tweak more.

Akuma Form Symbolism

This point is only LIGHT evidence as it ventures into questionable symbolic grounds, but as an akuma, Silencer scoffs at the notion of Ladybug and Chat Noir as figures of moral good. “Where were they when we needed them?” He says he will lay down the “Law of Silence.” This symbolizes Luka’s disregard for externally imposed morality / conventions and indicates that he operates according to a strong inner moral code. From a writing perspective, though, this can count as valid evidence of this characteristic of Luka’s, since akumatizations are manifestations of people’s deep emotions.

Body Language

Luka often uses body language (gestures and touches) to communicate. He invites Marinette to sit on his bed with a gesture, no words (Hardrock).

Luka is a tactile person who is not shy to invade other people’s personal space. When guiding, helping, or speaking to Marinette/Adrien, Luka is often touching hands, shoulders, waists, arms, and often he leaves his hands on them the whole duration of the exchange (Hardrock, Frozer, Desperada). To encourage Juleka, he touches her shoulders, pins up her hair, and kisses her head. He is not stingy with physical affection.

Introversion

Usually, when Luka plays the guitar for other people, his eyes are closed. He does not watch their reactions, despite the fact that he is playing for them (usually Marinette)—to change their mood or in dedication toward them. This can symbolize that although he devotes himself and his actions to others, and finds communication important (see “Responsible Communicator” below), he is still a private, introverted person.

In Party Crasher, Luka is only shown briefly during the party. When he is not playing the guitar, we see him standing among the crowd using his phone and not interacting with anyone, while all the other guests are either doing crazy things or talking to one another.

In Felix, Luka is with the group on deck at first, but later, he has retreated to his room even though the rest of the group is still on deck.

Private Humor

Luka doesn’t make very flamboyant jokes like Chat Noir, but he does show a sense of humor, making jokes with the guitar or gently teasing. This subtle humor can go undetected, but (as with Marinette) is appreciated more by the people he has gotten close to.

Responsible Communicator

Talking is the Best Policy

Luka shows a standard policy that communication is the best way to solve problems, and practices this himself. (See “Multiple Methods” below.)

We can see Luka’s thoughts about communication surface in the advice he gives to others. In Frozer, when Luka notices that Marinette is upset about Adrien, he advises her to talk to him. In Reflekdoll, when Juleka is having doubts about her ability to model, Luka advises her to talk to Marinette.

Multiple Methods of Communication

Luka doesn’t spare his words to communicate, but he also uses words, body language, or music to communicate. By saying “Sometimes music is clearer than words,” he indicates that his goal is to reach people and he feels that music can be a more efficient means of doing so. (See “Role of Music” for more on this.)

In Silencer, he praises the sincerity of the song, indicating that it’s important to him that the message of the song be pure and genuine, and that communicating true sentiments is a large part of his goal in making music.

Not Shy to Speak Up

In Frozer, he shows no inhibition or shame about admitting (by getting involved) that he was eavesdropping on Adrien’s private conversation with Marinette regarding Kagami, despite the fact that others might see this as intrusive or not socially acceptable. He is not shy to speak his thoughts.

He also confessed to Marinette easily in Silencer. It was unplanned, impromptu, but he said exactly what he meant.

Stress Response

He meditates (Hardrock). See “Cool-Headed.”

Sublimation

In Frozer, Luka is playing alone on the deck when Marinette joins him, and he does not change the (melancholy) song before he asks her, “You feel like this, don’t you?” The song was not originally for Marinette. This means that he was playing a melancholy song for himself before Marinette joins him, and by implication, he was feeling melancholy, and that when he feels upset, he plays the guitar. He is smiling faintly when Marinette comes on-deck, implying that the self-soothing method is working.

The above is evidence that Luka deals with stress through “sublimation”—in other words, transforming a negative emotion into something positive, productive, or creative.

Space

In Frozer, when Marinette is upset and flees from the rink, he does not pursue her. He gives her space, meaning he recognizes that his solicitation is not always what will help the other person, and indicating that he also seeks space when he is upset.

A Man of Action

Learning and Leading by Example

Instead of offering Adrien verbal advice in Frozer (aside from his few short lines), he shows Adrien an example, through his treatment of Marinette, of how to treat Kagami. The fact that he teaches by providing a visual example indicates that he learns by example as well. See “Speculation on Why” for why this might be.

Lending Help

Despite the fact that Luka does not mind stepping back in social or romantic situations, when it comes to a situation where people are in trouble or need help, Luka does not hesitate to act. He and Adrien are watching Ladybug fight alone in Desperada, and when Adrien says Chat Noir may not be there in time, Luka is the one who insists that they do something to help Ladybug, and immediately tries to create a diversion. In Miracle Queen, he jumps between Marinette and the bees, protecting her the same way Chat protects Ladybug. He is not a coward.

Pursuit of Dreams

Luka has a job. He’s pulling his own weight, in that small way; he is dependable and responsible enough to have a job. By working, he is developing the means (money) to make his dreams happen.

Feelings for Marinette

How He Developed Feelings

Some people perceive a gap between Luka meeting Marinette and suddenly having a crush on her, and wonder how in the world he caught feelings.

In Captain Hardrock, Luka witnesses Marinette stuttering and nervous first, then sees her during an akuma fight. The contrast of these two aspects of Marinette’s personality are plenty to wow Luka, and is it any different from what Chat Noir witnessed in Ladybug to make him fall in love with her? Let’s recap.

When Marinette is chained to Luka in the Liberty, Tikki undoes the lock, and Luka is amazed, instantly impressed that Marinette has managed to get them out. She says she did it with the guitar pick, and he is impressed, saying she’s a magician. He probably thinks she is smart and resourceful to be able to come up with a way to undo the lock.

When Ladybug appears, Luka praises Marinette to her, saying she’s a brave girl. Ladybug mentions that Marinette alerted her. From Luka’s point of view, all he knows is that Marinette has escaped, and the only way out is the window which would drop a person into the Seine. He probably assumes that Marinette jumped ship, swam, and figured out a way to contact Ladybug for help. A proactive, resourceful, and bold personality with miraculous connections (would just anyone know how to contact Ladybug for help?). Plenty of traits to admire and find extraordinary.

After Hardrock, Luka and Marinette go on a “date” together (Frozer), and spend significant time together working on creative projects (Silencer). Plenty of time for his admiration to turn into a full-blown crush before his “confession” in Silencer.

Marinette Over Music

Luka lets his guitar drop in order to hug Marinette with both arms instead of just one. Despite the fact that he feels attached enough to his guitar to bring it on his job deliveries, he’s willing to risk it getting damaged for the sake of providing Marinette some temporary comfort. Though it’s a simple scene/gesture, the camera angle (low, showing fallen guitar in the foreground) indicates that this scene is symbolic, showing how important Marinette is to Luka, that she takes precedence over his other great love in life.

The end screen shows Luka looking distressed while holding a crying Marinette. Going back to Hawkmoth’s comment about Luka as someone “who can’t bear to see the one he loves suffer,” his main concern is not to date her, but to comfort her so she won’t suffer anymore. Putting together his empathic nature, his facial expression, and everything we know about him, he probably feels torn up and in pain himself when he witnesses Marinette like that.

Passiveness in Love

For my thoughts on why Luka does not pursue Marinette, see below under “Speculation —> Why Luka Doesn’t Pursue Marinette.”)

Speculation

This section is speculation based on the clues provided above.

Why Luka is So Observant and Self-Motivated

Luka was raised by Anarka, a woman who has no respect for social conventions or authority. She has an illegally-parked houseboat, does not respect police officers, and does not believe in cleanliness or organization. It’s unlikely that such a person would teach her children social constructs like gestures of courtesy, or put them in lessons the way Gabriel has done for Adrien, etc.

We see in Frozer that Luka knows how to figure skate. He has probably learned from watching, rather than having been in lessons. It is likely that most of the learning Luka has done, has been from watching other people and picking things up. In order to learn in such an unstructured, free environment as Anarka has created on the Liberty, a person must be self-motivated, otherwise they end up as a slob who can’t do anything.

Luka’s advice to Juleka is to follow her dreams in life. We can assume that Luka is doing the same, and that no one is pushing him; the only way he can achieve his dreams is to push himself.

Why Luka is So Friendly with Adrien

We may suppose that it is due to Luka’s empathic nature that he’s able to embrace a rival in love (Adrien). Because Marinette loves Adrien, he may pay Adrien special attention and notice the things about him that Marinette loves, and as a result, also feel admiration toward Adrien as well. In Desperada, we see Luka being very concerned about Adrien, looking after him, making sure he is safe. It’s possible this special attention derives from his feelings toward Marinette.

Why Luka Doesn’t Pursue Marinette

Luka tells Marinette he has found her melody, but he asks if she really wants to hear it, then follows that with “You’re still thinking about Adrien, aren’t you?”

It’s obviously a metaphor that the song being perfected and Marinette listening to it symbolize her and Luka syncing up romantically. Looking deeper, though, Luka recognizes that Marinette is seeing him as a rebound now, and as much as he likes her, he knows that she will not feel fulfilled if she dates him as a rebound and her heart is still stuck on Adrien. Luka only wants to date Marinette if her feelings for him are genuine; if not, he will stand back.

(For more on this point, see “Focus on Others, Not Himself: Genuinely Concerned for Others’ Happiness.”)

Conclusion

Luka has a personality.

I think other characters, like Marinette and Adrien, are easy to caricature. Marinette’s propensity to catastrophize, bumbling in front of Adrien, obsessive crush, crazy/daring plots, etc. Adrien’s daddy issues, denseness, anime-style dramatic flair, romantic ideals. These characteristics are all easy to exaggerate and lend themselves well to humor, drama, etc.

Luka, on the other hand, has subtle and moderate characteristics that are difficult to exaggerate and don’t lend themselves well to humor and drama. His only major quirk (love of music) is easy to parody, and that makes him seem one-sided.

Honestly, I think he’s more like a normal human being. Not everyone’s personality screams something, but everyone is driven by a set of principles and values, the way they think, the way they see the world, behavioral trends, etc... and I feel like the writers have given us plenty of glimpses at what those are for Luka.

#Luka Couffaine #Miraculous Ladybug #ML Analysis #Luka Apologist

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 4 years

Text

Unexpected

Chapter 5

It had been a few days since you’d left the medbay, you’d been given sick leave for 7 days and you hadn’t left your room. You kept feeling tremors though the force, you could sense Kylo and his rage and then it would vanish, like he was blocking you out. You had tried to reach out to him but always found nothing. You began to resent what had happened. You didn’t ask for this! You were happy in your job, you position, your faith in the first order and the Supreme Leader. Now you were a mess, over a man. A man who even though he said he wanted you, now didn’t want you. You sat in your quarters getting angrier and angrier. You closed your eyes and you realised why Kylo lashed out so much. You began to pace feeling like a caged animal.

‘I can’t take this anymore!’ You screamed out loud. The force flexed around you, your cupboard door buckled inwards and you heard your plates, bowls and glasses shatter. Your hands flew to your mouth. Your anger gone. You stretched a shaky hand out to the cupboard, the door fell off it hinges followed by shards of glass. Then you realised water was bubbling out of your taps, you must have cracked a pipe. You used your holopad to call a droid to clean up and fix the mess. You didn’t want anyone human. You didn’t want it getting out. Gossip spread round this ship like wild fire. You stood in a corner while the droids worked and wished with all your heart you weren’t alone anymore. You looked at your officers uniform. You were on sick leave but you were still allowed on the bridge, right? Without a second thought you jumped into the refresher dried your hair and yourself off and got dressed. You looked as smart as always no one would suspect a thing. You groaned a little imagining the paper pile on your desk. You left your quarters and marched to the bridge. You felt alive for the first time in days. But you could hear things, whispers they seemed to be at the edge of your consciousness all the time. Silence battered you as the door to the bridge opened. You didn’t falter in your steps until Hux stepped out in front of you.

‘Officer Y/N.’ He looked you up and down. ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you sick?’

‘Feeling much better today General.’ You bounced onto the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind your back. ‘Thought I’d come and get myself up to speed.’ Your hands started to get clammy. You tugged at the collar on your shirt. You felt nervous under Hux’s gaze. ‘I er, best get on.’

‘Officer Y/N.’ You closed your eyes. You hadn’t felt him at all on the bridge but of course he was here. You slowly turned to face him. Thankfully he had his mask on and you didn’t have to look at his face.

‘Supreme Leader’ you said stiffly.

‘You’re meant to be off sick, are you not?’ His automated voice sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Yes Sir but I was feeling better so I came to catch up on some paperwork.......’ You trailed off and locked eyes with someone sitting in front of a radar. The fear rolling off them was coming in waves and it washed over you making you feel jittery. Suddenly the lights seemed too bright and pain lanced in your mind. Voices were shouting at you but no one was talking. ‘Shut up!’ You gasped as you looked around. You felt the force close around you and hold you in place. All you could move were your eyes. The Generals voice pierced through ‘What the hell is wrong with her Ren?’ He demanded.

‘She is still sick, take her back to her quarters and call Doctor Arla.’ You desperately wanted Kylo to help you but you had suffered this much alone already, what good could he do now. You felt anger spike and a screen blew up next to you. The officer standing there shrieked in surprise, he glanced at Kylo Ren in fear and then at you, their eyes widening. Shit. Shit shit.

‘Get her to her quarters now.’ You heard Kylo Ren snarl just before he put you to sleep.

You had no idea where you were and you woke with a yell. The doctor you saw before was perched on the end of your bed in your quarters.

‘You do keep life interesting don’t you?’ She smirked.

‘What the hell happened?’

‘You decided to take a stroll before Ren said you were ready.’ You snorted and she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

‘Ready? He hasn’t even been to see me. I can’t even sense him anymore.’ You got up and started pacing. ‘I feel like I’m going insane, I can hear what people are thinking, feeling all the time and I get lost.’ You looked at your hands and clenched your fists. ‘I’m alone.’ You stated.

‘You are not alone. The Supreme Leader has been busy but I will see to it you now become his top priority. I cannot have an untrained force user wandering around this ship.’ She stood. ‘ I shall recommend your training start tomorrow.’ She tapped into her holopad. ‘I suggest you get some rest.’ You nodded as she left.

There was a beeping noise. It kept going and going. You groaned as you realised it was your holopad. You pulled it towards you and peered at it with tired eyes.

‘Training, with the Supreme Leader don’t be late.’ Training, now. And you were still in bed. Fuck. You grabbed a long sleeved black top and some leggings. You scraped your hair back and ran out of your quarters to the Supreme Leaders training room. When you arrived you were out of breath and you stumbled in as the door opened.

‘You’re late.’ You eyed him wearily.

‘Forgive me Supreme Leader.’ He threw a training stick at you, it hit you and clattered to the floor. It hurt but you didn’t want to show it. You could almost hear him sneer from behind the mask.

‘Do you know how to fight?’ You picked up the stick and twirled it round. It felt nice in your hands, but it had been a while. He rushed at you and you managed to block his first blow but he was so strong you buckled under the weight and stumbled. He removed his stick and smacked you across the back pushing you forward as he stepped behind you. ‘You need more practice.’ You heard his heavy steps and you ducked as he lunged at you but he still clipped you. You felt a spike of anger as the pain shot down your shoulder. You wanted to stop and talk but he was bearing down on you again, you blocked his blows in quick succession but then he swiped your legs out from under you and you landed flat on your back. You cried out at pain shot up your back. Anger was building inside you. He paced on the other side of the room, rolling his shoulders and twirling his training stick. You wanted to touch those shoulders run your fingers through his hair as he kissed your face. He turned his back to you and you saw your opportunity you leapt off the floor your stick high above your head as you went to bring it down on top of him. He twirled, his stick blocking yours, then he pushed his other hand towards you and you felt the force shove you back against the wall. He slowly stepped towards you, you tried to free yourself even though you knew it was useless. ‘You’re so weak’ he said quietly. Your head snapped up to look him straight in the eye holes of his mask. All the anger you’d been holding onto the past few days came to the surface and with a roar you pushed him back. You caught him unaware and he stumbled backwards. You pushed at him with your training stick, new strength seemed to flow through you as he dodged your blows. You felt tears stinging your eyes as you chased his retreat around the room.

‘You. Left. Me!’ You screamed at him with every blow. You pushed him back against a wall, both breathing heavily. You released him and stepped back. He dropped his stick and walked out leaving you alone. Again.

Kylo marched to his quarters. People spun on their heels when they saw him storming towards them as they recognised his angry stance. He force opened his door and slammed it shut behind him. He ripped his mask off and threw it will a yell. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and his chest heaved. He roared at his empty quarters, his lightsaber came to life in his hand and he slashed at whatever he could reach. The smell of hot metal burnt his nose as his saber melted whatever it touched. He dropped his weapon to the floor and fell to his knees his hands over his face. His anger drained away as he pictured your angry face, screaming at him, telling him he’d left you. He knew he left you. He didn’t know what to do with you. The whole ship was buzzing with what had happened on the bridge. He wanted to hide you from it because it was you they would gossip about. You they would think about. You weren’t trained enough to block it out yet. He took a deep breath and shed his cloak, gloves and tunic. He grabbed the top you had worn that night and sniffed it. The smell of you was fading but it worked for now. How he wanted you, to tell you it would be alright, to hold you, to feel your skin. But he couldn’t. The force was strong with you and he though back to that moment in the training room. He had goaded you calling you weak he just wanted to see what you were capable of and he had been surprised. Anger was your fuel. Anger was what you needed, for now anyway.

I managed to pump this out, kids and husband distracted me multiple times! Also I am no good at writing fight scenes so just bare with ok?

#kylo ren #star wars fanfiction #kylo #kylo angst #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #kylo x reader #kylo x y/n #star wars #fight scenes #letting the writing guide me

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crackimagines · 4 years

Text

Take Over (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Persona 5 AU (Crimson Flower)

P5 AU Masterlist Here

—

With the Adrestian Empire declaring war on the church and moving to invade Garreg Mach, the Phantom Thieves move to steal the heart of Archbishop Rhea.

The clock is ticking for the Phantom Thieves, because if the invasion fails, then all their classmates are doomed to perish from the might of the Church.

—

Akira made sure that the Black Eagles and the Imperial forces were moving far ahead of them, as his team slowed down.

(Morgana) “I don’t think they’ll realize we’re gone in time.”

(Ryuji) “Alright, then let’s hurry this shit up! If we can take down Rhea and her lackies, then we can stop this war before it even begins!”

(Makoto) “As much as I would like for that to happen, we need to be extra careful. Something’s been acting up with the MetaNAV as of late!”

When Akira pulled out his phone, their Phantom Thief outfits began flashing onto them before fading away.

(Futaba) “This has happened everytime we’re preparing to enter it, what’s going on?”

(Yusuke) “I’m afraid we do not have the luxury of time to be asking that. We must hurry before the Imperials reach Garreg Mach!”

(Ann) “Yeah, and Rhea’s palace is on full alert. We gotta get going.”

(Haru) “Akira, if you would!”

Akira nodded and pressed the button.

(Phone) Transformation successful. Now merging Metaverse and the Real World.

(Everyone) ?!

The world around them began to distort as normal, but when it was finished, they noticed the world had not even changed in the slightest.

Even Garreg Mach in the distance had no visible effect. Edelgard and the others kept marching.

(Ryuji) “The shit is this?!”

(Makoto) “How is this even possible, we shouldn’t be able to access our Personas in the real world!”

(Haru) “This is bad! Everyone might be walking into a palace! They aren’t equipped to deal with shadows!”

(Futaba) “No, I’m not detecting anything different except...Holy crap, there’s one super strong reading in Garreg Mach!”

(Ann) “Rhea!”

(Yusuke) “They’re going to get massacred!”

(Morgana) “Joker, what’s our orders?!”

(Akira) “We need to get there before they do as fast as possible! Our identities might get compromised, but that doesn’t matter right now! Futaba, take Yusuke and Haru on your Persona and head over right now! Makoto, you break through that front gate and make a way for us! Morgana, Ryuji, Ann! With me! Our mission objective remains the same, STOP RHEA!”

[Life Will Change - Persona 5]

Wasting no time, Makoto rode Johanna straight down the road, pulling out her revolver.

Futaba’s Persona beamed the three of them up and flew around the sides.

Morgana transformed into his bus as Akira got on the wheel and stepped on the gas pedal.

...

(Edelgard) “THIS IS EMPEROR EDELGARD! BEGIN YOUR ASSAULT!”

All the soldiers charged the gates, ready to break it down until everyone heard a strange noise coming up behind them.

BANG BANG!

(???) “OUT OF THE WAY!”

Several squads’ advances were halted when a woman on a strange vehicle flew past them and crashed through the gate doors, making several of the church soldiers fly off from the impact.

(Soldier) “Who was that?!”

(Soldier 2) “Was that one of ours?!”

(Hubert) “Doesn’t matter. If they’re helping us then we cannot refuse their help! EVERYONE, CHARGE!”

The Black Eagles charged in with the rest of the soldiers, not noticing the flying saucer soaring above them.

Driving up the middle, Makoto used the front wheels to stop her, turning the back wheels up and hit away a squad of Church soldiers, sending them onto the concrete.

Getting off, Makoto quickly got her mask back on as Johanna disappeared, clenching her fists.

Another squad of soldiers rushed her, swiping their swords at her.

Swiftly dodging the first strike, she counterattacked with a fist going into his stomach, and a kick to the face hurling him back onto two other soldiers.

Grabbing her revolver, she quickly spun around and shot a soldier’s spear, making it fly out of his hand.

Elbowing his head, she ran to the sides of the nearby buildings and found a nearby ballista.

(Soldier) “Take out that thing that’s flying in the sky!”

(Makoto) “Oracle! Tch, NO YOU WON’T!”

...

Futaba beamed down Haru near the ballista Makoto was fighting at, and flew towards the other one.

(Futaba) “Fox and I will get the other ballista! Help Queen!”

Needing no further instruction, Haru held her axe firmly and hit a soldier in the back with the hilt.

(Soldier) “Huh?! BEHIND US-!”

Seizing the opportunity, Makoto used her legs and swept underneath several soldiers, tipping them all over.

(Haru) “MILADY!”

Summoning her Persona, it used a psychokinesis attack and distorted the soldiers, making them unable to get up.

(Makoto) “Thanks for that, Noir!”

(Haru) “No problem, now get back!”

Haru had a devilish smile as she pulled out her grenade launcher and pointed it at the ballista.

(Haru) “It’s going to go boom!”

Makoto smiled and saw other soldiers coming towards them.

After firing a single shot, it completely blew apart, scaring the others.

(Soldier) “W-What kinda weapon is that?!”

(Haru) “WHY DON’T YOU FIND OUT!?”

...

(Futaba) “BEHIND YOU, AIM DOWNWARDS!”

A soldier came for his back, and Yusuke aimed his rifle downwards and shot the sword, the reflection making the soldier recoil in surprise.

His Persona appeared behind him and froze the soldier solid.

(Yusuke) “And now!-”

Turning right around, he used his katana to break the wires and gears, and his Persona slammed its sword downwards, crushing it completely.

(Futaba) “Good job, Fox!”

(Yusuke) “Thank you. Come, we must infiltrate the main room without being seen!”

As they rushed off, the Death Knight and several other Imperial forces took notice of them.

(Death Knight) “The Phantom Thieves are here...? You, send a report to the Emperor!”

...

Once Edelgard and her company took out the squad in the middle, an Imperial soldier ran to her.

(Soldier) “Milady, the ballistae have already been completely wiped out, and enemy forces are dealing with a third group inside! Reports indicate its the Phantom Thieves!”

(Edelgard) “What?!”

Byleth came in from behind and shook his head.

(Byleth) “I couldn’t find Akira and the others, they just disappeared!”

(Edelgard) “Where-...wait a minute, could they?-”

Her thoughts were interrupted when a bus came barreling through.

(Familiar Girl’s Voice) “S-SORRY EVERYONE!”

(Familiar Punk’s Voice) “SHIT MAN!”

Spinning around, the bus exploded into a cloud of smoke, revealing 3 figures and a cat.

(Byleth) “Identify yourselves!”

Looking up, they all had masks that was hard to make out their faces, but their hair...

No one had time to get a good luck and recognize them when 2 golems headed their way.

(Soldier) “INCOMING!”

The 3 figures and cat turned around, reaching for their masks.

(Everyone) “PERSONA!”

4 shadows emerged from them and flew towards the golem, using a combination of slicing and spells to wipe them out, with a fireball and tornado wiping out one while a bolt of lightning wiped out the others.

The wings of the boy in black’s shadow blew an incoming squad away and straight into the walls.

The boy made sure not to say a word and moved through the main gate of the Monastery.

(Byleth) “I’m going after them!”

(Edelgard) “Professor, wait!”

Before she could follow, Edelgard heard someone’s voice scream out.

(Dimitri) “EDELGAAAAARD!”

Slamming his lance against her shield, she knew that he wasn’t going to stop until either of them were dead.

She quietly muttered to herself.

(Byleth) “...Akira, Byleth, please be careful...”

Finally making it to the final room, Catherine was blown back by an explosion while Cyril fell to the floor, covered in frost.

[Blood of Villain - Persona 5]

(Rhea) “They’re still alive...You play an interesting game, Phantom Thieves.”

Everyone noticed that her eyes were yellow instead of green.

(Futaba) “D-Did her shadow merge with her real self?!”

(Ryuji) “Tch, she was already powerful enough!”

Byleth ran in, and stood beside Akira, drawing his sword.

(Rhea) “YOU, I WILL MAKE SURE YOU DIE BY MY HANDS! I WILL RIP YOUR HEART OUT OF YOUR CHEST!”

(Byleth) “Heh, kinda upset I didn’t realize you all were the Phantom Thieves beforehand...”

(Akira) “Little slow there, teach! But hope that isn’t true when it comes to this fight! As for you, you have anything to say Rhea?! For all the lives you’ve taken?!”

(Rhea) “THOSE WHO OPPOSE THE CHURCH WILL BE CRUSHED WITHOUT MERCY. I CARE NOT FOR YOUR OPINIONS...No matter...Thanks to your appearances, I can now get rid of all my problems at once! Phantom Thieves, the Empire, Byleth...Your crimes will not go unpunished!”

(Ann) “That’s our line, you psychotic bitch! Enforcing your law on everyone and killing them as soon as they disagree?! You’re the one in the wrong!”

(Rhea) “You have NO idea what I’ve suffered! THE EMPIRE WORKS WITH THOSE WHO SLITHER IN THE DARK, AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE ANY WHO WORK WITH THEM.”

(Yusuke) “So, it would seem that she refuses to admit the fault in her logic.”

(Haru) “I can’t say that I’m surprised!”

(Makoto) “Words are meaningless, we gotta let our fists do the talking!”

[Blooming Villain - Persona 5]

(Rhea) “THEN ALL OF YOU WILL DIE!”

(Akira) “EVERYONE, LET’S FINISH THIS!”

Byleth rushed first, slamming the Sword of the Creator against Rhea's dagger.

She kicked him away, her strike hurting far more than he anticipated and flew back near the stairs.

(Akira) "ARSENE, TAKE HER DOWN!"

(Ann) "DANCE, CARMEN!"

Both of them took off their masks and summoned their Personas, Carmen igniting the area around Rhea as Arsene used its foot blade to cut her.

Wounded from the cut and bits of cloth and skin on fire, she ran through it and fired a spell at Arsene, making it stagger back.

Akira clenched his teeth as he felt the pain Arsene did, the spell hitting the shoulder hard.

Ann used her whip and swung it at Rhean which wrapped around Rhea's dagger.

Yanking it back, the whip flew out of her hand and into the floor.

Before Rhea rushed forward, she noticed that the rest of the Phantom Thieves were nowhere to be seen.

She leaped onto the air as bullets flew and hit the wall where she was, everyone pointing their guns at her.

Yusuke kept the pressure on her with his assault rifle, the bullets coming too rapidly for her to try anything.

When Rhea landed, she used her dagger to deflect a bullet, seeing Makoto attempting to make precise shots.

Rhea dashed towards Makoto and threw a fist out, which was caught by Makoto's arm, and whiffed to the side of her head.

Makoto kept her in place as she took off her mask, and a blinding blue light was underneath them.

Headbutting Makoto away, Rhea dodged the explosion by rolling away as she was barely caught by it.

Looking upwards, Ryuji, Morgana, and Haru had their Personas out, and Rhea was blinded by a psychokinesis spell.

Morgana's persona thrusted its rapier at her, but managed to dodge every single strike.

(Ryuji) "CAPTAIN KIDD!"

A cannon shot out of its arm, and hit Rhea in the stomach, making her crash through a wall.

Quickly getting up, Rhea tried to anticipate the next attack and barely managed to catch Yusuke's katana with her hand.

Joker came from behind and had Arsene grab her by the neck and slam her against the floor, sliding her and tossing her up onto the ceiling, making it crack with the impact.

Byleth jumped in and used the whip function of his sword to strike her midair, leaving a nasty wound across her chest.

Despite such a harsh assault, she managed to land on both her feet, looking at the Phantom Thieves.

Seeing her hands covered in blood, she clenched her teeth and her eyes widened with rage.

(Akira) "Surrender Rhea, you have lost!"

(Rhea) "No...NO! I WILL NEVER SURRENDER!"

(Futaba) "She's weak guys, LET'S FINISH THIS!"

(Akira) "ON ME!”

All of them hopped back and prepared for a final assault.

Drawing their weapons they all rushed her at once, striking at her weak and wounded spots in the blink of an eye.

Joker landed in front of Byleth, adjusting his gloves as Rhea’s body started shaking.

[Song End]

Rhea collapsed to the ground, not being able to stand up after that onslaught.

Byleth nodded in thanks, and moved towards Rhea, pointing his sword at her.

Edelgard and the other Black Eagles moved in, surrounding her with the Phantom Thieves.

(Edelgard) “So, it really is you guys.”

(Akira) “Surprised?”

(Edelgard) “Not particularly. But, that’s for another time. Rhea. By the order of the Adrestian Empire, you will be imprisoned. This fight is over, you have lost.”

(Rhea) “No...”

Her body shook violently again, with her looking straight at Edelgard.

(Rhea) “NO! YOU WILL DIE! GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-”

The pressure she exerted pushed everyone back.

With her shape changing form, she towered over everyone.

(Edelgard) “Damn it! EVERYONE, RETREAT!”

Everyone started running out, with Byleth and the Phantom Thieves keeping her occupied.

(Edelgard) “EVERYONE, COME ON!”

(Akira) “Oracle, escape route for us? If she chases us, then everyone outside’s done for!”

(Futaba) “I can’t find any! Dang it, come on!”

(Ryuji) “Tch...I think there’s only one way out of here for them.”

Everyone turned to Ryuji, but realized what he meant.

There was no other way.

(Akira) “Professor, go. They need you!”

(Byleth) “What?! What about you all?!”

(Akira) “Don’t worry about that, you just gotta-”

Rhea began charging up a beam from her mouth, and Byleth spun around and activated the whip function, slicing at a massive pile of debris above them, cutting off the Black Eagles from them.

(Akira) “...I see.”

(Edelgard) “Everyone, what the hell are you doing?!”

(Byleth) “Hah...It’s all right. Now, get out of here!”

(Edelgard) “No, I won’t accept this! WE’RE NOT LEAVING YOU ALL BEHIND!”

(Akira) “Then we have to make you. ARSENE!”

Appearing outside the rubble, it closed its wings, using the pressure of the wind to send them flying away.

(Edelgard) “NO! LET ME STAY! BYLETH, AKIRA! NO!”

Byleth and Akira had a self-mocking smile, as they turned around.

(Akira) “Everyone, it’s been a good run.”

(Ryuji) “I don’t wanna die but...Hah, I’m glad I’m at least dying together with you all.”

(Ann) “You idiots were the best thing that happened to me, you know that?”

(Yusuke) “I concur...with you all, my life found its meaning.”

(Makoto) “I’m proud to have fought for justice with everyone.”

(Haru) “May we all meet again in a better life...”

(Morgana) “I guess this is goodbye then...Hey, Byleth...Thanks for everything too.”

(Byleth) “All of you...”

The Phantom Thieves turned around to Byleth.

(Byleth) “I’m proud to have been your teacher.”

Rhea fired the beam at them, everyone accepting their fate.

However, the beam reflected onto the ground from an unknown force, shattering the ground around them.

Rhea managed to fly away from it, albeit heavily injured but the rest of the Phantom Thieves and Byleth were surprised.

(Ryuji) “You gotta be effin’ kidding me! IS THIS FOR REAL?! AFTER ALL WE SAID, WE DIE TO SOME GOD DAMN RO-”

Before everyone could process that they were still alive, the ground beneath them collapsed, sending them into the bottomless canyon below.

(Everyone) “AAAAAAAH!” “SHIIIIIIT-” “WOAAAAH!? “GAAAAAAAAAH-”

...

#persona 5 imagines #persona 5 headcanons #akira kurusu #futaba sakura #haru okumura #ann takamaki #makoto niijima #yusuke kitagawa #morgana #ryuji sakamoto #byleth #archbishop rhea #Edelgard von Hresvelg #black eagles #phantom thieves #hubert von vestra #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem three houses headcanons #fe3h imagines

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

New Perspectives

Batfamweek2020 Day 4 / De-ageing / @official-batfam-week

Summary: Sometimes crazy villains can get lucky shots. Damian just wished the lucky shot hadn’t hit Grayson, his current mentor and Batman. This complicates things quickly.

Might expand on this someday? Hmmmm. This week is giving me too many opportunities to try my hand out on stories I’ve been wanting to write >.<

AO3

-o-o-o-o-

“We’re almost there,” Damian says, trying not to pay too much attention to the boy behind him that’s clutching his stomach so he doesn’t fall off the cycle. The boy doesn’t respond, just clutches harder as Damian takes a sharp turn into a hidden and underground entrance to the cave. He doesn’t know if this tunnel had existed back when Grayson was Robin, but judging by the shocked gasp that vocalizes behind him: it didn’t.

The going after is just a few moments that are hardly worth remembering. The boy behind him is completely silent, and Damian’s sure if he turned around and looked into his eyes, all he would see is a cloudy, confused fog blanketing his normally lively electric blue irises.

Grayson is, understandably, “out of it”. Damian feels out of it. The night started off like any other; he and Grayson put on their uniforms and Batman and Robin emerged into the streets to fight crime and do good and all that ridiculous nonsense. However, it turned out someone wanted to attempt to make their villainous debut that night, some man with way too much knowledge in technology and what it can do to the human body. A bank robbery turned into a standup, the burglar ripping off his ski mask and leather jacket to reveal a ridiculous domino mask that appeared to be made out of felt from a lowly stock supermarket and an even more ridiculous costume that appeared to have been put together from a green-man suit and a mess of glued on scrap fabric and pipe-cleaners.

“It is I!” He had screamed, wielding a gun like device that looked straight from Halo. “Reverser! Batman and Robin! Tremble before me!”

Damian would sooner tremble to Condiment Man; which is another way to say no way in hell.

He was easy to take down, unfortunately he had gotten a few laser-like shots from his gun but he ultimately went down like a bag of bricks when Damian swiped his temple with a well placed kick from his heel. After he restrained the miscreant with cable ties he turned around, expecting the normal bout of praise Grayson loves to give him, only for his eyes to widen in shock as he sights three children who were not there before the battle.

Each child, a girl and two boys, swimming in adult clothes and all looking very dazed and confused.

He didn’t recognize the first two, but he did recognize the bright blue eyed one with raven hair and tan skin looking down at the mess of Batsuit around him with a far-off look and a frown on his lips. Damian didn’t hesitate, he just darted forward, gathered up the kid and the suit, and pressed the button on his belt that would summon his cycle.

He forgot to grab the weapon that did this, but he sent a message the commissioner’s way explaining the situation with the other two children and the weapon that did it. Damian will drop Grayson back at the manor and let Pennyworth deal with him while Damian went back out to retrieve the only key to reversing... fixing this mess until the Reverser woke up from his concussion.

The child thankfully has enough sense about him to clutch onto Damian as he drove, and he thankfully didn’t fight Damian forcing one of his own extra masks on his face and only gave minimal resistance to Damian stripping him of the Batsuit and shoving him into a various selection of clothes he definitely didn’t steal from a near-by dry cleaner that Pennyworth will be none-the-wiser of.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

So, now, he comes to a screeching halt in the cave with the Bat-suit stuffed in a bag around his shoulders with Grayson hanging on just behind in borrowed clothes and a borrowed mask. He spots Pennyworth rushing down the stairs up to the manor with a visible amount of concern on his face, but Damian ignores him for now as he gets off the bike and drags Grayson off with him by a hand gripping the... younger boy’s bicep. Damian tries not to think about how the tip of his middle finger and his thumb are close to touching or how the borrowed mask looks way too big.

Grayson cannot be more than seven or eight years old at the moment. He’s so small compared to Damian, and Damian cannot be more than two years older. Damian doesn’t know how young Grayson started his career fighting Gotham crime, but Damian secretly and truly hopes it wasn’t this young. It wasn’t this small. Which is rich, because Damian’s been fighting since he could crawl.

Knowing his father, it was probably this young. This small.

Grayson stumbles to his feet and groans, bringing the hand that belongs to his freed arm to his eyes and rubbing at them, making the mask covering his identity grow slightly askew. Damian tuts as Pennyworth finally arrives, mumbling a British expletive under his breath that Damian will not address because the old butler will very stubbornly and effectively deny. Besides, Grayson is more important.

“What happened?” Pennyworth asks, bending down—knees cracking and Damian fights a wince—to grab Grayson’s cheeks to keep his head still long enough to peel off the borrowed mask. Damian lets go of Grayson’s arm to return to his bike.

“He got hit by something that reverted him to the age of a child,” Damian says simply. “Watch over him while I visit the precinct to retrieve the weapon that did-“

“No alone, you’re not,” Pennyworth snaps and Damian frowns. Grayson has yet to show any kind of familiarity with Pennyworth, but as Pennyworth stands up to give Damian a hard stare, Grayson wraps his thin arms around the butler’s hips and buries his face into his lower leg. A pathetic show of a child needing affection. Grayson is clearly still very out of it. Damian must fix this, and quickly.

“I’ll be fine,” Damian argues back and Pennyworth’s lips dangerously thin. Damian fights back a nervous swallow. He quickly found out Pennyworth was no one to be trifled with, after calling him a servant and getting an intense scolding from his father, he had been careful since to treat the elder man with tolerance. It was then that he noticed the lethal way the butler moved. He was a soldier, a dangerous one before this. A soldier hardly ever forgets how to not be dangerous, even in old age. Tolerance turned into respect.

And fear, of those stern eyes and scolding lips that thin before they go for a killing blow.

“You will go to the precinct tomorrow. Mr Gordon will not lose the weapon in eight hours. You need rest.” Pennyworth puts his hand down at the top of Grayson’s unruly mess of hair. Grayson has yet to emerge from his clinging grasp on Pennyworth’s leg. “You both do.”

Damian huffs angrily, jerking his body away from his cycle with a growl. He knew the battle was lost the moment the butler told him no the first time, but Damian is more stubborn to give up the first try.

“Alf...” a small voice says and Damian has to fight jerking his head down to the small kid who’s released his clinging just enough to look up at the older man. “‘m tired...”

“Of course, Master Dick,” Pennyworth says, a warmth in his voice that Damian has never heard directed his way. Pennyworth looks over at Damian one last time with a stern eye before he expertly unwinds Grayson’s grabbing and spindly arms to bend down and place his hands on Grayson’s shoulders. Grayson wobbles slightly and blinks sleepily and Pennyworth tuts. “We will head to bed immediately. Do you need to be carried?”

Damian bits his lip as Grayson gives a jerking shake of the head. He looks dead on his feet, Damian wouldn’t even have asked, but Pennyworth just nods and stands tall, offering a single gloved hand.

“Hold my hand then, you’ve had a long night.”

Grayson nods and grabs Pennyworth's hand, taking steps along the butler’s strides much like how a newborn deer would as it tries to keep pace with a buck.

Damian hears a tiny “where’s Bruce?” as the pair make their way towards the stairs out of the cave. Damian reluctantly follows close behind, curious as to what answer Pennyworth is about to give.

“He was held up at work, young man,” Pennyworth says back, helping Grayson up the first stair. “Will you be alright with just Zitka?”

“Yeah...”

“Very well, are you hungry?”

“Nah...”

Pennyworth’s mindless questions for Grayson’s well being quickly become background noise to Damian’s thoughts as the trio walk into the study. Damian closes the door in the clock behind him and the two other occupants of the house quickly turn a corner and begin to leave Damian behind.

He decides to quickly retreat to his room while he lets Pennyworth deal with the dazed miniature Grayson. Grayson hadn’t noticed Damian there and he inquired the location of his father, which makes this situation feel already leagues out of his abilities to even attempt to help the tiny version of his mentor. Damian needs to sleep, because the sooner he sleeps, the sooner he can leave the next day and get the weapon and hopefully interrogate Reverser or whatever his birth name is because honestly Damian refuses to call him by that idiotic name for much longer.

He doesn’t stumble into his room, just like how the weight of the situation doesn’t hit him like a truck and cause him to flop on his bed with a verbal sigh. He doesn’t turn in his sheets so he’s facing the direction where Grayson’s room is and he definitely doesn’t focus his hearing on the quiet and muffled murmuring of Pennyworth coaxing the child into bed.

None of this happens because no one is around to see nor hear him do it.

If a tree falls in a forest, and all that.

He will fix this, he thinks, closing his eyes as Pennyworth’s footsteps retreat down the hall.

-o-o-o-o-

It’s close to four in the morning when Damian wakes again. Confused because he’s trained his body to always sleep in till at least six, he slowly brings his arms under him and lifts his body up so he can effectively look around the room to maybe spot whatever disturbance woke him up. There’s nothing but shadows, no light illuminating from the window because of the twilight before morn. His furniture is all where it should be, and there’s no unknown forms where there shouldn’t be.

He lays back down on his bed again, eyebrows drawn together and very awake for no reason at all. Strange, he hardly ever wakes up before he’s trained his body to unless he specifically plans an early rising with an alarm.

Perhaps the manor life has been getting to him, maybe his body is deciding to have a little fit about the time zone difference between this place and the desert he grew up in.

Nothing to cause worry, for sure.

Then; he hears a tiny pitter-patter of feet walking quietly outside his door.

Perhaps this was the disturbance he was looking for. He silently slips from his covers and tip-toes to his door, waiting for the footsteps to get a bit further from his room so he can quietly open the door without being noticed. He pokes his head out and blinks at the almost pitch blackness of the wing hallway to see a small form turn a corner towards the stairs that lead to the main floor of the manor.

The realization washes over him like those blasted artificial waves at that pool Grayson forced him to go to on a rare weekend off for the older man. He glances down the other end of the hallway towards the direction of Grayson’s room, knowing it is now empty, before fully exiting his room and quickly rushing down the direction Grayson had gone without making a single noise.

What could a shrunken kid be doing this early in the morning? He was practically dead on his feet the night before. Damian’s almost shocked that he’s up before noon let alone sneaking around the manor. Damian is just lucky that Grayson as a child isn’t as good at sneaking as his adult counterpart. Worst case scenario, Grayson could have exited the manor and left to the streets of Gotham all before Damian and Pennyworth could notice.

He pokes his head around a corner to find Grayson just reaching the bottom of the staircase. He watches as he looks around the large room before taking off thankfully not towards the front doors. A small inkling of worry fades from Damian’s conscious as he quickly rushes down the stairs just in time to see Grayson disappear through the halls into the doorway of the kitchen.

Curious, Damian sneaks closer and pokes his head in to see Grayson already struggling to jump on the counter and open a high up cupboard, pulling out a box of frosted mini-wheats and hopping down to place the box on the counter. Damian has to resist a snort of amusement as the child then carefully opens the fridge door, recoiling from the light of the fridge ever so slightly and blinking squinting and close to teary eyes from perhaps exhaustion, to drag out a gallon of milk and shove it next to the cereal. Grayson then heads to another counter and hops up again with practiced movements to open another just for his hand to freeze when he meets the sight of glass pans and fancy decorative serving bowls.

“Huh,” Damian hears Grayson huff. “Alf reorganized.”

He’s looking for the bowls. Damian places his hands over his mouth to stop an embarrassing giggle. This is all so amusing. Grayson had gotten up at four in the morning to steal a bowl of cereal. He wonders if he still does this as an adult and Damian just hasn’t ever noticed, but then he shakes his head because it’s ridiculous to think that first of all, an adult man sneaking under Pennyworth’s nose to get cereal and second of all, that Damian wouldn’t notice.

Grayson opens the next cupboard closest to him just to huff again when he meets the sight of spices. There are many cupboards in the kitchen, and the poor shrunken man is on the opposite side of the room where the bowls actually lay.

Damian wonders what he should do. It looks like Grayson is simply just hungry and might even go back to bed without suspecting a thing. Damian isn’t sure how much he remembers, but if the way the other boy is slowly starting to growl with each cupboard he opens, muttering things like “Alfie really outdid himself this time” and “doing this just because he doesn’t want me sneaking food at midnight” and even “watch. He probably hid the bowls in his room this time” with growing frustration was anything to go by: not much.

Damian shouldn't make his presence known if Grayson woke up with munchies thinking he was back to eight years old. Back then, it was only him, Pennyworth, and his father all living in the same house. To Grayson, he’d probably just be some random ten year old kid who broke into the manor or something.

He should go wake Pennyworth, he decides as Grayson calls out in victory, pulling out the first bowl he gets his hands on. He steps back, but of course it’s that second Alfred the cat decides to make himself known by tripping Damian up. He hadn’t noticed the feline standing curiously behind him, but Grayson definitely notices Damian’s call of alarm and Alfred’s yowl and hiss as he runs away. Damian lands on his rear with a thump and next thing he knows, Grayson is standing a few paces away, holding perhaps the first long and weighty thing he could find up as a weapon. Unfortunately, that item is a rolling pin. A hit from that, even from Grayson’s skinny noodle arms, would leave a mark, especially with Robin training.

“Who are you?!” Grayson hisses, holding his rolling pin of doom out in front of him at an awkward and wrong angle for optimal self defense. On instinct, Grayson has lessened his abilities to appear as an actual child who’s been startled, not a trained vigilante that could use a paperclip as a weapon if need arises.

Damian slowly holds up his hands in surrender and rises to his feet even slower. “I’m not going to hurt you, Grayson.”

Damian almost curses his instinct to call the boy by name, but Grayson doesn’t react. It’s then that Damian remembers that he’s the first adoptive son of the elusive Bruce Wayne. Everyone in Gotham knows his name, more so than Todd, Drake, Damian himself, and especially Cain. However, what Grayson chooses to get angry at is the rest of the sentence itself.

Grayson raises his weapon higher and Damian follows the action with his hands, keeping his gaze firm on Grayson’s eyes.

“Tell me who you are or I swear I’ll-“

“Master Richard John Grayson,” Pennyworth suddenly gasps from behind, startling both Damian and Grayson out from their heated glaring contest. Damian hadn’t noticed the man, though Pennyworth is often unnoticed when he wants to be. He’s sure the older man has startled his father himself a few times from his silent walking.

There’s a thunk of a rolling pin falling to the ground and Damian watches as Grayson stares wide eyed at Pennyworth, mouth slightly open in shock. At first, he thinks it’s because Pennyworth used Grayson’s full name, signifying how angry he is, but when Pennyworth steps forward Grayson takes a startled step back. He looks like he’s about to dart.

Something else is wrong, and Damian realizes just what when Grayson lets out a shocked whisper.

“You’re... you... Alfred, you look old...?”

Pennyworth sighs and kneels down on the ground, holding out his bare hands. He’s in his nightgown and a little hat and nothing more. It looks like he woke from bed in a cold sweat and grabbed the nearest garment to be decent enough before tracking down his target. Grayson takes a slow step forward and grabs Pennyworth’s hands with his own, and after a tense moment of the two of them staring at each other and Damian feeling like he’s intruded on something private, Grayson relaxes.

“But it’s you. You’re old... but you’re you.”

“The one and only, lad,” Pennyworth says with a somber smile to his voice.

Suddenly, Damian is in the spotlight of Grayson’s attention once again when their eyes meet. “You’re old,” Grayson repeats softly, almost to himself as he looks Damian up and down as if he’s assessing a threat. Which is good, Grayson is young and should always assess threats, but it hurts that he’s on the receiving end. “And you’re new... Alfred, what’s going on? Where’s Bruce?”

“Richard,” Pennyworth says, dropping the honorific, which is very rare for him to do, “do you remember anything from last night?”

Grayson’s eyebrows come together, making him look even more like the child that he is. It makes something in Damian’s chest tighten. He wonders if he’s ever looked that small. “I... no... a... a light..?

Clearly, thinking too much is giving the younger version of Damian’s mentor a headache. Pennyworth takes pity on him by letting go of his hands and transferring his grasp onto both of Grayson’s arms in a steady hold. “I was hoping we could ease you in once morning came,” Pennyworth says with a sigh. “Sadly, it seems we must explain things now. Master Dick, please put the pin away and finish making your bowl of cereal then go upstairs to join Master Damian in the study, I will be right up after I make us all some hot chocolate.”

Grayson nods slowly and Pennyworth gives him a small pat on the arm before standing up and preparing the milk before anyone could say anything else. Damian feels the hairs on his neck rise and he re-meets Graysons studying gaze. Damian clears his throat and takes a step back—careful this time to not trip over any cats—and forces something that could maybe pass as a smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he says smartly, before turning tale and retreating up towards the study before Grayson could say anything.

#dick grayson #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #robin #dc #dc comics #batman comics #de-aging #batfamweek2020 #jin writes #fan fic

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