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electrasev5nwrites · 10 months

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Ninja Daily: AIC 7

"Look, I just need you to help me keep an eye on them. Gato will find out today and be pissed. I just don't know what he'll do."

There was an unhappy grunt.

"But this works for us. If someone else is doing the visible work of opposing Gato, we can stay hidden," Aiko cajoled.

"Yes," Utakata agreed unhappily. "I see that. If another team receives credit for our work, how are we to be paid?"

Aiko waved that off. "We will be. Anyway, the team is harmless right now. Their Jounin is unconscious. The remainder is three genin."

Outrage fled over her partner's face. His spine straightened. "Konoha sent inexperienced children against Momochi Zabuza." His voice dropped from flat to subzero.

'Of course not! Konoha is merely incompetent enough to have no idea he's operating in the area.'

She made a queasy expression that wasn't quite a smile. Hmm. She abandoned the expression. "Maa, they're probably not trying to kill the kids off."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"You owe me." Utakata bit that out like it was a statement of fact and not up for debate.

Aiko didn't quite have the energy to smile at how crotchety he was. She pursed her lips and nodded. "Fine. Just don't let the kids die while I'm gone."

Her partner huffed in disgust. "I'm not incompetent." Utakata tapped the book in his hand against his thigh. "It will be no challenge to turn aside whatever troubles genin might encounter."

"That's the spirit." She rubbed at her face with the back of a hand. "I'll hurry."

Aiko left without another word, en route for the town closest to Tazuna-san's home. There was so much to do that she felt a little nauseous.

She wasn't with team seven. Not only that, but Naruto didn't appear to know she existed.

The best response she could think of that was a sort of internal screaming peppered by question marks, so it was best not to linger.

There was no longer any internal debate. She had to get into Konoha, because there was nowhere else she could get answers.

'Danzou. I wouldn't put it past Danzou to snatch up a Hokage's kid if she was left alone. Or Orochimaru- he was still in Konoha when I was an infant. He's brazen.'

Actually, there was any number of terrifying things that could happen to an orphan in Konoha.

'This isn't a productive line of thought,' Aiko told herself, keeping an eye out for a likely looking store. One appeared: a nearly deserted building that was at least thirty years old. She spotted the proprietor reading behind the counter. Perfect. 'Focus on what I can affect in the near future.'

So. She had to get into Konoha. Her earlier thought still rang true: she would receive far too much scrutiny if she petitioned for entry. They would find that incredibly suspicious and conduct an exhaustive review of her background and psychological profile. Unacceptable.

That meant she had to force Konoha to approach her, so that they would believe she had no agenda and make concessions to persuade her into the fold. She had to be appealing and relatively nonthreatening. And she had to use the resources she had to do it: team seven.

'At least I know Kakashi. I know how he works and thinks. I'll let him discover a shinobi is lurking about, investigate me, and then miraculously find out I am an Uzumaki. He'll leave, but he'll take that information to the Sandaime along with whatever impressions he has of me. So they have to be the right impressions.'

She wasn't going to lie to him any more than she had to. He was too good for that.

When she walked in, the proprietor was attentive and smiling. "Welcome! Can I help you find anything?"

\Aiko demurred. "I'm just looking, shopkeep-san. How long have you been here?" She ran her fingers up a display, watching his reaction out of her peripheral.

He closed his book on a finger. "Well, I've been running the shop by myself for the last fifteen years, since my wife passed."

'That's a long time. Works for me.'

"Oh. I see." She turned to face him directly. Aiko blinked open the Rinnegan and caught the poor man in a spell. "You remember me. My mother and I bought our groceries from you for years, but you haven't seen either of us in a while. She came to this island when she was a teenager, but you never really knew her. When pressed, you will be somewhat certain that her name is Kagome or Kaoru."

The elderly man was frozen stock still. Aiko dug a few coins out of her pocket and put them on the counter, feeling a little regretful. He didn't move.

'Kind of a shame I don't know a gentler way to weave a long term genjutsu.'

Well. He'd be fine. She left him to digest his new impression.

Establishing a cover was the first step to getting scouted by Konoha. They'd want to know where she'd come from- powerful shinobi didn't pop out of another dimension fully formed.

She caught several key people around town the same way, seeding vague impressions of generally uninteresting encounters with the woman who lived out in the country with her daughter and no husband. She didn't have a house out in the country to fit that story, but she couldn't Rinnegan one of those out of nothing. She'd work around it. Somehow.

'Fuck. Well. There's a stupid dimension full of large, angry kittens. Maybe there is a summoning dimension with houses.'

Aiko snorted, rubbing at her headache.

Okay, so that was a pretty big loose end and it was not going to be solved in any way she could think of off the top of her head.

Aiko gritted her teeth and tried to think her cover through. Maybe she'd missed something. She was an unaffiliated shinobi because her mother had fled Uzushiogakure at- Aiko counted quickly- fourteen and hid in Wave Country. Her mother had been deeply paranoid and only sought out missions when prompted by outright desperation. She had been reclusive- she had no strong friendships in town. Her mother- she'd call her Kagome, Aiko decided, Kagome had started taking Hikari out on missions at about twelve. Before that, she'd left Hikari with Tsunami-san when Kagome had to take missions or starve. That was why Tsunami-san was so familiar with her cover, despite the five year age difference.

'I need to get to Tazuna as well. Today, preferably, before he has too much opportunity to think about how strange my presence is or ask Tsunami-chan any questions.'

There was no one else who she absolutely had to put under genjutsu immediately, she thought.

What would Kakashi look into first?

He'd want to meet the fictional mother from Uzushiogakure. Pity, she'd passed away- Aiko squinted at the sun- a year ago. Hikari'd only started taking missions again after a few months of mourning. Konoha could check that work history if they really wanted and verify that a couple of brokers would recognize her.

'I need to genjutsu at least one or two job contacts so that they will indicate I have a longer operational history in the area,' Aiko decided.

She ended up flicking around the eastern coast of the continent, tracking down semi-plausible employers and convincing them that they'd met before. Those stories didn't need to be complex or complete: no one would willingly give out too much mission information.

'If my mother was from Uzushiogakure, I'd know a lot more about it.' Aiko stopped for late lunch at a roadside stall and ordered karaage. Maybe food would do something to settle the odd flip-flipping sensation in her head. 'I don't see how I can resolve that, exactly. I've never been there. Would looking around give me a little more legitimacy?'

The chicken was a little too salty, but Aiko ate it anyway. She waved down the shopowner for more tea, frowning darkly at the counter in thought.

'Tomorrow. I can try that first thing tomorrow. I'm tempted to take Utakata with me. The whirlpools are supposed to be really dangerous out there. But I can't quite justify leaving the kids without Jounin supervision.'

She paid her tab with a sigh and stretched.

'I'll just have to be careful. As long as I don't hit my head and pass out, I can always Hiraishin out of trouble.'

She'd made a lot of progress for one day. But there was one more errand she absolutely could not put off. Sakura-chan seemed surprised to see her back in the same day, but Tsunami-chan let her in without comment.

"Are you here for your laundry?" Tsunami-chan dried her hands on her apron, bustling through the kitchen. "I'm afraid I haven't had time to fold it-" She sat the full basket on the kitchen table.

"That's fine," Aiko assured. She eyed the clean laundry with intense satisfaction. The choice between re-wearing dirty clothes or stealing a new outfit everyday was untenable. Why hadn't she truly appreciated laundry facilities before? "Really, thank you so much. I'm afraid I'm having problems with the plumbing at home," she half-explained to Sakura. The girl made a polite sound of comprehension. Aiko fussed, smiling at Tsunami-chan. "I appreciate the help. Please, is there anything I can do?" She gestured to the house. "I know that you have a lot of work right now. I could take Tazuna-san's refreshments down, for example."

Tsunami-chan caught on to the prompting and nodded. "Of course, I'd nearly forgotten!" She pulled open the freezer. "I have a cooler that I could use. Sakura-san, do you think your teammates would like a treat? It's so hot out."

The pink-haired girl made a rude sound. Then she flushed, apparently shocked her mind-to-mouth filter was malfunctioning. "They'll love a treat, Tsunami-san!" Sakura flapped her hands. "They'll eat anything and everything."

Aiko made herself useful enough that Sakura wouldn't think anything was odd. In less than an hour, she hefted the cooler of sweetened strawberry treats on her hip. "Ja mata!" She beamed back at the house in the moments before Tsunami-chan let the door slip shut.

She took the walk at a civilian pace. She tried not to scowl too much at the dust and burrs that caught on her shoes. She shifted the cooler around when her arms began to ache.

The sounds of men at work reached her before sight. Hammering, clanking, and distant shouts painted the air.

Aiko closed her eyes and stopped for just a moment. She focused.

"-that right there"

"Watch it!"

"and me that would you-"

'Sounds a lot busier than I remember.'

She started forward decisively, a bright smile plastered on her face. "Hello!" Aiko waved at the first men she passed, noting a rather alarming amount of sweat. Ew. She kept her distance.

The workers exchanged glances. "Uh, hello." A younger man nodded in response, not quite making eye contact. He attempted to surreptitiously pull down the sleeves he had rolled up his shoulders.

Aiko stifled a snort. Tazuna was at the edge of the bay, directing work with a fierce attitude and a rolled up set of drawings. Naruto and Sasuke were harder to spot- she didn't manage to pick them out without looking too obviously. They were here somewhere. Had to be.

Tazuna-san's eyebrows shot up when she got his attention. He waved away the man he'd been speaking to, a thunderous scowl pulling his lips down.

"Who the hell are you now, lady?"

Aiko's eyes darted to either side. No one was positioned well enough to have a direct view of her face. She turned her body a little bit more and blinked on the Rinnegan for the nth time that day, feeling strain pull on her shoulders and neck muscles. "You remember me! Tazuna-san, I used to play with Tsunami-chan when my mother went off to work. I'm Hikari, Kagome's daughter."

His eyes glazed over. His face reddened. But he nodded in response. "That's right, isn't it? My wife always watched the two of you. I spent too much time working even then."

Aiko blinked off the Rinnegan. The world moved sideways, colors blurring. There was a hand reaching for her upper arm- she twisted away with a jerk.

"Watch it now!" Tazuna-san let his hand drop, grey brows drawn in concern.

She wasn't holding the cooler anymore-

'What the hell?'

Sasuke had her cooler, she realized. He was stepping backwards, dark eyes warily assessing but not terribly suspicious of her.

"Oh! I'm sorry." Aiko managed something that probably resembled a smile. "Just- suddenly felt lightheaded, that was all!"

'I must have overused the Rinnegan. Casting genjutsu is a much higher drain than just having it on.'

"Hn." Sasuke grunted, shoulders pulling up defensively.

There was a loud, victorious crowing. "Snacks for me? Share, teme!" And then Naruto was there, tugging violently on Sasuke's burden.

"Naruto!" Aiko snapped, appalled. His spine zinged into a straight line, along with that of the closest workman. "That was rude and I know you can do better. I don't want to hear that from you again."

Sasuke looked at her. Naruto looked at her, eyes wide with shock.

What?

Tazuna-san chuckled. "You sound like someone's mom, Hikari-chan." He ruffled her hair. "I think these two are a little old to be adopted. They're grown up ninja, after all!"

'They're children. They are immature and do not have the technical skills to operate without their Jounin sensei.'

She narrowed her eyes. She let her silence speak for her.

Tazuna-san kind of looked sideways and down, as if re-remembering just how short team seven was on average.

Sasuke looked down at his feet, scowling fiercely.

"Eat your snacks, boys," Aiko ordered, feeling powerful and adult. "You too, Tazuna-san." She shook a finger at him. "Tsunami-san is doing a lot of work at home. And so is your teammate." Her hand re-oriented on an alarmed looking twelve year old. "Thank them both. Someone else is going to stay home with Tsunami-san tomorrow to help around the house and with your sensei." Her tone left no room for disagreement.

Naruto nodded wordlessly, big blue eyes focused on her.

Sasuke was averting eye contact and his shoulders were pulling up towards his neck. But his body was facing directly towards her and he was clearly paying attention.

Aiko leveled them both with one last stern look and then nodded. "Well, I'm heading back. Have a good day at work."

The weird thing was that more than three cowed-sounding voices replied, 'Yes, ma'am'.

'Huh.'

The day was getting late enough that she should check in on Utakata and possibly relieve his watch. But… tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd go poke around Uzushiogakure to add some validity to her backstory. She had plenty of time before Kakashi would be waking up, but it would be best to get that out of the way.

His dreams were always the same when he had chakra exhaustion: a loop of great gasping sobs and Minato-sensei's putting his head in his hands and Kushina-san screaming at the Uchiha clan head and the horrible little gasp that Rin had made when his fist had gone through the back of her rib cage.

Kakashi woke with an aching back and the feeling that something was wrong.

He pushed off someone's soft futon and sat up.

Two unfamiliar scents in the room, plus all those of his students. A personal home, not an inn or safehouse. Late daylight. One two three unfamiliar chakra signatures in the vicinity and one of his students.

'Where are the other two?'

He used the wall to stand up. His muscles were in a pathetic state no med-nin would have allowed- sore and stiff. He patiently and precisely went through the motions of the shortest stretching regimen he knew. The exercises loosened his body enough that walking without giving away weakness was no great difficulty.

'I must not have been out as long as expected.'

The stairs were easily found. A female voice filtered up the stairs, diverted and muffled by hallways and paper screens.

"un, why don't you try the other worksheet first?"

He couldn't understand the response, but it was a childish whine.

Naruto laughed, boisterous and light.

Something in his spine relaxed at the sound of his student's voice. He sounded fine. Happy. Safe.

Kakashi frowned, gripping the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. The wooden frame creaked under his fingers. Safe? Why was he worried about that? Zabuza had been killed and then taken away by that hunter-nin. His students could handle interference from civilians. Civilians didn't operate like shinobi or anticipate-

He let go of the doorway before he caused property damage. Painful spasms ran up the muscle group connecting his fingers and forearm.

Of course. Shinobi operations were on his mind because what he'd seen had been a blatant failure in procedure. That hunter nin had taken Zabuza's body away. And he had been alone. Hunter nin worked in teams.

Kakashi slouched in pursuit of Naruto's voice as fast as possible.

"Sensei!" Naruto twisted to beam relief up at him without dropping the knife he held to a red chopping board. "Hey, hey, we were starting to think you were never going to wake up! You slept for almost two weeks, old man!"

The woman who was standing watch over something bubbling on the stove made a vague approving sound without turning around. The other woman in the room, a brunette, was leaning over a wide-cheeked toddler seated at the kitchen table. The brunette gave him a friendly smile.

"It's good to see you up and about, shinobi-san!" She stepped away from the boy who had to be her son to give him a bow. Kakashi reciprocated automatically. "Your team has been working very hard while you recovered."

Naruto ducked his chin into her chest and appeared very interested in her work. He was grinning into his collar.

"I see."

The woman blinked. "Oh!" She turned pink. "Excuse me. My name is Tsunami. I am Tazuna's daughter, and this is his grandson, Inari." The child did not wave or acknowledge him. "My father is out working on the bridge. The rest of your team is with him."

That still left one person unintroduced. Kakashi gave her back a pointed nod, maintaining pleasant eye contact with Tsunami-san.

She smiled back and then went back to helping Inari-kun practice what appeared to be katakana. Odd.

"Yo." The redheaded woman spoke, holding a hand up for an instant. The gesture did not fit the well-manicured nails and heavily braceleted wrist that made it.

Kakashi gave the space between her shoulderblades a surprised look. "Naruto-kun. Who is your other friend?"

His loudest student blinked and then gestured at the stranger. "Hikari-san, this old dude is my sensei. Sensei, Hikari-san is Tsunami-san's friend. She has been helping around the house since…" Naruto paused, face scrunched in thought. "Since we got here."

'Naruto still didn't give my name. Does that mean the kids were attempting information control?'

Excellent. That had been the right decision to make while he had been out of commission.

"Call me Kakashi." He aimed a calculated eye-smile at the strangers.

Inari-kun still didn't look up. Hikari-san didn't turn around. Tsunami-san turned magenta and starry-eyed.

He slouched a little more to look harmless.

"Eh." Hikari-san was rudely disinterested in his introduction. Or maybe just focused on her task.

His eye twitched.

'I'm not used to being so openly disregarded.'

Hikari-san tossed a handful of carrot into the pot and turned around. His chest seized up.

'She looks far too familiar.'

"-ad you're up," Hikari-san blathered, smiling like she had a secret, Minato's eyes half-mast. "Naruto-kun won't admit it, but your team has been very worried for you." She rinsed her hands, mercifully turning her face away enough that he could think again. But he could see Kushina in the curve of her jaw in profile and the long line of her neck.

'Impossible.'

He had to be overreacting. Kakashi managed the focus to dredge up an eyesmile, despite the fact that his heart was struggling against his ribs. "Yes, well, they're good kids." He ignored Naruto's flailing and protestations that he wasn't a kid.

He watched Hikari-san's mouth move in a daze. He saw ghosts every day but they weren't usually a hellish blend of dead people he loved. What did this say about his psyche?

'It doesn't even make sense. She can't remind me of both of them.'

Kakashi had missed what she'd said. He gave a nervous laugh.

'What did I miss?'

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really even registered her actual features as a whole. When Hikari-san turned back around, Kakashi catalogued it.

Her hair wasn't Uzumaki red. But it was still red. Her face was average in shape, but some of her features had a sharp look to them. Really, that wasn't so much like either Kushina-san or Minato-sensei. Kushina-san had possessed a beautiful, wide-set facial structure that Naruto had inherited, but Minato-sensei had a narrow face. It was ridiculous, really, to see parallels where there weren't any. Even though her eyes really did remind him of sensei's in shape. They were black, not blue. It wasn't the same. It wasn't.

Naruto was staring at him, fingers loose around his chopping knife. The twelve year old looked deeply suspicious.

He gave his genin an intentionally dopey smile.

"I see that I've missed out on quite a lot while I was out."

Now that he was actually paying attention to Hikari-san, something didn't seem right. She wasn't dressed anything at all like her supposed friend. She had turned her back to him carelessly, but her feet were always in a ready stance. He narrowed his eye at the woman- there wasn't an ounce of unnecessary fat on her. The loose clothes gathered at the waist gave the impression of dramatic curves, but he suspected there was muscle hidden there instead.

'Kunoichi.'

"I ought to get going." Hikari-san gave a stretch. "It was nice to meet you, Kakashi-san."

Tsunami-san's brows twitched together. "Well, I suppose I will see you in the morning?" she tried.

Hikari-san gave the young mother a smile. But her gaze was boring into Kakashi. "Probably not. Have a good night, everyone!"

"Let me walk you home." Kakashi kept his tone pleasant for the civilians in the room. "I need to stretch my legs."

Naruto's mouth dropped open in outrage, but Kakashi didn't have time to linger on what perverted assumptions his genin might be reaching.

The kunoichi's face tightened. "Of course." She flashed a smile at him. "Don't worry, Naruto-kun. I won't wear him out."

Naruto's offending squalling followed the adults out. Kakashi shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched even further to disguise how tense and ready his muscles were. Hikari-san shot him an amused expression through her eyelashes as she slipped on little blue shoes that matched her jacket.

He clenched his jaw. He held the door open. He considered how he would confirm his suspicions.

She walked out in front of him, heading away from the well-beaten path that must lead to what passed for civilization around Wave.

Kakashi checked the skyline automatically. They were headed southeast, away from the coast.

"I'm not a missing nin, nor do I have village affiliations."

He stumbled over his tired feet. "That's honest," Kakashi said uncertainly. Possibly, anyway. He definitely hadn't expected her to admit that she wasn't a civilian.

Hikari-san shrugged, looking over at him again. The amusement was gone from her face. The friendly openness she'd directed at Naruto was gone as well in favor of cold disinterest. "I don't believe in wasting time, Kakashi-san. I merely wish to make clear that we do not need to have conflict. I have no interest in fighting you or your children."

"What interest do you have?" Kakashi bit back, irritation rising at how dismissive she sounded.

She made a rude huffing sound. "Nothing to do with you or your little flock, so you can mind your own business," Hikari-san informed, condescension painting her voice. "Tsunami-san is a good friend of mine. I thought it would be needlessly distressing for her to have to find a way to bury the worst babysitter in the world and three preteens."

'She's right. I could have died.'

"Those three are capable shinobi," Kakashi interrupted, hackles raised at her insinuations.

"They're puppies," Hikari-san dismissed.

He registered the unusual phrasing at the same time that she did, a muscle ticking in her jaw. So that hadn't been deliberate? He filed the oddity away without letting on that he'd noticed. "I suppose I should thank you." There was nothing thankful in his tone.

The smile Hikari-san gave him was absolutely wicked. He recoiled from it before he knew why.

"You should, unless you enjoy bedsores."

Kakashi stood frozen for a step. He felt his cheeks heat. "Well. Ah, thank you, nurse?" he tried. When he started moving again, his legs felt even heavier.

"Oh no, I'm not a medic of any kind." Hikari-san snorted. "Fuck no. But I was a little less clueless than your genin. Anyway, you're welcome. Nice freckles, by the way."

"I don't have freckles," Kakashi retorted, feeling his shoulders hunch up towards his chin.

She shrugged in response. She stopped walking and turned to face him fully. "Obviously, we are not walking to my house. I'm not taking you there. Look, can we just call it even and move on?" Hikari-san raised an eyebrow. "I helped you out, now you can help me out."

"No," Kakashi rejected. "I'm not making any deals. I don't know whose agent you are."

She rolled her eyes. "Moron. No, I mean that your mission to connect Wave to the mainland will benefit me. I would have taken care of it if I'd known Tazuna-san needed protection, but this is better." Hikari-san eyed him up and down. "This way, everyone knows Konoha took care of things and not me. Gato won't be harassing you when you go back to Konoha. But I live here."

That motive was blatantly pragmatic self-preservation. He relaxed instantly.

'It fits. Tsunami-san did seem to know her relatively well, although she believes Hikari-san is a civilian.'

But-

"Why did you allow the situation to reach this point?" His voice had an edge. What he'd heard about Wave didn't imply good things about anyone who could have fought Gato and chose not to.

Hikari-san's eyes tightened. "I've been away from home." That sounded like the truth. "My mother died. I took her ashes back to where she grew up." She looked away. That could be a tactic to hide a lie or a fidget indicating discomfort at saying such an uncomfortable thing. "Then I took missions. I was out of funds. I think you can imagine why it is not my habit to seek work from people who know me."

"Did your mother train you?" Kakashi prodded, trying to figure this woman out. Her story almost fit, but it didn't feel right. It was possible to grow up shinobi outside of a village system, but it didn't happen often. There was a reason that shinobi worked together in as large a group as possible.

He could see the moment she shut down, putting up a sneer like armor. Oddly, the expression helped. He'd never seen Kushina or Minato with an expression that openly sour.

"No, you did. Don't ask stupid questions. You'll be seeing me around, Kakashi-san." Hikari-san flipped her braid over her shoulder. She crossed her arms. "Unless, of course, you insist on being a brute. If you mind your own business and do your job, we'll be fine."

If his legs weren't shaking, he would have considered a fight. He didn't want an unknown quantity around, especially since he suspected Zabuza and an associate were in the area.

'She could have been that hunter nin impersonator,' Kakashi thought, eyeing the woman's short stature. 'I had assessed that person as male and young, however. And I believe the voice is different.'

"Are you working with Zabuza?"

Bluntness seemed to be the order of the day.

Hikari-san rubbed at her temple with the base of her thumb. "No." Her voice was short. "I fought him once, actually. He believes he ran me off. So you're aware that he's alive?" She shot him a wry look over her fingers. "I don't like him much. I think I would prefer that you kill him over the reverse."

He looked up at the sky, watching the sun creep towards the skyline. "My sentiments are similar."

'It's too convenient. But I don't think she's working with Zabuza. If he'd had two associates, the hunter nin act would have been much more convincing. It follows that even a capable shinobi without a village or backup would retreat when faced with someone like Zabuza.'

When he looked back, Hikari-san was gone. But the uneasy feeling in his gut remained.

'I don't like this. But it might be best to keep an eye on her.'

He frowned slightly.

'This might be a good time for a lesson on counter infiltration. I don't like that my team had no idea there was a shinobi in the house.'

He couldn't move very well, but he didn't have to in order to accelerate their training. They wouldn't learn heavy combat skills in a matter of days, but he could give them the skills to have a chance of staying out of the thick of things.

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity #AIC #Aiko in Canon

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rynnaaurelius · 3 years

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Titan’s Curse But Make It Time Loop: Nico di Angelo Edition

-Okay so I’m at work and not doing much and who wants to actually edit your shit drafts for your actual WIPs so that they’re less bad? No one, that’s who

-So I had an idea: The Titan’s Curse. Also known as the book where people start to die. It sucks to be a demigod in this book--for the first time in the original series, it really does.

-Not everything is fixed, not everyone is saved, and people start to have to make really tough decisions.

-So we fix it. Not by throwing Percy, or Annabeth, or Thalia, or, hell, even Bianca or Grover into the mix.

-Throwing the marginally more grown-up, more trained, and more knowledgeable demigods into the fire, who’d get everyone alive and safe by the third time ‘round? Nah.

-We’re making Nico fix this.

-Because here’s the thing about Nico di Angelo: Sure, he grows up to become a major badass, the Ghost King, so on and so forth. But not yet.

-For now, Nico is baby, a ten-year-old whose experience with any kind of fighting consists of one (1) Capture The Flag game and who’s still half-reliant on Mythomagic to explain what the fuck is happening.

-He’s also got the worst knowledge makeup possible! He knows he’s a son of Hades, which is bad, he knows to stick monsters with the pointy end of swords but nothing else, he knows that Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace are Very Big Deals (But also doesn’t know why beyond parents), and he’s, at best, vaguely aware that there’s some kind of bad prophecy hanging around.

-Also by the end of the book, he’s just been told his last immediate family who isn’t Hades is dead in one of the worst ways possible, and he--pretty irrationally IMO, but Nico’s a kid who has been through a lot recently, so we’re not holding that against him--blames Percy Jackson.

-Literally, you probably can’t pick an angstier or worse choice to run through the time travel trope. I love it.

-We’re making this kid save Bianca’s life via time loop, which happens due to. . .hmm, we’ll say the Fates did it.

-So, Loop 0 = Canon, only at the end of the day on December 21st, after the conversation with Percy, Nico falls asleep only gods know where only to wake up the day he meets Percy Jackson:

Loop 1:

-Nico doesn’t actually change anything meaningful at first.

-Spends most of it shellshocked and not unconvinced the last week (For him, anyway) wasn’t a horrible nightmare; shellshocked and staring at Percy Jackson, anyway.

-(Percy’s wondering what’s up with the silent kid his sister had talked up as a cheerful chatterbox)

-It’s only when Bianca agrees to join the quest for Artemis that he starts kicking up a fuss; demanding to go, screaming that she can’t leave him even more, not again.

-(Bianca hesitates; briefly, enough to remind Nico that she loves him. But she’s not their mother, and she needs this)

-Bianca still dies. Percy comes back pale and guilty. Nico doesn’t yell at him when he returns--he already knows. He accepts the Hades figurine so that he can throw it into the lake.

-He slinks off back into Cabin Eleven and falls asleep, hoping desperately that he gets a third chance.

Loop 2:

-He does.

Loop 3:

-After a very painful death at the hands of Dr. Thorn, Nico, generally being a straightforward person at this stage of life, takes the obvious path this time around: He tries to tell Bianca--who brushes it off as a dream.

-Annabeth still goes over the cliff when Nico takes the initiative of attaching himself and his sister to Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace at the dance. He tries to tell Percy and Thalia when Bianca still joins the Hunt, promising Nico that whatever he saw, she’ll be extra careful.

-(Bianca’s fearful of what Nico's saying, and thinks that if these sworn sisters can’t keep her safe, who can?)

-Artemis gives Nico a speculative look but agrees when he begs her to protect Bianca at all costs.

-He doesn’t get on the quest. Being a reasonable demigod of questionable parentage, he sneaks out of camp.

-He gets caught, because despite being aware of his awesome new powers, he doesn’t know how to use them, and is still a ten-year-old who can barely hold a sword the right way.

-He gives Percy the puppy dog eyes and shows off said awesome new powers. Percy forces him back.

-Nico follows him.

-Repeat until Percy dies saving Nico from the Nemean Lion in Washington, DC.

-Nico can’t find it in himself to be terribly sad--especially when he doesn’t make it much longer.

Loop 4:

-He’s really stuck like this, huh?

-Oh, Di Immortales.

-(Before Percy gets his chest ripped to shreds by a lion and Nico meets skeleton cats, he learned how to hold a sword properly and curse fluently in Greek. Percy probably only meant to teach him one of those things)

-In unrelated news: Having a big crush on a guy who thinks he’s only known you for a couple hours? Terrible.

-Trying to hate the guy who let your sister die when he’s that stupid and nice? Even worse.

-That stupid lion.

Loop 5, 6, 7, 8, 9:

-Nico repeats: That stupid lion.

-Somewhere in Loop 7 he starts to steal supplies out of the camp store when he follows Percy following the quest.

-They forcefeed the lion enough trail mix and frozen ice cream in Loop 9 that they don’t die this time.

-At least until someone called the General shows up and Nico’s dead before he can raise his sword.

Loop 10:

-Nico wakes up in his and Bianca’s room in Westover and starts crying. Bianca tells the headmaster they’re both sick and Nico lets her hold him all day.

-They fall asleep and Nico swears he won’t let her die again.

Loop 11, 12, 13:

-He wakes up and he still can’t get out of bed without feeling that blade cutting between his ribs, burning like it’s on fire.

-Gods, he’s so sorry, Bianca. Dispiace tanto.

Loop 14:

-He can get up without feeling like he’s about to die again. Bianca fusses but assumes it was just a bad dream.

-Nico is caught stealing and can’t follow Percy until it’s too late.

-Everyone assumes this means he’s a son of Hermes, however, and Nico can’t correct them without opening his mouth and letting the sobbing laughter out.

-Figuring he’s about to get another chance next round anyway, he takes Travis and Connor Stoll up on their offer to learn a thing or two so that he doesn’t get Cabin Eleven slapped with kitchen duty from now until Doomsday.

-He likes the Stolls. He spent most of the time, pre-looping, actively avoiding everyone at camp as he waited for Bianca and Percy to come back, but they’re not that bad.

-Percy comes back with the figurine and no sister and Nico remembers why he’s stuck.

Loop 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23:

-After Loop 12 and being killed in Washington DC again, Nico realizes: He needs to learn how to fight.

-Unless he gets killed early or refuses to leave Westover, the loop resets after seven days. So, he has seven days to train each time.

-He gets to camp, finds the arena, and meets Clarisse La Rue. He demands she teach him how to kill monsters.

-She laughs, and tells him that attitude in his size will make monsters easy to kill, they’ll laugh so hard.

-Clarisse teaches him how to swing a sword each time--but only after mocking his unamused face.

-Somehow, Percy coming back with news of Bianca’s death only hurts more each time.

Loop 24:

-Nico wakes up before Bianca this time. He looks over at her bed and knows. He’s got to try this time.

-It’s disturbingly easy making friends with Percy Jackson after the last loops.

-Bessie’s new. Cute, but new.

-Nico wonders just how much he’s missed in the past--he thinks of Annabeth Chase, and hopes she hasn’t been dying each time.

-Percy doesn’t even argue when Nico shows up in the stables with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the sword he’s been stealing out of the shed strapped to his hip.

-Nico suggests the ice cream--again--to Percy in DC before

-Nico might be getting the hang of this.

Loop 25:

-Nico is not getting the hang of this.

-Zoë Nightshade’s refusal to accept Percy and Nico on the quest--violating a prophecy, and gods, Nico’s curious if that prophecy ever mentioned this--has so far gotten them attacked and killed by spartoi once.

-And again. As Nico bleeds out on the floor, he watches a panicked blond man--a demigod--plead for mercy.

-Isn’t he on the other side?

Loop 26:

-His name is Luke Castellan and he apparently wants the gods dead.

-Nico can relate at this point.

-The General is Atlas, and Nico knows enough about Greek mythology, real and wrong, at this point to know that is bad.

Loop 27:

-Twenty-six tries, but they finally make it out of DC. Threatening the questers with Atlas killing them all is more than enough.

-For the first time, Nico doesn’t know what happens next. He glues himself to Bianca’s side and glares at anything suspicious.

-With help that Percy refuses to name, even when Nico tries his hardest, they go to New Mexico.

-There’s a boar and it’s so close, they make it to what the others are calling “the junkyard of the gods”.

-Nico sees the Hades figurine on the ground.

-Bianca grins in delight and picks it up, calling for him.

-He can’t help it.

-Nico starts screaming.

Loop 28:

-His sister’s murderer was never Percy Jackson.

-His sister’s murderer was a force of mechanics that makes Nico fully understand, for the first time, what the gods are, beyond stats on a card.

-Talos.

-Nico is going to destroy him.

Loop 29:

-She dies.

Loop 30:

-Again.

Loop 31:

-Again.

-Loop 32, 33, 34, 3536373839FortyFo r t y O n e--:

-Again. Again. Again. Again again againagainagainagainAGAIN--

Loop 42:

-Nico gets out of bed. He finds Percy Jackson at the dance, hugs him, and tells him he’s sorry.

-Nico walks outside and waits for Dr. Thorn in the snow. He can feel the shadows curling at the edge of the wood like a sixth sense, now. Waiting for him to summon the restless dead out of them.

-So many attempts to save his sister, ranging from sacrificing himself to sacrificing Percy--not that Percy needs the push, Nico has found--to any and all members of the quest.

-She dies. Always, always dies. Whatever Nico does, that junkyard is full of the death of Bianca di Angelo.

-He tried avoiding it. Once. Loop 33. Nico threw such a fit he’s surprised he wasn’t sent back to Camp Half-Blood by the Hunters, but it kept them out of the junkyard.

-He tries not to remember how little was left of his sister’s body by the monsters that time.

-Son of Hades. After all this time, Nico’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means. Death and death and death.

-Dr. Thorn walks outside, and Nico can feel a ghoulish grin crossing his face that has no place on a ten-year-old.

-One of them is going to die, this loop. And Nico will not go to New Mexico.

Loop 43:

-Nico wonders if there was a past life of his he needs to remember. Who could he have made this angry?

-He lies to Bianca and they stay in Westover again this time. Better than death, anyway.

Loop 44:

-Nico tries a different tack this time. A more roundabout way of things.

-He takes Bianca and throws the two of them in the way of the battle with the manticore.

-After all this time, he still doesn’t know much about Annabeth Chase. She gets kidnapped and returned safely to Percy every time, to the best of his knowledge.

-Nico dies holding up the sky, but at least Bianca lives, under the protection of Artemis.

Loop 45:

-Nico looks in the mirror and studies the new grey streak with fascination. And, maybe, some hope.

-Things can change.

Loop 46, 47, 48, 49, 50:

-Nico gets kidnapped a few times. Once, he’s killed in a rage by a Titan with horns, but it’s quick. Mostly, he holds up the sky to get Artemis out.

-She looks at him strangely each time and Nico wonders if she can see what he’s done.

Loop 51:

-They figure out he’s a son of Hades. They offer him Olympus. Olympus and Bessie--the Ophiotaurus, rather.

-Nico says no.

Loop 52:

-Nico says yes.

Loop 53:

-Being on the verge of overthrowing the gods and keeping everyone he’s grown to care for--in the case of several Hunters, against his will; in Percy Jackson’s case, Nico loves him as much as he hates him at this point--doesn’t do much, apparently.

-Nico stays in Westover again. He resists the urge to tell Bianca that would-be destroyers of Olympus don’t need to brush their hair, whatever she says.

Loop 54:

-Nico goes over the edge of the cliff again, but with Percy Jackson.

-This isn’t the first time; in Loop 46, Percy had taken the sky for both the sake of Artemis and Nico until it killed him.

-What’s different, is Nico’s in the middle of what’s become the usual panic attack when he’s about to die for the hundredth time, and his powers react.

-Percy holds him close and calls him cousin. Tells him he’ll never leave Nico.

-You have no idea, Nico whispers. You can’t leave me.

-You think I want to? Percy whispers back. You’re not alone, Nico.

-Nico’s sobbing sounds like laughter.

Loop 55:

-Nico tells Percy the truth for the third time. This is the first time he hasn’t told Bianca first.

-They’ve just found the Erymanthian Boar, Thalia’s told Nico his goth needs work--whatever that means--and Nico’s bracing himself for the junkyard again.

-Getting kidnapped by the Titans really gets old after a while.

-He still has the grey streak, and no number of excuses will fully soothe his sister, but the Hunt’s a good distraction from it.

-Nico doesn’t blame Bianca anymore for it. He thinks.

-Nearly a year into this loop and Nico’s finding it hard to blame anyone for much of anything, anymore. Especially when he sees what she’s faced. Again. And again.

-For now, this time, Percy Jackson is staring at Nico with wide eyes at what Nico’s told him--through these loops, Nico’s starting to wonder if he now knows more about Percy than Percy’s own best friends--and says he believes him.

-Once, Nico would’ve exploded from joy. Now, he just sighs and nods.

-Percy tells him how to condense the conversation for the next loop. He advises Nico to research Talos, “like Annabeth would.”

-He advises Nico to warn Percy’s next loop self about Annabeth’s kidnapping. Nico wonders if he’s gone insane that he’s considering it.

-Bianca dies.

Loop 56:

-Nico makes the executive decision this time to try and befriend Annabeth Chase. As such, he takes Percy’s advice.

Loop 57:

-It takes him two tries to befriend Annabeth Chase and learn about Talos.

Loop 58:

-Three times.

-But the nail. The nail in the ankle of Talos.

Loop 59:

-He hangs back at camp again this time and meets Charles Beckendorf, head of Cabin Nine, and son of Hephaestus.

-Nico figures that short of finding the god himself and committing temporary suicide--not that it hasn’t crossed Nico’s mind--his son will have to do.

-(He’s tried his hand at summoning ghosts, but Daedalus refuses to show, for some reason)

-Beckendorf frowns and tells Nico he would have to see Talos himself.

-Nico hadn’t realized just how much cursing he had picked up off of Percy and Thalia until that moment.

Loop 60:

-Nico knows what the prophecy says. One shall be lost in the land without rain.

-He knows it’s why he’s been failing so much.

-The trouble is, he no longer cares.

Loop 61:

-It took him a try, but he gets Beckendorf on the quest, prepared to defeat the Talos prototype.

Loop 62:

-Strike that, two tries.

-Nico really hates the Nemean Lion.

Loop 63, 64:

-Nico has solved half a problem: How to defeat Talos without putting someone inside the robot.

-The other half of the problem is now that they are all electrocuted by a dying automaton for their efforts.

Loop 65:

-Beckendorf’s crush--girlfriend? crush, they’re both insisting--Silena Beauregard comes along this time. Nico won’t complain over the extra manpower, even if he’s positive that eight campers and Hunters are patent overkill for one quest.

-Silena pulls Bianca out of the wreckage. Nico’s heart stops.

-Silena’s crying when she mentions that if they had been a bit earlier, she could have been revived.

-Nico wonders if Thalia’s going to stab him as he starts whooping. And takes notes about where Talos falls.

Loop 66:

-Nico swears, if Percy Jackson tries to sacrifice himself for Annabeth Chase one more time--

Loop 67:

-Bianca.

-I found you, he sobs. I found you.

-Gods damn the Hoover Dam.

Loop 68:

-And again.

-Despite having the distinct inkling at this point that he doesn’t much like like girls, Nico could kiss Silena Beauregard and Thalia Grace when they manage to revive his sister each time.

-She’s shaky and leaning on him and was dead, he could see her soul floating away--

-But she’s there.

-Nico refuses to let his sister out of the sight at the Hoover Dam and Percy befriends the Naiads this time.

-At least, until the Titans--who Nico made the very big mistake of taunting at DC--sends monsters he can’t control.

Loop 69, 70, 71, 72, 73:

-They keep dying in various combinations at the Hoover Dam now that Nico’s figured out how to save Bianca.

-At least, until he gets separated from Percy in Loop 73 and he meets a redheaded girl with a penchant for calling Nico pint-size.

-Athena dislikes Percy, Nico, Bianca, and Thalia in equal measure. Having learned of the Great Prophecy in Loop 16 and Percy’s mooning over Annabeth in. . .well, every loop, Nico can’t quite blame her.

Loop 74:

-Her name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare and Nico likes her. She takes none of their shit and if it weren’t for the fact that they already have eight people on the quest, he’d want to take her along.

-Bianca gets in a fight with the Old Man of the Sea. Thalia electrocutes him when he throws Bianca in the bay.

Loop 75:

-Nico wakes up in Westover with the distinct feeling that he was drowned on dry land.

-He stays in bed shivering, that day.

Loop 76:

-Atlas is the father of Zoë Nightshade. Nico learned this around Loop 50. He had realized around five loops ago that this probably meant she was going to die “by a parent’s hand.”

-He hadn’t realized that it was going to hurt to watch.

Loop 77, 78, 79, 80, 81:

-Now that he’s figured things out to about San Francisco, it seems the world is out to get him. The number of fights or mistakes that he either makes himself or has to head off are ridiculous.

Loop 82:

-Nico is so very tired. And wishes he felt ten years old again.

Loop 83:

-If Thalia gets in one more fight with Nereus, Nico's going to walk into the sea.

Loop 84:

-He wanders off, in this one. Grover had been killed in Hoover Dam, so Nico’s waiting for the reset at this point.

-In the meantime, Nico figures there are worse things to do than enjoy a good afternoon in San Francisco. He even meets a boy in a purple shirt.

-His name is Jason and he has hair like the sun.

-If he ever fixes this, Nico wants to find him.

Loop 85:

-Nico’s not fast enough in the junkyard.

-In San Francisco, he tries to find the ugliest, biggest trouble he can find.

-He finds a pair of teenagers in armor who yell Latin at him instead.

Loop 86:

-There’s a dragon that will attack them in the Garden of the Hesperides if they make it angry enough and Nico is so tired.

Loop 87:

- Zoë Nightshade is dead. They’ve won.

-Funny definition of “win”, considering they’ve all almost died this loop about a dozen times each, and Nico can’t explain why he’s crying on the body of a Hunter he only met a week ago, in their eyes.

-She hates him, some loops. More loops, she looks at him with ghosts of old grief in her eyes and hands him a knife.

-The gods execute Bessie, and then, Nico watches as his father turns to him and Bianca with sorrowful eyes.

-Nico should’ve figured, after almost ninety loops.

Loop 88:

-Luke offers one of them the entrails of Bessie again.

-Nico takes them.

Loop 89:

-For all the good it does. Nico wakes up as he does every time now: Powerless, in bed, and with only a grey streak to show for his efforts.

Loop 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98:

-Nico doesn’t know how to save Zoë Nightshade. Bianca, he could trick and fight his way into it. Beckendorf and Silena and Percy and a loophole in lost could save his sister.

-Her, she just. . .dies. Sometimes in DC, sometimes in San Francisco, sometimes on the hills of Mt. Tamalpais. Always at the hands of Atlas.

-Always, being murdered by her father.

-It’s not as gutting as watching his sister die, but it aches more in his chest, somehow.

Loop 99:

-He sticks close to Zoë this time. Same as he’s done with Percy, Annabeth, his sister, Thalia, and Grover, time and time again. But not her, Nico is realizing. Not the clinging he’s achieving now.

-Hoping for. . .something.

-He knows better than to tell the immortal Lieutenant of Artemis the whole truth. The loneliness is enough.

-She’s less frosty to him from the start than to, say, Grover or Percy, after Annabeth goes over the cliff again. When he shows up in DC, she’s much less angry than he’s seen her.

-Along the way to New Mexico and then San Francisco, he listens. He’s grown better at it, this far in. When the others are asleep, when Bianca is being fussed over after Talos, when everyone but them is asleep by the fire, he listens.

-And she tells him about her sisters. About her father, when the world was young and Atlas had looked on every daughter of his with pride. She tells him, pride glistening in her eyes, of the battles she has seen, the hunts she has overseen at the command of a goddess, the monsters she has killed, and the epithets she has been given.

-He doesn’t ask anything of her. Not until they’re in the house of Annabeth’s father, drinking lemonade the night before the battle, and Nico knows she is about to die again.

-What do you want, he asks. You’ve done everything. What’s left?

-She stopped, ice seems to creep over her again, and Nico wondered if he’d hit some sore spot.

-He’s opened his mouth to make his apologies when she answers, so quiet and quick he thinks he’s imagined it.

-To be remembered. When my lady has taken another lieutenant, as she must, and I have gone to where all gods go when they die, I wish for my memory to remain. And. . .

-Nico waits, and ignores the sudden, terrifying thought that he no longer knows what he wants.

-I wish to see the stars again. I was born a nymph of the sunset; starlight is precious to me. I want to see it again.

-Nico dies to preserve the memory of Zoë Nightshade.

100:

-Nico di Angelo wakes up in Westover Hall. He hopes for the last time.

-He does everything right: Annabeth goes over the cliff, his sister joins the Hunt, Percy is soon his friend, and he convinces Silena and Beckendorf to join the quest.

-The Nemean Lion never stands a chance, and Nico is glad to be rid of it.

-His sister lives.

-Nico watches Percy watch Rachel Elizabeth Dare go, looking like he’s just taken a frying pan to the face, and fights the urge to snicker.

-Thalia doesn’t start a fight with Nereus, but Percy certainly does. Nico could’ve sworn he saw the boy with sun-hair again, watching with curiosity.

- Zoë Nightshade dies in the arms of Artemis and is made into the stars she loves so dearly. Nico promises her soul that he will remember.

-For, he has found, the dead have a tendency of remembering things they shouldn’t.

-Annabeth and Percy now have grey streaks to match Nico’s, and Nico can’t wait to spend the rest of his life trying to explain that.

-It’s closer than he would like, but much less close than other lives with Olympus. The Ophiotaurus is alive and safe, and they are all alive.

-As Nico walks out of the council, he looks off to the side. By the fire is the familiar girl with red eyes--the Lady Hestia, looking much closer to Nico’s age than that of the Olympian she is.

-Besides her are three old ladies. Nico’s heard about them from Percy, in Loops 26, 53, 61, and 62.

-One lady holds a ball of string that is the color of a warm umber. The other is knitting what looked suspicious like socks. The last. . .

-Scissors, in one hand. Just as expected. Nico swallowed.

-In the other, was a knot of burnt string, tied to the socks. Behind her, Nico could see discarded string of all colors: an electric blue, a stormy grey, a black that seems to glisten with the promise of a storm, string the soft, hopeful pink of love, yarn run through with bright copper.

-Glowing threads that Nico could only describe as the color of starlight.

-As he walked out, firmly between Percy Jackson and Thalia Grace, the Hunt of Artemis behind him, Nico hears one last promise:

It is done, Nico di Angelo.

127 notes · View notes

elareine · 4 years

Note

the song better place by rachel platten and jay/dick or maybe just some jay-centric bat fam. hope this prompt works for you. love your fics <3

Thank you <3 That’s a very JayDick song, but I love writing batfam, too, so... have both.

Steph took one look at Jason’s old-new room and pronounced: “You need to redecorate.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

Which was how Jason found himself in Ikea of all places. She even dragged a flustered-looking Tim with her, who proved to be supremely unhelpful when it came to curtain color (“I don’t think either red or purple will look good with those walls,” bullshit) but very willing to hand over his credit card. It was… fun. The room felt less like a tomb when Steph was done with it, which was great.

He told her that.

“Well, duh.” She grinned. “No one in this house knows how to decorate for shit. You should see what Tim did with his bedroom…”

Jason spent a minute considering his options. “Anime girls?”

“Nope.”

“Superman posters.”

“Nope, but I like the way you’re thinking.”

“Bad Picasso replicas.”

“Nooo,”

“I give up.”

“He did…” Steph paused dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It still looks like it did in the eighties.”

Jason laughed, and she looked gratified. “Sounds terrible.”

They kept working on the bookshelf. Ikea was great for those; that’s why they went there in the first place. Well, that and the look on Bruce’s face when he saw the boxes.

After a minute, Jason asked: “So… are you seeing a lot of Tim’s bedroom, then?”

“Yeah. So what?” She glared at him, which he was starting to realize was a sure sign that she was embarrassed.

“So nothing. Didn’t know that was happening again, that’s all.”

It took her a minute, but she softened. “Yeah. I… guess we’re giving it a second chance.”

“That’s cool,” he told her sincerely. “I mean, you could clearly do better, but he damn well knows what he’s got now.”

“Hmm.” Steph was hiding behind the shelf she was holding up, but he could still tell she was pleased. “So how about your own second chance, huh?”

…damn, he’d walked right into that one. “Shut up.”

—

“Home invasion in sector 6R. Three 1Cs, suspected armed. Neighbors reporting shots, five people in the house. Hood, you’re closest.”

Jason had already changed course. “I’m on it.”

He waited—this was the point where Batman would send a Robin or two after him, maybe even Nightwing or himself, “just as back-up.” There was no way they would let him operate as part of the team without close supervision for at least a year. Jason was determined to grit his teeth and bear it, even if he wasn’t sure for how long he could. He was chafing already, running like this with the others when he’d been on his own for so long.

However, Bruce only confirmed that he’d heard him, and then the line went silent.

Huh.

—

There was no better time to be awake in the manor than the early morning in Jason’s opinion. The light fell softly into the kitchen as he entered, barefoot and in his pajamas.

Alfred was there, of course. “Good morning, Jason.”

It was their private ritual; had been even before Jason had moved back into the fold. Six a.m., tea and sandwiches. The only difference was that now, Jason hadn’t vanished by the time Damian stomped into the kitchen, glowering at them for being awake and having the audacity to send him to school.

It was kinda adorable, not that Jason would ever tell him that. Instead, he watched Damian make his way through his own breakfast and nodded toward the packed lunch waiting for him. “I see you’re not taking advantage of the school cafeteria, then?”

“Them?” The amount of scorn Damian managed to pack into a single word would have weighed down a ship or two. “They would not know good food if it chased after them with a sword.”

“Let me guess—still only three spices, and these are salt, pepper, and ketchup?” Jason asked.

“I believe there is a fourth one now—they have a particularly intolerable mixture that they like to label ‘Chinese.’” Damian’s whole face scrunched up with distaste. “It tastes nothing like what Mother used to cook.”

“While I am sorry to hear that,” Alfred inserted, “we will be late if we don’t leave soon.”

Damian grumbled but hopped off his chair. Jason glanced at the clock — seven a.m. Dick would get up soon. Might as well make him a sandwich, too.

He pulled the ingredients closer, already compiling a list of recipes in his head. Talia had shown him how to make most of Damian’s favorites. He could teach those to Alfred, no problem.

—

“Hood. Stop it right now.” Dick looked at him with big eyes, or so Jason assumed, considering they were both wearing their masks.

“No, continue.” Barbara sounded choked, audibly forcing down laugher.

And, hey. Love was one thing, but Jason knew who gave him the best intel night after night. “So big bird and B decide that they have to infiltrate this organization, right? Only… they’re all swingers…”

Her laughter was brighter than the streetlights.

—

Jason stepped into the corridor and silently closed the door behind him.

God, but it had taken a long time to get Dick tired and ready to sleep. Jason himself was still feeling too wired to pass out, but then he wasn’t operating on a 40-hour sleep deficit, so it was totally not the same thing.

He decided to wander down to the cave. Bruce was still up, of course, acknowledging Jason’s presence with a grunt. The only other person present was Tim, who was bent over some files.

…like, really bent over them. One could almost think…yup, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

Jason gently poked him. Then he harshly poked him. When nothing happened, he sighed and moved one arm under Tim’s legs, the other gripping his shoulders. The kid would fuck up his back if he stayed like that. It took a bit of effort, but they were soon making their way up the stairs, Tim cradled securely in Jason’s arms.

They’d almost made it upstairs when Tim stirred, blue eyes opening halfway and looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Jason waited. This family had a bad habit of coming awake swinging, and with Jason hovering over them… well, it wouldn’t be entirely unjustified, wouldn’t it? Especially in Tim’s case.

Tim grumbled and went right back to sleep.

—

Jason pinched his nose. Or tried to, but he was wearing his helmet, so he basically poked himself in the face. Judging from Duke’s expression, that wasn’t helping his point.

“So you decided to buy us time by…”

“Ninja traps,” Cassie finished for him. Looking as if that made total sense.

“Ninja traps.”

“Well, it was more of an obstacle course, really,” Duke added helpfully.

“Okay, that’s a weird-ass move, but I can respect that. Then why did that warehouse explode?”

“Fire.” Cassie’s expression gave nothing away.

Jason looked to Duke. “What she said.”

“And the fire was there because…?”

“Fire is an obstacle.”

Jason groaned. “I cannot believe I’m the responsible person here,” he lamented. “Is this how you feel most of the time, D?”

There was laughter over the com. “Oh, Nightwing has finally acquired a co-parent,” Steph commented, followed by Tim’s: “About time.”

(Everyone ignored Bruce’s “Hey!”.)

—

“Jason.”

Bruce was hovering. He probably didn’t intend to it; it just came naturally. Jason still felt that nervous lurch in his stomach whenever Bruce did that, but he was trying to get over it, so he just asked: “Yeah?”

“Let me show you something.”

They went into one of the rooms behind Bruce’s office that Jason had always assumed held nothing but files. He was very wrong.

“After you… left, I found myself reading books and thinking—he would’ve loved that.”

The walls were lined with bookcases. There were special editions of Jane Austen reprints, thick sci-fi novels, and nineteenth-century murder mysteries. It was eclectic and weird and precisely what Jason liked. What they both liked.

“I kept collecting them,” Bruce told him, voice too even. “Just… in case, I suppose.”

Jason stared at the shelves and shelves full of books, all read exactly once. His eyes were stinging because the glass display downstairs—that was bullshit. That uniform was about and for Bruce, and the new Robins, not Jason.

But this?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Bruce almost-smiled, relief written across his face. “You’re welcome. Uh. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jason let him take two steps, then he said: “Bruce. If there was ever a time for a hug, this is it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jason let Bruce pull him into an embrace—hugged back just as fiercely and told him: “It’s okay. You can stop grieving now. I’m here.”

If Bruce’s shoulders were shaking, neither of them mentioned it.

—

It was a total accident. Jason had felt like holding Dick’s hand, so he did. It was only when he looked up and caught Tim’s eye that he remembered—right. They were surrounded by Dick’s family. Their family.

Tim winked. The conversation didn’t stop. No one else commented or even gave them a second glance.

Something in Jason exhaled.

Dick squeezed his hand, smiling at something Damian was saying, and ugh, sometimes Jason was so full of feelings, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dick was just so—so—

Yeah. Jason was so fucking gone for him. All he could think about was how it would feel if there was a ring, there, pressing against his own.

He leaned back, adding a sarcastic comment or two to the conversation just to bask in the sunshine of Dick’s laughter. That thought warranted some serious consideration, not to mention talking to Dick, but—just the idea that he could have that? That he trusted himself, and Dick, and their family, enough to have that?

It was more than enough.

—

(Three days before Jason moved into the manor, Dick called a family gathering.

“Why is Jason not here, then?” Tim asked, frowning. “If it’s a family matter, it concerns him, too.”

Dick could kiss him for that. Instead he said: “Because it’s about him. I’m gonna lay down some ground rules, okay?”

Jason letting Dick convince him to move back in with them… that was huge. And dangerous. Dick had figured out long ago that Jay and Bruce had no idea how to handle each other anymore. Neither did the rest. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to. Dick was hopeful.

It was just… Jay was the best thing in Dick’s world; his support, his light, his conscience. He just made everything better. And Dick had no intentions of letting their family or anyone else fuck that up.)

(I’m taking prompts.)

#elareine writes #batfamily #jaydick #jason todd #this was meant to be shorter and is totally unedited because it's 1am and i wanna bedone with it #sorry

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ninjakasuga · 3 years

Text

Sonsally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Four!

Sonally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Four!

Another day of Sonsally Week, unlike the last few entries, this is where I break linearity and go travel back to a prior period in the timeline. When the prompt of ‘Power’ was shown my mind of course went to the Super-Forms, the Deep Power Stones, and the like. Yet also my mind went back to some fanart from last year about a certain someone I would have loved to have seen share a Super Form with Sonic… Y’all can see where this is going.~

Forward: Timeline wise, this is 9-10yrs before Crossroads; the last battle of the war with Dr. Eggman. I admit I’m once again sprinkling tidbits from my still WIP Archie-Sonic-Verse that has yet to be published, but I think the easter eggs and hints of things yet to be seen will be fun for the reader.

Power:

“Sal, are you flipping insane?!” Cried Sonic as he stared Sally down at her suggestion. “You want to use the Deep Power Stones to amplify our Super Forms? What about all that ‘overload potential’ nonsense?!”

Standing beside Sonic, one eye on the half of the Deep Power Stone in her hand, the other on the approaching Egg Armada. A legion of robots, ships, and what other mechanical horrors Eggman had left to try and quash them all for good. With the world-wide alliances winning victory, after victory, Eggman grew desperate and now was throwing everything he had at them in a ‘If I can’t have it no one will!’ tantrum of a scorched world move. Basically it was done to the wire, and now they were as desperate as Eggman.

Her grip tightened on the stone, that madman would not have the last laugh. He wouldn’t end their world as he did the Mobius he came from! “It’s something I was thinking about for awhile, Sonic. We’ve seen what the stones can do just augmenting the individuals who bring the stones together. If we bring that kind of augmentation to the Super Forms? We have the Master Emerald already channeling to empower the Seven Chaos Emeralds, imagine channeling the Stones through it to the Emeralds and the Power Rings. All of you could not just have a greater power boost, but potentially the forms will last longer, long enough to wreck most if not all of the Egg Armada and put an end to this war for good!”

“It might work…” Murmured Tails, standing on the other side to Sally. “Channeling the Stones' power through the Master Emerald, which itself is a beacon and conduit for the Seven Servers…” He began to murmur as his brain went over the numbers and possible calculations. As the two-tailed fox finished his thoughts, he turned to the Guardian of Angel Island, wanting his thoughts. “The Master Emerald is your expertise Knuckles, you think it will work?”

The red-furred Guardian furrowed his brow as he contemplated this. “Maybe, I admit while my communion with Tikal or my Great Grandfather has given me greater insight to the mystical aspects of the Master Emerald, I’m still a novice truth be told.” He sighed, looking apologetic. “Sadly I know more of the scientific side of things given the Brotherhood’s data mostly focuses around that. Even my Father’s old notes are more historical musings than proven theory.” He sighed again, mentally cursing his forebears for yet another aspect of oversight the Brotherhood neglected during their long tenure of guarding Angel Island. Then again, save for the Lost Tribe, it would seem most of the old mystic arts were lost to the Echidna of today, what few were left. “Given we’ve found many connections to the old mystical artifacts of the world, there’s a good chance they’ll work together as Sally thinks.”

A low growl-like ‘hmm’ punctuated the air, before a stern voice interjected aloud. “Or it will overload the Emerald, destroy it, and fry all of us, or potentially create a super-bomb.” Shadow stated with arms crossed, and looking pensive. As all looked his way, he spoke on. “I’m not saying we ditch the idea, but it’s something to consider. I have a vow to protect this world to uphold, as well as too many I care about to let them die.” His thoughts dwelled on Rouge, Omega, and Hope especially. His other comrades within G.U.N. and the Thorndyke Labs. Even of those here, despite any past animosity, he wanted them and their loved ones to equally live. They all had family, and friends to protect.

The last member of the group, his expression uneasy, yet a deep resolve in his eyes looked about his comrades, and then the horizon as their enemy continued to fly toward them. “We don’t really have a choice do we? This is the last chance, for all of you, as well as the Future I want to prevent from coming to pass.” Clenching his fists, Silver felt his powers hum through his being. It had been a long journey, and one not without many hurdles. From his bungling to interpret data from then Future, and its founding in the past, to dealing with the truths of his own ‘Master’ and the struggle of wondering if he was truly a pawn to bring about ‘his’ world versus a world for everyone to be happy. In the end he was wiser, more experienced and ever resolute to ensure the dark future never came to pass. All other obstacles save Eggman had been dealt with. This was the final hour. “So, save for Sonic we’re all in agreement?”

Hands on his hips, Sonic frowned deeply, looking rather indignant. “Hey, hey! I never said scrap the plan, I was just pointing out how before everyone kept yammering about doing something stupid with the Stones. Given either configuration usage done wrong could lead to KAB-BOOM! Jus’ pointing that out!” Eyeing everyone, his gaze rested on Sally, those deep blue pools that always sucked him in. Reaching for her hand, he wrapped his hand over hers, their wedding rings shining in the sun together. “You think this is our best bet, Sal? If you’re really onboard, so’m I.”

In truth, Sally did share the same concerns as Sonic and everyone else. She knew even using just the ‘boost’ augment which so far had been the safest, could lead to disaster as much as the other configuration which always ended destructively. Plus this would be the last time they could use them. As per Merlin Prower’s warning, the Deep Power Stones could be used a handful of times, and the mystic had given them warning they were on their last usage. This was due to a special magical limiter the Neo-Walkers put on the Stones, halving their ability so the Freedom Fighters and their allies could have an edge. However with the last use, the limiter was off, and so it was full power, and potentially the best opportunity for the worst case scenario. After this the Stones would vanish for another millennia until they were recharged and reappear randomly about the planet again.

Yet as Silver pointed out, what choice did they really have? Eggman was going all out; and thus, their hands were tied. “It’s the best shot we have. G.U.N.’s mechanized forces are exhausted and what isn’t in the repair bay is out fighting the forces encroaching their borders. None of the rest of the allied nations have any armies big enough to fight this horde. We can’t call for help from Blaze or any other friends from other dimensions because the Zone Cops sealed all dimension travel to Mobius Prime to prevent Eggman from escaping. This, this, is all we can do.” Her resolve sounded unshakable, despite her internal doubt, she had to sound resolute. Matching her gaze with Sonic, she managed a grin as she laced her fingers with his. “Let’s do-it-to-it, gang!”

Smiles formed about at the catch-phrase that was so infectious even Shadow was sucked in. One by one, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and Silver joined in placing their hands over each other, forming a lock. “Let’s do-it-to-it! They all cried, before breaking to get into place. While Sally stood by the Master Emerald with Knuckles, the others began to loop around the Master Emerald, each linking their hands together. From Shadow to Silver, to Tails, to Sonic. Instead of holding Knuckles’ hand, Sonic placed his own on the Echidna’s shoulder. Knuckles did the same with Sally, while his free hand touched the Master Emerald. Sally held the Deep Power Stones in each hand, waiting for the right moment to place them together. Craning her head to Knuckles she nodded, and he nodded back, his gaze shifting to the large emerald his bloodline made their mission to protect along with Angel Island itself (well Echidna population for them, Knuckles was out to protect everyone).

“The servers are the Seven Chaos… Chaos is power, enriched by the heart… The controller exists to unify the chaos!” As he started the chant, he briefly saw a flash of Tikal within the Master Emerald, smiling at them all. This allowed Knuckles to smile, but he didn’t let this distract him. “We who are blessed by the Chaos, beseech to wield your power and wisdom, to save the planet and the innocent lives that dwell upon it. Let us be the Guardians of Mobius, of the Chaos, and the Light of Gaia!”

“We will gladly give our lives if you can let us protect all we love, please help us.” Murmured Sally, interjecting her own addition once Knuckles’ incantation chant was finished. Staring at the two halves of the stones, Sally placed them together, the halves flashed as they became one. An intense glow emanating from the black object that soon blinded them all. A bright, green glow from the Master Emerald broke through the white, with the gathered Power Rings (including Sonic’s Billionth Special Ring) all giving off a golden glow as the colors mingled together. A pillar of the mingled colors erupts from the Master Emerald’s resting place, shooting up, and up into space as the island is bathed in its warm glow.

Tails was the first to regain his sight, and once the relief they did not explode passed through him, a wide grin formed on his face as he felt it, the power of his Super Form. Not only that but he could ‘feel’ the power was increased. “Alright I think it worked!” He hollered, pumping his arms as he felt the power of Turbo Tails peak and flare briefly. “Hooo it’s been a long spell!”

Shadow merely made a ‘heh’ sound, yet smiled as he stared at his own glowing hands. “Yes, I can feel it, now those machines can feel Super Shadow’s fists and Chaos Spears.”

“This still blows me away with how powerful it makes me feel.” Murmured Silver as he marveled at his Super Silver transformation.

“Oh holy crap…” They heard Knuckles utter, followed by Sonic stammering “S-S-Sal?”. Everyone turned their heads and gasped in awe.

“Oh, my God…” Was all Sally could murmur. Her fur was a pink-orange tinge, and her hair a golden glow, flowing freely from the sheer power itself. “H-how? I thought only those with a tie to the Chaos Force could achieve super form?!”

“Maybe the powers that be felt you were worthy.” Knuckles mused, giving a nodding approval to this development. The light-pink glow of his Hyper Knuckles form, arcing with energy like everyone else. “In any case it looks like it worked.”

“I’m not a fan of the colors, they remind me of when I spent hours scrubbing chemicals out of my fur.” Muttered Sally, recalling the chemical splash that caused her fur and hair to change colors twice, before finally returning to her proper brown and auburn tones. She shuddered at the memory; she was lucky Rotor and Quack were able to make a fur-shampoo solution to cleanse the stuff from her fur, and luckier she wasn’t exposed long enough to cause any health issues.

Rubbing his chin, Sonic flashed a wide smile as he drew in his wife’s Super Form. “I dunno Sal, you rock the colors, and do’. It’s giving me ideas-.”

Tails held up one hand, and the other he put a finger to his mouth. Making a faux-gagging sound. “Sonic, I’m right here, don’t wanna hear that stuff!”

Snorting, Sonic rolled his eyes, “Hey, hey Li’Bro who said my mind was going to the gutter?”

Knuckles shot Sonic an incredulous look. “And I quote, “I’m always horny for Sal.”, end quote.”

Both Sonic and Sally managed to blush through the color of their super forms. Each coughing, and averting their gazes from their friends for a time.

“How about we can the small talk, and focus on saving the world?” Shadow stated, breaking up the moment as he turned and pointed towards the approaching Armada. “I’m sure Eggman saw that light show and is going to get even more antsy to try and finish us off.”

Clearing her throat, Sally stepped forward from the Master Emerald, letting Shadow’s comment further help to put that momentary embarrassment behind them. FAR behind them hopefully! “Shadow’s right, we got the power, now let’s use it.”

Pounding his fists together, Sonic began to jog and jump in place to pump himself up. “Juice and jam time folks, let’s show ol’ Eggy he should’ve stayed on that satellite in his home dimension.”

“If not just shriveled up and died.” Growled Knuckles as he flexed his fists before slamming them together.

“For everyone here, and those yet to come, we must win.” Silver uttered as he began to float, flexing his psychokinetic powers in anticipation.

Spinning his twin-tails, Tails began to hover as well. “Sally, give the word, we’re ready!”

“Everyone, it’s been an honor… LET’S GO!!”

#boundingforfreedom #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sally Acorn #Archie-Sonic Comics #Knuckles the Echidna #Shadow the Hedgehog #Miles 'Tails' Prower #Silver the Hedgehog #Master Emerald #Deep Power Stones #Super Forms #Fanfic

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yafaemi · 4 years

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Layers to a Lady

one: outside layer

[Name:] Amandine du Aubrieault.

[Hair Style & Style:] Gray-black, with darker streaks. And no, my hair is not dyed. My hair has not always been mid-shoulder length, as well. It was incredibly long when I was a child. Mostly by my mother’s preference.

[Eye Color:] Violet. Though, I’ve been told my eyes can be mistaken as black in dark enough lighting. I personally doubt it, yet I don’t see any reason to confirm it for myself.

[Height:] Rather average for an Elezen, I believe. Perhaps an ilm or two difference?

[Style:] Fancy, I suppose. I’ve never considered what I call my style. It’s rather hard to mistake that I lean towards the finer things in life, regardless. Or magely? I’ve heard a friend of mine use that term to describe it. (Though that... isn’t a word. Not that she cared. Believe me, I told her such. On multiple occasions.)

[Best Physical Feature:] Hmm... I’ve always been fond of my eyes. At the risk of sounding vain, they’re a wonderful color.

two: inner layer

[Fears:] Being left without control over my life. I value my autonomy far more than I do any laws, though I have a rather funny way of showing it. My greatest fear in this world would be to wake up one day, and realize that all it was all an illusion.

[Guilty Pleasure:] ...This information is staying here, yes? I’d rather not have... any unexpected second parties finding this. The first I thought of was cheesy theatre performances. Whether cheesy for the lack of quality, or just the nature of the show itself, there’s something delightful about it.

[Biggest Pet Peeve:] Those who willfully cling to their ignorance. In my mind, there is no individual weaker than that. Walk with your eyes open, lest they are forced open by another, crueler hand.

[Ambition for the Future:] Long term, or short-term? One is far more personal than the other-- not that I’ll be specifying which is which. Decide between the two if you’d like. For the long-term, I simply intend to live as I’d like, and become a far more skilled mage. For the short-term-- which... really, considering the circumstances, is not half as short as the word suggests... I plan to avenge the death of a friend.

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] The first things I usually ask when I’m awake enough to think coherently is what time it is, or if Oliver is awake first. Usually, if he is, then I can expect there to be hot chocolate in the kitchen. He makes enough of it in the mornings to supply one mug to each soul in Ishgard.

[What You Think About the Most:] Hm. I’m not quite sure, frankly. Though, I suppose it would likely be my friends, whatever book I happen to be reading at the time, or musing about Ishgard’s progress and where it will go in the future.

[What You Think About Before Bed:] Whatever I was doing before going to bed. More often than not, it’s the events of an evening stroll through Ishgard, prior conversations in the day, whatever I happened to be reading, or-- if it was my turn to put wood into the fireplace for the night-- whether or not I actually remembered to do it.

[Your Best Quality Is:] My inquisitiveness. I enjoy exploring ideas, and learning about them. If there is more to learn about something, then I will be there to discover it.

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] Quite frankly, I hardly have any interest in romance. Yet, if I were to go on a date, I would be more intent on learning about my partner than spending time with friends. Which... really, is a long way of saying single.

[To be Loved or to be Respected?] In a twist that I find rather interesting, I would say loved. Had you asked me some few moons ago, my answer more than likely would have been different. My friends are a terrible influence in the best way possible.

[Beauty or Brains?] Brains. They will get your farther than looks. At least in my experience. I did not become a skillful mage because of my enchanting physique, I’ll have you know.

[Cats or Dogs?] Cats. Dogs are undoubtedly adorable, yet I hardly have the energy it would take to care for one.

four: do you...

[Lie?] I doubt there’s a soul in the world who hasn’t lied before. Who knows, I may very well be lying about every single one of these responses. (I’m not, rest assured.)

[Believe in Yourself?] Why would I not? While there have been times that I was uncertain of my skills, I’ve always believed myself more than capable of going onwards with whatever is in my way.

[Believe in Love?] Of course I do. There is evidence of it everywhere, after all, when you know where to look. So an old friend would like to say, at least. Though I hope you don’t just mean romantic love. To think only of romantic love when someone says ‘love’ is narrow-minded, at the best of times.

[Want Someone?] Not particularly. I’m quite happy being single, as of now. Who knows. It may change, though I highly doubt that for now. My friends are more than enough.

six: have you ever...

[Been on Stage?] Hm. That depends what you count as a stage? I have, technically, done performances before. On a makeshift stage, at least. I would prefer this stay here, as well. As a child, my mother was quite insistent that I choose some manner of instrument to learn. I decided to tell her that I was interested in learning to sing. My own little way of rebellion, that... didn’t quite go as I had planned. Thus began my rather short-lived career, singing Halonic verses by my family’s requests.

[Done Drugs?] No, and I have no intention of doing so. My mother would rise from her grave the very second she even heard me consider it. Of that I have no doubts.

[Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] Not particularly. Perhaps as a child, once or twice, in an attempt to fit in with the other children. Yet in my adult years, I can’t think of a time I’ve done so.

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] I have a small handful of favorites, though the one I most often think of first is purple. It’s also the color I seem to wear the most often, as well.

[Favorite Food:] This may be a rather strange choice-- yet one I’ve always been fond of is quiche. My mother used to make quite a lot of it. It’s more of out of nostalgia than any real fondness, really.

[Favorite Game:] I’ve never been much for games, in recent years. I usually prefer reading to pass my time. Though, watching Aurora grow increasingly more bewildered as Oliver beat her at Triple Triad without a single clue as to what he was doing was the most invested I’ve ever been into any game since childhood. So, I suppose if I were to list a favorite, it would be that string of games, that night.

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] Well, seeing as though it’s my nameday today, I suspect it will be in exactly a year from today.

[How Old Will You Be?] I will be turning 26. Halone, that feels strange to say.

[Age You Lost Your Virginity:] I will make a note not to tell you when it does happen.

[Does Age Matter?] That, frankly, depends. You wouldn’t put a child on the battlefield. ...Hopefully. In a situation such as that, I should certainly hope age matters.

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] Someone who is not afraid of what may lie beyond the horizon, who refuses to shy away from what they find. In whatever sense that may be. It’s an invaluable trait to have, I think. Other than that, I’m not entirely sure what to add. I’ve not put half as much thought into ‘my type’ as others might.

[Best Eye Color:] Whatever color my partner’s eyes are. I would think that those are the eyes I would find the most enchanting.

[Best Hair Color:] Generally the same as the prior answer.

[Best Thing to do With a Partner:] Long, peaceful strolls in the evening, talking about whatever comes to mind. I find such times the best while getting to know each other. Though that may depend on if your partner is the type of person to enjoy them.

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love...] My friends. As infuriating as they can be at times, I would not give them up for the world. They have changed my life for the better.

[I Feel...] Quite relaxed, as of now. It’s been a lovely day thus far.

[I Hide...] A good many things. My secrets are called that for a reason, after all. I am not wont to reveal them without good reason.

[I Miss...] A departed friend. There have been recent developments that I think she would have been ecstatic to witness for herself, yet the chance was taken from her.

[I Wish...] Well, I suppose it would be far too simple to say I wish said friend would return. So... hmm. To end on a humorous note, I wish Oliver would stop attempting to burn down our house whenever he cooks something. I am literally capable of producing fire with magic, and somehow he manages to set fire to whatever it is he makes without the use of it. I have to physically restrain myself from asking him to teach me the secrets of his pyromancy, at times. (I doubt he would tell me, regardless. If nothing else, I would just get a pout in response.)

tagged by: @eligos-venator (thank you by the way :O)

tagging: @nekun-uul and whoever would like to join! :D

#| a path in falling snow ; a prelude in violet #tagged #a way to introduce mand into the main blog! woo :D #plus since today is her birthday i thought it'd be fun to actually do this for her #(it took me a lot of time to get this done today but i DID IT and im very proud)

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

Text

first words

Summary: should i give a fuck who you are?

Pairing: pre slash sebastian moran & jim moriarty

Warnings: mild violence but otherwise just a soulmate au

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: this is crossposted on AO3

~~~

In a neat, cursive script, running smoothly around Sebastian's left wrist were the words 'Do you know who I am, Tiger?'

He can't remember the first time he was told what it said, or even who told him, though he suspects it was his mother. She had always loved the idea of soulmates and destiny; Sebastian had never understood how she could feel like that when she had been 'destined' to marry his father - her mark read 'who the fuck do you think you are?' The earliest memory he has of his own mark is from when he was seven, two days after his mother died and his father drank so much he still reeked the next morning. He had grabbed Sebastian's tiny arm, leaving thin red marks sitting over small purple bruises, and just stared at the words - obviously they had reminded him of something because, thirty minutes later, Sebastian was left to drag himself to bed and unable to move without feeling a soul-deep pain radiating from each and evey place his father had struck him. From that day on, he covered his mark with plasters, long sleeves and ratty brown leather bracelets.

As he grew up he decided that he really didn't want to think about what kind of situation would warrant someone asking if he 'knew who he was' but then he started to think that his habit of getting into fights is what would be the exact reason for someone saying that. He had honestly been a well behaved child, and then a snotty prick by the name of Cyril - fucking Cyril - had made a snide comment about his mum and it all sort of went tits up from there on out. Four years and three schools later, he got kicked out of school altogether. And kicked out of his house because he got kicked out of school, and because his dad was a bastard. He didn't cover his mark anymore, not overly bothered by who saw it.

Living on the streets turned out to be a lot harder than sixteen year old Sebastian had expeted so he decided that building a reputation for himself was the best way to survive, and he was still a kid so at the time beating the shit out of people seemed like a good idea. Until he got arrested for assult. He's not sure what happened but somehow he ended up leaving the police station the next morning with no charges against him and a not-quite 'discussion' about the pros of him joining the military.

"Listen, mate, I get you've had it rough but I have to make sure that you get fighting isn't the answer. You got lucky this time but next time you won't. You need to take control of your life and make something of it ,yeah? I got you this leaflet and I want you to read it, alright?" The officer was barely older than him and the idea of actually accepting life advice from him was laughable so he just grunted as he walked out.

Four years later, at aged twenty-one, he was one of the most skilled snipers Her Majesty's Armed Forces had ever seen, and one of the luckiest too. It was sort of a running joke in his unit that he could get away with anything because good god did that man know how to push his luck. His superior officers had never met anyone who could talk back like Sebastian could and they had definitely never met anyone who could go from nought to a hundred with his fists so quickly, either. But, if being an asshole and getting away with it wasn't proof enough of his luck, the story behind Sebastian's soon to be nickname is a true testament to it.

It was mid-afternoon, the sun was hammering down and Sebastian was just trying to do some exercise when he heard a quiet noise above the hum of the heat and when he looked around, he saw a tiger making it's way cautiously into the encampment. It's stripes seemed distorted as they hung off of it - it was too skinny, he didn't need to be a genius to know that, but it was still a big fucking animal that was slowly approaching the sleeping form of Benny. If asked, Sebastian would tell you he had no idea why he did what he did next, because he truly does not know what possessed him. Picking up a hefty rock from beside him, he hurled it towards the tiger and, obviously, the tiger turned to him, moving faster now, gathering speed as it pounced.

When he opened his eyes he saw the tiger, limp-running away and Benny coming to drag him to his feet - all the others who had gathered around him still seemed shocked by the fact he had fought off an actual tiger. He didn't stay standing for long though and slumped back to the floor, wiping blood repeatedly out of his left eye and spitting some into the dirt next to him. He went to wipe his face more but a firm hand gripped his wrist, pulling it away before tugging at the open wounds on his face.

"You're lucky - it just missed your eye but you're going to need a lot of stitches. You will have some nasty scars, too," he said, guiding Sebastian over to the medical tent and getting to work.

Over the next few weeks he started to find his nickname very fucking annoying, particularly when his mates chorused 'tigers don't care about the opinions of sheep' every time one of their superior officers gave him a talking to and singing Eye of the Tiger at every opportunity. And the worst part was that he couldn't even get away because he wasn't allowed to do shit. So, really, if you took into account all of this, it was only logical that he would end up breaking his lieutenant's nose and find himself back on the streets with nothing to his name except a dishonourable discharge and three scars running from his left temple to the right side of his jaw.

---

'Should I give a fuck who you are?'

Jim had always worn his soulmark like a badge. No one ever told him what it said, for obvious reasons but he was a clever child, he could read and articulate way beyond his years so when seven year old Jim walked into the dinning room, looked his mother in the eye and stuttered out, 'should I give a f-fuck who you are?' before grinning at her, no one should have been surprised. That had been an interesting and pointless conversation because despite his mother telling him, 'Good boys shouldn't use such bad words,' he still continued to say this well into his early teens.

He was thirteen when he pulled off his first heist. It was in a corner shop, he lead a team of four and they got away with a new box of ready salted pringles, a case of red bull and, of course, a box of own brand chocolate bars because they're way better than the expensive shit. They so very nearly got caught, a brawl in the pub opposite bringing two police cars screeching to a halt in the road, but they somehow managed to slip away and made a fairly good profit on their goods. His second one was a year later and went a lot better. Him and four others again, this time a small shop in the high street from which they successfully took two cases of cigarettes to sell; two boxes of lighters because he was a good businessman and knew how to make a good sale; three cases of wine carefully stacked in a shopping trolley, and a nice new set of knives for himself.

By sixteen he has heard the phrase 'should I give a fuck who you are?' several times - not surprising when you looked at his life. He had the beginnings of a small network, maybe twenty or so people in place around his neighbourhood and it was slowly growing. Whilst those on the outskirts of his web mainly just roughed people up a little or pulled off the robberies that Jim no longer did himself, those higher up dealt with anyone who tried to take over Jim's patch. They would find themselves face down on the concrete, a muddy black boot on their neck until Jim sauntered over and crouched down, saying in a teasing voice, 'do you know who I am?' He started giggling childishly every time they responded with the words inked on his wrist.

Two days after he turned seventeen, his second in command got arrested for being a stupid prick who deserves everything coming to him - who would leave a gun in the front seat of their stolen astra? And who would steal a fucking astra? He almost grassed but somehow the evidence against him got lost so he walked - Jim has no idea how that happened, and when his second was found bloodied and bruised in an alleyway, well, it certainly couldn't be traced back to Jim.

The first time he killed a man was a week after his mother had died - or been murdered during a break in, to be specific. It had been a rough week to say the least. The police had been poking around, working off a tip some fuckwit had decided to bestow upon them. He's sure that if he spoke to the many councillors he was directed to they would say something about having time to grieve or process or 'work through it'. But he didn't speak to them because he had his own way of 'working through it', which was good for Jim, but wasn't quite as good for the imbecile who had not only come into his town, but had hurt his mother. He got a call late on the Thursday.

"We've got 'im, boss." "I'll be five minutes. If he has so much one broken bone, I will make you regret it." "Yes, boss."

When he arrived, two of his men were standing a little too rigidly whilst the third was stood with a foot on the neck of a crying prick.

"Hmm, a broken finger. Too bad. I apologise..." he trailed off, crouching down and looking expectantly into teary eyes.

"David," he choked out.

"David. Do you know who I am, David?" The look of horror, the colour visibly draining from his face and the way he physically gagged caused Jim to laugh sardonically before he continued.

"You might know my mother too - you were acquainted just a few days ago. Do you remember that, David?" he hissed as he used one gloved hand to pull a knife from his inside pocket.

He managed to avoid getting blood on most of his clothes, only a few drops landed on his coat but he would still have to burn it. He threw the knife on the floor and tossed his coat to the man closest to him, the gloves shoved in the pocket.

"Burn this. Do not touch that knife - it's going to get the cretin who snitched arrested. The only reason I'm letting you off today is because you're not worth the trouble it'll take to scrape you off the pavement."

In the following years his business expanded to include blackmail, kidnapping and assassinations. The only problem was there the unfortunately small pool of assassins to choose from - something about not wanting to kill innocent people or kill for money or other equally boring excuses.

And that's when he discovered recently discharged - sorry, dishonoably discarged Sebastian Moran.

---

Sebastian was not having a good week. It was nothing specific, really, it was just that being homeless is fucking shit and all of his stuff was set on fire; now all he wanted was to treat himself to a new pack of fags and maybe a drink. The route was familiar, the shadows, the dripping of the drains, so the two, quiet sets of footsteps he heard on his way back sounded loud and clear as an alert he was being followed, which was not doing anything to elevate his mood. He stopped walking and rolled his shoulders.

"What do you want?"

He spun around, arms raised in defence when he heard them run forwards, blocking the initial attack before launching himself forwards. He managed to knock one bloke on his arse just as he heard two, maybe three more approaching from behind. So, yeah, over all it hadn't been a great week but seeing all five of his attackers unconscious on the ground made it a little better. That was until he heard a sixth person approach, clapping slowly. Sebastian growled and pivoted, grabbing the condescending fuck by his collar and slamming him up against the damp brick work.

"Do you know who I am, Tiger?" the man said, eyeing the scars on his face and the bodies on the floor, and Sebastian very nearly punched him in the jaw because he sounded like he needed it and no one had ever obliged. Sebastian's eyes scanned the body in front of him, taking in his short, almost wiry frame, his vey expensive looking suit, and his shit eating grin. Sebastian put a cigarette between his lips, ignoring the sting of his split lip, and blew the smoke into his face.

"Should I give a fuck who you are?" he said through another exhale.

"The names Moriarty, and you should really show me more respect. You can start by letting go of me." The man - Moriarty - looked pointedly at where Sebastian still had his arm firmly pressed to his chest and Sebastian shrugged, letting go and taking half a step back.

"Much appreciated, I do hate wrinkling my suits. You'd do well to remember that, when you work for me."

"When I work for you?" Sebastian laughed incredulously.

"Naturally. I know all about you, Sebastian Moran. You have a skill set that I can use and, in return, I can offer you the opportunity to not be homeless." Moriarty slid his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, which seemed to be his equivalent of twiddling his thumbs in boredom.

Sebastian flicked his fag butt away. "Suppose I don't want this job, what then?"

"Seeing as you do want this job I think it best not to waste my time. You'll soon learn that I'm not a very patient man." He turned on his heel, walking back the way he came, only pausing briefly to call out, "Come along now, Tiger. Work to do."

#sebastian moran #jim moriarty #bbc sherlock #soul mates #first meeting

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draconia-bsd · 5 years

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FkuMori- New Year's Kiss

Hey, hi, hello, I have no justification for writing somethig so painfully long, but I hope you like it @vanafloria ♡ uwu

Crimson sunlight barged through the forest of skyscrapers and motels, allowing only a few remaining rays to stumble in a wide white office of a new clinic center, meeting their end either on a tidy desk or on a spotless lab coat of dr. Mori. He owned and managed the whole complex for barely eight months now, and despite it seeming out of place, the surrounding neighbourhood warmly welcomed this new branch of the health industry. Before its arrival, small gangs had a habbit of housebreaking and robbing the entire area, spreading fear amongst its residents and ultimately leading to a decay in economy, which most considered beyond repair. Yet, thanks to the generous heart of this ex war doctor, these problems were solved in the shortest possible time, leading quite a large number of people into an almost religious worship of his being. Fully aware of the fact, Mori dedicated vast amounts of energy in maintaining his public image- as long as the ordinary people were happy with his honey-glazed mask and dulcet words no problems will be caused, they will act as sheep following their shepherd through the fog. This logic, however, was not something he shared with his employees, more precisely his bodyguard, Fukuzawa- a man roughly his own age, but of strong stature. He oftentimes communicated in such a blunt and harsh manner that Mori felt obliged to step in the conversation for the tensions to settle. It was exhausting, especially after explaining him the meaning of his actions numerous times, but in the end, he couldn't afford better. Not only from a materialistic standpoint, but also because Fukuzawa was the best man in his line of work, rising up almost to a level of legend. Even upon a mere mention of his nickname, "The Silver Wolf", most of the underworld's bravest members would quiver, for the man's natural bloodthirst was a force colder and more ruthless than a Russian winter. He was far too valuable for Mori to dismiss and leave in another person's grasp.

In spite of this minor problem though, the business ran precisely as intended. The whole area became a neutral zone after doctor himself spread the word of his refusal to associate with the law enforcement. Sure, he faced hardships and doubt at first, but being spared and trusted by the two biggest crime organisations in town helped significantly. Everyone he knew now thought he was just a simple man who wanted to help people, which, in a way, wasn't even that far from the truth. Thinking about this, Mori didn't even realise he neglected his work until the phone-alarm notified him it was time for his lunchbreak. Feeling only slight discomfort about the matter, he swiftly he draped himself within his feather jacket and headed straight to the nearby bakery. Having stepped outside, his eyes narrowed due to the force of a razor sharp wind jolting his hair, leaving him with a view field wide just enough to get him to the desired destination. The bakery was small, albeit tastefully decorated. It possessed a rustic aesthetic, with its wooden, dark amber walls and shelves that blended so well with them it would be impossible to imagine one without the other, alongside two big square windows, one placed next to the door and the other on the West wall, allowing sunlight to highlight all of the beauty inside. Naturally, as it was Christmas time, decorations added to the aesthetics too, making even the baked goods taste more delicious than usual.

Upon entering, Mori fixed his hair and stepped into the line for making orders. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to get, but the queue was long enough for him to comfortably decide, or so he thought. Suddenly, an old woman came up to him and started a smalltalk asking him about the clinic and poking fun at his hair that he "ought to shorten". This was all an everyday occurrence to which he had gotten used to, up until one question.

"So, how will you spend the New Year's eve, dear?" she said with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, as usual, I shall occupy myself with work." the doctor replied and he truly did mean it. Over time holidays lost their value to him, and while a necessity in this society, he did not enjoy them for the most part, as he felt even more empty during those times, thus trying not to pay them too much attention was the best possible solution.

"Oooh." mumbled the lady "That's noble, but it must be terribly lonely, especially after having spent Christmas at work as well."

Admittedly, Mori was stunned by her bluntness, but he couldn't deny her words, even with his employees by his side, he felt the same as always during this time period. Still, he had to reply with something, so he conveniently used the exact thing he was thinking about for inspiration.

"Don't worry, Fukuzawa will be with me. After all, we are like brothers." he exclaimed, but for some reason didn't understand why he only mentioned this one man.

While they could surely be brothers by age, there wasn't much, apart from his skills, that dazzled him about Fukuzawa. So, brushing this off as a simple element of chitchatting, he continued to talk to the lady until he took his order and left the bakery, sprinting back to his office.

Having walked so fast he almost had difficulty maintaining a normal breathing pattern, he stopped in the entry room to gain some strength. It was now noticeably warmer compared ti the outside, but still, he felt no need to take off his jacked as he felt winter might bite down to his bones. Sitting there like a student in the school yard, he started thinking about his words once again. This time he had the freedom to explore all the possibilities, and an interesting idea occured to him. Mori then finished his meal as usual and headed back to his office, having a few buissnes partners already waiting for him. Unon greeting them politely,he called on Fukuzawa to guard the room until the meeting was over.

...

As dawn neared it's peak, the doctors hands lost their usual composure and craved for a resting place to stop their fatigue caused tremor, but contrary to his body's wishes, Mori took care of his equipment, changed his clothes and ramained to wait for the new shift to start. He didn't have to do this, obviously, but a part of him thought it was right and he hadn't done anything like that in a while. His mind was absent as he gazed into the rising Sun, mesmerised by it's colours and the flickering snow contrasting it. Losing track of time, and eventually his consciousness, the next thing amethyst eyes saw were white strands of hair shimmering next to them, appearing so light and soft they may have been unreal for all Mori knew. This fascination could have continued, but soon a deep voice broke off the illusion and reality came back into place. Fukuzawa was arched over his employer, looking at the weak body with concern.

"Shouldn't you go home and rest properly?" he asked as the younger man shook from his drowse and offered a hand to help him get out of his chair.

It took him quite a while to voice his answer, but nevertheless, Mori agreed with this and the two decided to head towards their homes together. However unusual it may seem, this isn't the first time they travelled together, it happened every once in a while and they would often engage in awkward conversations during it, but lately their communication improved (partially because of their debates about the neighbourhoods residents) so it was definitely a nice opportunity to snatch. Mori freezed as soon as he stepped outside, giving him a subjective feeling that his eyebags suddenly became a few shades darker. Jokingly commenting on this, he was greeted with an attempt of a reply "That's why you shouldn't wear jackets inside." and a smile. Fukuzawa may have been older, but he was definitely the one who had to learn when it came to these things. Still, Mori didn't mind his bodyguard's awkwardness when it was directed at him. He could never pinpoint the exact emotion he felt at those moments, but he knew it was something warm and for a long time he didn't think anything of it, but as of yesterday he became quite keen on exploring it, so he lead the conversation further until the blue eyes had lost their usual harshness. It is true that most of the trip had already passed by that point, but at least it was worthy. Now was the right time to ask:

"Say, what are your plans for the New Year's eve?" Mori continued with his usual tone.

"I assume I will spend it working." Fukuzawa replied coldly, retrieving to his natural attitude.

"Well if that's so, wouldn't you like to make me company during the countdown? It's not like we will leave the clinic, but it's nice to celebrate a bit, no?"

"I- I would have to agree, but what about the patients or the lurking danger?" the silver haired man asked with a serious voices , averting his sky blue orbs to his side.

"Hmm, a few drunks here and there shouldn't be much of a problem. I've had these experiences before, you know?" Mori proclaimed in a pensive tone.

"I don't see anything wrong with it then." Fukuzawa said, much to Mori's delight.

As planned, two men parted ways soon after, heading for their respective homes for a good rest, but somehow neither felt tired anymore.

...

Before coming to his clinic that evening, Mori stoped by an acquaintance's shop at the back of an alley near the town center. The man was a smuggling genius, holding seven mass storages, both in and out of the city, filled with opiates of various kinds, but at this small shop he brought only the finest of alcohol- be it original or fake, he had it all, oftentimes so well matched in characteristics that the drink's authenticity was for the consumer to evaluate. Despite this tho, he would never put Mori in the said position, for he owed him greatly. The store itself had two levels, the lower being almost twice as big as the one above, but nonetheless well-equipped with rare finds. Overall aesthetic was quite modern, filled with various shades grey as well as few metallic surfaces (shelves and the register most notably), but it would've been extremely bland if there werent a few pop art paintings hanging on the walls and bringing some actual colour in the room. Not really how most would imagine a liquor store, but it possessed a certain charm, especially for upstart people who stood in awe upon entering, with greedy eyes drinking from every bottle they recognized from a magazine they read before that one party in order to impress a lovely nobleman. But unlike these people, Mori wasn't all that impressed by this space, he already set his goal and this was simply the best way to fulfil it. He followed his acquaintance to a certain part of the store and upon a short wait, the man came back with what the doctor wanted- a bottle of Highland Park '68 . With a delighted smirk on his face Mori expressed his gratefulness and exchanged a few business related ideas with the smuggler.

Having put the bottle of expensive whisky in his bag, he set for the clinic, arriving earlier than usual although there wasn't much he planned to do but sorting some paperwork. Emerged in work, time flew by and before he knew it the clock hit nine, marking the beginning of Fukuzawa's work hours. Forseeably, he arrived on time and made his presence known to Mori immediately. Though his tone and words were professional, there were hints of insecurity behind them as he didn't quite know how to hold himself that night. As it is only natural, the dark haired man noticed this and decided to put his plan to action. Dramatically proclaiming his exhaustion, Mori suggested they both take a glass of whisky and without hesitation Fukuzawa accepted this offer. After all, the Silver Wolf was no stranger to alcohol, most notably spirits. He didn't know exactly why he liked this type of liquor to such an extent, but he never concerned himself with that question- the taste and the high was all that mattered, and surprisingly, this drink possessed both of the said qualities. Sitting in chairs, much like a doctor and a patient would, they sipped their drinks slowly, expressing thoughts of it's taste, colour and scent, but other than that the conversation seemed to end, making the whole situation awkward for a short while- until the rush of alcohol hit them. It did require two glasses of whisky, but it was worthy, as Fukuzawa relaxed significantly after every sip he took. Mori wasn't much of a drinker himself, so seeing this big, strong man getting tipsy before him was a pleasant surprise, and not only that, but his cheeks were slightly red emphasizing his blue eyes to the point where Mori had to put extreme effort not to stare at their beauty. Instead, the doctor started talking about their common mentor- Natsume Soseki. This proved to be a good topic of choice as Fukuzawa lead the story of their meeting and later anecdotes from trainings. Like the one time his sensei tried to catch a butterfly with his bare hands, or the time he casually lounged not on the regular sitting area of the couch but on it's back. This made Mori laugh more than he had imagined, to the point his abdominal muscles hurt, actually. This reminded him of his experience with Natsume-sensei, so naturally, he decided to share his discovery of the mentors unreasonably big collection of cardboard boxes.

Stories of their mentor soon turned into jokes, but after continuous use of whisky, the conversation took a more serious turn. They didn't remember how they got to the topic of loneliness, but it was obvious neither of them particularly enjoyed the subject.

"Loneliness increases inner strength and individuality, but our human nature is always there to chain our improvement." Fukuzawa claimed.

"Isn't it also in our human nature to adapt and evolve? While it is necessary, is it truly the only way we can help our growth? After all, even plants die if watered too much, don't they?" the younger man replied, but was met with silence.

"Well, it is New Year's eve after all, we shouldn't be talking about such things!" Mori added in a silvery voice, putting his usual smile on.

Forcing a smile on his face, the older of the two extended his arm to get his glass "If that's the case, why don't you pour me another one, doctor?"

Almost mechanically doing as he was asked, Mori suddenly remembered "Ah, wait!" he exclaimed as he jerked the bottle "It's not midnight yet, we should wait for the countdown, look how little we have left!"

Blue orbs focused on the bottle and blinked in surprise "Wow, that much? I mean, we drank that much."

Mori laughed to this reaction and fell off his chair from the force he used to nod his head, which in response caused Fukuzawa to snort as he lent him a helping hand. As expected from a drunk person though, the fallen didn't get up, but instead pulled the the other one down with him. With both of them on the floor now, they continued giggling like a pair of teenagers smoking behind their school, hoping not to get caught. It was strange how well they can get along, given the chance. As they sat next to each other, Fukuzawa took Mori's hand without a word and moved it close to him, causing the other man to blush, but before he could do anything the Silver Wolf narrowed his eyes and drew his head close to the handwatch to examine it.

"Two more minutes until countdown!" he said as he turned around to face Mori, who at this point had a perplexed look on his face and was only able to utter an "oh".

Fukuzawa then quickly crawled to the table an brought the bottle to a still confused doctor.

"Eh and the glasses?" Mori asked.

"Ugh. Who cares." the other replied with a sigh.

With their eyes fixed on the watch, these two anxiously waited for the final ten seconds. It seemed that time passed much slower now that they stopped talking, but that didn't really bother Mori. He could feel the pressure of his head leaning against the other and soft white hair caressing his cheek- in a way, he even wanted this to continue. Alas, the time they waited for came and both of them counted until zero, but before doctor wished his bodyguard a happy New Year, Fukuzawa was already taking a sup of the old whisky. It was unlike his usual, compound self, to disrespect a custom, but he was extremely drunk by this point, so the younger man took it as such. Sensing that the time is right, he started gently removing the bottle from Fukuzawa's mouth, advising him not to swallow the drink as he cupped the confused man's face and moved his own body close to his, giving him a deep and slow kiss. It was bitter and it burned, but he would give anything to do it over and over again.

"Happy New Year." he said weakly upon breaking the kiss and catching his breath.

"Yeah. You too." a flustered Fukuzawa replied, still in shock over what had just happened.

After remaining in the same position for a few seconds, Mori decided to back away, thinking this was all a bad idea to begin with, but as he was about to move, he felt strong arms holding him back and draging him even closer to them.

"Mmm? What?" he asked teasingly, but his lips were locked in a kiss before he knew it.

Who coud have guessed such passion laid behind those cold blue eyes? Those who seemed so detached and out of reach, slowly luring him into lust day by day... are they even the same as these fierce, devine eyes before him? Mori wondered, but that was a question that had to wait for the next day. All he craved now was to be liberated from his bottled up desires, and his saviour was ready.

#my writing #bungou stray dogs #bsd #fukumori #mori ougai #bsd mori #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd fukuzawa

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nooneelsecomesclose17 · 5 years

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If you knew how lonely my life has been - part 4

I’m really unsure about this one, it’s the start of the whys and wherefores and I just hope I’ve managed to make it work. I’m borrowing bits and pieces from canon that I didn’t like btw so yeah...not so much in this chapter but you’ll see ;).

He hadn’t stayed long after that, told her what he knew and collected Seb, leaving her on the phone to Cain. All he had the energy for was to go home and play video games with Seb until bedtime.

Maybe he should’ve told him about Robert but he had no idea where to start. He’d always been honest with him about his Daddy Robert and now he had to undo all of that somehow. It didn’t help that he had no idea how to deal with it himself, let alone how to help a seven year old who still said goodnight to the photo of his Dad beside his bed.

He doesn’t sleep, spends most of the night pacing the kitchen, can’t settle his mind on anything. He’ll have to see Robert, he knows that, but right now he’s not sure he wants to. Not so long ago he would’ve given anything for it but all he can think of now is how he’s been lied to, how hurt he is.

When the banging starts on the door not long after seven he can only sigh. He should’ve known Robert wouldn’t wait.

“What part of give me time don’t you understand?”

“I have to explain. I know you’re angry, but if you hear me out…well, maybe you’ll see I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” He sighs because even now he can’t say no to him. “Seb’s still asleep and I haven’t had chance to talk to him yet. Meet me at the yard in an hour. I’ll get Mum to watch him.”

“I know you said yesterday but…I need to see him too Aaron.” For the first time he can almost see a hint of how much Robert is hurting too.

“We’re going out later, I’ll talk to him after, then if he wants to we’ll arrange something. It’s got to be at his pace Robert.” He can hear Seb moving about upstairs, never one for sleeping late. “You should go.”

“Who was that?” Seb’s on the stairs when he closes the door, hair ruffled from sleep, pyjamas dragging a little on the floor because Nana Chas had bought a size too big again.

“Come and sit with me a minute.” He smiles as Seb climbs up onto his lap, for once not protesting that he’s too old for cuddles. “You know how I’ve told you about your Dad?”

“He died, like Mummy. But I’ve got you!”

“Of course you have. Well…thing is…this probably won’t make much sense bug, but your Dad, he’s alive.” Seb doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge he’s heard. Aaron’s never felt so out of his depth before. He has no idea how to do this and it’s not the kind of thing you can look up on the internet like he had in the past when Seb first came back to live with him. “Seb…”

“Do I have to go live with him now?”

“Oh. Um…your Dad and I would have to talk about that, but no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want, ok?” He’s a bit ashamed that he’d not even thought about Robert wanting Seb back. He didn’t want to think about it.

Seb had been the reason for him to turn himself around and try to get his life back to some sort of normality. He’d known that Robert and Rebecca had sorted out the legal stuff back after the wedding, Robert adamant that Aaron have rights over the little boy in case anything happened. Maybe now he knew why.

“Why did he go away?”

“I don’t know bug, but I’m going to find out. Are you ok to go to Nana’s while I do that?” He holds him close a little bit longer, wondering if Seb really was that ok with everything or if he was going to react more later. “If you want me to stay here instead, I will.”

“You said we were going out!”

“We still can…are you sure?”

“Yeah!"

“Right then. The film doesn’t start until two. I’m not going to miss that am I, hmm? Come on, let’s get dressed and get your stuff.” Seb’s halfway up the stairs before he stops. “What is it?”

“Can I see him?”

“Yeah, of course you can. We need to talk first though.” He forces a smile. “Seb…you know it’s alright if you’re upset or whatever, yeah? You can talk to me.”

“I know. Love you Dad.”

“Love you too bug.”

Robert’s sat on the bonnet of his car when he gets to the scrapyard. He’d feel bad about making him sit outside but he’s still angry. He doesn’t say a word, just unlocks the door, sitting at his desk looking at Robert.

“Well go on then.”

“Aaron…”

“No. You don’t get to use that voice on me. I’m so mad at you. I can’t even find the words.”

“I know, and if I could change it.” He sighs and slumps onto Jimmy’s desk. “This place hasn’t changed much.”

“It’s a portacabin Robert, what were you expecting?”

“I s’pose I thought you might be a little bit pleased to see me.” He doesn’t answer, just watches as Robert runs a hand over his face, noticing his wedding ring for the first time. He can’t deny a little fizz of something at the sight of it and runs his thumb over his own. “I had to leave, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You said that before, but there’s always a choice. You could’ve told me, left a note, anything. Instead you just…I thought you died Robert. Did you think I’d just get over that?”

“No…but you had Chas, and Liv, and everyone. I knew you’d be alright.”

“I wasn’t though. You just don’t get it do you? I needed you! I needed you and you weren’t there. So I don’t want to hear how you thought I’d be ok. All I want is an explanation.”

“I was being threatened. More to the point you were being threatened. Liv, Seb, everyone. It was the only way out.”

“But…we were happy. I would’ve noticed.”

“I’m good at hiding stuff.” He scoffed a little because that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Ok maybe not, but…like you said we were happy, and I was doing everything I could to keep it that way.”

“Hang on, go back a bit. Who was threatening you? Kim Tate? Lachlan?”

“No. I wouldn’t have done this because of them. I need to…this goes back to before I met you.” He wanders over to the window and Aaron waits him out, knows that’s the best way to get him to talk. “Before I started working for Lawrence even. I’d got myself into debt, and I don’t just mean a few hundred. Thousands. Every time I managed to claw something back from a deal I lost it again. Anyway, you know me, I can blag my way into anything. Found a job, the boss offered to help me get out of debt if I…well let’s just say not much of it was entirely legal. You have to…I’d been on my own since Dad made me leave and those first couple of years were hard Aaron, I would’ve done anything not to end up back there.”

He nods because Robert’s told him about that time before, even reducing himself to tears over it. “So, you were in trouble with the police or…”

“Did I ever tell you how I met Chrissie? I think most people assume I set out to seduce the boss’s daughter, but I didn’t. I met her in a bar one night when I’d just done another one of his jobs. She was nice. Anyway, sorry…I never told her about him, but she thought I was unhappy at work, suggested she talk to her Dad for me. I snapped her hand off. It was a way out of the mess I was in.”

“And he didn’t like you leaving…seems a bit of an extreme reaction?”

“Yeah well you know me, I couldn’t just leave, could I? He’d trusted me a fair bit, I knew a lot of his secrets. So when I got the job with Lawrence, I took what I had and gave it to the police. He got to stay at Her Majesty’s pleasure for a few years.”

“And he took exception to that and when he got out…”

“He came looking for me. He wasn’t going to let it go, I should’ve known that. It’d been that long I thought…well anyway.” He sits again, looks worn out. “So, now you know.”

“Is that it?”

“What else is there?”

“How did he find you? Who is he? And the one I keep coming back to, why didn’t you tell me! Why you thought it was ok to keep all of it from me and let me think you were dead!”

#robron fic #most nervous about seb's reaction #not the kind of thing you can google #so hopefully..#left it there because otherwise it'll be sooo long and with the boys on this week i might not feel like writing so have this bit while i #work on the rest

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blankdblank · 5 years

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Anaticula Pt 52

“Close your eyes.” A chuckling order from your father came with Harry following it. Around the table in this stunning capture of a memory on film was Harry’s being presented a new Firebolt from your father for his birthday a few years ago. While Neville beamed at the full collection of rare specimens Regulus had gathered on his latest trip alongside the new set of tools to replace his worn ones he wouldn’t dare mention.

You could remember the day clearly and you held onto it forcing the creeping memory of Fenrir stroking your hair had crept up as the ac kicked on in the muggle dining car you were waiting in for your next stop to meet Harry.

With your need to travel north anyways to meet with Bernadette you were tasked with the meeting of a muggle born family along the way. A young girl, who very much like Hermione was scared and forced into hiding her natural gifts. Like the others that had been invited to attend Hogwarts since you met the Grangers the same ‘introduction package’ of books and information had been passed onto the families of muggleborns. To ease their way into the Wizarding world, along with the assigning of sixth and seventh year Prefects to meet them upon a decided date to show them just where to shop and provide a more in depth feel of the school they were sending their children off to.

The past two years it was easy for you, sharing all you knew as a student, however now it was hard not to pause in introducing yourself as a Professor, of potions no less, sure to gain a giggle or roll of the eyes from the still cautious muggles. You however had been fortunate to be given the name of a child of Squibs, with a fair base knowledge on the school name at least since their cousins had attended there. And your name and face especially lit theirs up in awe as you saw in their living room they had been sent clippings of the Prophet and other magazines convincing them more than ever to agree to sending their Gemma to Hogwarts to learn from you.

Seven, you had promised to meet Harry and Dumbledore at the station at seven and with a few technical delays you hoped the Professor might be a bit late himself so you wouldn’t have to try and explain what the big deal a flashing light in the conductors panel could do to delay dozens of passengers half an hour.

Still you tried to calm and relax after writing a note to Harry that you were on your way that he pocketed and returned to pretending not to be staring at the girl behind the counter clearly flirting with him from afar. He loved Ginny and never would make the mistake of losing her, but he did have to admit he enjoyed being found attractive, even with Romilda at school he took her flirtations and blushes and finger waves from afar as a light in his days, especially when it came after his classes he did poorly in.

“‘Harry Potter.’ Who's Harry Potter?” The girl asked.

Harry shook his head, “Oh, no one. Bit of a tosser, really.”

“Funny, that paper of yours. Couple nights ago, I could've sworn I saw a picture move.”

“Really?” He asked sarcastically.

“Thought I was going around the twist.”

“Hey, I was wondering...” She cut him off as he was going to ask her how much the solar powered dancing flower was on the counter he thought Ginny might like.

“Eleven. That's when I get off. You can tell me all about that tosser Harry Potter.”

In the doorway you stood easing your enchanted pouch back into your pocket then brushed your grey sweater lower over your thighs. The black vest over it snugly kept the low dip in the top to yourself and matched your tight black jeans tucked into your heeled booties in a velour marigold. A few steps later your flicked your ponytail over your back in Harry’s stroll out the doorway after his paying his bill. “She’s cute.”

The words made him flinch and sigh in rolling his eyes to answer, “Just talking. Tried to ask how much that flower was for Ginny.”

Walking with him you strolled around the platforms to the other side where you spotted Dumbledore waiting for you both. “Doesn’t make her any less cute.” Making you giggle in his weak chuckle.

Dumbledore, “You've been reckless this summer, Harry.”

“I like riding around on trains. Takes my mind off things.”

Lowering your gaze you noticed the blotchy scaly skin with clear scabbed gashes on his hand protruding from under, “What happened to your hand?”

Dumbledore raised his hand, “Rather unpleasant to behold, isn't it? The tale is thrilling, if I say so myself. But now is not the time to tell it. Take my arm.” He caught Harry’s glance at you then stated, “Do as I say.”

You both obeyed touching his raised arms and he aparated you both off to a quaint little moonlit town in the country. “I just Apparated, didn't I?”

Dumbledore, “Indeed. Quite successfully too, I might add. Most people vomit the first time.”

Harry smirked looking to you in your hand smoothing circles across his back in passing him a chocolate from your pocket, “I can't imagine why.” Quietly he unwrapped it and eased it between his lips, feeling his stomach calm almost instantly.

Dumbledore, “Welcome to the charming village of Budleigh Babberton. Harry, I assume, right about now, you must be wondering why I brought you here. Am I right?”

Harry, “Actually, sir, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.”

“These truly are troubling times, and in this we will need as many allies as possible. That is why I have asked you both here to assist me in this.”

Harry, “With what?”

Dumbledore, “We are in need of a Newts level Potions Professor.”

Harry looked up at him, “Potions? What happened to Snape?”

Dumbledore, “Hmm? Oh, nothing.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he stepped back to let Dumbledore approach the gate first and you leaned in to whisper, “I’ll tell you later.”

He nodded and Dumbledore said in inspecting the house clearly having been ransacked by the looks of it, “Wands out.”

You both drew your wands and followed after him with his lit wand, yet inside the house seemed familiarly staged, “I’ve seen this before.” Wetting your lips you called out, “Professor Slughorn?”

Into the sitting room you wandered as Harry said, “I doubt if anyone was here, they’d have left by now. Look at the place.” His eyes flinched up at the droplet from the hole in the floor above him falling on his face Dumbledore sampled from his finger.

Dumbledore, “No, we are not alone here.”

Curiously he followed your voice as you said, “There you are,” standing in front of a pink striped chair fully making Harry think you’d lost it, “You finally got rid of the Q on the brand on your foot. That’s good. You don’t have to be afraid, we’ve met once, bout, wow, seven years exactly. I was with my uncle Regulus Black, and Fred and George Weasley, the twins, red hair. You remember?”

Dumbledore spoke behind you, “She is speaking the truth Horace. We are not here to harm you. Even brought along someone we wished you to meet. Though, I must say, you do make a very convincing armchair.”

Wiggling slightly the chair began to shift and Horace began to appear in front of you all looking you three over in Harry’s awed chuckle. “Well it’s all in the upholstery. I do come by the stuffing naturally. What gave me away?”

Dumbledore, “Dragons blood. Oh, yes, introductions. Harry, I'd like you to meet an old friend and colleague of mine...Horace Slughorn. Horace...well, you know who this is. Harry Potter. What's with all the theatrics, Horace? You weren't, by any chance, waiting for someone else, were you?”

Slughorn, “I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Can’t be too careful these days Dumbledore. Never stay the same place twice and never more than a week. The Death Eaters have been trying to recruit me for over a year, do you know what that’s like?” You nodded and he glanced at you partly in shock yet continued on, “and you can’t just keep telling them no without paying for it you know. Muggles owning this place are out in the Canary Islands.”

Dumbledore nodded and stated, “Then perhaps it best we right it for them. Don’t you think?”

Horace nodded and Dumbledore waved his wand making the house repair itself around you while Horace looked at Harry in his asking, “You were approached by Death Eaters?”

Horace nodded, “Yes, my boy,” his eyes wandering over Harry’s with a twinge of regret in them. He looked to you asking, “My dear, pardon my insult, I’d never forget you, however-,”

You shook your head in a giggle saying, “Chuck Lupin.” And his lips parted, “I needed a face to hide behind.” You said morphing to that disguise again freeing a weak chuckle from him as you shifted back again, “But I always guessed you had caught on.”

He shook his head, “That was so long ago, too hard to say what I was thinking. I was all too thrilled when I heard you were alive and well.”

He looked to Albus saying, “My answer was no and it’s the same to you still. Absolutely and unequivocally, no.”

Dumbledore waved his hand, “No need. I know a lost cause when I see one.” He patted your shoulder, “Miss Black here will do just fine molding the minds of our youth in potions. Quite an untouched pool of fresh ideas right under our noses. Just wanted to give young Harry a chance to meet you while you were in town. Do you mind if I use the loo?”

Slughorn nodded and pointed it out to him leaving the three of you, “I’m sorry, you, will be teaching Potions?”

You nodded and flashed him a grin, “Yes. Thought it best apparently, with my Lycan potion and the others I’ve mastered for our shop on Diagonal Alley.”

Harry, “But you’ve just graduated! You can’t teach!”

Slughorn nodded and pointed at him, “Yes, Potter here is correct. You, on your own? Why I had an aid for nearly five years when I began and I was well into my thirties! And even still it was-,” he huffed in irritation, “What is Dumbledore thinking..?”

You shrugged, “Like you said, dark times. Not a lot of people are willing to take up posts at Hogwarts. Students are even shaky on returning.”

“Now I taught your parents and I have no doubts you are marvelous at potions-,” his voice trailed off in his try to word his objection properly.

He looked to Harry as he asked, “You taught our parents?”

He nodded, “You're very like your father. Except for the eyes of course. You have your...”

Harry, “My mother's eyes. Yeah.”

Slughorn, “Lily. Lovely Lily. She was exceedingly bright, your mother. Even more impressive when one considers she was Muggle-born.”

Harry, “One of my best friends is Muggle-born, which is the best in our year.”

Slughorn, “Please don't think I'm prejudiced. No, no. Your mother was one of my absolute favorites.” He turned to show you the rows of pictures of his former students with one of your mothers right up front, “ Look, there she is. Right at the front. All mine. Each and every one. Ex-students, I mean. You recognize Barnabas Cuffe, editor of The Daily Prophet. Always takes my owl, should I wish to register an opinion...on the news of the day. Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Free tickets whenever I want them. Of course, I haven't been to a match in some time. Ah, yes. Regulus Black. I taught the whole Black family, except Sirius. It's a shame. Talented boy. I got Regulus when he came along, of course, but I'd have liked the set. Jewels...”

Dumbledore returned breaking off his thought and gaze at you, “Horace? Would you mind if I take this? I am so fond of knitting patterns.”

Horace nodded and said, “Ye, yes. Go ahead. But you’re not leaving, are you?”

Wetting his lips as Dumbledore waved his hand to you two, “The response was made clear. Regrettable. I would have considered it a personal triumph had you considered to return. Oh well. You’re like my friends here, one of a kind. Well, we’ll be off. Best get back. Goodnight Horace.”

Over Slughorn’s face washed both regret and pain in his full body scan over you taking in every detail of you as if to memorize what you were before this task was set upon you. Out the house you both strolled wishing him well after you had given him a card with an incantation to use in case he was found again or ran out of hiding places. The card was cradled in his palms and in the cool night air Harry stepped closer to you saying, “You’re really teaching? What about your shop? And Quidditch? You can’t just quit the team!”

“I’m not quitting.”

Behind you however Slughorn exited saying, “Alright! Alright I’ll do it! But I want Professor Merrythought’s old office not that water closet I was stuck with last time. And I expect a raise. These are mad times we live in. Mad!” His eyes scanned to you and he nodded his head tipping the card to you in thanks.

Turning back to the path ahead Dumbledore stated, “They are indeed.”

Harry, “Sir, exactly what was all that about?”

Dumbledore, “You are talented, famous and powerful. Everything Horace values. Professor Slughorn is gonna try to collect you, Harry. You would be his crowning jewel. That's why he's returning to Hogwarts. And it's crucial he should return. I fear I may have stolen a wondrous night from you, Harry. She was, truthfully, very pretty.” Harry glanced up at him confused, “The girl.”

Harry shrugged, “Not hard. Apologize. Easy to just make up some excuse. Only wanted a flower of hers anyways.”

Dumbledore, “Oh you won’t be going back to Little Whinging tonight Harry. All your things will be waiting for you.”

Making Harry nod then grab his arm as you did only to both be dropped thigh deep into the lukewarm marshes outside the Hollow. Scoffing together you reached over to take his hand he offered to start the trudge to shore, “Really brings me back.”

Harry chuckled, “Yes, all we need now is Cedric, some ghouls and Bulgarians to pop up next.”

Making you giggle in your next step forward sinking you into the mud, “I just bought these shoes.”

“What happened to Snape?”

“Giving Defense a try.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, “Why you? You are amazing, but why you?”

You shrugged, “Must be from the slap. Parents weren’t keen on sending their kids back again till word broke about me.”

“But your shop?!”

“I’ll manage. Always do.”

“You shouldn’t have to though,”

His hand pulled on yours to make you face him and when your eyes locked on his you said, “It’s a war Harry! Not a fairy tale! As much as I would love to run into some family of dwarves who will lead me to me King and castle up in some magical forest to go on adventures and slay dragons together life doesn’t work that way! I’m not the chosen one! I’m not the Princess, hell most days I don’t even get to be the ugly stepsister of my own story. I’ll manage, maybe after he’ll fire me and I can do as I please.”

Haltingly he asked not certain if he wanted to hear the answer himself, “Did he even ask if you wanted to teach?”

After a moments pause you sighed, “Technically he did ask.”

“Technically?”

“Come on. I smell pot roast.”

Inside Ginny after hearing an owl stepped out of her room and went down to the kitchen, “Hedwig. Mom?”

Molly, “Ginny, what is it?”

Ginny, “I was only wondering when Harry got here.”

Molly, “What? Harry? Harry who?”

Ginny, “Harry Potter, of course.”

Molly. “I think I'd know if Harry Potter was in my house, wouldn't I?”

Ginny, “His trunk's in the kitchen, and his owl.”

Molly, “No, dear, I seriously doubt that.”

Ron stepped out of his room asking, “Harry? Did someone say "Harry"?”

Ginny, “Me, nosy. Is he up there with you?”

Ron, “Of course not. I'd know if my best friend was in my room, wouldn't I?” Hedwig cried out again and he asked, “Is that an owl?”

Molly asked her son, “You haven't seen him, have you?”

Ginny, “Apparently, he's wandering about the house.”

Ron, “Really?”

Outside the marsh you shook your feet off and with a wave of your fingers you and Harry were both clean and dry and you felt his eyes on you again making you sigh, “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been sleeping much.”

Harry, “Is there anything I can do?”

Taking in the details of his face and the helpful grin on his face you answered, “For now, enjoy the time with family and friends. If Dumbledore is plotting it only means darker things are coming. Just be you, don’t change anything, we all need to just be ourselves.”

Harry chortled, “Be ourselves?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes, “Just don’t do anything,” you stopped before finishing your sentence making him smirk.

“Were you going to say stupid or crazy?”

Another giggle later and you answered, “Both, but both would be foolish of me to ask. Whole family is varying degrees of mad.” Making you both giggle on your way to the house. “Just try not to get yourself killed. Hair trigger these days.”

He nodded and peered up at you, “Same to you.” Your eyes were on him again, “I don’t know what you’re up to, or if its about this Horcrux business, but it seems like you’re charging right at everything dangerous.”

You nodded and giggled, “Usually when I do you’re already halfway there if you haven’t noticed.”

Making him chuckle again, “True.”

Passing through the split door into the kitchen Molly grinned reaching out to him, “Harry!”

When she released him Ginny rushed over next for a hug and a kiss on the cheek while Molly gave you a gentle squeeze of a hug, “Harry!”

Molly, “What a lovely surprise. Why didn't you let us know you were coming?”

Harry, “I didn't know. Dumbledore.”

Molly, “Oh, that man. But then, what would we do without him?” Her eyes followed you as you rolled your eyes and made for the cutting board to claim a slice of carrot to nibble on silencing the near growl of your stomach luring her over to you recognizing the downcast gaze you had.

Harry, “I do have to be back tomorrow morning though, promised Aunt Petunia we’d go see a film together, sort of an early birthday thing.”

Ron nodded, “No problem, Bill’s dropping by anyways, something about business with Dad. Seemed like he might be coming closer to home again.” Their conversation moved upstairs and took Ginny with them for the wait for food while Harry’s things floated upstairs.

Molly at your side gave your shoulder a gentle pat asking, “What is it, Dear?”

You looked at her saying, “I’ve been hired as First through Fourth years Professor in Potions.” Making her lips part, “Professor Slughorn will handle the rest.”

“What is Dumbledore thinking? To put that much stress on you.”

You shrugged, “It’s public knowledge I slapped Riddle, students are coming back to Hogwarts after he spread it around.”

Her voice raised to something close to a shrill irritated whisper, “So he’s using you as a shield?! As if that would work. He is the one meant to protect the school!”

You shrugged again picking up a slice of celery then flashed her a teary grin, “I think it’s more than that.”

Instantly her anger dropped back into concern and her hand smoothed along your right bicep, “What else could it be?”

“I don’t think he trusts me. Wants me to be somewhere he can watch me.”

Molly shook his head, “What could you possibly get up to that would make him need to do that?”

“I’ve seen Riddle and haven’t killed him, reason enough it seems.”

Molly, “I doubt,” she sighed then placed her fingers under your chin to say, “I trust you. We all do. Who knows what Dumbledore is up to or what is racing through that head of his. Don’t you pay any mind to him, he’s got his own reasons not to trust the nose on his own face. He’s known people to go dark before, brought Riddle himself to Hogwarts, believed he wasn’t behind the Chamber of Secrets and so much more. He let it slide right by him, and now he’s back and we’re all scared,” at the tear rolling down your cheek she wiped it away, “but now we have you. We have ways to hide now, ways to predict who might be taken next and so many more spies than last time. Now you put him out of your mind, we’ll have supper and just take it a day at a time. We’ll get you through it.” She turned grabbing the bowl off to her side bringing it closer to you, “Now, you have a roll, you look starved.”

You chuckled and accepted one and tore a piece off to eat, “Train was delayed, didn’t have time for a sandwich before Dumbledore arrived.”

“Oh, always spoiling meals this plotting. How are we to win if no one is given the time to sit down and eat.”

Making you giggle and say, “Maybe we should take to carrying snacks,” making her chuckle.

“Maybe,” she said waving her wand from her apron pocket to set the table.

Hermione fresh from her bath glanced at Ginny in her saying, “Got a bit of toothpaste.”

She nodded and wiped her cheek, Harry asked, “So when did you get here?”

She answered, “A few days ago. Though for a while, I wasn't sure I was coming.”

At Harry’s confused expression Ron stated, “Mom sort of lost it last week. Said Ginny and I had no business going back to Hogwarts. That it's too dangerous.”

Harry, “Oh, come on.”

Hermione, “She's not alone. Even my parents, and they're Muggles, know something bad's happening.”

Ron, “Anyway, Dad stepped in, told her she was being barmy...and it took a few days, but she came around.”

Harry, “But this is Hogwarts we're talking about. It's Dumbledore. What could be safer?”

Ginny chuckled asking, “What school have you been going to?”

The trio smirked at her, Hermione said, “There's been a lot of talk recently that...Dumbledore's got a bit old.”

Ron, “Rubbish! Well, he's only... What is he?”

Harry, “115?”

Ron, “Give or take a few years.”

They all chuckled and then Harry wet his lips as Ginny asked, “What were you and Jaqi up to with Dumbledore?”

Harry, “Fetching a second Potions Professor.”

Ron scoffed, “Bet Snape will love that.”

Harry shook his head, “Snape’s taking up Defense.”

They all asked, “What?!”

Harry nodded, “Dumbledore hired Jaqi for First through Fourth Potions and Slughorn for the last three.”

Ginny, “Jaqi?”

Hermione, “What about-,”

Harry shrugged, “She says she’ll manage.”

Ron, “She manages much more she’ll drop off into a coma.”

Hermione, “Is it that bad, that Dumbledore is hiring her?”

Harry, “Dumbledore seems to be up to something. Even Slughorn seemed troubled about him hiring Jaqi,”

Ginny, “He didn’t care at all?”

Harry shook his head, “Barely even acknowledged her till she got Slughorn to come out of his hiding spot, then, he sort of patted her arm,”

Ron, “Like a dog?”

Harry, “Little bit. Like she’d done what he wanted and didn’t need any more from her.”

Hermione, “Why’d he need you then? If she could have handled it?”

Harry shrugged, “Something to do with Slughorn’s collecting students. He sort of used our names to convince him to take the job.”

Ginny, “Like with Lockhart all over again.”

Ron chuckled, “Least if you get detention he won’t make you sign autographs.”

Harry chuckled, “You never know.”

Hermione, “Least he should be better than Umbridge, and Snape should at least teach us something.”

Dinner was called and the group went down to join you around the table along with Remus, Regulus, Arthur, Percy, Draco, Neville, the twins and your father, all already chatting about what the plans were for the rest of the summer.

Pt 53

#New Teacher Smell #HP Crossover

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emiliarowan · 4 years

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Pictures With Santa

(A Mother of Dragons One-Shot)

*If you don’t want spoilers to my Mother of Dragons fic, don’t read, but I wanted to post something Christmas-y*

Lena doesn’t want to be like Lillian, by any stretch of the imagination. She doesn’t want to dress her children in scratchy, uncomfortable clothes and force them to pose for an awkward family photo with severe faces and empty eyes. Even worse, she will never force them to pose for hours while a professional painter creates a traditional portrait that will hang in the halls of the Luthor mansion for generations— Lena still isn’t sure why the painter had to have live subjects, probably just some strange form of torture thrust upon her seven-year-old self.

But she does want a picture of the twins with Santa. She’s never been a fan of the commercialism of Christmas— Kara called her a Scrooge before they started dating, but since they got together she has enjoyed gift-giving exponentially more— but she feels like she would be remiss as a mother if she didn’t have her children participate in this tradition. Who— other than her, and Kara— doesn’t have pictures of themselves with Santa as a child?

Kara understands her attempt to give their children a “normal” childhood, so she goes along with Lena’s yearly, slightly maniacal need to have a photo with Santa taken.

The first year’s picture is the best. The twins are only six months old, one dressed in a red onesie, the other in green, with tiny ruffles on the bum. They’re both blissfully asleep, one in each of Santa’s arms, and the man smiles into the camera.

What’s offscreen is not nearly as peaceful. Both twins had been taking turns crying nonstop for the past forty-eight hours as their first teeth started coming in. Kara had been called across the country on a Supergirl emergency, leaving Lena to deal with two screaming babies. She hadn’t slept or bathed since before her wife left, so she had one of Kara’s beanies pulled tight over her unkempt hair, a thick wool poncho with reindeer printed on the outside covered a t-shirt stained with spit-up, and her eyes were so exhausted she couldn’t wear contacts, so thick black glasses sat on her nose. The good news was, she was unrecognizable as Lena Luthor, but she did get many commiserating looks from the other mothers in line at the National City Plaza Mall.

The twins’ second Santa photo was a mess. Lena had scheduled a Santa Claus to come to L-Corp, so employees with children could bring them to have their pictures taken. She had asked Kara to dress and bring the girls to meet her there.

Instead of the Christmas dresses Lena had bought them, Kara brought the twins in wearing matching green and red plaid button-ups— and she was wearing an adult one to match— and, inexplicably, denim shorts and no shoes. When Lena questioned her, Kara just shrugged and said it was warm enough outside— which, honestly, was true, but it was still the middle of winter even though the temperature was in the sixties.

The odd clothing choice was the least of Lena’s worries, however. Both twins had taken one look at Santa’s cheery grin and burst into piercing screams, fat tears rolling down their cheeks. The poor older gentleman in his red velvet suit had done everything he knew to calm them, as had Lena and Kara, but in the end when the photos came, Eleanor was still blubbering on one knee, and Elizabeth was screaming on the other.

Kara had searched up multiple horrible Santa photos online to reassure Lena that she was not a failure.

The twins’ third Christmas, Lena was determined to get it right. She took the day off work so she could prepare the girls herself. She pinned their curls back and dressed them in the satin dresses she had picked out, one red and one green, and pulled on their lacy white socks and patent leather Mary Janes. They looked absolutely adorable as she fastened them into their carseats.

But, for some reason, Eleanor had decided she hated clothes that day. So by the time they arrived at L-Corp for the Christmas party with Santa, Kara had to use her x-ray vision to find the Eleanor’s shoes and socks under the seats. It took both women— and a little superspeed— to wrestle Eleanor back into her socks and shoes.

When they sat the girls on Santa’s knees, Elizabeth promptly began screaming for the second year in a row— Lena gave Santa, the same man from last year, an apologetic look— and Eleanor refused to smile, the deepest, angriest frown etched into her face— “holy Rao, she looks just like you!” Kara had told Lena when they received the prints— she had pulled the bow from her hair and dark curls like a mane framed her face, and somehow, though they weren’t sure how, she had managed to get one sock off while still wearing her shoe, and nobody noticed.

Later that night, while Lena and Kara were socializing with employees and Jess had volunteered to watch the girls, a triumphant shriek had interrupted the party as Eleanor streaked across the floor in nothing but her pull-up, having successfully rid herself of all her clothing before Jess could catch her. Kara almost outed herself as Supergirl as she used a bit of superspeed to catch their near-naked daughter before she could tear off her pull-up as well.

By the time the girls’ fourth Christmas rolled around, Kara wondered if Lena might give up on getting a picture with Santa, but then she was reminded of her wife’s tenacity. Lena poured all of her problem-solving skills, usually reserved for projects to solve world hunger and cure diseases, into getting the perfect Santa photo. She began socializing Elizabeth to men with beards starting in July, and read books about Santa at least once a week starting in September, trying to warm the girls up to the idea. They watched countless Christmas movies— something Kara definitely wasn’t complaining about. And Lena decided to forego the fancy dresses, instead getting the girls complementary striped footie pajamas with their initials on the back and a reindeer on the front. She even ordered matching sets for her and Kara to wear on Christmas morning, but she had no intention of being seen wearing them in public.

The Christmas party was in full-swing when they arrived, Lena in a cream blouse and burgundy slacks, Kara in a sleeveless emerald green cocktail dress, and their daughters far more comfy in their matching pajamas. Lena carried Elizabeth on one hip, and independent Eleanor walked between her and Kara, holding each of them tightly by the hand.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she took in the crowd and the buffet table. “Mama, chocolate?”

Lena chuckled at her daughter— definitely Kara’s genetics. “Yes, baby, but pictures first. You can have chocolate after your picture with Santa.”

Lena braced for a possible tantrum, but Lizzy just nodded in agreement, blonde curls bouncing with the motion. Hopefully that was a sign that tonight would go smoothly.

As they approached Santa, both girls began to squirm nervously. Lena and Kara led them to the bearded man with wide, apprehensive smiles.

“Girls, do you know who this is?” Kara asked brightly.

Eleanor nodded solemnly. “Santa Claus.”

“It’s nice to see you girls again,” Santa said brightly. “Would you two like to tell me what you want for Christmas this year?”

Elizabeth shook her head rapidly and buried her face into Lena’s neck. Ellie looked down to study the stripes on her footie pajamas as if they were the most riveting thing in the world.

“No?” Santa said gently. “Well, that’s alright if you don’t want to talk. But how about a pretty picture? You look so wonderful in your Christmas pajamas, I would just love a photo with you two.”

Elizabeth wasn’t crying, but she was clinging to Lena so tightly that Lena wondered if her Kryptonian strength was beginning to come in. Eleanor took one look at her sister and shook her head vehemently.

Santa sighed and looked at Lena and Kara. “How about if your moms are in the picture too, hmm?”

Elizabeth looked up then, eyes shiny with tears she was holding back. “Mama and Jeju with us?”

“Sure, little one, if that’s what you want,” Kara nodded.

“Okay,” Lizzy agreed softly.

“Ho ho ho!” Santa exclaimed. “Wonderful!”

Santa took his seat in the golden chair they had set up for him, and Kara and Lena positioned themselves on either side. Lizzy turned around in Lena’s arms and smiled brilliantly, looking so much like a miniature form of Kara that Lena was gobsmacked.

Eleanor, however, was not smiling. She looked around at Kara and Lena with a crinkled brow and a thoughtful frown.

“Mama, Jeju, where’s your jammies?” she asked seriously.

“We’re not wearing our special pajamas yet, Ellie, remember?” Lena said calmly. “We’re saving them for Christmas morning. Now smile pretty for the camera.”

Eleanor just continued to frown. “But... we no match.”

“It’s okay, little one, just smile for the picture,” Kara coached, tickling Ellie’s sides in an attempt to get her to smile, but she wasn’t budging.

“Mama and Jeju need jammies too,” she declared with an even deeper frown.

“Ellie, our Christmas pajamas are at home,” Lena sighed. “So we can’t wear them right now. Just smile, baby.”

Suddenly Kara’s expression turned sheepish. “Actually... I might have our jammies in the car.”

Lena forced her face to remain neutral. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Mama, Jeju, get the jammies!” Eleanor ordered.

Ten minutes later Lena was staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. Business attire forgotten, she was now dressed in a green and white striped onesie with her initials stamped on the back, a large reindeer embroidered across her chest. Her heels were abandoned, impossible to wear with the built-in footies on the pajamas— thankfully they had rubber skid spots on the bottoms.

“I can’t believe you brought these,” she said as Kara emerged in red-striped pajamas.

“I can’t believe how stubborn Ellie is,” Kara replied. “She’s definitely your daughter.”

Lena couldn’t argue with that. Kara shook her hair out into a looser pinned-back style and then she started pulling the pins out of Lena’s updo.

“What are you doing?” Lena exclaimed.

“Lena, you can’t look up tight wearing footie pajamas,” Kara said, running her fingers through the soft waves that emerged from the style. “There, you’re perfect.”

Lena wasn’t sure she’d call it perfect, but she definitely looked softer. God, she was actually going to go out in front of all her employees wearing a footed Christmas onesie.

Lillian would choke.

That thought, and the thought of her daughters’ smiles, gave Lena the resolve to leave the bathroom.

“Mama! Jeju!” Lizzy shouted as they entered the lobby. She sped back into Lena’s arms and nestled her face in the dark waves of Lena’s hair.

“Jammies!” Ellie exclaimed as she snuggled into Kara’s arms. She looked up at Lena and reached out to stroke her hair. “Pretty, Mama.”

“Thank you, baby,” Lena replied. “Now, can we take our picture with Santa Claus?”

Both girls nodded happily. They made their way through the crowd with wide smiles, nodding in acceptance of many compliments of how adorable their matching pajamas were.

“Ho ho ho! What a fine looking little family!” Santa exclaimed as they approached. “I love it!”

Finally appeased, the girls smiled broadly from their mothers’ laps. They even agreed to sit with Santa by themselves, and tell him their Christmas lists. Jess insisted on a photo of just the four of them, sans Santa, in their matching pajamas, and that was the one that became the header on Lena’s official emails for the rest of December.

Lena even sent a copy to Lillian, in the federal penitentiary.

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #luthor-danvers children #christmas #christmas fic #kid fic #cotton candy fluff

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hakka84 · 5 years

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Warren “The Mass-Murderer” Worthington III

Now that I’m trying to catch up with X-Men after I abruptly left in 2012 after the ending of the Dark Angel saga...

You might have no idea how it feels to discover your favorite hero (turned temporarily bad to good to bad to good to bad to good then... I stopped counting before Second Coming even happened) character ever is a mass-murderer that guys like X-fellow Wolverine pale in comparison. Given that I left right after the aforementioned Dark Angel Saga, I did know about Tucker Creek/Tabula Rasa (although I either forgot the detail or in the X-Force issues it wasn’t mentioned the population number), but... hm. So, old metal-winged Warry, as first action of his glorious but short-lived ruling of Apoccydom as King Archangel the First, murdered 5301 people. Ok. I guess... Fine. I mean, who’s the loser who doesn’t wipe out an entire city from the maps on a plan to start-jump evolution at least once in their life? Don’t get me wrong, I love to death (no pun intended) the X-Force/Uncanny X-Force run that ended with the Dark Angel saga, so beam me up to all this Warren-shaped murdering, Scotty.

But then the children he impregnated his Horseman Death with in a creepy one-night stand when he was still spoken for with some very in-love British ninja called Psylocke.. I was saying, those Worthington heirs, raised in the future by a time-traveler child-kidnapper who’s in serious need of reading some good-parenting books (because ordering your adoptive son to remove his twin sisters’s eyes as punishment because he failed to hate humans after you dumped them in a mutant concentration camp of a dark future timeline to have them grow out of that silliness that is “mercy”... is a no-no, in every good dad’s book; even Magneto isn’t that shitty, and he’s the worst father around, if you ask Scarlet Witch!), after some murdering here and there because of reasons (all their own worshipers from clan Akkaba / "out of mercy") go and put a plan in motion that will have all the population on Earth - minus the mutants - wiped out of existence thanks to the handy anger of a not-friendly Celestial. A plan that is successful (Earth is crushed and the Solar Systems loses its lovely third planet), that eventually fails and status quo is fixed back to its proper state (namely = an Earth standing between Venus and Mars) only because 7-something years later a stubborn Summers (what’s with the Summers? Everything’s always about them!) manages to win his anarchist rebellion (against the powers that be in the X-Heaven the mutants are living after Earth went kaboom) and his Uncanny Avengers can finally go back in time and change things so that Thor can stop the Celestial from blowing up Earth. Ah, yes, I was forgetting that the plan also came with the deletion of SEVEN TIMELINES that became one, so... how many bilions (of bilions) of people does this amounts to?

Way to go Warren! I’m so proud of you. As Archangel you surpassed your metaphorical father, that blue-lips small blip in history called a so-not-treating name like APOCALYPSE to ascend to Best Apocalypse ever. Clap clap. To know you will never discover how much you achieved with that night-stand (because I doubt anyone ever told you about the Apocalypse Twins, especially given you still were in your “Formatted Then Installed a Different Operative System Just Please Revert Back Because The Hardware Doesn’t Agree With The New Version” state at the time) brings me such sadness...

But, between you and me: just to be on the safe side, I’d opt for a vasectomy. I’m not sure if you’ll ever get back with Elizabeth again (after breaking up during the X-Man crisis) in the coming Dawn of X era (I will make sacrifices to the gods for it to happen because NOBODY TOUCHES MY FAVORITE X-COUPLE but I’m much pessimistic as of now), but I wouldn’t trust you and the former-ninja-assassin-killing-addict Betsy with an heir, not even adopted - let alone one who shares with you genetics and mutant abilities. We already have an Apocalypse (or not?), and a Galactus, and a Thanos for our mass-murdering evil needs: an Archangel Jr. with Omega-telepathic abilities and Hand-training skills inherited from mommy... hm, no. I’ll think I’ll pass, thank you.

Jean Grey went (or not) Dark Phoenix and ate a star, killing its star system (and its billion of inhabitants). Cyclops went (or not) terrorist. Beast... hmm, he plays with time continuum like we sapiens play with our tv remote control... What Iceman could do to keep up with his best-and-oldest friends? Bring back the Ice Age and kill all life on Earth? I mean, he cannot just twiddle his thumbs until the time comes he’s ready to become that Ice Master guy whose inability to pick his lovers will doom the galaxy. I mean, yes, that would put him right in the winning place, surpassing Jean’s Dark Phoenix’s deeds, and he would stand a chance to beat Nate Grey for the award for X-Man Who Fucked Up The Worst Ever, but that’s just tooooooo forward in the future. He needs to act now! I hear he encased Earth in ice at some point? I still have to get to that part or X-Title, but it’s not enough, my beloved X-icicle.

^ picture above featuring a confused Bobby Drake wondering what he should do to not be snubbed further by the “Mass Murders, Jerks, Terrorists and Friendly Time-place Continuum Threats Club” his O5-friends have founded without giving him a call (or not even sending him a card, how rude of them!). They go and award Professor Xavier the honorary membership* and him, the reliable joker and beer-cooler of the group, just nothing? Not a fancy certificate on precious paper with gold engravings to hang next to the accountant certification to make papa William and mama Madeline proud or to show to potential new lovers? Not even an invite to crash at the inauguration party? They didn’t even save him a Phoenix-shaped expensive canape or a piece of the Archangel-shaped blue and purple cake!

* Seriously, Charlie’s a jerk, a creep (coff loving 15yrs JeanGrey coff) a manipulative liar and someone who raised scared children into ruthless soldiers (coff Scott Summers coff) and erased the memory of the very existence of teens who died in the field (coff Gabriel Summers coff), but, recent-O5-strictly speaking...

Brought to you by 20th Century X, with supervision of the Cameron Hodge Right and in collaboration of Apocalypse Production, only on Mojo Prime:

The high-flying Angel Gets Mass-Murdererer: the series. S2, E10: That one time when it was Xavier’s Fault that I got my metal wings spattered with blood and body bits and nor I nor my closest friends remember it happening because our putative father whom we trusted for the most of our lives manipulated our minds, including the one of our own Omega-level telepatic one/fifth, into forgetting.

#Warren Worthington III #x-men #bobby drake

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fluffmugger · 5 years

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I haven't read Good Omens but I just got done watching the show and I'm confused on one point: what was behind Aziraphale's decision to not tell Crowley he knew where the antichrist was? I thought it was because he didn't want Crowley to kill him but he later petitions heaven to do just that. What did I miss? Why did he keep that information to himself when before they were trying to find the antichrist together?

He does try to tell Crowley, as in the book. However, at the time Crowley’s dealing with Hastur and Ligur (well more accurately mexican standoffing against Hastur). So: 1) he tries to be a Good Angel, then fucks that shit off and 2) calls Crowley and that phone convo goes nowhere, then 3) Aziraphale runs face first into Shadwell, tries to stop him from stepping into the communication circle, accidently does so himself, utters the best fuck in the history of mankind and discorporates. The sequence from the book:

Aziraphale was dithering. He’ d been dithering for some twelve hours. His nerves, he would have said, were all over the place. He walked around the shop, picking up bits of paper and dropping them again, fiddling with pens. He ought to tell Crowley. No, he didn’t. He wanted to tell Crowley. He ought to tell Heaven. He was an angel, after all. You had to do the right thing. It was built-in. You see a wile, you thwart. Crowley had put his finger on it, right enough. He ought to have told Heaven right from the start. But he’d known him for thousands of years. They got along. They nearly understood one another. He sometimes suspected they had far more in common with one another than with their respective superiors. They both liked the world, for one thing, rather than viewing it simply as the board on which the cosmic game of chess was being played. Well, of course, that was it. That was the answer, staring him in the face. It’d be true to the spirit of his pact with Crowley if he tipped Heaven the wink, and then they could quietly do something about the child, although nothing too bad of course because we were all God’s creatures when you got down to it, even people like Crowley and the Antichrist, and the world would be saved and there wouldn’t have to be all that Armageddon business, which would do nobody any good anyway, because everyone knew Heaven would win in the end, and Crowley would be bound to understand. Yes. And then everything would be all right. There was a knock at the shop door, despite the CLOSED sign. He ignored it.Getting in touch with Heaven for two-way communications was far more difficult for Aziraphale than it is for humans, who don’t expect an answer and in nearly all cases would be rather surprised to get one. He pushed aside the paper-laden desk and rolled up the threadbare bookshop carpet. There was a small circle chalked on the floorboards underneath, surrounded by suitable passages from the Cabala. The angel lit seven candles, which he placed ritually at certain points around the circle. Then he lit some incense, which was not necessary but did make the place smell nice.And then he stood in the circle and said the Words. Nothing happened. He said the Words again. Eventually a bright blue shaft of light shot down from the ceiling and filled the circle. A well-educated voice said, “Well?” “It’s me, Aziraphale.” “We know,” said the voice. “I’ve got great news! I’ve located the Antichrist! I can give you his address and everything!” There was a pause. The blue light flickered. “Well?” it said again. “But, d'you see, you can ki—can stop it all happening! In the nick of time! You’ve only got a few hours! You can stop it all and there needn’t be the war and everyone will be saved!” He beamed madly into the light. “Yes?” said the voice. “Yes, he’s in a place called Lower Tadfield, and the address—” “Well done,” said the voice, in flat, dead tones. “There doesn’t have to be any of that business with one third of the seas turning to blood or anything,” said Aziraphale happily. When it came, the voice sounded slightly annoyed. “Why not?” it said. Aziraphale felt an icy pit opening under his enthusiasm, and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. He plunged on: “Well, you can simply make sure that—” “We will win, Aziraphale.” “Yes, but-” “The forces of darkness must be beaten. You seem to be under a misapprehension. The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it. We have been waiting a long time, Aziraphale.” Aziraphale felt the coldness envelop his mind. He opened his mouth to say, “Do you think perhaps it would be a good idea not to hold the war on Earth?” and changed his mind. “I see,” he said grimly. There was a scraping near the door, and if Aziraphale had been looking in that direction he would have seen a battered felt hat trying to peer over the fanlight. “This is not to say you have not performed well,” said the voice. “You will receive a commendation. Well done.” “Thank you,” said Aziraphale. The bitterness in his voice would have soured milk. “I’d forgotten about ineffability, obviously.” “We thought you had.” “May I ask,” said the angel, “to whom have I been speaking?” The voice said, “We are the Metatron.”* “Oh, yes. Of course. Oh. Well. Thank you very much. Thank you.” Behind him the letterbox tilted open, revealing a pair of eyes. “One other thing,” said the voice. “You will of course be joining us, won’t you?” “Well, er, of course it has been simply ages since I’ve held a flaming sword—” Aziraphale began. “Yes, we recall,” said the voice. “You will have a lot of opportunity to relearn.” “Ah. Hmm. What sort of initiating event will precipitate the war?” said Aziraphale. “We thought a multi-nation nuclear exchange would be a nice start.” “Oh. Yes. Very imaginative.” Aziraphale’s voice was flat and hopeless. “Good. We will expect you directly, then,” said the voice. “Ah. Well. I’ll just clear up a few business matters, shall I?” said Aziraphale desperately. “There hardly seems to be any necessity,” said the Metatron. Aziraphale drew himself up. “I really feel that probity, not to say morality, demands that as a reputable businessman I should-” “Yes, yes,” said the Metatron, a shade testily. “Point taken. We shall await you, then.”The light faded, but did not quite vanish. They’re leaving the line open, Aziraphale thought. I’m not getting out of this one. “Hallo?” he said softly, “Anyone still there?” There was silence. Very carefully, he stepped over the circle and crept to the telephone. He opened his notebook and dialed another number. After four rings it gave a little cough, followed by a pause, and then a voice which sounded so laid back you could put a carpet on it said, “Hi. This is Anthony Crowley. Uh. I—” “Crowley!” Aziraphale tried to hiss and shout at the same time, “Listen! I haven’t got much time! The—” “—probably not in right now, or asleep, and busy, or something, but—” “Shutup! Listen! It was in Tadfield! It’s all in that book! You’ve got to stop—” “—after the tone and I’ll get right back to you. Chow.” “I want to talk to you now—” BeeeEEeeeEEeee “Stop making noises! It’s in Tadfield! That was what I was sensing! You must go there and—” He took the phone away from his mouth. “Bugger!” he said. It was the first time he’d sworn in more than four thousand years. Hold on. The demon had another line, didn’t he? He was that kind of person. Aziraphale fumbled in the book, nearly dropping it on the floor. They would be getting impatient soon. He found the other number. He dialed it. It was answered almost immediately, at the same time as the shop’s bell tingled gently. Crowley’s voice, getting louder as it neared the mouthpiece, said, “ — really mean it. Hallo?” “Crowley, it’s me!” “Ngh.” The voice was horribly noncommittal. Even in his present state, Aziraphale sensed trouble. “Are you alone?” he said cautiously. “Nuh. Got an old friend here.” “Listen-!” “Awa’ we ye, ye spawn o’ hell!” Very slowly, Aziraphale turned around.

Shadwell was trembling with excitement. He’d seen it all. He’d heard it all. He hadn’t understood any of it, but he knew what people did with circles and candlesticks and incense. He knew that all right. He’d seen The Devil Rides Out fifteen times, sixteen times if you included the time he’ d been thrown out of the cinema for shouting his unflattering opinions of amateur witchfinder Christopher Lee. The buggers were using him. They’ d been making fools out o’ the glorious traditions o’ the Army. “I’ll have ye, ye evil bastard!” he shouted, advancing like a moth-eaten avenging angel. “I ken what ye be about, comin’ up here and seducin’ wimmen to do yer evil will!” “I think perhaps you’ve got the wrong shop,” said Aziraphale. “I’ll call back later,” he told the receiver, and hung up. “I could see what yer were aboot,” snarled Shadwell. There were flecks of foam around his mouth. He was more angry than he could ever remember. “Er, things are not what they seem—” Aziraphale began, aware even as he said it that as conversational gambits went it lacked a certain polish. “I bet they ain’t!” said Shadwell triumphantly. “No, I mean-” Without taking his eyes off the angel, Shadwell shuffled backwards and grabbed the shop door, slamming it hard so that the bell jangled. “Bell,” he said. He grabbed The Nice and Accurate Prophecies and thumped it down heavily on the table. “Book” he snarled. He fumbled in his pocket and produced his trusty Ronson. “Practically candle!” he shouted, and began to advance. In his path, the circle glowed with a faint blue light. “Er,” said Aziraphale, “I think it might not be a very good idea to—” Shadwell wasn’t listening. “By the powers invested in me by virtue o’ my office o’ Witchfinder,” he intoned, “I charge ye to quit from this place—” “You see, the circle—” “—and return henceforth to the place from which ye came, pausin’ not to—” “—it would really be unwise for a human to set foot in it without—” “—and deliver us frae evil—” “Keep out of the circle, you stupid man!” “—never to come again to vex—” “Yes, yes, but please keep out of—” Aziraphale ran toward Shadwell, waving his hands urgently. “- returning NAE MORE!” Shadwell finished. He pointed a vengeful, black-nailed finger. Aziraphale looked down at his feet, and swore for the second time in five minutes. He’d stepped into the circle. “Oh, fuck,” he said.There was a melodious twang, and the blue glow vanished. So did Aziraphale.

* The Voice of God. But not the voice of God. A entity in its own right. Rather like a Presidential spokesman.

#Good Omens

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lokilickedme · 6 years

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So actually two: Dia Laisir and The Liar

I don’t even know where to start with Dia Laisir, honestly. Folklore? Mythology? A 3 a.m. rant fueled by too much coffee, way too many Little Debbies, and a seven day run of not enough sleep? Getting close, I think.

Dia Laisir is a totally made up little minor god that I invented to explain King McClary’s apparently fireproof boots. Loki battled him in the Scottish Highlands way back in the day before people were the dominant species there, and upon the minor god’s defeat and subsequent banishment, Loki cast him into an inanimate object and bound him there so he couldn’t fuck around with the few heathen humans that had migrated into the land. The whole casting thing might have been totally on accident, by the way - Loki’s never been terribly accurate with his magic and popular opinion has it that he was actually trying to obliterate the demon.

Shit goes wrong and alcohol’s a hell of a problem, ya know?

Dia Laisir didn’t like that much, as you can probably guess. First off, Loki wasn’t even supposed to be in Scotland. Norse god, messing around in the Highlands? What the hell’s that about? Second, that wasn’t all the god of mischief and general fuckery did to old Dia. Before he shoved him into the trunk of a tree to live the rest of his natural-born as a knotty pine, Loki banished Dia’s lover, Souflou, into a nondescript chunk of silver that some axe-wielding lunatic had tucked into his sporran, thus separating the two forever.

Yeah, there was a whole lot of fuck you Loki spinning around in Dia Laisir’s head for the next few decades until some axe-wielding lunatic chopped down the tree he was bound to (probably the same one hauling haunted semi precious metals around in his crotch bag, but history doesn’t verify much) and accidentally set him free.

Stuff started burning. Forests, villages, pretty much anything with a flammability rating went up in smoke, because Dia was pissed. Souflou had been shuffled around from place to place in that silver chunk, molded into various bits and bobs as the heathens learned how to turn silver into useful things, and every time Dia got close to finding her the silver that housed her spirit changed hands or was made into something else. And so Dia Laisir’s rage burned, and so did big chunks of the Highlands.

Eventually Loki caught a whiff of the smoke from wherever he was, I dunno probably getting dicked down by some eleven-legged something or other, and with a dramatic sigh he poofed himself over to Scotland again to find out what the hell was going on. Dia was supposed to be in a frigging tree trunk, wasn’t he? Naw, he was running all over the hills and moors and lochs doing his damndest to obliterate the human scourge that kept moving his love around so that he couldn’t find her, and after an epic battle royale in which Loki siphoned off about half of Dia’s firestarting powers (hey, those might come in handy later) he finally managed to send crankybutt’s spirit into a sword strapped to the saddle of a passing local. May or may not have been a McClary, btw. Just sayin.

But that sword had a nasty habit of transferring the soul inside it to whoever it killed, which you can imagine was a messy bit of business because the guy who owned it was a bloodthirsty son of a bitch. Like I said, possibly a McClary, and you know how they are.

So Loki yanked Dia Laisir out of the sword after a few years of hearing stories about the cursed blade and all the lopsided battles its owner kept winning, and while sitting in a dark smoke-filled pub one night half drunk out of his head and obsessing over what the hell to put this thing into where it couldn’t interfere with the natural progression of Scotland’s ruling power, he tried to send it into a shield that was hammered onto the wall over the fireplace - but too much mead and Loki being Loki, he passed out in the middle of the banishment spell and when his head hit the table the soul’s trajectory went south to the floor instead of northeast to the fireplace.

Into the left boot of a big black haired brute of a warrior that was currently wolfing down a leg of lamb while simultaneously groping a leg of barmaid.

Loki woke the following morning laying face down across the table he’d passed out on, and the brute with the cursed boots was gone. Eh, good riddance, the boots would eventually wear out and be discarded and Dia would go with them into the fire, where his spirit would disperse into the cosmos. Not Loki’s problem anymore.

Except Dia Laisir was a wily fucker, and figured out a way to slip out of the boots through a hole in the sole.

So Loki dragged his gettin-tired-of-this-shit hiney back to Scotland again, and since putting a fearsome god inside something like a pair of shoes that some lowly human would wear on their feet - stepping in cow shit and stomping on bugs - made Loki giggle like a schoolgirl, he did it again, only this time with a sturdier pair of footwear that wouldn’t be so easy to get out of.

It worked. Dia was stuck, harmless, incapacitated, forced to watch the decades and then the centuries pass from two inches above the ground. And each time Loki started to smell the smoke that signaled the end of the lifespan of Dia’s current home and the likelihood of his escape, he would return to Scotland and move the angry spirit into another pair of shoes.

Until finally the modern era erupted around humankind, and with it came good quality, durable, high-lifespan materials and the means by which to turn them into goods that could take a beating without disintegrating quickly. A man named Klaus Martens was born and started using those materials to make shoes that were damn near indestructible. And Loki’s problems with the fire god were finally over.

The thick-soled sturdy boots that he sent Dia into would last damn near forever. But just to be safe, when those boots started to show heavy wear and had changed hands multiple times, he returned to Scotland one more time and acquired them through somewhat nefarious means (we won’t go into that part right now) and, using the illusion of a homeless man, he roamed the streets of Glasgow with them on his own feet in search of someone trustworthy to entrust them to. Because he was sick of running back and forth to Scotland every couple of decades to keep doing this shit - he was getting old, he had other things to do with his time thanks so much. He needed someone he could trust to keep the fire god’s spirit safe and secluded and far, far away from his lover...because Souflou had eventually ended up in a child’s silver rattle which was sitting right that moment in the display window of a gift shop in Edinburgh, and Dia Laisir could sense her nearness. If the two of them ever ended up in close proximity again it would be the end of the world as we know it. Humankind would burn.

The Trickster had no particular love for humanity, but it provided him with entertainment and he wasn’t big on the idea of taking the blame for yet another genocide.

So Loki, in the guise of a street beggar, waited for someone worthy to acknowledge him. Tens, hundreds, and then thousands of people passed him by, disinterested in him, ignoring his presence -

- until the day a young boy sat down next to him wearing a brand new pair of boots.

“Nice boots” Loki said.

The boy just nodded. He didn’t like his new boots. They were stiff and hurt his ankles. His grandda had insisted they would break in soon and be comfortable, but the boy felt his nerves going up in flames with every step as the hard leather rubbed his skin. His eyes, green like Loki’s, kept going to the ratty worn out boots on the beggar’s feet.

And then without a word the boy unlaced his brand new Doc Martens and took them off, then knelt down at the beggar’s feet and unlaced the worn out boots and replaced them with his own, tying the ties slowly before putting the old, dusty, broken down pair on his own feet.

And Loki smiled.

He’d found a human that he knew could handle the cranky fire god. This boy was quiet but strong, silent but smart, and somehow he knew the child understood the importance of those boots.

He must be one of mine, the trickster god thought proudly. He’d never visited Scotland without availing himself of the charms of the locals, and as a result the land was fairly crawling with many generations of his offspring. The boy’s soft green eyes and black hair certainly reminded him of himself. Hmm. There was something else too...the line of the kings had come to a lurching halt a couple of generations back as the modern age stripped the people of any desire to hold onto the old ways, but Loki sensed it in the lanky teenager. He was a king.

“They don’t look like much, but they’ll get you where you’re going,” he told the boy, pointing toward the boots on his feet. “Fireproof, you know. And you will be too, when you’re wearing them.”

The boy nodded. An old woman ducked her head out of the bakery they were sitting against and smiled when her eyes fell to them.

“Get in here boy, I’ve got your sweeties on the table.”

The boy stood, testing the fit of the boots. They felt good. Comfortable. Like they belonged to him. The barest hint of a smile tugged his lips and he looked at the beggar, holding out one hand to help him up off the sidewalk.

The heavily frosted and ridiculously decorated pastries the boy shared with him as they sat together at a little table in the back of the bakery were the best damn thing Loki thought he’d ever tasted in his long, tiresome, faintly ridiculous life. And Dia Laisir smoldered, sending a heat into the boy that tempered him like a flame hardens steel. He would need that strength, Loki knew. But it would be okay.

The boy was worthy.

#Dia Laisir #the Fire God boots #The McClary Chronicles #King's fireproof boots #Loki #mythology #I made all this ridiculous shit up but now that I read it I'm kinda proud of it #Loki and The King Of Claighe #King McClary #stuff I wrote #bethbabybaby

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

Text

HS Epi: Meat p7 reaction

Well, seeing as to what movie I just watched on Sunday. "We're in the Endgame now." :O I wonder if it'll switch back to Earth C before showing us (the tail end of) the Masterpiece scene.

I'm curious to know how truthful Caliborn was about the scene, what he may have omitted from his retelling (the presence of the leprechauns, maybe?), and also how it concluded. I wonder if it'll be told from Dirk's perspective, after the B1 kids have been stolen. He's got the closest connection to Cal and Arquiusprite, after all. I wonder how his perception of his puppet might have changed, too. For all we know, LOTAK might have been ripe with allusions and phropecies regarding the thing, thanks to his denizen. That's another thing connecting him to LE, after all: Yaldabaoth. Just cause he never went into the Lion's Mouth doesn't mean he didn't harvest every bit of intel and backstory. This is Dirk 'Batman Gambit' Strider we're talking about.

---

"The boxing bell is going off like it's having a fit." Well, I did ask for Dirk's perspective. :P Wrong Dirk! Okay, so it seems like the POV will be changing hands like a baton pass on Earth C. That would mean we're in for Rose's POV next, and I wouldn't mind that. Tight-lipped as she would still be even in her own mind's narration about her plans, it'd be nice to see things from her end!

"Dirk has to stick a finger in one ear to hear what Rose is saying over the cacophony of boos and buckets being lobbed toward center stage." Not sure if it would be worse or not for trolls to have thrown that bucket.

"He considers it all pretty fucking annoying, so he flips off the crowd and jumps the ropes. Always a good idea to abscond from the stadium before the customary show-end riot hits full swing." ... So his whole upset-the-audience-into-rioting is par for the course? Dear god, are all his fans hooligans? ... That actually runs pretty close to what happened in AIDS, come to think of it.

"ROSE: It’s not so much “what is up” as “what is down,” the answer to which is, proverbially: Me." Down for the count, not down in the brooding caverns, naturally. You know, since she's ascended to the highest top of the surface.

"ROSE: I mean that both physically and philosophically by the way.

DIRK: You’re down philosophically?

ROSE: Yes.

DIRK: I’m not sure what that actually means.

ROSE: What doesn’t it mean, Dirk." Oh my freaking god, these guys might even be more amazing together than Dave and Rose, it's a sight to behold.

"DIRK: Glad to see that my genetic predisposition for melodrama is still alive and well in my slime-progeny even after all these years.

ROSE: Please don’t interrupt. This is important, and I’ll need all the energy I can spare to sustain even a heavily monologic transmission of the relevant facts." Yes, Dirk, please cut Rose some slack, she only has so few monologues left in her. :P

"ROSE: Anyway, the matter at hand is my “condition,” with which you’re already familiar.

ROSE: I’ve struggled to devise the right way of telling you without causing undue alarm, which would unquestionably trigger the overbearing tendency of yours to “solve the problem” for me, which is not the kind of circumstance my constitution can withstand these days.

ROSE: I can barely lift a wrist to my forehead to telegraph my infirmity, of late. Your bullshit is precisely the thousand-pound feather that could knock me clean through my apartment’s plate glass window." While I don't disagree Rose's condition might be severe, I see she's still well enough to heat a scalding plate of sarcasm. Also, wouldn't Jasprosesprite^2 be better than Dirk at handling her situation? Her feelings for interacting with a clownesk version of herself not withstanding, it's a Rose that already went through the ultimate self thing. Granted, she had fake magic Sprite powers to help her cope, as well as bullshit feline asshole personality issues.

"I’m taking solace in the fact that your infirmity doesn’t seem to have spread to your vocal cords yet." Right, got to remind myself that actual voices are being used to talk with one another. Still not used to it for Homestuck characters doing this when phones are involved. :P The only time it happened in-story was when a "shellphone" was involved, after all.

"ROSE: The bottom line is this.

ROSE: I am ascending, and it is terrible." ... Hmm, could that imply that the Ultimate Self is the last of the god tiers, or pretty high up there, at least? It would take a ridiculous amount of XP, seven years may or may not be enough, but if it's about the accumulation of self-reflection & general knowledge, a Seer of Light would be pretty quick to collect that kind of required boons.

"Rose adjusts her position on the couch with the body language of one about to dive into the latest gossip about a mutual friend. The mutual in this case: her tortured psyche." So the therapist is seeking counsil, in a way, is she? :P

"ROSE: Years of refining my Seer of Light powers have cursed me with what is approaching near infinite prescience. Dwelling in this idyllic post-canon realm has worn down the barriers separating my primary consciousness from the memories and experiences of all my doomed alternate selves, which were forgotten and discarded over the due course of our journey." So that implies they were many, more than we'd assume immediately. There's Dream Rose, Alternate Future Rose, pre-retcon Rose (now Jasprose) & B2 Rose, but it appears there are more still. Well, okay, there's also Reload Rose now, I guess.

"ROSE: As I approach the realization of my Ultimate Self, I cannot stop the extant knowledge from seeping in. I am plagued by near constant visions from the less fortunate versions of myself, as well as a broadening view of the metatextual nature of our existence." She's starting to become self-aware, before you know it she'll be addressing us directly through the Fourth Wall! Well, it's not like we didn't have a smug monologic narrator before. (Did I mean Doc Scratch, Andrew Hussie or Lord English? Yes.)

"ROSE: It drains all of my energy to keep my consciousness focused on relevant events, but even then I am losing my ability to discern what is and is not canonically relevant, let alone what is also true or essential." Well, okay, if she can't even discern between her own life, fanon and fan fiction, she might really have a problem.

"ROSE: And all of this is making me incredibly fucking sick." Rose is getting Homestucksick, is it? :P

"DIRK: Oh. Is that all?" My first thought was: blatant sarcasm. But then... We don't know how far Dirk's powers extend, do we? What shards of his has he had access to all this time, if Brain Ghost Dirk is any indication?

"DIRK: Well, in the spirit of full disclosure,

DIRK: Same." Ooooooh, wow. So it's the same for him? If he was nurturing the mother grub of all splitting headaches all this time, no wonder he pisses on the whole audience experience every time. While he would have more experience juggling disparate experiences, it was already a strain on him back when it was just him and Dream Dirk. Can you imagine him having to jostle Arquiusprite's thoughts & desires, or god forbid, some part of Lord English' experiences too? ... Okay now I'm curious as to what it's like for Dirk.

... Dirk's Ultimate Self experience would have been one of those things I would have liked to see speculation of, back on the old forums. But alas, we're archival readers now, not serial readers. It was not meant to be.

Got to say though. If it's this hard on the god tiers, how must it be for Terezi? Because I'm pretty sure post-retcon Terezi forced an ultimate self revelation on herself through her mindy thing.

It might be that Mind is the aspect best suited at handling all these inflows from doomed timelines and conditional experiences. Or it might be that Heart is, they're related aspects, and Heart is supposed to stand for Soul. It just might depend on where you think the self is defined: in actual experiences, or in the potential for them, realized or not.

"DIRK: We are suffering from the same condition, Rose." So... Does this lend more stake to Dirk's idea for backing Jane, or is it just one of those situations where he can't discern the right course of action any more, that Rose was referring to?

"She allows several rare conversational beats to pass in silence between them, to process the admission." That's how you know things are grave, when Dirk and Rose stop talking.

"DIRK: I guess I used the wrong phrase. You are suffering from it. I am adapting to it.

DIRK: I already have, really." No, wait, THIS is how you know things are grave: when Dirk insists he's got a handle on things. "Adapting", like he's the AI version of himself, not the human version.

"ROSE: When were you going to tell me this?

DIRK: When you were ready.

ROSE: So you have determined that I’m ready to receive this rather critical piece of information now, of all times?

ROSE: What distinguishes the present from the other moments you could have mentioned it?" Well, isn't today the day that things become relevant again, Rose? April 13th? :P

"DIRK: Wow. Well, when you put it that way, it makes me sound like kind of a dick.

DIRK: But I guess it isn’t far from the truth, either." Well, you already sound like kind of a Dirk, most of the time, so

ROSE: Unbelievable.

DIRK: Look, it’s not something you just spring on people that frivolously.

DIRK: “Hey folks, just so you know, the boundaries of my awareness are coming apart, and now I know almost everything, about everyone, everywhere.”" "I can see into forever!" Okay, so it was more Dirk's low self-esteem springing up again. He was waiting for someone to "get it" and make the first move. So, is the omniscience thing coming from Arquius' unfathomable depths of AI? Or its connection to Doc Scatch???

DIRK: “Also, the process should be tearing my body apart, but actually I’m handling it quite well. Thanks for the concern though.”" Imagine Dirk as the dog in the "This is fine" image.

"DIRK: There will be time to explain all this.

DIRK: Despite whatever appearance of callousness I’ve maintained in withholding this information from you, I actually do have your best interests in mind. I don’t want to wear you out on this call." Gotta say, omniscient Dirk working behind the scenes with whatever boatload of narrative information he has on hand is both assuring and worrying.

"DIRK: For now, I’ll just mention that I’ve been alert to your problem for some time, and I’ve been devising a solution which should permanently remedy it without compromising the boon of your expanding consciousness." ... Definitely tipping back into worrying. It's for the lack of kernelsprites on Earth C that I'll give Dirk the benefit of the doubt, for now.

"DIRK: Would love to tell you, but I’ve got some work to do. Why don’t you stop by my studio later so we can hash this shit out in person." ... I dearly hope his solution isn't: "Here, upload your consciousness into this Rosebot. There! All the limits of your feeble immortal biological coil, removed."

So, Dirk (and Jake) have a studio, Rose has an apartment, Dave 'n Karkat 'n Jade a hive, John a house. I wonder if Jane has ended up owning a mansion of sorts (the White House doesn't count... yet).

Also, Dirk hashing things out is funny, because of Dave's former sylladex mode: hashmap.

DIRK: Right now, you should get some rest." Hmm, Blaperile has some theories rest might help her condition. I wonder if, through sleeping or some other process, Rose might be able to actually 'act' through her alternate selves. What if she could make contact with Reload Rose, send her some bits of the bigger picture without overloading her with information?

"ROSE: Actually, I’m feeling oddly invigorated suddenly. I think I’m good for more exposition, if you are." ... Okay didn't see that coming. Either she's scathingly sarcastic right now, or we're in for a treat.

"DIRK: Can’t say I’m surprised. But no." Nothing to perk up Rose better than the promise of secrets not yet revealed, I guess!

"ROSE: Have I caught you at a bad time?

DIRK: Nah, but there is an election coming up, and my work as a political operative is going to be absolutely essential for the fate of humanity." See, Rose could think Dirk is being falseful, but she's nearing omniscience so probably not. Still, Dirk is forgetting to include other species' fate in his calculations, not just humanity's.

"ROSE: I see. Wheels within wheels, I assume?

DIRK: There are always wheels. Wheels are everywhere.

DIRK: They aren’t my wheels or yours. The wheels don’t have owners or designers, but they do have caretakers.

DIRK: They won’t keep turning on their own without someone to grease the mechanism." This is turning into a Dave metaphor again. ... But hmm, that's a mechanics metaphor he's using. Is that a reference to that Rosebot I theorized about... or Arquiusprite? Cause if Rose could act through Reload Rose, Dirk could act through either his Reload self or Arquiusprite! Here's to hoping there isn't a shard in Lord English influencing his behaviour, or reading his every thought and intent.

"the full brunt of the sunset: purple and orange, blending brilliantly on the horizon." I see what you did there. Yes, Dirk and Rose's first actual conversation was brilliant.

"She’s right about him, he thinks. While his ecto-daughter views herself as having a somewhat deft artistic hand that lends itself naturally to a gentle push-and-pull style of influence, Dirk knows his methods are mechanical, like those of an engineer. There is nothing adaptive or interpretive about his method. Every piece has a purpose, a slot, an interlocking mechanism that is functionally pointless without the whole." Yes, it's been pointed out on occasion Rose is quite elegant in her ways. Those ways don't include tidying her room, but still. With the visuals being used to describe both of Rose 'n Dirk's different takes on influencing people, I am reminded of how Names in the "Practical Guide to Evil" story feel different for each person. For one, like putting on a tailormade pair of gloves, for another, like observing the methodical churning of a machine. I already felt quite a few times reminded of Homestuck while archive-reading PGtE (not done yet!), it's only fitting it now goes the other way around again.

Also, thinking about the wheels metaphor has gotten me thinking about LOHAC, and now I have the Clockwork theme from the Medium album stuck in my head.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #homestuck liveblog #reaction #spoiler alert #dirk strider #rose lalonde

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baley146 · 6 years

Text

Linked (I.M pt.1)

Genre: Romcom with bad jokes Pairing: I.M/Changkyun (Hacker/College Student), You (Reluctant hero/College Student) Rating: F for fun Warning: Spin off of Wonho’s Wanted series, but no need to read that before reading this!

Summary: I.M. Part-time college student, secret world-class hacker. Meeting his match was only the beginning, since his rival just happens to be the last person he expected.

pt.1

Changkyun frowns at another line of cryptic symbols flashing across the screen. It’s all thanks to his ‘dick-head’ client Hyungwon, who insists on knowing the medical history of every millionaire in the country that Changkyun’s stuck to his desk instead of his comfy mattress. He’d rather not lament on what sort of wacky doctor Hyungwon is. He’s shady, and that’s all Changkyun cares to fathom at the moment.

Yet, he finds more distraction in the tedious online security system, meticulously guarding every private hospital in this country. But breaking down a few firewalls shouldn’t be a problem. After all, he is I.M, the legendary and terrifying hacker that can easily manipulate just about everything in the online world.

But this time, whoever wrote the protection programs for Seoul’s top three private hospitals successfully gave him chills. In a good way.

A smile noticeably creeps onto his face. And he’s clearly more than a little excited for a daring challenge to finally show up.

Solving it will take a little longer than usual, and he’d love to indulge right away, except life as a college student doesn’t allow such a luxury. He’s got an unfortunate eight AM test tomorrow. And sleep is the wiser option for now. The fun will have to wait.

You were always pretty decent at turning people down unless it came down to your cousin, Yoo Kihyun. So when he asked you a favor on behalf of the nation’s top government agency, it became even harder to say no.

Those close to you knew about your notable talent in programming, which is something you now wish you didn’t have thanks to the outrageous anti-virus programs you had to write with your two hands. Still, this development is hardly a surprise considering your mother was a former CIA agent and your father still works for NASA.

Having early access to all sorts of cool gadgets somehow induced your transformation into what Kihyun calls a ‘benevolent hacker’. And it’s as stressful as it sounds, like what’s going on right now.

“But you’ve even saved our country from a nuclear war!” Kihyun’s voice rang proudly.

You sigh through the phone before slumping further into your chair. “I almost went blind from staring at a screen for so long, but I guess it all worked out.”

“We really appreciate everything you do, really.” He softens. “I know it’s tough, but hey, at least you’re getting paid.”

“I just want to live a normal life.”

“I know, I know.” Kihyun coos sympathetically. “This should be the last time. But…”

“But?” You could feel the hesitation through his silence.

“We’re looking at a pretty high-profiled hacker this time. And if they’re targeting private hospitals, they’re out for some pretty bad damage.”

Kihyun’s words linger with a tinge of frustration, and that struck you to realize the much shittier stress your poor cousin deals on a daily basis. The least you can do is comfort him a little.

“Well, the program I wrote for the hospital’s database should stay intact through tonight.” You suggest with a bit of optimism.

“That’s good to hear.” He sighs.

You switch on your laptop, nestling the phone against your shoulder. “By the way, any idea on the perpetrator yet?”

“Nothing solid.” He states. “But we do have someone on file who could be a possible suspect.”

That piqued your interest a little, and you wait for him to continue.

“You familiar with the hacker that goes by the name I.M?”

Your back stiffens, and the phone on your shoulder almost slips to the floor. Kihyun probably noticed your sudden silence, but you still had to let a few shivers run down your spine.

I.M. That name is more or less a legend to your ears. You knew that name. Well, anyone with the slightest interest in programming knows that name. Although your knowledge of him came from passing rumors, the stories are crazy enough to serve as a warning. Multiple cases of leaked government secrets are credited to his name. And just three years ago, I.M’s stints nearly drove a dozen smaller European countries into martial law.

No one knows how or why he operates, nor is there evidence of his identity. He’s like some lurking enigma from the deep, dark web, capable of sending the whole world on edge with a few clicks.

But to the average citizen, his existence is a debatable rumor. Only those with enough expertise of computers know the true extent of his destruction.

Fortunately for you, no trouble has stumped you yet. But if the opponent this time happens to be I.M, there may be just one conclusion: If encountered, do not approach.

“So…is that a yes?” Your cousin’s voice sounded hopeful.

“Um not really, I’m gonna Google him.” You swallow your lie, swiftly deciding against saying much for the sake of Kihyun’s sanity.

“Alright then, don’t stay up too late.” There’s a brief silence before Kihyun’s voice cools. “Thanks for the help so far, kiddo. Now get some sleep.”

Your eyes roll at his usual motherly tone. But he’s right; you need your sleep for tomorrow’s eight AM Philosophy test.

“Okay, night mom.” You sang, hanging up before Kihyun could reply.

Changkyun doesn’t regret taking Philosophy. It’s an easy A and all, but an eight o’clock midterm is kind of pushing it.

His phone buzzes against the night stand’s surface. Changkyun grabs it to shut off the alarm, but the screen displays a text message instead. A grin instantly finds his lips as evidence of sleepiness completely disappear from his features.

[Squishy Dumpling 7:00 AM]: “CHANGKYUN WAKE UP RIGHT NOW! IF YOU DON’T ANSWER IN 1 MIN I WILL CALL.”

Changkyun chuckles under his breath and pushes himself up against the headboard. What started as an inside joke lead to a stupidly endearing contact name. If only you knew about it; that would surely have your eyes rolling.

Seeing your promised text message already has him in a better mood. Yet despite being wide awake, he purposely waits to see if you’re really going to take this wake-up-call job seriously. Changkyun is nonetheless grateful for your proposed offer during last evening’s impromptu study session. After him claiming to have slept through several tests in the past, you were determined to stop him from sleeping through another one.

Indeed, one minute later, his phone starts buzzing continuously with your silly trademark flashing on screen.

He clears his throat, channeling his best dead-tired-college-student impression and takes the call.

“Hmm…hello?”

Changkyun’s voice is already deeper than most guys his age, but his range falls impossibly lower in the mornings. It’s amazing how that husky voice never fails to give you the jitters.

“Changkyun, stop it.” You sigh firmly. “I know you’re awake.”

“Hm? What makes you say that?” He drags on.

Your ear drowns in the vibrations of his voice. “I know you read my text.”

Changkyun lets out a groan that forces you to physically pry the phone away from yourself. “Five more minutes.”

“Changkyun, I’m not your mother.”

He lets out a convincing sigh. “You know, I was thinking, since I already have a ninety-eight in the class, I should just-”

“Changkyun!”

The boy almost blew his cover by chuckling out loud. “Kidding, relax.” He yawns. “I’ll go since you sound like you really want me to.”

You can practically see Changkyun with his proud smirk waiting for a flustered response.

“Obviously.” You return the distress. “Who else can I copy off the answers to?”

“Ouch.” Changkyun hissed. “Ice cold.”

“You’re old enough to handle it.”

Changkyun didn’t hold back his chuckles this time. He always knew one day he’ll meet someone sassier than him. Sure enough, here you are, serving that hot attitude right up at seven in the morning.

“What are you doing after the test?” He redirects the topic.

“Um…probably be at the library to finish some homework.” That’s a partial lie, since your real motive is checking on the condition of your program. If I.M really is the culprit according to Kihyun’s data, you sure need a recheck as soon as goddamn possible. And you’ll need the library’s generous wi-fi speed for that.

“Oh me too, wanna go together?” Changkyun’s voice interrupts your thought. You quickly swallow your hesitation, a bit unsure about fighting hackers with another person sitting by. But Changkyun’s harmless, as far as you know. “Sounds Good.”

Within an hour, you’re patiently waiting for the professor’s arrival in a mostly empty lecture hall. Just as you decide to glance around for Changkyun, a coffee cup suddenly lands on your desk.

“Morning sunshine.”

You turn your head away from the coffee to see Changkyun plop down in the seat next to yours. Seeing him this early had you wide-eyed for a good moment.

“Morning.” Your gaze returns to the cup before you. “I see you had time to get coffee.”

Changkyun shrugs. “I figured you’ll probably need some energy to, you know, copy my answers.”

You’re almost pleased with his comeback. “You know me so well, thanks Changkyun.”

He smiles back, taking out a few pens as the professor finally makes his entrance.

Despite the test being a generous three hours, you and Changkyun were out in less than one. As previously agreed, the two of you are now sitting across each other at your favorite spot in the library--second floor, back corner near the ancient Greek literature. You naturally favored this spot since it’s usually vacant, but most importantly, it’s where the wi-fi router is located.

Finding a spot like this was indisputably your primary task on your first day at college. You needed a distraction-free work space, not so much for your school work but for fighting what ever cyber crime Kihyun might task you with. Luckily, you found this holed-up library, ironically attached to the computer science department, and barely visible from the outside world.

You quickly grew attached to the place, to the point where you now work as a library assistant to gain unlimited entry into the facility. The only thing didn’t expect was to meet Changkyun, who, unbeknownst to you, chose to work here for the reasons that would never cross your mind in several life times.

It’s hard to put your finger on exactly what drew you towards this boy. Changkyun’s an odd ball. You knew that from his persistent suggestion to build a fort using the old, un-catalogued books from the back storage room. But you also knew he isn’t a complete scatterbrain when he translated an entire collection of Arabic poems into English, all on his own.

Which is why you sometimes question why he’s a biology major.

But you are no less of a mystery in Changkyun’s eyes, albeit a much prettier mystery. He initially pegged on the idea of having the entire library to himself and was clearly a little upset when he first heard a new co-worker is joining the staff. But when you came along, his mind changed instantly.

He couldn’t pinpoint the source of your attraction either. It could be your pretty eyes, but it could also be your natural sass which stumped him a few times. And there was that fascinating episode where you, a statistics major, somehow knew weirdly specific details about upgrading the library router’s firmware. And that made the wi-fi so much faster.

Curiosity aside, Changkyun got used to you so quickly that he doesn’t even mind hacking the government with you beside him.

“Can’t believe I got up this early for two free response questions.” Changkyun laments, his chin sinking into his palm.

You kind of agree. That philosophy test was stupidly easy, it’s almost a little insulting.

“At least you get to keep your ninety-eight.” You kept your response casual, unlike your fingers furiously navigating the three private hospitals’ websites you’re supposed to be guarding.

Fortunately, things are still in the green.

Changkyun hums in response, his face giving nothing more than a blank stare. A stark contrast to the feverish excitement he’s containing underneath that poker face. He didn’t think such an emotion still exists in him. But ever since last night’s encounter with such a daring little fire-wall, he’s feeling that nostalgic itch to tear it apart. Now with that stupid test out of the way, boy was he ready to indulge.

You felt unusually restless. Perhaps it’s the possibility of facing I.M, in which case, you’re completely screwed. But you found comfort knowing it’s barely ten in the morning. Even a legendary hacker wouldn’t dwell this early.

Except you’re wrong.

You flinch at a sudden dreadful shade of orange popping on your laptop display. And if it wasn’t for Changkyun’s presence, your jaw would have hit the floor by now.

Thankfully, years of nerve racking experience taught you to stay calm. You double check your VPN connection and drew in a long breath. It’s time for war.

Changkyun knows he’s being a little reckless, but if those DDoS attacks didn’t work last night, might as well change things up for once. He just finished a virus that can use a test run, and there won’t be a better opportunity than this. Within a few clicks, Changkyun eases back into his chair and began relishing the view.

You on the other hand, have both eyes glued to the numbers on your screen. Only a few precious seconds passed before you realized the blatantly obvious malware eating away your codes. That gave you a tiny bit of relief, because your specialty is, in fact, malware sabotage.

“You okay there?”

You sprang apart from your laptop and look up, meeting Changkyun’s curious eyes.

“You’re typing really fast.” He continues. “And loud.”

That’s because I’m fighting a cyber criminal who’s probably trying to take over the world. If only you could muse out loud.

“Oh, sorry, I got an essay for writing class.” You smile sheepishly. “It’s due tomorrow.”

Changkyun looks taken aback and covers his mouth. “You? A procrastinator?”

You would respond with something clever, but your attention falls back to suspending access of this intruding virus. You barely spare him a cheeky eye roll before immersing right back into your keyboard. Luckily, you were right on time.

Changkyun’s gaze suddenly flew back to his laptop. On the screen displays something he’s sure he hasn’t seen since his first time hacking the Ministry of Defense’s military records. The word ‘Obsolete’ flashed in the middle of his display, and for a good second, he almost didn’t recognize that word was meant for him. His features however, slowly lights up in nothing but fascination.

His virus just failed. Interesting.

Your eyes momentarily close to embrace this calm before the storm. If anything, this was just the first round of however many times this douche hacker decides to ruin your eyesight for the next few days. But you found some confidence in yourself, knowing your talent hasn’t failed you yet.

Changkyun admits he might have been a little cocky to assume his virus was enough to wrap things up. But at least he was right to be excited. This isn’t the usual business anymore.

“Are you okay?” You return, tending to a strange look of amusement on Changkyun’s face.

Changkyun almost couldn’t peel his eyes away from his screen. “Yeah just…” He takes another moment to finally absorb reality.

“I just watched a funny video.” His exhale turns into a chuckle. “How goes the essay?”

You sense the oddness in his response, but opted for a bright nod instead. “Making progress.”

Changkyun puts on a convincing grin of acknowledgement in hopes of easing you from further suspicion. The moment you turn back to your computer, he runs his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing the ironic exhilaration scalding his ego.

Nothing in Changkyun’s career even came close to stopping his malware, not to mention this quickly and so seemingly effortlessly. Perhaps the government actually hired someone decent this time, someone possibly on par with his expertise. He’s almost tempted to abandon his task and track down this person instead. But it’s not wise to side track too soon. He’ll just launch his second attack for now.

DDoS. Malware. You can only dread what’s coming next. It’s almost as if Satan himself answered your fear as your computer screen glows orange after one meager minute of peace.

Your eyes flare up, and a flashing timer pops on screen like an apocalyptic warning.

Two minutes. That’s how long your program will hold up. And that’s how long you have to figure out and stop whatever is breaking your program. But that’s just a laughable ideal.

This quick, aggressive attack just about confirms your worst fear. I.M is behind this ordeal.

It’s amazing how you’re managing to stay intact in your chair, despite your heart rate racing faster than the milliseconds ticking away. In situations like this, there’s no time for regret. And walking out of this one alive meant one thing: run away.

You immediately connect your phone with your laptop, as subtle as possible to avoid Changkyun’s gaze. A few clicks later, you began transferring all three hospital’s database into your phone while wiping every piece of information from its online servers.

This is the last resort you once hoped to avoid. Your actions are just as illegal as I.M’s, but desperation left you with no other choice. You’ll definitely need to speak with Kihyun later.

An airy chuckle escapes Changkyun’s lips. Now this is a sight he hasn’t seen in a while. On his screen is a blank webpage without a single line of code in the back-end database. And to think that was all completed in no more than two minutes, he wishes he can applaud his opponent.

Changkyun closes his eyes, only to be met with that nagging temptation to seek out whoever’s beyond the other side of the screen.

Interestingly enough, that seems to be the only choice left.

Changkyun’s eyes flutter apart with a fervent gaze, one that matches the rising excitement in his chest.

He’ll have to notify Hyungwon there’s been a change of plans. He’s going hunting.

You spent a good two hours writing an email to Kihyun, choosing comforting words explaining that everything is in good hands. The classified information is with you and not the perpetrator, but it might take a few days before you can restore the data.

And you left out I.M’s name, and the part about keeping the targeted data on your personal cell phone. The last thing you’d want is for Kihyun to place you under some weird witness protection program for pulling such a reckless stint.

You proof read your lies and ended the email with a reminder to not call because you accidentally dropped your phone in the bath tub.

You sigh, hitting the send button before turning to stare at your locked down, encrypted and therefore useless cell phone. If only you knew it was going to become a digital safekeeping vault, you could have asked your mom for second phone.

For now you should just be thankful for getting out of this one unscathed. You lift your arms to stretch, then shutting your laptop when your phone suddenly vibrates against the table.

You peer down, curious as to who sent you a message when your eyes immediately widen in horror.

Your phone just vibrated. It shouldn’t even be powered on right now.

Several bright flashes fly past the screen, and a blue bubble with white text promptly pops up.

[201.50.514] Congrats. You’re the first one to escape.

The hairs on your body never perched so painfully.

[201.50.514] Good thing one of my bugs made it. It would be a total shame if I lost you completely.

You pick up the phone, hands starting to shake from the unbelievable display on your phone. The colors and design look just like a messaging app, and you know this is the work of a person whom you really should not have messed with.

You swallow and tap the screen, where a keyboard pops up, inviting your response.

[01101101] sorry who’s this?

Oh god. As if playing dumb will get out of this deep shit.

[201.50.514] hahaha alright, if you’re really asking then let me introduce myself.

[201.50.514] this is I.M

[201.50.514] and I believe you took something I want

A/N: Hi guys, it’s me, the most flaky author on this planet. There were some who requested an I.M spin off, so here it is after 10000 years! Thank you all so much for those who waited! And to lovely new readers, thank you for reading!!

#monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #changkyun #changkyun fanfic #changkyun scenario #i.m #i.m imagine #i.m fanfic #i.m scenario #o god i hope i finish lol #don't worry I'm already writing chapter two #kpop fanfic

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