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ornii · 1 year

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Bitterly Beautiful, Part 4

Chapter 4: Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

"I just, don't think I understand her.."

(Y/n) sits, Legs crossed on the bed of Enid Sinclair as she paints his fingernails, it never bothers (Y/n) to be the Guinea Pig for Enid's ridiculous theories on color palettes and designs; he couldn't see any of it to begin with, what did help him was the ear she lent him.

"Oh (Y/n), Silly (Y/n)," Enid says, finally being coy herself. "Women are an enigma that a man simply can't understand."

"Women? You're still a Teenager Enid." He said annoyed, Enid scoffed at this.

"Am not! I have grown into a respectful and very intelligent woman."

"Enid the first time I met you I told you Santa wasn't real you cried for a week and said you'd spit on my grave.. what has changed?" He says and she rolls her eyes.

"If you could see I'm rolling my eyes right now." She says with a smile, he snickers, but sighs soon after.

"I hope you're right Enid, I think Wednesday is great, I just think she hates me."

"She hates everyone." Enid replies, "You don't have to keep up this act, be emotional, cry a little."

"I think If I cried she'd probably like it."

"See?"

"No, I just think she likes seeing people miserable." (Y/n) replies and Enid waves it off.

"Not true, I bet she's trying to come up with the best way to invite you to the Rav'N." Enid says, now her turn trying to reassure her bestie.

"You think so?" He asks, and she nods.

"I know so. So, when you get the chance, tell her with confidence that you want to go to the Rav'N with her!"

The Jericho county morgue is a place housing the corpses of those who met an unfortunate passing lately. What it also held was valuable information for a certain creepy girl. Something makes its way through the ventilation shaft and drops down on a camera. Thing, who spatters black Bubblegum all over the Security camera watching the door. Thing drops down and crawls to the door, opening it via a button and Wednesday creeps in.

"Dr. Kinbott tells me I should get out more. Says I need to open my mind to new people and experiences. Who am I to argue with her professional clichés?" Wednesday says, and she and Thing enter the main room.

"While I do the autopsy, you find the files of the monster's other victims and make copies." She says to thing who taps loudly in refusal.

"Don't pout. Your scalpel skills are questionable. Do you remember my 13th birthday, when Uncle Fester gave me that cadaver? You sliced right through that man's carotid." She says, Thing taps more and Wednesday this time halts everything.

"I did not invite (Y/n) because his indecisiveness about his feelings would slow me down. I'm not indecisive, I know what I desire." She says, Wednesday locks the door back and Thing makes a few gestures.

"No, I did not leave him back at Nevermore because I care about him, I only care about the truth." She says, Thing makes a gesture with two fingers hitting each other; almost like Kissing, Wednesday turns to him with her cold stare.

"Say that again and I'll find you a permanent slot in this Morgue."

Thing, realizing he actually prefers living quits and heads to copy, and Wednesday now heads to the chambers holding the corpses and prepares for what's ahead. Wednesday begins to open up contains corpses, absolutely unfazed by any of it.

"No. No. Magnificent hematoma. There you are." She says, and drags one out, the old man who got visions of hell tossed into his face. Dead. Wednesday begins her autopsy. Probably something she genuinely enjoys doing.

"Thursday, 7:23 p.m. The body is that of a 50-year-old male. Lacerations and defensive wounds appear on both hands. What remains of the chest and torso indicates a frenzied attack. The subject has been almost entirely disemboweled. This is curious. The subject's left foot is missing. It appears to have been chewed off at the ankle." Wednesday begins her Analysis, but Thing comes rushing in, tapping wildly.

"Have you seen a left foot anywhere? Calm down. Who's coming?" She asks, she hears the front door open and looks around for a hiding place, unfortunately, there's no (Y/n) to hide behind this time. So she picks the perfect place. The Sherrif enters with a man of bronze-colored skin and a salt and pepper beard, obviously in his older years.

"Appreciate you coming back to the office, Doc." The Sheriff says as they enter the Morgue.

"No problem, Sheriff. Whatever I can do to help. Whatever or whoever is responsible for these killings... In all my years, I've never seen injuries like them. I thought you should see this before I issued my report on the latest victim. It's a real noodle-scratcher. The killer cut off two toes from the victim's left foot. My best guess, they used a surgical saw. The final autopsy report's still pending."

"Minute you're done, send it straight to my desk. Media blackout on the toes."

"Sure thing, Sheriff. Been a busy couple of weeks, huh? At least I'm going out in style. Friday's my last day."

"Happy retirement, Doc."

"Gonna surprise Mrs. Anwar with a four-week cruise. Excited to trade rib shears for Mai Tais. See yourself out. I'll lock up." the Doctor says, and Sheriff obliges and leaves, the Doctor noticed that the door to one of the corpses was, open, he closes it but takes one more precaution. He opens it to Wednesday, who seems as dead as most. Her skin was cold, eyes were unmoving and stiff.

"I don't remember this one coming in. Full rigor. You've been dead a while. Guess you won't mind waiting another day for me to cut you open." He says with an uncomfortable smile, he closes it back up and leaves; letting Thing escape from the cap of a skeleton anatomy diagram. He fiddles over back to the door and opens it up to a surprisingly alive Wednesday has her eyes closed, and gingerly opens them.

"Five more minutes. I was just getting comfortable."

The next morning at Nevermore, Wednesday is in her Dorm, pinning up clues and pieces to the puzzle of Nevermore, which mostly looked like crime scene photos.

"When I suggested giving your side of the room a makeover, I did not have Ted Bundy's Pinterest in mind," Enid said, approaching from behind to look at this odd collaboration of Gore.

"Still not as creepy as your stuffed unicorn collection," Wednesday replies looking back at Enid, who begins to question her.

"Is this why you snuck out last night?"

"Thing and I made an unsanctioned trip to the morgue to copy the files of the monster's victims."

"Okay, there are so many levels of "ew" in that statement, I don't know where to begin. (Y/n) was worried about you." Enid says, Wednesday's attitude softens a bit as if she's a bit, glad he was concerned for her, As she looks Enid up and down, again she shoves her feelings away and continues.

"I need to get inside its head. Discover any patterns or anomalies. I've already made a big discovery. Turns out all of the monster's victims have had body parts surgically removed." She begins, takes off the photos, and hands them to Enid for her to look at them but it's obvious Enid isn't taking it too well.

"The first one a kidney, the second a finger...

"Wednesday, I don't feel—"

"Third a gall bladder. And the bearded man from the meeting house, two toes. Do you understand what this means? These murders aren't mindless. He's collecting trophies like a seasoned serial killer. It's impressive." She says, she turns back around to shoe Enid more, but Enid has already hit the ground unconscious.

"It's Vasovagal syncope."

(Y/n) stands there as he picks Enid up off the ground. Wednesday watches quietly from her side of the room.

"Makes people feint at sighs like blood and gore." He says as he lays her in the bed, he combs back her hair, he looks downward at her, like a sleeping beauty.

"You seem to know much about her, what are you, her doctor?" She asks, (Y/n) turns towards her.

"I'm her friend, and who knows maybe I'll end up a pediatrician, or Veterinarian, or your therapist when you eventually wind up in the psych ward." He says sarcastically and Wednesday folds her arms.

"You're using comedy to hide your own issues."

"Oh, you think I'm funny?" He says.

"That's not what I said."

"All I heard is that you think I'm funny."

He says, he looks back at her and reaches into his pocket. He grabs a small vial of smelling salts and waves them under her nose. Her eyes open quickly as she sits up.

"Wednesday I don't think—" she begins, but sees the two look at her.

".. I fainted, didn't I?" She says sheepishly, (Y/n) just laughs and helps her up, and the only thing Miss Addams can do, is watch them. Her eyes focus right on (Y/n). He always seems so, Chummy and caring if Enid like they’re family.

"While most plants reward their pollinators with sweet nectar, many carnivorous varieties turn to sеxual trickery or deception." Miss Thornhill is giving a lecture on Carnivore plants, Wednesday sits next to Xavier, who looks a bit worse for wear. He notices Wednesdays piercing eyes glaring at him.

"I tweaked my back fencing." He says, Thornhill continues.

"The orchid produces a pheromone that mimics a female insect, luring the males in. Now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?" She asks:

"Nada. Just like all the guys at the Rave'N." Bianca says. Which some students laugh.

"Okay, okay. I know you're all excited about Saturday, which is why I haven't assigned any homework. But I do still need volunteers for the decorating committee. Anyone interested, come and see me up here."

"You're not gonna volunteer? Aren't you pumped about disco balls and spiked punch? There's even a DJ. MC Blood Suckaz."

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes." Wednesday says with clandestine annoyance. Xavier just smirks.

"Being around blind people I thought you'd think better than that. You know, you could invite someone and have a little fun." Xavier says, Wednesday attempts to ignore his dry humor.

Wednesday seemingly leaves the classroom, and Xavier walks away, little does he know, a sly Black cat follows him, Wednesday. She stays a steady distance away to avoid detection, she watches him enter a building, it was dark and out of eye of most people, he was there only a few minutes before departing out of it. Wednesday creeps inside.

"Xavier didn't get those scratches from fencing. He's hiding something." She says: and turns out the light, she was quickly enriched with paintings of a, large eyed monster. Which seem so, real..

"I suppose every artist needs a muse. Xavier, you just became that much more interesting." Wednesday takes a drawing for herself and leaves, but didn't check everything.

"Wednesday." A voice calls out. She halts in her steps and turns around to Xavier.

"Xavier. Hello." She says, caught off guard.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Nothing. I just saw you come out this way. What is this place?"

"It's kind of my private art studio. I cleared it out, fixed it up, so Weems let me use it."

"How very entrepreneurial. I would love to see inside. Why don't you give me a tour?"

"Not right now. It's a total mess."

"I shadowed a crime scene photographer last summer. I'm not easily fazed."

"Maybe another time. Why were you looking for me?"

"I wanted to go over Ms. Thornhill's homework assignment." Wednesday said, "She didn't give us homework. Remember?" Xavier responds, catching her in a lie. "Why are you really out here? Is this about a certain dance that makes you want to poke needles into your eyes, perhaps? I'm all ears."

"Sometimes intentions melt in the face of unexpected opportunity. If this was my chance to get up close and personal with a potential serial killer, how could I refuse?" Wednesday thinks to herself.

"Are you really going to make me ask?" She says, and he nods.

"Oh, absolutely." he responds, Wednesday sighs, and curses to herself. "Would you... Would... Would you possibly consider going to the Rave'N dance with a certain... Would... Would you go to the dance with me?" Wednesdays finally builds up the nerve to ask, and Xavier smiles.

"Yes, Wednesday, I would love to go to the dance with you. I thought you'd never ask."

"Neither did I." She says gritting her teeth. Wednesday informs Enid her outing at the Rav'N

"Oh my God! Wednesday Addams is going to the Rave'N. My whole world is tilted! You know what you need?"

"A bullet to the head?"

"A dress."

"I already have one."

"Not the one you showed up here in! That thing was a fashion emergency not even lightning could resuscitate. Thing, back me up here. You need something that screams, "First date. Stand back, bitches! I have arrived!" And I know just the place!" Enid says smiling, and Wednesday can only imagine the form of torture she has in store.

"Hawte Kewture" the Most, explosive in color and fashion for all the girls of Nevermore, except Wednesday.

"What kind of dystopian hellscape is this?"

"Our first roomie shopping spree! The dance committee's suggesting all white to match the theme, but that's not gonna fly with us."

"I have more pressing business than to worry about a dress for a dance I don't want to attend.

"But I thought we were bonding." Enid says, a bit saddened.

"I feel I'll only slow you down. You're a gazelle. I'm a wounded fawn. Cut me loose and go run with the pack." Wednesday says.

"Are you sure?" Enid says, but Wednesday is pretty sure.

"I'm going to see Galpin." She replies, and Leaves to the Sheriff, who isn't very fond of her to begin with. His fondness for her dissipates even more as Wednesday Addams enters his Office.

"We both know that there's a monster out there. If we're going to stop it, I think it's time we put our differences aside and work together." Wednesday says to the Sheriff, who just looks at her; before she hands him Xavier's drawing, and he compares it to a photo of said monster, both heaving a, striking resemblance to each other.

"And this is your stake for me to deal you in? I'm sorry, you gotta do better than that. You got some nice detail though."

"I didn't draw it."

"I need to know who did."

"Unless we're exchanging intel, I'm not at liberty to say."

"Why would I share information about an ongoing murder investigation with a high school kid?"

"Because I go to Nevermore and you don't. Don't you want eyes and ears behind those ivy-covered walls?" Wednesday says offering a dead Oliver branch.

"Listen, Velma, why don't you and the Scooby gang stick to your homework and leave investigating to the professionals." The sheriff replies, but he gets phone call.

"What?" He says answering it.

"Mayor Walker's on line two. He's looking for an update." She says, he puts the phone says and turns his attention back to Wednesday.

"Hey, Addams. Let me see that sketch again." He says and she shows him, he looks at it once more, and caves in.

"The person who drew this, that your suspect? When you bring me some concrete evidence, maybe we'll talk." He says before Wednesday leaves. She continues down the road before the Caw of a crow stops her, she sighs and speaks.

"You can stop following me." She says, she turns around to (Y/n), standing there as he awkwardly rubs the back of his head.

"Yeah, my bad." He says, before remembering the conversation he and Enid had and takes a deep breath. So, you know we have the Rave'N this weekend, right?" He says, and Wednesday folds her arms.

"It was all the buzz at the Weathervane today. I must be the only one not obsessed with this stupid dance." She said, he tries to keep his calm composure.

"Right, So, you're not going?" He asks.

"Actually, I was forced to ask someone as an act of self-preservation." Wednesday admits, and (Y/n)'s hope shattered like glass.

"Oh...So, who is it?" He asks

"Xavier." She says, (Y/n)'a frown could nor be hidden and he just nods. "Well, enjoy yourself I suppose." He says and walks off.

"I'm not sure why you're upset." Wednesday said, (Y/n) stopped and turned around.

"I don't know it's this feeling called.. being upset, it's natural to feel this way." He says.

"It's not my fault I can't interpret your emotional brail." Wednesday fires back and he grips his cane a bit harder.

"Right, because why would I expect Wednesday Addams to know how feelings work, why am I surprised. I just, thought you and I got along a hell of a lot better than Xavier of all people."

"I'm just dealing with a lot right now. I need to prioritize." Wednesday replies, and (Y/n) just scoffs.

"Right, Priorities.. Prioritizing Xavier before me, not to sound selfish but I think you have your priorities a bit mixed, but I guess I have to be the bigger man in this situation right? I hope you two have fun at the Rav'N." He says before walking away. Wednesday opens her mouth to call out to him; but she stops herself, she can only watch him walk off, Thing Crawls from her backpack to say something, but Wednesday cuts him off.

"Not one word." she says, and begins to stew in her anger. Returning to the Bee Keeping station, she brings her Ted Bundy Pinterest to Eugene.

"Enid wouldn't let me keep this in our dorm." Wednesday said.

"No worries. Mi colmena es su colmena. I assume this is the creature that's been rampaging in the woods." Eugene says, looking at the photo.

"You've heard about it before?" She asks.

"Rumors. Mr. Fitts banned me from bug-hunting until further notice. Claimed a bear was on the loose, which I knew was a lie. Didn't match their hibernation schedules. Speaking of monsters with sharp claws, could you give this to your roomie?" Eugene grabs a Jar of sweet honey.

"Put in a good word for me? I hear she's still sans date for the Rave'N." He says, Wednesday decides now is probably the best time to shatter his dreams.

"Eugene—"

"I know the chances of her asking me are next to zero, but I don't care. I'll keep putting myself out there until Enid finally... sees me." Eugene says.

"And if she never does?"

"She will. I'm playing the long game. My moms say people will appreciate me when I'm older. They're probably just trying to make me feel better, but—"

"Listen, people like me and you, we're different. We're original thinkers, intrepid outliers in this vast cesspool of adolescence. We don't need these inane rites of passage to validate who we are." Wednesday said, giving Eugene advice.

"So you're not going to the Rave'N either?" He asks, and Wednesday begrudgingly shakes her head.

"Actually, I am. With Xavier." She says, and Eugene looks a bit surprised.

"I see." He says, "It's not like I like Xavier. I just have ulterior motives." Wednesday explains.

"No I was just thinking, you don't.. have Ulterior motives with (Y/n) do you?" Eugene asks, and Wednesday scowls at him.

"I just don't want my home slice getting played." Eugene says trying to sound "Hip."

"...Anyway, Sketches are the closest thing I have to a lead to try and stop this thing." Wednesday continues, showing Eugene, which one photo piques his interest.

"That circle...I've heard about it." He says, Wednesday turns to him quickly.

"Who told you about it?" She asks, and Eugene shows her to the man. Who just so happens to be in a smaller room in Nevermore, a sculpting room for pottery, sculpting with dark black clay for pottery. His hands feeling along the molded clay. His coat was off and his sleeves were rolled up to avoid messes. He stops sculpting to reach for more clay, he grabs a handful and goes back, and a Wild Wednesday appears in front of (Y/n), Eugene also struts over.

"... What do you want?" He asks, and Eugene steps up.

"You remember what cave you told me about? The spiral?" He asked and (Y/n) nods, he reaches for a towel to clean his hands.

"Yeah, it's in the forest.. why?" He asks.

"There's a high chance it has something to do with what you and I are investigating." Wednesday says, and (Y/n) now looks more interested. "I found a drawing that is close in resemblance to the cave." She explains, (Y/n)s brow furrowed at this, he stands up, cleaning his hands off.

"...Okay, let's check it out then." He says, the trio stand before the Cave. (Y/n) feels the side of it.

"It's nice to search for uniquely shaped things, I guess it's a way to pass time for me. I came across this cave but Decided against it." (Y/n) said.

"It's definitely a match." Wednesdays says. "You think it's in there?" Eugene asks Wednesday and (Y/n), "It's.. possible." (Y/n) says, which makes him a bit concerned for Wednesday and Eugene.

"I'll go first." (Y/n) says, he heads in, cane clenched. Wednesday turns to Eugene. “If I die, well just tell Enid she’ll plan the funeral I guess.” He trudged in slowly, trying to sense any unorthodox sensations.

"If you hear me screaming bloody murder, there's a good chance I'm just enjoying myself." she says before following (Y/n) into the darkness, they encroach upon bones.

"This is definitely its lair." Wednesday said. (Y/n) kneels down and takes the bones.

"Are these human?"

"No, I think it's got a taste for venison." Wednesday grabs a deer skull. (Y/n) picks up the sound of something and he walks to the wall.

"Wednesday, Check this out." He says grabbing something, a chain, not just chains but lend attached to shackles. (Y/n) turns towards her.

"You were right, this must be it's lair, where did you get this drawing from?" He asks, Wednesday continues to ponder but says nothing, now needing more proof of what connects. She kneels down, seeing something jammed into the ground, grabbing it, she pulls it from the ground, it's a claw. Perhaps the owner of this claw was said monster. But she needed hard evidence.

She returns back to Xavier's art house, now with Thing in tow.

"All right, I won't be long. I just need to find something to match against the claw's DNA." Wednesdays and thing enter the room, but Xavier was quick to show up.

"What are you doing?" He asks accusingly.

"How do you know what the monster looks like? Or are these all just self-portraits?"

"What, you think it's me? I saved your life."

"So did the monster. Or was that you the night Rowan was killed?"

"You so are out of line now."

"I'm trying to uncover the truth. And your art seems to have a recurring motif." Wednesday said, and Xavier slowly caves in.

"Yeah. This creature's been haunting my dreams for weeks. I try to block it out, but I can't. So I just... come in here and paint it. When I was painting this one, claws reached out and took a swipe at me. That's how I got these."

"I thought you were able to control your ability."

"Not when it comes to this."

"Maybe it's your guilty conscience."

"I told you I'm not the monster, okay?"

"You just happened to draw pictures of it, down to the location of its lair in the woods? Those are some pretty vivid dreams." Wednesday said, which just irks Xavier

"You were in here. Before, when I caught you outside. That's the only reason you asked me to the Rave'N? To try and cover. You are unbelievable."

"It's nothing personal."

"No, it never is with you, is it? I mean, do you even care about anyone or anything at all, Wednesday? Get out.." he says, and Wednesday slowly sees herself out, Wednesday now returns to the Sheriff, After procuring evidence from Xavier, she drops the claw, and a bloody rag.

"That's the claw of the monster and that's a dried blood sample from a potential suspect. He used it to dab scratches on his neck. Run the DNA test and see if they match."

"I'm sorry, do I work for you?" Sheriff said.

"You asked for concrete evidence. That's it."

"Where'd you get this? And who's the suspect?"

"Run the test first, then I'll explain everything."

"I'm not playing games, Addams."

"Neither am I, Sheriff."

"....Bernice, bring me a DNA authorization form, please." He says calling someone, (Y/n) is finishing up some brail work at his desk inside his dorm. as he feels a tapping on his shoulder. He turns around to no one, but thing on his shoulder.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got here.. what's up? Wednesday use you too?" He asks sadly but thing just hands him a letter. (Y/n) just looks at him.

"... You know I can't read this, right?" He says, "Just.. Go get Enid please." (Y/n) said.

Eventually, Enid is in his dorm, reading the note and is freaking the Eff out.

"Dear (Y/n), I, Wednesday Addams, cordially invite you, YOU (Y/n) Healy to the Rav'N tonight! I await your arrival in my dorm! O M Gee! This is so her! Even the ink smells of Goth And Glamour!" Enid says, so happy for her Bestie. (y/n) was a bit shocked by this.

"She wants to go with me? I thought she was going with Xavier, guess that fell though.." (Y/n) says sarcastically,

"Or." Enid begins "She realized just how perfect you two would be and knew you were always the best choice! Don't worry I'm going to hell you get dressed, you strut your stuff like the beautiful magic demon peacock you are! And you'll steal her black heart!" Enid says, almost fantasizing about it.

"You want to plan our wedding too?" He says sarcastically.

"Promise?" She asks, which scares him a bit, he stands up. "Just.. whatever you think is best." He says, and Enid smirked, ready to turn (Y/n) into a perfect Victor van Dort.

Later in the night, Wednesday prepares herself for an outing with Eugene. And there's a knock at the door and she heads to open it.

"I'm coming, Eugene! Hey, did you grab any extra batteries for the flash—"

Wednesday opens the door to someone she was not expecting. A tall, handsome figure dresses head to toe, a pair of Dapper wingtip shoes, socks to boot, a sleek Velveteen White suit, a pearly white shirt and a hefty black vest combo. And a perfect black bow tie to boot, his hair slightly combed back and he cologne, the scent of Black Rose and Vile Thron fills Wednesdays nose and for the moment she thought she actually died and met her Corpse Groom. He tips his glasses and smiles.

"I got your invite. Guessing you had Thing being it to me." He says, and Wednesday was, for the first time in a while, at a loss for words. She was either so angry or absolutely smitten, probably the first.

"After our last conversation, I thought I really messed up and I wanted to apologize too, but before I could I got your note, it was.. really honest and sweet." He says, but Wednesday continues to just stare at him, absolutely at a loss. "You need a few minutes?" (Y/n) asks before she shuts the door in his face and storms over to Thing.

"Honest and sweet?" How could you do this to me? That weird feeling In my chest is happening again! I swear I am going to hang you by your fingernails—" Wednesday begins, but stops as she sees a dress lying on her bed, and it was grandios, antique, so, darkly beautiful.

"How'd you pay for it? Five-finger discount, of course...Thing, don't look." She says and gets dressed, (Y/n) waits downstairs, for the first time in a while he's actually, nervous. The footsteps of high heels clicking sends chills down his spine. He stands up and turns to the sound and the waves create an image of, beauty. Wednesday wore a All black Lace dress, right to her calves, it had side ruffles upon the sides of her sleeves, a sleek black waist belt to finely fit every aspect of herself, even her hair, now in a upper bob, was new. (Y/n), one for jokes and teasing, was just mesmerized by her.

"Wow, you, you’re..” he begins, but Wednesday looks more annoyed to be here.

"Unrecognizable? Ridiculous? A classic example of female objectification for the male gaze?" She says, which makes him just Chuckle.

"Well you don't have to worry about that from me, these damn eyes I can't really see anything."

"Yes you can, you just have to open them, of course it would mean the death of every living being you set your eyes on." She said Dryly, he nods sadly but, with his gentlemen charm. Gives her a courtesy bow.

"Well, I'd burn this entire world to the ground just to see you." He says, and Wednesday for the moment just stares at him, unable to form a correct response to that lady killer line. He smiles and tries to be more comfortable.

"I mean it, Wednesday. You look beautiful." He says. Wednesday looks away. Showing her antisocial tendencies.

"You're Just saying that to make up for what you said."

"That, and I mean it.. you know it's rude to not look at people when you're talking to them. Cmon, look at me, please?" He asks, Wednesday, trying to not let emotion overtake her, turns to face him and he smiles.

"You really are drop dead gorgeous.." he says, there were no words exchanged, but the look Wednesday gave him spoke volumes, before she can say something, Eugene arrives.

"Wednesday, what's going on? What happened to staking out the cave?" He asks, seeing the two together.

"Sure, I get it. Guess I'll check out the woods myself."

"Don't go alone. It's too dangerous. Stand down. We'll go together tomorrow night, understood?" Wednesday says to him, and (Y/n) turns to her.

"Staking out the cave?" He asks, Wednesday walks off as (Y/n) follows to the Rav'N, who Enid has already attended with a, Normie? He looks at the Yeti statue, a bit perplexed.

"Is that an abominable snowman?" He asks.

"Oh my God! You can't say that, it's offensive! The correct name is Yeti." Enid explains.

"Oh, sorry. Do any go here?"

"Not anymore. They've been extinct since the 1950s. Our science teacher Ms. Thornhill chaired the dance committee this year. She wanted the Rave'N to feel relevant. So our theme is climate crisis meets extinction event. But in a fun way!"

He looks even more confused but accepts it, before they can continue, the couple of the century step in, the necks of many students turn their heads to see (Y/n) and Wednesday absolutely stealing the night. The murmurs of the peanut gallery come out.

"Wednesday totally busted out of her cocoon."

"Like a death's-head moth."

"(Y/n) isn't looking too bad either, he’s glowing with that smile.”

"I know like a, handsome nightlight."

"Do you see Bianca's face? She's not going to be happy."

"They're talking about us." (Y/n) says, as Wednesday analyses the room.

"Bianca's jealousy is just burning her up, seared salmon is pretty delicious." (Y/n) said as a jest.

"Hm." Wednesday had a small sound come from her lips, and (Y/n) turns to her.

"Did you just, laugh?"

"No, I don't laugh."

"Are you sure? That sounded like a chuckle..."

"No, I just found your joke about Bianca slightly humorous than all your other failed attempts."

"You just don't want to admit you find me the slightest bit funny?"

"I'd rather douse myself in gasoline before entering a burning building than do that." Wednesday replies deadpanned, which just makes (Y/n) smile more.

"Wednesday Addams." They hear Ms. Thornhill approach, "What a lovely surprise. Ms. Thornhill." Wednesday says, and Ms Thornhill looks at them.

"You two, a bunch of showstoppers! I'm so glad you decided to come along."

"It took me dragging her out of her room." (Y/n) says sarcastically, and Wednesday turns to the drinks. "I'm gonna go get us some drinks." Wednesday leaves as (Y/n) smiles, watching her go. Wednesday grabs a pair of drinks before Enid happily strolls over to her roomie.

"OMG! I love the look! Amazing choice of date too." Enid says looking at (Y/n), like a Wolf of The Wall Street. Wednesday turns to Enid.

"I'd say yours is.. more interesting." She says, as Enid tries to explain. "It's not what it looks like." She says.

"Good, because that pilgrim already is on my list." She said.

"Lucas is trying to make his ex jealous. I'm trying to make Ajax jealous. It's a win-win." She explains, and Lucas approaches, hands up.

"Wednesday, I come in peace." Lucas says.

"That's a shame. I brought my pocket mace. The medieval kind." She says, the dance continues as Wednesday watches along. (Y/n) is getting basically harassed by girls asking questions about his get up, happily directing them to Enid who did most of the work. Xavier walks up next to her,

"Can't believe you brought him."

"Why are you bringing this up? As if this dance weren't tedious enough."

"You don't know what he did to me." Xavier says, and Wednesday tilts her head a bit.

"Enlighten me."

Xavier spills his soap opera, to the slight interest of Wednesday, and now she intends to find her date, which (Y/n) was sitting down, Wednesday approached and sat next to him.

"Too man Yeti-tinis?" He asks smugly.

"Xavier told me what you did last year. How you destroyed his mural on Outreach Day." Wednesday said, and (Y/n) sighs, "Honestly? Well I guess you deserve to know the truth, last year we were part of the archery class, "Artists of Infamy." We won championships, did really well.. and In comes Bianca, she took him away from the team, started using her siren powers, he missed practice, Bombed on championship tournaments, and I.. took it out of him. And his mural." He explains, and Wednesday looks at him.

"What did you do to the mural?" Wednesday said.

"I.. might.. have sent a murder of crows to shit all over it. Weems couldn't prove it was me but, Xavier knew." He says sadly, Wednesday stares at him and sees his sadness.

"Did you think I was going to judge you over some lousy prank? I would have taken it further." She says, trying to cheer him up, but be vague about it. He just smirked and looks at her.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." He says smiling, and Wednesday felt, happy. The odd music hits (Y/n)'s ears and he stands up.

"Is that Goo Goo Muck? I love this! Cmon we have to go dance!" He says, without much surprise he takes her hand, excited. Wednesday sees the gleam in his face and is slowly melted by his child like innocence.

"Fine.." Wednesday yanks her hand away but follows him, it's dark in the ballroom but he can see Wednesday just fine. They stand across from each other, and he begins to dance, nothing too crazy, but his focus was on Wednesday, who just stares at him.

"When the sun goes down And the moon comes up I turn into a teenage goo goo muck." Wednesday begins to, dance? It was, unique, something that only She can truly do. (Y/n) can only watch the sound waves dance like a sonar with a smile, seeing her dance. Her focus was so, straightforward on (Y/n), he began to stop dancing and just watched her, smiling.

"Yeah, I cruise through the city And I roam the streets / Looking for something That is nice to eat / You better duck / When I show up"

Wednesday disappears into the smoke, (Y/n) feels a hand tap his shoulder, he turns to Wednesday who appears behind him.

"The goo goo muck"

(Y/n) was enthralled in all of this, and has to participate; He began to dance in perfect unison with Wednesday, trying to mimic her movements down to her slightest shift in momentum. Everyone watches the two, almost like a, mating dance.

"I'm the night headhunter Looking for some head / With a way-out body Underneath that head / Yeah, I'll get you, baby With a little luck / 'Cause I'm a teenage tiger And a goo goo muck / You better duck / When I show up / The goo goo muck / Yeah, the city is a jungle And I'm a beast / I want the most But I'll take the least / 'Cause I'm a goo goo muck tiger And a teenage beast / You better duck when I show up /

It was impossible to see during the lighting, during the dancing, but Wednesday had a small smile on her face, she was, enjoying herself, her company, her friend. As the dance ends, (Y/n) laughed and took her by the hands.

"I'm so glad, so glad you came with me." He says, and Wednesday felt the feeling in her chest again. She pulled away.

"My feet are killing me, and as interesting as that would be to see, I must take these shoes off." She says and walks away. He watches, smiling. Wednesday enters the hall to sit, where Bianca was sitting.

"Whoever invented high heels clearly had a side hustle as a torturer." Wednesday sat down to take off her shoes.

"As my dear mother always says, "Fire tests gold, suffering tests a woman." Bianca replies.

"Speaking of suffering, where's your date? I didn't see you and Xavier on the dance floor."

"We had a little tiff. About you, actually. You don't know what it's like."

"Being beautiful and popular?"

"Never knowing people's true feelings. If someone likes me for me." She admits, Bianca's ability as a siren always had the possibility of putting people in a trance. Never truly knowing if their feelings for her are genuine or from her powers.

"What about your amulet?" Wednesdays looks at it, hanging around Bianca's neck.

"It's not foolproof. It's a mild prophylactic, so to speak. That's why Xavier broke up with me. He could never fully trust me. The worst part is I could never trust his feelings either. I never knew if they were real or not. You're lucky."

"Do tell." Wednesday asks for explanation.

"You don't care what people think of you." Bianca said, which Wednesday considers. "That's why he likes you so much." She says, which piques Wednesdays interest.

"(Y/n)." Wednesday said and Bianca nods.

"Like he said, force of nature." Bianca chimes in, but Wednesday isn't as proud of herself as many would think.

"Honestly, I wish I cared a little more."

"It's time for the big finish. Yo! Almost eleven o'clockity, so haul it out on the dance floor one last time before the Rave'N says "Nevermore!" The DJ yells, Wednesday stands up and calmly walks over as (Y/n) is waiting, still smiling just as brightly, he begins to dance, but Wednesday isn't as up for it as him now, but it didn't matter, as long as she was there. He stops, and gets close to her.

"I really meant what I said, you really are beautiful." He says, smiling.

"Because I don't care about what people think about me?" She says, and he laughs and nods.

"Yes! Yes! You don't care what people think about you, I saw the way you danced, you didn't give a damn about what anyone thought. The way you carry yourself, the way you act. You don't do it to be "Creepy" or "Weird". You're you, and that's what I love so much about... you that you’re…You." He says, and those words spoke volumes to Wednesday. He slowly leans in, ready to place the final bow on this perfect night, before.

Red.

It began to drip on the ground, (Y/n) felt something hit his head and he and Wednesdays look around, it began to pour, everywhere! Blood red poured from the sprinkler system. People scream, feared for their lives, and just made a mess. (Y/n) saw the horror and dismay on peoples faces, he turned to Wednesday, and he actually saw it. A smile on her face. She was, enjoying this. And he felt his heart skip a beat seeing her truly smile. She tastes the odd liquid and her scowl returns.

"They couldn't even spring for real pigs' blood. It's only paint." she says, and (Y/n) sighs with relief.

"Thank God you had nothing to do with it—" he says before people begin to bump into them. One hits (Y/n) and he falls to his knees, and another bumps into Wednesday, causing a vision possibility, he feels her stiff like a corpse and he quickly stands up to catch her, she snaps out of it and looks at him.

"Wednesday! Are you okay?" He asks, she grabs his shirt.

"Eugene is in the woods. He's in danger. She says, before running off, he chases after her, calling for Eugene.

"Eugene!"

"Eugene! Eugene?"

(Y/n) sniffs the air and picks up a scent, it wasn’t pigs blood it was.. humans blood. He rushes to the strong scent and comes across him.

"Oh no.. Wednesday! Over here!" He yells and kneels down. Wednesday rushes over "Eugene? Eugene?" She says before seeing (Y/n) kneeling down over him, Eugene, bleeding, unresponsive. They both kneel down to do whatever they can but, they're just kids, (Y/n) turns his attitude to Wednesday.

"We have to find this monster... Now."

#netflix #male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams x reader #goo goo muck #enid sinclair #so cute #i shipped them so hard

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stobinesque · 11 months

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phryctoria | chapter 3: two by three (theta)

Sometimes your gay awakening is just having someone to show you it’s possible. Steve is confronted by the reality that there are dangers around him that have nothing to with monsters.

CW: References to the AIDS Epidemic, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia

[1][2][3][4][5][6 & 7] | [Read on AO3]

Usually it’s a mix of fairly boilerplate cover-up stories and commentary that doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. But occasionally, a wild conspiracy theory will slip through. They’re always somehow both immeasurably off the mark, and closer to the truth than the official party line.

Since Starcourt, though, everything has been woven through with sensationalist fear-mongering about satanic cults. More days than not, Steve ends up tossing the paper aside with a scoff and rolling eyes.

Today, though, one of the headlines catches his attention and dumps a bucket of ice water over his head.

AIDS Victim Begins School By Phone

The article itself is fairly short—a single column tucked off to the side of page 5—but Steve reads it with a racing heart and bated breath, despite its fairly generic reporting.

In the midst of all the extra-dimensional and foreign-adversarial threats—not to mention the added shock and thrill of Steve’s recent self-discovery—both he and Robin had somehow managed to forget about this more mundane danger.

His hands are shaking as he looks down at the paper, and his vision blurs out of focus.

Is it already in him? Has it been in him all along? Something festering that he needs to cut away?

The skin of his thighs itches with the need to be scraped apart. New scars to join the old. But—but he promised Robin—

—he wants to just pick up the phone and call her like he’s gotten used to doing over the past few weeks. But he can’t. She’s in school, and he can’t call the school because what would he even say? They wouldn’t pull her out of class because a random former student is calling because his—

—his breath is coming in short pants and he’s gonna collapse, he can’t—

He falls to the floor and flails around until he manages to get his back pressed up against a flat surface. He can’t discern anything about his surroundings with his vision still a mess. He takes in gasping breath after gasping breath, but he can’t get any air because there’s a fist around his lungs, around his heart. His ears are ringing and he feels like a part of himself has detached and floated away to two years ago in the Byers’ living room or last year in the junkyard or, or—

He squeezes his fists. Tries to recall the feeling of lacquered wood against his palms.

He doesn’t know what to do. Where to go. Who can he—?

He doesn’t know how he makes it to a phone, or how he gets his shaking hands to key in numbers, but he does, and it’s ringing and ringing and—

“Hello? Byers’ residence.” Joyce sounds mildly apprehensive. And Steve only knows a little of what November of 1983 was like for her, but he guesses that answering the phone to the sounds of a hyperventilating teenager on the other side probably isn’t her idea of a good time.

“Joyce,” he gasps out.

“Steve? What’s wrong, baby, what’s going on?” She sounds well and truly panicked now, but in a ready-to-grab-a-pitchfork-and-torch kind of way, because Joyce Byers has never met a problem she can’t bully her way through (it reminds him a little of Nancy). Something about the obvious care and concern in her voice pushes the tears that have been welling up over the edge to streak down his face.

“I— N-nothing— Just— Can’t—” he can only get in one word between breaths, so he sucks in a great big wheezing one to finish, “Can’t breathe!”

“Oh, honey. Okay, listen to the sound of my voice, alright, Steve? I want you to try to take in one great big breath, okay? So breathe in for a count of five with me.” He hears her take in a breath, and then start counting soft and slow. Like a heartbeat. He tries to follow, feeling his lungs expand as air rattles in his chest. “Good, that’s good,” she says. “Now hold that for five, four, three, two, one.” He holds his breath, feeling how it fills out the gaping cavity at the center of him. “And exhale for five, four, three, two, one.” Steve lets the breath out, and his heart still feels like it’s racing, but when Joyce tells him to breathe in again, he finds that he can. He sits against the wall, slowly sucking in breaths as Joyce talks him through it, and eventually the tears start to clear as well.

Right when his breathing is starting to even back out Joyce says, “Okay, Steve, can you name five things you can see for me right now?”

“What?” His brain can’t make sense of why she’d ask that.

“Just try it for me honey, alright?”

“Okay,” he says, throat feeling rough and dry. His vision has cleared enough for him to look around and see that he made it to the hall phone. “Hardwood floors,” he starts, twisting the phone cord around his finger. “The phone cord—uh, it’s blue.” He doesn’t know if he should be descriptive or not, so he figures he may as well throw it in. “I can see, uh, the refrigerator in the kitchen from where I’m sitting. And there’s a, um, vase of some kind of fake flower on this little side table down the hall. Does that last one count as two things?”

Joyce laughs a little, sounding relieved. “Sure it does, honey. Now can you name four things you can feel, or touch?”

“The phone cord,” he repeats automatically, still looping it around his fingers. “and the receiver against my ear, it’s, uh, cool, and smooth. And I can feel the collar of my shirt pressing against the back of my neck. And, uh, my hair brushing against my forehead.”

“Okay, okay. You’re doing so well, Steve. You got three things you can hear for me?”

“Uh.” His left ear has been a bit wonky for months, and it’s hard to get any sound to register in it on a good day, and he’s got the phone receiver pressed up against his right, so he really can’t make out anything except— “I can hear you breathing,” he tells Joyce. And then he switches the side the receiver’s on and strains himself to figure out what other sounds he can pick out. “I think I can hear a few cars on the road outside? And the air conditioner in the house.” He switches the receiver back to his right ear.

“Alright, Steve,” Joyce says with an encouraging determination—reminiscent of a coach pulling someone off the bench in the final moments of a game. “Now give me two things you can smell.”

Steve lets his eyes slip closed as he takes in a big breath. “Farrah Fawcett hairspray,” he says, blushing a little. Joyce just laughs loud, and happy, like he’s startled it out of her, and he’s happy that he’s been able to make her laugh so much in spite of everything. He thinks she probably doesn’t get to that enough.

“So that’s your secret,” she says.

“You take that to your grave, Joyce.”

“Of course!” She says, sounding a little conspiratorial. “One other thing you can smell?”

Steve takes in another breath. His sense of smell has never been great, and it’s only gotten worse with each successive concussion, but he tries his best to pick up on anything aside from the hairspray he used this morning. He takes a sniff at the polo he has on today and says “Uh, my shirt, I guess? It smells kind of…lemony?” He thinks that might be from the body wash he uses.

“Good, good. Now one thing you can taste.”

“The coffee I had this morning before going to pick up Robin.” The remnants of it are bitter on his tongue.

“Alright. How’re you feeling, Steve?”

“Better,” he answers, and is surprised by how readily it comes—and that it’s not even a lie. His heart has slowed down, and he’s breathing easy again without having to concentrate on it. “How did you know to do that?” He and Robin can usually talk each other down from these bouts of panicky hyperventilation they both get, but it takes much longer, and often gets a lot worse before it gets better.

“It’s something Dr. Owens taught me to do with Will early on after he got back. It didn’t always work, because his episodes weren’t actually panic attacks, in the end, but there were times when it seemed to settle him back down after a bad dream.”

“Panic attacks?” Steve asks. He hasn’t heard the term before.

“Yeah, Steve. I’m pretty sure that’s what you were having.”

“Oh.”

“Do you get them a lot?”

Steve rubs and rolls the cord between his fingers again. “Uh, sometimes? More, now. After Starcourt.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them are silent for a while. Silence over the phone is always a little weird to Steve, when he can’t see the other person’s face to guess at how they’re feeling. But right now it’s not bothering him too much.

“After Will came back…Doctor Owens said he could have something called post-traumatic stress. At this point, I think we all probably do.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” The way she asks sounds like she’s just as prepared to take a ‘no’ as a ‘yes,’ but is offering him the space if he needs it.

“I…I don’t know. It wasn’t actually about…” he makes a vague gesture to encompass ‘all of this’, even though he knows she can’t see it. “Wasn’t about Upside Down shit, or Russians, or monsters.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t talk about it,” Joyce says, too kindly.

Steve grimaces. He’s pretty sure of all the adults he has reason to cross paths with that Joyce Byers is the most likely to not be terrible about this but… “I don’t know if I can,” he whispers, sounding choked up again.

Steve thinks maybe she can hear some of the fear in it, because when she talks again she’s switched back into the sort of gentling tone that she’d used when he was still actively panicking. “I know we don’t really know each other that well, Steve, and I know that you and Jonathan have your history.” Steve winces. “But I’ve seen how you are with the boys—and with Max and El—and I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that would make me trust you any less with them, or with Will, okay?”

Steve rubs a hand through his hair and lets out a whooshing breath. “Okay.” The line falls quiet again, and he thinks Joyce is giving him space to either speak up, or ask her to move on. “Have you, um, heard about Ryan White?”

Joyce, to her credit, takes the change of subject in stride. “I have,” she says, her tone considering. “I’ve been following along, actually. Reminds me of Will, a little.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees on an exhale. “Well, uh, I was reading a story about him today and I…I just remembered, all of a sudden, that there are things that could kill me besides monsters and Russian spies.”

“And for some reason that was scarier?” Joyce doesn’t sound judgmental. She sounds exactly like she gets it, actually.

Steve laughs, humorlessly. “Yeah. Can’t take a nail bat to a disease.”

“No, you can’t.”

Silence falls again, and this one feels final, though it still doesn’t chafe. “Joyce?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“Thank you. I don’t…I don’t even really know why I called, it was just…”

“The only number you thought would get an answer?” Again, she doesn’t sound judgmental, or accusatory. It’s all just easy understanding that feels almost impossible to believe. She gives of herself so much and so freely, and Steve has never known an adult willing to do that for him before.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m always willing to pick up the phone for you, Steve. Anytime you need.”

Steve nods, “Thank you, Joyce.”

“Anytime, honey.”

Steve hangs up first, not wanting to hear the empty dial tone echoing in his ear. He presses his head back against the wall and feels at once heavier and lighter than he had before.

Notes:

For anyone who doesn’t know, Ryan White was a teenager with hemophilia from Kokomo, Indiana, and who contracted AIDS from a blood transfusion in the early 80s. He was diagnosed late in 1984, and was initially too ill to return to school. When he attempted to return for the 1985-86 school year, he was barred from doing so by the school (and later the Superintendent), and accommodations were made for him to listen to his classes over the phone. The White family filed a lawsuit to overturn the school’s decision, which resulted in a months-long legal battle that eventually ended with Ryan being permitted to return to school the spring of 1986. The family ultimately ended up moving to Cicero, Indiana after repeated threats of violence in Kokomo. Ryan’s story and the White family’s advocacy helped to shift and destigmatize national perceptions of AIDS, though the family had to continuously push back against framings of Ryan as an “innocent” victim of the epidemic relative to people with AIDS who were gay and/or IV drug users. The article title in the fic is pulled from an AP article that ran on his first day of school that year, August 26, 1985. Similar articles ran on August 24, 1985 as well as August 26, 1985 in Greencastle, Indiana’s Banner-Graphic.

#steve harrington #gay steve harrington #read writes #phryctoria #semiotics 'verse

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cloudofash · 1 year

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Kingdom Hearts 4 - Thoughts, Predictions and Ramblings

I've had a mountain of thoughts collecting in my brain since Melody of Memory but I never could find a way to express them properly. Before I knew it UX had ended, Dark Road came and ended and now Missing Link is on it's way and the only thing I can think is how this all ties together and will lead into Kingdom Hearts 4 and the series going forward. I decided not to wait any longer, sorry if I can't present a coherent post here but I'd rather get all these thoughts out than let them fester any longer! 😆

Melody of Memory

Thanks to MoM's ending we know Riku ventures to Quadratum alone to find Sora, Kairi stays behind to train with Aqua and Donald and Goofy head to the Underworld to most likely ask Hades about Sora's whereabouts.

With Riku, I predict we'll get a Dream Drop style in KH4 where we switch back and forth between him and Sora, though I doubt they'll drop this time and will be very much awake. (Soriku stans we in there ayeee!! DDD 2!!).

If Yozora stands in Sora's way (whether initually or eventually) and traps him in crystal as the bad ending of Limit Cut suggested, that means Riku will most likely be the one to free him. And booooy the implications that has, especially when you consider Disney films like Atlantis the Lost Empire and Frozen where the main character had to fight for their loved one to free them from their frozen state. It would be a glorious parallel and would make for a tender moment between the two, something I believe is much needed after Riku was left out of sharing the Paopu Fruit and his rescue was forgotten by Sora. Not to mention Riku himself believed nothing he did was enough for Sora, not becoming a Keyblade Master, nor becoming a leader amongst his peers or even connecting himself to Sora and dreaming of his exact location for a year after being lost. Riku needs affirmation that he's needed by Sora, and Sora needs a reminder of who his Light is.

I love the idea of Kairi making potential friends outside the trio, thus I love the idea of her spending time with and possibly bonding with Aqua. Hopefully after their training sessions, Kairi will finally become a Team Player no longer dumped to the side. I think this will give her character the desperate boost it needs.

And finally, thanks to context from Dark Road we now know the dead can be contacted from the Underworld. However, I feel only those whose hearts are in The Final World can be contacted, not those whose hearts transferred to the other side of reality. I'd be surprised if Hades could reach hearts even on the opposite side of reality, but I won't completely rule it out. The Underworld could become useful for contacting Nameless Star in the future so they don't have to keep traveling to The Final World, and her human form may be revealed here (as we saw in Dark Road, the dead reappear in their original human forms rather than in the Final World's transparent stars). I expect that her human form won't look the same as her Quadratum form since it appears the "Somebody" who unalived her took "everything about her" which may include her original body, similarly to how Yozora's body was also taken and his heart was replaced.

Only time will tell and I can't wait for KH4 to come! When the next trailer drops I'll probably melt into a bowl of ice cream.🫠

Dark Road / Missing Link

Dark Road had a LOT of content in it but what I want to take away most from it for future titles is reincarnation (player character) and family lineages (Xehanort being Ephemer's great-great grandson or so) which we know will be touched upon in Missing Link (per an interview with Nomura). This can lead to an interesting dynamic between all the characters as we discover who comes from what lineage and which characters may even be distant relatives.

Aside from Xehanort, everyone else's lineage is up in the air aside from one other character, Riku. If the Crown Necklace Theory proves true then that means Riku, who had the Crown Necklace since he was a baby, is of royal blood through one of his parents or at least a descendant of a prestigious family. Given his silver hair and blue eyes, the only line I can imagine he comes from is Ephemer's. And this is also shown through Xehanort who descends from Ephemer and is also constantly represented with a crown.

If Ephemer's line are represented by crowns it's fair to assume he and his descendants are considered "royalty". And what could this mean for Riku in KH4 and the future? As Kingdom Hearts characters are constantly represented by Chess Pieces, the Ephemer descendants are the King pieces of the story so to speak. It all adds up when you consider Riku was not only initially the Keyblade's Chosen and the initial bearer of the Crown Necklace but now Yozora has seemingly come into the series as the opposite King on the chest board from the dimension of fantasy. And who does Yozora resemble most? Riku. Learning Riku's lineage is important as it could very well further point to Riku being the "True King" of the Kingdom Hearts dimension. It'd all tie together. But I have a theory on the Verum Rex, Falsus Rex discussion that I will save for a future time.

Aside from Riku, there aren't any other characters with even a hint about who they might be.

The only other candidate for Royalty is Kairi, not only being a Princess of Heart but she was raised in a castle by her Grandmother who may have been Queen of Radiant Garden, or they were at least of a high social class. If Kairi also comes from Royalty, is it the same Royal line as Ephemer's descendants? Her relationship with Xehanort seems to have started when she was only 4, he chose her as the vessel who would find and connect with the Keyblade Wielder for a reason. It would be interesting if he chose Kairi due to her being from his family line. The only evidence I have that points Kairi to being a Descendant lf Ephemer aside from possibly being royalty is that her Grandmother is the one who retells the story of how the Dandelions scattered across the worlds in search of light. Her Grandmother may have learned that from her ancestors, one being Ephemer, but it's also possible it was just a common children's story told to everyone regardless of lineage. But all of this assumes she descends from Ephemer and not a potential secondary Royal line. Her family is only from Radiant Garden as far as we know not Scala ad Caelum/Daybreak Town so it's very possible she has nothing to do any of the Dandelions and simply descends from the (speculated) Radiant Garden Royal family. Only time will tell and I'm very excited to learn more about her and her family.

As for Sora, there are no hints about his family lineage at all, aside from one line from his mother far back in KH1 we don't know anything about his father or any other family members (if we don't focus on the manga which mentions his uncle). He doesn't have a crown necklace of his own like Riku, he doesn't come from a castle like Kairi so we can assume he doesn't come from any Royalty. For Sora, I can only make an educated guess and I think he may come from Brain's line. If Xehanort and Riku come from Ephemer's line and Eraqus is rumored to have come from Brain's line, then I would expect Sora to also come from Brain's line since Eraqus is to Xehanort what Sora is to Riku, in a sense.

Also in learning which characters descend from which line, we can discover who is related to who. If Riku does in fact also directly descend from Ephemer then that would mean he and Xehanort are relatives - distant cousins. And the same would be true for Eraqus and Sora if they both descend from Brain. And if Kairi descends from either of these lines, that would make her a distant relative of either Sora or Riku. Her being distant cousins with Riku would be very interesting to their relationship, but her being distant cousins with Sora...well, talk about awkward.

But I'm jumping way ahead here. We'll have to wait for Missing Link to come out to see who comes from what family and I absolutely can't wait to see how it all plays out and how it ties to the plot of Kingdom Hearts 4 and the series' future!

#kingdom hearts #sora #riku #kairi #missing link #kh missing link #kingdom hearts heritage #kingdom hearts family lines

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ihidemydemons20 · 1 year

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Since S1 I’ve shipped jiara and since ep1 from s1 I’ve had one major question and one major theory regarding them. JJ says to JB ‘I know that doors locked caused I’ve tried it before’ which brings up so many questions of when did he try with Kie, why did he try with Kie and what was her reaction to it that made him believe she wasn’t interested when clearly we can see there is and was interest there?

So I’ve had a head cannon for quite awhile now and since we may be getting flashbacks this season to the Kook Year I figured I’d share it cause it lines up.

Firstly it starts with Kie desperately wanting to fit in at Kook school, cause obviously who wants to be an outcast, but she hasn’t let go of the Pogues yet and she can’t be both and it’s hurting her, so jump to a Kook/Pogue party on the beach (same as we saw in S1) Kie is trying to join Sarah and the Kooks conversations but is still hesitant about what she can say to relate with them. The Pogues are trying to catch up with Kie but she’s been dodging them all night, they haven’t hung out in weeks and any texts just get a one word response so they’re trying to find her.

Meanwhile JJ has had a realisation, while Kie has been away he’s figured out how much he misses her, more than a friend, and it’s taken him weeks to build up the courage to try and tell her how he feels cause in classic JJ he doesn’t believe he’s worthy.

Kie, John B and Pope have some sort of blow up, her saying she can’t be friends with them anymore, I’m sure tons of misunderstandings and hurt feelings all around based on the fact that Kie can’t be two things at once and everyone (her parents) are expecting too much in regards to the Kook Academy. With Kies friendship with the Pogues destroyed she is finally going to approach and hang with Sarah (who in my mind has already extended the invitation but since Kie was still stuck on Pogue life the others in the group were not convinced).

As Kie heads to the Kooks JJ stops her and attempts to explain how he feels but Kie is distracted and not really listening, JJ is also explaining it poorly, stumbling over his words and maybe coming across as classic flirty Jk instead of sincere the way he wants to (from what we’ve seen of JJ he rarely gives his deep feelings which means it’s likely this is the first time he’s ever tried to tell a girl he actually likes them and doesn’t just want to sleep with them) Kie thinks JJ is just joking around and shuts him down, despite her having feelings for JJ for quite some time she never believed he’d genuinely like her cause he’s super cool and relaxed and she’s ‘part kook’ so how could he ever actually like her? Especially since it was highly likely JJ and Kie took the longest to be friends since JJ hates kooks and would have had preconceived ideas about Kie.

Kie doesn’t let JJ finish and he thinks that’s her rejecting him and ‘locking the door’ while she thinks he’s just looking for a good time and joking. Kie walks away to the Kooks and JJ goes back to the Pogues to hear Kie basically doesn’t want to be friends with them anymore (as per her fight with JB and Pope) which makes his sadness turn to anger and while Kie spends her whole year trying to be an alternative Kook version of herself, JJ let’s his anger fester at her abandonment (an act JJ would struggle much more than the others to forgive) which then leads to when Kie comes back after the mess with Sarah blows up in her face and Big John disappears to JJ being the last and hardest person to win over.

In my head cannon JJ forgives Kiara shortly before the show starts (which is why they seem to be close but hesitant around each other in s1 while the others have gotten over it, but then jiara are closer than anyone by s2, they’ve gotten back to normal) but by this point both of them still have feelings but JJ believes Kie could never like him back and has told him no and Kie believes JJ could never seriously like her either so they both ignore it (until s3 of course!)

Just my little head cannon of what JJ meant by trying the door before, also pretty sure based on context clues, Kie did freshman year in Kildare then did sophomore year in the Kook academy, s1 takes places in the final few weeks of summer before junior year(pretty sure they’re meant to be 16) s2 is when junior year starts and Kie is back in Kildare. The timeline is a little messy cause when we see them in s2 it’s kind of suggested a least a week or two has passed but later in the season it only takes JB and Sarah two days? To get back to OBX from the Bahamas so technically the gap between s1 and 2 should only be a few days max which means s1 had to take place in the last two weeks of summer break.

#jiara #outer banks #obx #obx3 #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jiara outer banks #headcanon

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u23art · 2 years

Text

A LOOK AT TALES OF ARISE (Spoilers)

A Look at Tales of Arise (Spoilers)

I bought this game upon it’s release, I didn’t finish it until a year later. It wasn’t hard, I just failed the test of patience that is this game. Tales of Arise is Namco Bandai’s latest entry into the long running Tales of series after a five year wait since Tales of Berseria in 2016. Improved visuals, improved combat, improved cinematics, a true step into the current generation of consoles. To an extent, this is all true. Character models look good, combat does offer a little bit more dimension than previous entries, cinematics throughout do have a larger sense of scale and stakes. However, with everything that was gained, something was lost. But first, the plot. There are two planets (Rena and Dahna), one is aristocratic and the other is enslaved. You play as an amnesiac slave who’s head is sealed in an iron mask and he feels no pain, he meets a lady who sends pain through people’s bodies with a mere touch but never takes advantage of that during combat. They’re a match made in heaven and go throughout the world to free the slaves, get some party members such as a Lord, a knight, a kung fu goober and a witch; then solve some mysteries. To sum up all of my problems with the story and the characters, there’s a distinct lack of leg work put in to convey struggle, this results in scenes that parade a narrative highpoint or emotional breaking point but instead come off as quick, contained drama.

A prime example of this; the oppressive society enslaving the Dahnans has seemingly no procedures to handle uprisings or the heads of the different houses stand aside because they want the competition eliminated. So dismantling the aristocracy and slavery doesn’t bring with it a sense of triumph as one would hope since the circumstances in hindsight are very much in the protagonist’s favor. And each chunk of story is neatly separated from the rest, there are narrative through lines, such as Law acting as a rejection of his Father’s choices, Rinwell wanting revenge for the death of her parents or Vholran showing up regularly to antagonize or act as a sort of rival character. But, Law’s Dad drama is resolved within the segment he’s introduced; given no time to fester, the motivation for Rinwell’s anger is told instead of shown and is resolved as stereotypically as you can expect from a weak revenge story, and Vholran shows up so sparingly, has so little to contribute and never challenges the protagonist’s views in any way; ultimately failing as a villain and a rival. Then there is Kisara, the loyal guard of Renan Lord Dohalim. Her motivations to be a good person stem from her Brother who comes and goes in single chunk of story. He never does anything particularly interesting or exciting, he dies and Kisara spends the rest of the game talking about her Brother in every side conversation. In theory, this may seem like emotional transparency or opening up to her comrades, but an emotional foundation of nothing is still nothing. And I wish she would shut up about her Brother. Oh, also aliens show up at the butt end of the game, peppered in for a little last minute flavor and razzle dazzle. They didn’t have a whole lot to say or do, they just seem to exist to connect the villains throughout the game to game’s final boss and they’re never mentioned again.

Moving on to combat

It certainly isn’t Devil May Cry, but it could at least be Tales of Berseria. Combos are crude as you switch between basic attacks and the 3 special attacks. It does become monotonous, and the monotony does get accentuated by the lengthy battles since enemies have greater amounts of health than compared to your damage output as you go to each new area. Some boss fights are broken, specifically the ones that spammed desperation attacks. I hated that, but it’s all over now, they can’t hurt me anymore. A little more party customization would have been nice, such as the option of member placement so that they can stay out of the way when enemies are smacking them into the ground; an order telling them to stay back. This was an option in previous games. Lastly, too many particle effects. They can get so intense and take up the view so much that it’s disorienting. On the subject of the maps, they look good but not well designed with a lot of horizontal traversal with little verticallity, but that’s been an issue throughout the 3D Tales games so that issue isn’t exclusive to Arise. And lastly, there are the improved visuals. Environments look great. Character models look better, hair is more elaborate than in past games. Though I’d still debate that there’s a miscommunication between the world building and the character designs. The biggest offender being Alphen, despite the circumstances we find him in when we meet him, the only sign of physical abuse is present on his clothes. He got the light slavery, not a single scar on him. Afterwards, his canon outfits suffer from excessive design, elaborate but lacking in substance. Shionne’s frilly outfit is overly designed in the sense that it’s hardly something to wear on an adventure. And Law…Law’s default outfit is stupid, with his poofy pants and his decorative wolf head. Thankfully, I can change characters into the less distracting outfits, so that circumvents that problem. All in all, I don’t have any love for this game. I found it draining, and when given an opportunity to finish the game instead of fighting 5 cranked up bosses to unlock a fast travel point, I assessed how many healing items I had and tried my luck. I didn’t want to listen to anymore dialogue, everyone in this game speaks in exposition, not once did I feel anyone was having a conversation. This facet was not helped by the stilted delivery of the voice actors, F- for the voice director. There are two, count’em, TWO saving graces to this game. Dohalim, is a character who is most effected by the shifting status quote, he has a character arc, he seeks redemption, he has musical hobbies, he’s like…a good character. With a few tweaks he could be a great character. So I spent my time playing this game wondering; “Why couldn’t this game be about HIM?!”. He was a shining light in the bleakness of this game. Also Hootle, I could never be upset with an owl. In summation, certainly a lot of ingredients in this dish, but none of them are working in tandem. Arise had plots similar to ones I’ve seen in Symphonia and Abyss, but not as good and lacking in emotional nuance. So despite the fact Namco Bandai have seemingly been parading this game around like some kind of triumph, I can only hope they build upon this game like a foundation for future projects. Make a story and script that can lend themselves well to design and performances, resulting in a game that I want to hold close to my heart.

Cause Arise is not that sort of game.

#Tales of Arise

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suguwu · 3 years

Text

maw

"I'm afraid I'll eat them, sometimes," you whisper.

"I know," he says, curling a big hand around your nape, cupping your skull. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. "I know."

You think he's the only one who does.

notes: me writing someone other than nanami? it's more likely than you'd think. i lowkey felt possessed when i wrote the meat of this in a frenzy in my tumblr drafts. the getou & consumption brainrot is real. this isn't even my getou wip. god. do not perceive me.

pairing: getou suguru x afab reader

wc: ~2k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, jjk manga spoilers (gojo's past arc), pre-canon but with aged up characters (college au), afab reader (no pronouns used), canon-typical blood & gore, canonical minor character deaths, brief religious references, reader has a (somewhat vague) innate technique, said innate technique swallows up some corpses at some points, cannibalism (in a nightmare), fingering, smut, non-linear timeline. let me know if i missed anything!

It was only ever Suguru.

Later, you'll hear all the different theories as to where you went so wrong: you are a lamb led astray, unaware of the sharp-toothed grin closing slow around you; you ate the apple straight from his hand, lips glistening and tongue wrapping slick around his fingertips, the crimson skin of it catching between your teeth, till your smile was only bloodied, pulpy gums; the gluttony of the insatiable maw of your technique drove you mad.

But it was only ever him.

Just a man with a sunset smile, something slow that filled the sky, that painted the world with color. Just a man with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

(Just a man with rot laid heavy on his tongue, pulsing black and pungent, little veins of blight uncurling to slip down his throat, into his belly, to fester and keep.

If you swallow someone else's sins, you wonder, must you atone too?)

There was no trickery, no seduction, no madness.

It was just Suguru.

The elders send you to wade through what he leaves in his wake.

The gore of it feels endless—sticky tide pools of blood thick with bone splinter coral and shattered teeth shells. The metal tang scent of it scrapes sharp over you. Settles heavy on your tongue.

"It's too much," you say, shaking your head, your fingers trembling, twitching. "I can't—"

"You will," the manager says, her voice kind. Her eyes are flint.

You do.

You unleash your innate technique and let it swallow all 112 of them, those scattered bodies broken beyond belief. Make the blunt teeth of your cursed energy crack their bones smaller still. You fold them into yourself. You grind them into powder.

You are the mortar, you are the pestle.

Their cursed energy wells up inside you. Bloats you. You itch to siphon it off, your fingertips trembling with it. The energy's wrong in you—doesn't fit inside your skin.

Sometimes it feels like there's no room left for you in your own body.

You think of Suguru, of the curses he's consumed, and wonder how much of himself he's had to tuck away. If he feels small inside his skin too.

It's too late to ask him now.

"So you're the one that's basically a garbage disposal," Gojo says to you. "Kinda gross."

He eyes you over the rim of his sunglasses, a flash of incandescent starlight blue. He's got a lanky arm propped up on his knee and enough cursed energy to give you a headache.

You've known him for all of two minutes.

"I'm sorry," Getou says politely, looking pained. He shoves at Gojo subtly, but the white-haired man doesn't even budge. "We're still socializing him."

Shoko snorts.

You've heard all sorts of things about the college's trio of first years. Gojo's legendary, his power bordering on the divine. Getou's not far behind him, the two of them a binary star, celestial bodies brought down to earth. Shoko may not measure up to them in power, but she's rare, her fingers tipped in holiness, her touch razor sharp.

(Healing isn't always kind.)

You know what they've heard about you.

"It's fine," you say, the words bitter on your tongue. "He's not wrong."

When you walk away, none of them try to stop you.

Getou lingers at the edge of the dissolving curtain, his tall frame a shadowed smear against the early morning light.

He'd shown up moments after you'd finished with the Grade One, no traces of it left behind except for the cursed energy swelling in you, testing the limits of your being. You hadn’t called for backup, but he’s here anyway.

(The elders doubt you, sometimes.

Hunger is hard to contain.)

He looks up as you say goodbye to the auxiliary manager, and when your gazes meet, his eyes are dark, endless like the night sky. He tilts his head.

It's only then, with his eyes slow on your skin, a molasses drip of attention, that you realize that he's waiting for you.

He slips his phone into his pocket as you join him. You see the way his gaze drifts over your jittering fingers.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," you say. "Sorry they sent you out for nothing."

He smiles. The edges of it flirt with being genuine, a break in his polite veneer. "It's fine. You did a good job."

"Thanks," you say flatly.

Getou winces. It's small, just a flicker, but every sorcerer deals in the smallest of details. You don't know what he sees on your face, but at least it keeps him from apologizing.

Instead, he presses something into your hand. His fingertips linger on your palm.

"Here," he says. "I have some extra gum. It helps, sometimes."

You pause.

"Thank you," you say. "But um—I actually don't taste anything. That's not how my technique works."

He stills. His expression doesn't change, but suddenly he's closed off like a storm window, nothing leaking through. You hadn't noticed the soft glow of quiet, hungry vulnerability until it was gone.

"Oh," he says. "I just assumed. But gum is gum, y'know. I hear it's for everyone."

"Yeah," you say. "Can't argue with that."

His eyes crinkle with his smile.

The gum's cinnamon. Spiced and stinging.

The two of you walk back to the dorms together. That openness returns to his face—fainter than before, more of a guttering candle instead of a soft fireplace glow—as you talk. You can feel yourself unfurling, just a bit, an early spring flower starting to open. Your hands keep brushing, skin against skin.

The bright burn of cinnamon lingers on your tongue for hours.

Haibara dies.

It's Nanami that carries him back.

You and Suguru meet him at the campus entrance. You have to convince him to let go of Haibara's body. He's held him so tight that he's bruised him, little purple nebulae smeared swirling across cold skin.

Nanami won't let you touch Haibara, so it's Suguru who takes the body, who lays it out on a gleaming metal table.

(You know Nanami is in shock. That he's shaken to the bone, cut to the quick, that his friend's blood is flaking from underneath his nails as it dries. But that he didn't even trust you to touch Haibara's body—

You consider slipping onto the autopsy table too.

Maybe you should let them cut your rib cage open, let them peel you apart like a clementine. Maybe they can find the maw inside of you that they're all so afraid of and seal it shut.)

You sleep in Suguru's room that night, pressed close on his shitty dorm bed. It's a twin, too small for both of you, but you think you'll lose yourself if you have any space to shake apart.

You dream of Haibara's bones cracking under your blunt teeth, the splintering marrow scoring your cheeks, stabbing through them. You eat your way through his sternum, his blood warm on your cheeks, dripping down your chin. Crunch down on his tendons, catch his muscle in your teeth. Strip his bones clean.

Suguru is soft with sleep when he shakes you awake. Moonlight plays over his skin like a lover. His hair is loose, drapes ebony over his shoulder, pools shadowy on the pillow. He presses his forehead against yours, breathes against your lips, takes in your air and makes it his own.

"I'm afraid I'll eat them, sometimes," you whisper.

"I know," he says, curling a big hand around your nape, cupping your skull. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. "I know."

You think he's the only one who does.

Shoko, Suguru, and Gojo come to the exchange event in Kyoto.

(First years can't compete, but Yaga weighs the risk of leaving those three alone on campus and promptly brings them with you. They're young adults, but that doesn't outweigh the havoc that Gojo alone can wreak. Suguru pretends to be better, but that's all it is—pretend.)

It's just you and Akira for your year. There are four third years, too. Liabilities, really, but it doesn't matter.

You chew your way through Kyoto's students.

"Okay," Gojo says, peering at the swath of destruction you leave in your wake. "Not a garbage disposal. A blender, maybe."

He almost sounds impressed.

But it's Suguru you can't look away from.

Suguru and the composure that cloaks him, that rolls over him like morning mist as he congratulates you softly.

But his eyes give him away.

They're pitch dark. Vast and encompassing, endless like the outer reaches of space. Beautiful in the terrifying understanding in them.

He says nothing.

You kiss him under the massive camphor tree when you're back on campus, bleary with affection and the long drive back. He slips a hand to your nape. Cradles you close, his fingers pressing greedy into you.

Cinnamon burns fierce on your tongue.

Fushiguro Toji spins everything on its head.

He takes Suguru apart with terrible ease.

He kills Amanai. He kills Gojo.

Gojo doesn't stay dead.

Amanai does.

The scale starts to tip.

Suguru likes to take you apart with his long, pretty fingers. He's slow and teasing, dipping his fingertip just inside your hole, just enough for the stretch of it to ricochet up your spine and into your head, where it settles fuzzy and overwhelming. He smears your slick over your puffy cunt, thumbing at your clit to see you jolt with it. When he sinks his fingers deep, opens you around them, he watches your body swallow them with his pupils blown wide. He curls them up against your sweet spot until you're crying with it, fat tears beading crystalline on your lashes.

He tells you that you have a pretty cunt, that you're gripping his fingers like you can't bear to let go. That you're soaked. That he knows you'll be tight around him, that you'll take him so well.

His cock is long and pretty, flushed red at the tip, glistening with precum. He drops his head into the crook of your neck as you wrap your fingers around the girth of it, as you stroke him slow and steady. His breath is hot and damp against your skin. There's color high in his cheeks, and he drags you into a kiss that's more a smear of your lips.

Suguru pushes into your cunt with a punched-out noise. The stretch of him sears through you, each slow inch knocking you breathless. He drinks down your moan, lets it pour down his throat like wine.

He makes space for himself inside of you. Murmurs your name like it's the only thing he's ever tasted. He's thick in you, heavy in you. He fills you.

You cup his cheek as he fucks into you, a hard drive of his hips that fractures into lightning under your skin. He twines his fingers through yours, pins your hand back above your head. His eyes glint obsidian in the low light. He pushes deep, his hips flexing. He grinds into you until you're gripping at his lean bicep to try and ground yourself.

He scrapes his teeth down the column of your throat, nips at your collarbone. You feel his lips forming words against the salt plane of your skin. They're lost in the wet sounds of his cock sliding slick into your cunt, but you think you know them anyway.

You wrap a leg around his hips and pull him in closer. Let him sink deeper.

For the first time in your life, swallowing someone up feels good.

He finds you a scant two weeks after you walk through the boneyard he made. You're hidden away in a quiet bookshop on the outskirts of Tokyo, tucked between cobalt blue shelves with books piled high in a system long forgotten. The claustrophobic press of the shelves is the only thing holding you together.

You look up, and he's there.

(You can still feel the faintest hint of his residuals inside you, lingering under your skin, pulsing in your veins. Of all the cursed energy you've eaten, his has always lingered longest.

His has always been the energy you keep.)

You think you can taste cinnamon, sharp on your tongue, a slice of cold fire.

He doesn't ask. He simply holds out a hand to you, palm up.

An altar and an offering alike.

You reach out and take his hand.

It's just Suguru.

It always has been.

#jjk x reader #getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk imagines #bee writes #bee writes jjk #blood tw #gore tw #death tw #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #not.sfw #back at it again with the minimal dialogue lmao

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :) Part 8

News gets out and everyone handles it calmly and respectfully.

First< Previous >Next

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

“Hi Tom, Sabine, how are you,” Selina gives a fake smile, not waiting for them to answer, “So Marinette's in town,”

“Yes is something wrong?” Tom asks worriedly.

“No nothing is wrong,” If you didn’t count the villain attacking the pool yesterday as wrong, “It’s just um, you know how I never told you who her father was?”

“Yes,”

“Well, apparently Gotham didn’t need the help and figured it out pretty much immediately,”

“So does that mean we finally get to be in the loop?” Tom’s eyes sparkle, he had always bothered her for the identity of his adopted daughter's father.

“Oh no one special, you probably haven’t heard of him,” They most certainly have, “Bruce Wayne?”

“... You dated Bruce Wayne?” The man who had become like a brother to her asks.

“I’m actually engaged to him now,” that already sounded so complicated and it wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. How did her life become so complicated? Well, at least she had managed to keep Marinette from it, well at least for a while.

“Congratulations!” He booms, “Oh what's the theme? We'll make you a cake! Wait no we cant send it by plane… what am I talking about! We’ll come to Gotham to make it! Unless it’s a destination wedding? A beach might be hard but I’m always up for a challenge,”

“Tom, Tom, it’s exciting I know,” Where did Marinette fall on the nature vs nurture scale? Because these two reacted exactly the same way, “But we have bigger problems right now!”

“What's the matter, Selina?” Sabine asks with motherly concern, much better than Selina could ever hope to manage.

“People figured it out… pretty much the second she stepped into Gotham at that,” Selina sighs, “The press is going crazy with theories, paparazzi basically stalking Marinette, Bruce is trying to talk to her about it … and he saw me with her, he knows somethings up,”

“Do you think it’s time we spilled the beans?” Tom asks, calming down from his wedding excitement, “Marinette's always known she was adopted but…”

“Not that I’m her mother? Yeah,” Silence hangs in the air for a while, the screen being the only source of light in her dark safe house, “You know I can try and work through this, no one has to know,”

“Hm…. if you think it’s best,” Sabine nods, before looking to her husband, “But if you want or need to tell people this would be the time,”

“Is… is that alright with you?”

“We love Marinette, and we know she’ll still love us no matter what, if our little family wants to grow then we should let it!” Tom exclaims, she should have known they would be fine with it, always so accepting that's one of the reasons she chose them to take care of her daughter.

“I’ll think about it,” She promises, cutting off the call to be alone with her thoughts.

Apparently her biggest hurdle was actually plucking up the courage to tell everyone. She thought she should at least tell Marinette, but lo and behold here they were in the Wayne manor waiting to hold a meeting about how to handle the rumor and Marinette is still in the dark. Well, she has no other choice but to commit now, try and get Marinette through her trip and out of the city without anyone being the wiser. Hell, she had kept the world's greatest detective from knowing for all these years surely this would be no more trouble.

Despite that, she ran into a little bitty problem while Bruce was explaining to Marinette how to handle the press; her conscience. It had been this annoying thing that started growing more and more as she spent time around Bruce. And now that they were engaged it decided to be a royal pain in her neck trying to convince her to be honest and tell the truth, how was that going to help with their marriage!

Surely this would be the worst possible place to admit it. Not only was Marinette and Bruce here, but the entire damn Batfamily to boot, sans Jason. If she were to tell now there would no doubt be bloodshed. No, the best way, if she was going to tell them, would be later in private, she could get Bruce to drive them back to the hotel and take a detour along the way, then she could tell them and bam! They would both know and her conscience would leave her alone, that was certainly the best plan of action-

And then Marinette smiled at him and Bruce smiled back, she didn’t even know what was said but goddammit-

“Marinette's our daughter!”

Everything in the room stops. Even those happy to mill about their conversation on the other size pause, a glass drops, she doesn't even wait for it to shatter before continuing. Floodgates are open now, no going back.

“Seventeen years ago, took her to Paris, pretended to be her Aunt, let Tom and Sabine raise her!” She stood up, bolting from the room, not stopping until she was far from Wayne manor.

Yep, I think I handled that well.

They all stood frozen, staring at the door Aunt, no Selina, her Mother had just run out. Everything was silent, for about two seconds before incomprehensible screeching. Or at least that's what it sounded like to her as everyone started shouting over each other.

“Did you know!?”

“No! How would I know?!”

“How could you not know! Everyone else did!”

“You didn’t!”

“That's because he said it wasn't true!”

“How the fuck-”

“Bruce why ,”

“By god how reckless can you be!?”

“This is… wow,”

Marinette didn’t stick around to hear the rest, slipping out the door Selina had disappeared through, like mother like daughter she guessed. Speaking of, she needed to call her Maman and Papa first, had the known all along? She was meant to just be an average girl… who’s a superhero… and vigilante…. And famous fashion designer…. And guardian- ok maybe she hadn't done a great job at the whole ‘ordinary girl’ thing, be she had liked to think she was normal at least once in her life… apparently not.

“Marinette sweetie!” Her Papa’s voice boomed over the call, “How are you?”

“Aunt Selina- not- how- I-”

“Oh, she told you?” Her Maman spoke more quietly than her Papa, calm voice calming her down.

“Me, and everyone else,” Marinette sat down at the steps to Wayne Manor, looking out at the front gardens without really seeing anything.

“Yes we thought she might, are you ok sweetie?”

“I’m shocked,”

“Yes well knowing her she didn’t handle it too well,” Papa spoke knowingly.

“She bolted now I’m stuck at Wayne Manor,” Marinette supplies, not that she really had a better place to be.

“Yes, that's like her,” She can hear her Maman laugh a little, “How are you feeling?”

“A little confused,” A lot confused.

“When she was pregnant with you she came to us, she and Bruce apparently didn’t have a very stable relationship back then and didn’t think either of them could take care of you,” Maman explains, “So she came to us, asking for just to raise you, she wasn't going to be a part of your life but I think she loved you more than expected because she kept coming back and eventually became your Auntie Selina,”

“Thats… wow,”

“Need some time?”

“Yeah,”

“Take all the time you need,” Papa encouraged, “We’re always here for you, and we love you,”

“I love you too,” Marinette smiles, letting the call drop staring off into nothingness.

The Kwamis came out of hiding to cuddle close but left her to her thoughts which Marinette appreciated. They sat in silence for a long time, Marinette worked out that she didn’t mind so much. Sure it was a shock, but it didn’t change how much she loved her parents, and it meant her family had just gotten a little bigger, or a lot bigger as Bruce had introduced her to a lot of people. The only thing left to worry about was the others, they didn’t seem very happy at the news.

Before Marinette can let the dread of that fester too long the front door opens, catching her attention as Bruce steps through. He seemed tired, and was that bruise a punch mark!?- no nevermind she wasn't going to ask. He comes to sit down next to her, neither talking for a while as they both stare out at the garden.

“... So Selina left?” He asks eventually.

“Yep, and I don’t think she’s coming back any time soon,”

“Of course not,” She shakes his head, a little amused, “Did she tell you?”

“No, but my parents knew- wait I didn’t mean!-”

“It’s fine,” He assures, settling her panic, “I just found out, I can hardly be considered a parent,”

“Guess not… What about the others?”

“Oh they’re a little shocked,” Bruce puts it lightly, his bruise being a dead give away, “I think they expected me to adopt you long before suspecting we were already related,”

“Just how many siblings do I have,” Marinette half mutters to herself, “wait- are they my siblings?”

“Depends who you ask, Dick? Yes, I think he already left to find decorations for your room,”

“I have a room?”

“If Dick has anything to say about it, also I suspect Alfred already set you up one, although I couldn't tell you when,”

“Of course he did,” That man seemed to know more than all of them combined, “So does that mean I can stay over some time?”

“Certainly, although I might suggest waiting a day or two,” He looks back at the mansion, light-catching his bruise.

“I might give it three, just to be sure,” She smiles, still wondering what happened there.

They start talking, catching up on each other's lives. Marinette skirts around anything that doesn't pertain to her identity as Marinette, Ladybug, MDC, Starling the whole gang. They are only interrupted by Marinette's phone buzzing, she picks it up, Adrien was the one to call but both Chloe and Kagami are there with him.

“Marinette,” Adrien says urgently, “Remember Cuppy?”

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

Taglist (sorry put the taglist for another fic before fixed it now)

@smolplantmum @flufflepuffle296 @dawnwave16 @caffeinetheory @g-arya @Maribat-2k20 @ladybug-182 @Actual-disaster-human @fusser90 @messrs-weasley @soap-lady @paintedhope7 @zeneralla @mochegato @random-nerd-3 @clumsy-owl-4178 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @too0bsessedformyowngood @certifiedbidisaster @Purplegeekypanda @awkward0ghostfan @theymakeupfairies @tikki-marinette @insane-fangirl-of-everything @elmokingkong @inarachi02 @slytherinhquinn @moongoddesskiana @dast218 @buginetye @redscarlet95 @biodad-bruce-month @hansa-12 @waiting247 @toodaloo-kangaroo @how-to-fuction-properly @trippingovermyfeet @greekmythgal @whatthefox22 @the-alice-of-hearts @bigpicklebananatree @indecisive-mess-named-me @nalu-ismyjam @deepestobservationwombat @salamonka

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lunarianillusion · 3 years

Text

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian.

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight.

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje @mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written @coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi @jjmjjktth @ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron @bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

#maribat #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #red robin #kwami swap #miraculous ladybug

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phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

Twisting Fate

(A what-if idea I had. adjusted the canon timeline a little)

...

From Recovery Girl’s perspective, Sir Nighteye was a horizon.

Lying stiff in his hospital bed, with the setting sun creeping lower at his right, Nighteye’s whole body became ridges of shadows. His face was gaunter, paler at the precipice of death. Caverns hid his eyes, and every sharp angle of his frame threw swaths of shadow, magnified larger, over the left wall of his room. Machines like snakes clawed into his midsection, all cold metallic tubes replacing the functions of organs that had been shredded through. Recovery Girl sat on a stool to his left, shaded in this darkness, smelling on the heat of the radiator the familiar smell of death.

“I have… a theory…” Nighteye’s words were hardly even whispers. They were stow-away nuances on the raspy rattle of his breath. “…and it will bother me if I die without ever having resolved it.”

“What’s your theory?” Recovery Girl asked. She was too used to this, being the receptacle for the last thoughts, wonders, worries, and dreams of dying heroes.

“Izuku Midoriya… He may--…it is possible—he may have a quirk.”

“A quirk, as in one beside One For All, I assume.”

“Not One For All. Beyond that. His own quirk. I have a theory…”

“Izuku Midoriya was diagnosed quirkless. Does this affect your theory?”

Silence rattled around them. Nighteye’s chest rose and fell faintly. “As in… the vestigial joint in the smallest toe, and no observable quirk of his own?”

“Yes, he matches those criteria,” Recovery Girl confirmed.

Sir Nighteye said nothing in immediate response. He laid in silence to catch his breath, and let the room fall back under the sedation of his blipping heart monitor.

“The correlation… of the additional toe joint to quirklessness is about 99%. It is possible for Midoriya to still have a quirk.”

“That is true.” The lamp in the corner clicked on, softly yellow, blanketing the room as the creeping darkness of nighttime set in. “We don’t know how many cases of quirklessness are false positives. What is it that makes you think Midoriya has a quirk?”

Nighteye let out a rattling breath. “By my own nature, and the nature of my quirk… I take pride in having evidence for my claims. I’d like to investigate this before I tell you. …The doctors estimate they can keep me alive like this for three days, at most. Do you think that’s accurate?”

“Three and a half, now that I’ve healed you some,” Recovery Girl answered.

“That’s enough. There’s someone I’d like you to fetch for me.”

“All Might.”

“No,” Nighteye answered with the faintest shake of his head. “Shota Aizawa. He should be in this same hospital. Please bring him to me.”

…

Aizawa and Nighteye spoke only briefly, with an agreement to help, and a message to pass along. Two messages, more precisely.

Aizawa got himself released from the hospital by 6am the next morning, having not slept, and having pulled some strings with the night nurses who knew him well to expedite the process. By 7am, he was back at the U.A. dorms, the very atmosphere asleep this early on a Saturday morning.

Only two students were awake: Momo Yaoyorozu, reading comfortably on the common area couch with a blanket swaddled around her, and Tenya Iida, preparing enough toast in the kitchen to cover breakfast for the entire class.

It was Iida who Aizawa flagged, and pulled aside, and passed the message along to: There was a dying pro hero whom Iida had never met asking for his presence. Aizawa had no further details on what the man wanted, or why, and he knew Nighteye well enough to assume that neither he nor Iida would ever be informed.

The lack of information agitated Iida. His arms jittered, and he pressed for information on why, and what had happened, and what his presence would mean to Nighteye. Aizawa could only shrug and ask if the withholding of that information affected Iida’s answer. Iida paused to consider this only briefly. And then he agreed, of course, because any self-respecting hero-in-training would do everything in his power to satisfy the dying wish of a citizen.

…

When Sunday set in, Aizawa did not go prowling through the dorm areas until the early afternoon, because the other message he had to pass along was for Katsuki Bakugou, and Bakugou’s whole morning was booked solid with provisional license training.

When Aizawa found Bakugou, the boy was freshly showered and sporting a litany of new scrapes and bandages, thumbs jamming aggressively into one of the dorm’s three console controllers for the shared GameStation. From the neighboring couch, Kirishima yelled at Bakugou to not mess us the toggles, to which Bakugou fired off several choice, colorful words back.

Aizawa didn’t bother scolding him. He only pulled Bakugou aside, and gave him the same message as Iida: Pro Hero Nighteye wanted to see him.

Bakugou sneered at this. He knew the name as Deku’s work-study boss, and knew it more potently now that the recent news story broke, and Nighteye’s name made it to the local stations as a hero in critical condition after a daring rescue.

Bakugou asserted this had nothing to do with him. That none of this was his problem. That he owed nothing to a man he’d never met and shouldn’t be expected to bow to his whim. Aizawa said nothing in response. He let the silence linger, and let Bakugou fester in the echo of his own words. Bakugou cracked the silence with a growl of frustration, and a crackle of his palms, and a spat declaration of “fine”.

Aizawa thanked him for his cooperation, and asked if now would be a bad time to follow him to Nighteye’s hospital.

…

By the third day of his hospice stay, Nighteye had become more machine than man. He fostered little presence. His only motion came from the respirator breathing for him. His harsh angles and stark shadows had decayed, softened, sank with him into his very-little-at-all-ness into the bed.

Recovery Girl sat beside him once more. In theory she had come to change bandages and administer healing, but at the sight of the man, she knew even that much was not worthwhile. It was only Nighteye’s comfort that mattered now. She set up an IV drip to ease his breathing and pain, but it would not heal him. At best, it would offer him just a wisp of his voice back.

“Have you resolved your theory about Izuku Midoriya’s quirk?” she asked simply. It was another skill she’d fostered in her professional life – to ask the leading questions of dying people, who in death seemed so strangely prone to avoiding any direct answers.

To her surprise, Nighteye smiled.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Yes. You are the only person right now I trust with this information. I need to pass it along, and I have no one else in mind.”

“And once you’ve told me, should I tell Midoriya too?”

“I don’t know. I trust you to figure that out, if it’s right or not.”

“What’s Midoriya’s quirk?”

Nighteye said nothing at first. He stared at the ceiling, as it seemed he possessed little of the necessary strength to look elsewhere.

“During the fight against Overhaul… I saw Midoriya die. I saw it with my Foresight,” he said, not answering the direct question, which did little to surprise Recovery Girl. “My Foresight has never been wrong. Sometimes, purely in denial, I’ve convinced myself it could, theoretically, be wrong, if only to not feel so hopeless about the futures I’ve seen. But 35 years without a single incorrect prediction is… a devastatingly consistent precedent to contend with.”

“I know this about you. Midoriya was the first to change that future?”

“It was… Chisaki’s future… that I was looking at. I saw him kill Midoriya. I saw him escape. So it was Chisaki’s future that changed. And I suspected, the more I thought about it, that Midoriya may have done it.”

“What do you think his quirk is?”

“I… have more context… I want to explain myself. I asked Shota Aizawa to bring me two U.A. students.”

“Iida and Bakugou. Shota told me.”

“Iida, because, if my hunch was correct, he would be affected too. And he was. My hunch was correct.”

“What was your hunch?”

“When I used my Foresight on him, I saw something I’ve never seen before… All futures I’ve seen are linear. A movie to play out. Singular, immutable, and certain. What I saw in Iida was more like… tree branches twisting around a trunk. One which was strong, and bold, and most clear ahead of him. Like what I usually see. It was a bright and happy future. A future he’s earned. One to be proud of.”

“I’m glad. Tenya Iida is a kind boy.”

“But the small futures… I’ve never seen them before. All gnarled and withered, twisting in and out…. Most of those were empty. I see this when someone is soon to die, but… these looked as though Iida had already died. Several times over. Other small twisted ones… he was still alive, but not a hero, not a U.A. graduate, too heavily incapacitated. No use of his arms. Limited use of his legs.”

“And what does this tell you?”

Nighteye offered just wheezes, catching his breath.

“With… with Bakugou. It was similar but... Bakugou had many more gnarled branches than Iida. Some empty… Others where, it seemed he had never even gotten into U.A. Others as the League of Villains’ hostage. Others in jail. They were not uniform. Some were faint, so I could hardly detect them. Some were so far removed from our reality, as if they’d forked over a decade ago. …Do not worry, his main future is bright.”

“I know All Might has a lot of hope for that boy.” Recovery Girl pushed off her stool. She went and cracked the hospital window open, so that the fresh air may do something for the sweat coalescing on Nighteye’s brow.

“Izuku Midoriya… I know many things about him. Gathering intel is a specialty of mine. And I know he has been lucky in unfathomable ways. Bakugou, that boy, he saved from the League of Villains. Iida, he saved from Stain, just barely, as I understand it. Midoriya’s own acceptance into U.A. was improbable at best. His rescue of a boy named Kota should have been his end, but it wasn’t. He was involved in a fight against the serial killer Moon Fish. He was Shigaraki’s hostage briefly. He played the main role in orchestrating Bakugou’s rescue from the League of Villains. And now, under me, he defeated Chisaki, in a fight which should, with certainty, have cost him his life.”

“There’s no need to remind me of all these. I was the one who healed that boy every time. I know he’s reckless.”

“This is beyond reckless. This is the resume of a boy who should have died many times over. …And I think, maybe, he has.”

To this, Recovery Girl gave no immediate response. Only a deep inhale, nasally, a held breath, an exhale.

“Midoriya may have died already. My Foresight wasn’t wrong, but it was posthumously corrected. It is in the strange nature of Izuku Midoriya that when the people around him should die… they don’t. Midoriya always saves them. And if my Foresight is to be believed, he does not always succeed on the first try. Those gnarled branches into Iida and Bakugou’s futures were fates in which Midoriya had not intervened. Or had failed to intervene successfully. They were fates he was able to twist off the main path, and correct under his own power of will. And that would be a quirk nigh undetectable. How would you document or observe it? The ability to undo the outcomes that ended in disaster. It’s powerful. Unfathomably powerful, if I’m correct about this. Stronger than One for All could ever be. I wonder, if I were to look at Midoriya’s future, how many twisted fates might I see?”

Recovery Girl let her eyes shift to the window, contemplating the skyline, contemplating all the near-lethal encounters Izuku Midoriya had fought through. She tried to process this possibility, and found herself failing to take it in all at once. “Do you intend to look?”

“No,” Nighteye said, and it was with finality. “I won’t make it to tomorrow. And there’s someone else whose future I need to see today.”

“If it’s All Might, I would be able to--.”

“No. It’s not All Might’s.”

To this, Recovery Girl startled. Her eyes shifted to Night Eye, who wore the smallest of smiles, his eyes squinted shut.

“After what you saw six years ago… you don’t want to see if that fate has changed?”

“All Might and I have parted ways. I am choosing to entrust his safety to Izuku Midoriya now. I am choosing to trust that that boy has saved him from that future that’s weighed me down for all these years. I am choosing… to pass the torch onto him. All Might has chosen Izuku Midoriya, and I am at peace with it… No, more than that, I accept that. I am content with that. I am happy with that.”

Recovery Girl nodded, but trepidation stiffened her movements. “…Then who is the last person you want to see?”

…

With the light fading around him, Nighteye wondered if this was the first time he’s seen Mirio cry.

The boy was endlessly bright, endlessly shining, a beacon and a pillar and someone who Nighteye was proud to call his pupil. He felt only the slightest knocking pangs of guilt in his chest for the fact that he’d only connected with Mirio as a vessel for One For All. But Mirio had proven himself well above and beyond all Nighteye’s paltry expectations. He didn’t need One For All to be strong.

The true guilt Nighteye felt was in the knowledge that it was his own fault that Mirio was crying now.

Thick opalescent tears swam in his eyes and cracked his voice. Red blotched along his cheeks and sweat clung to his brow. It was a sad sight to see, the raw and wet keens of Mirio’s voice. It was sad. Nighteye wanted nothing more than to see Mirio smile once more.

So he set a gentle palm to Mirio’s cheek, and he apologized, and he blinked his final activation of his quirk into existence.

Mirio’s future was a grand tree. Like Iida’s, like Bakugou’s, it was threaded with splintered branches. Some empty and shriveled and dead. Some dismal and bleak, twirling up like vines. Nighteye didn’t pay mind to those. He focused only on the trunk. That bright and shining pillar surging forward.

It was a future where Mirio was smiling.

A hero. In costume. Beloved and strong and willing. With a smile that alone could save a million people.

Nighteye trusted Midoriya to cultivate that fate for Mirio.

And that was enough.

So Nighteye told Mirio as much. He deserved to know this as Nighteye did. A fine hero. Finer than anyone else. He’d smile again, Nighteye was sure of it.

The light crept to dark edges around Nighteye’s vision, petering out, swimming to a coldness and a darkness and a nothingness. But it was one he could take comfort in. He focused only on the image of Mirio’s smile as the heart rate monitors ticked to nothing, and the breath vanished from his lungs, and the future set before him ran through its final swath of film.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #nighteye #sir nighteye #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Little Gems

Hi all ... it’s been awhile ... but i just can’t leave Mulder and Scully alone for long ...

Sorry about that ... the kid has a new baking business she’s running out of our kitchen (she’s 16, btw) ... we COVID-quarantine finished our basement ... I rewrote my entire third novel ... I’ve had things to do :)

Love and hug and enjoy ...

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Little Gems

It was the look that made her stumble on her words, stutter through two syllables, hesitate on the third before rallying to pull herself back to the courtroom. Face flaming hot in an instant, she hid her clenched fists below the wooden barrier and carried on, trooper that she was.

His look.

In the middle of her sentence, she’d looked at him, the quickest of glances to see his encouraging lip twitch or the barest of nods … instead, she’d gotten popping jaw muscle, flaring nostril, and furrowed brow. She’d done her stumble because, without thought to present day for half a second, she’d rewound the past two minutes in her head. What the hell had she done to deserve that pointedly angry look?

For the next 43 minutes, she steamed slowly while her demeanor revealed nothing, back to calm, cool, collected, cadence smooth, sentence structure sound. Finally free, she moved past Mulder, dodging the crowd in the hall and slipping through his fingers as he reached for her arm, elbow, to turn her, yell at her for not saying some theory or other of his that would have gotten the case thrown out but allowed Mulder the righteous indignation of his truth.

“Hang on.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

&&&&&&&&

Continuing through the crowd at a pace not meant for five o’clock on a Thursday afternoon near a Metro station, she didn’t care that he’d driven her there. She didn’t care that her ring of keys was in his pocket. She didn’t care that her stomach needed food, her brain needed a drink, her sweet tooth needed several dozen peanut M&Ms. She did care that she had approximately $10 in her pocket, which was more than enough to get her home and she had no room for anymore cares at the moment.

She always knew that house key tucked and forgotten behind her badge would come in handy.

She would be seeing his ass tomorrow and not a moment sooner.

Mulder, on the other hand, stood there watching her storm away. Not quite sure why she was so angry with herself over a few misspoken words but the set of her shoulders and the way she threw out the ‘see you tomorrow’ told him if he did indeed see or talk to her before tomorrow, he’d possibly and probably walk away with one less appendage, be it finger or more important things.

Watching her until she disappeared into the Metro Station, he noted it contained a Blue Line so, knowing she’d get home via either Foggy Bottom or Rosslyn station, he let her go, knowing she had a key behind her badge and her emergency cash behind that.

His mind wouldn’t let it go, however. She’d been good. Damn good. Until her stumble, which, for reasons unknown to him, had made her angry. She had hesitated on two words, taken a quarter second deeper inhale than usual before she gathered and continued. He highly doubted anyone but himself had noticed but given it was Scully, she probably imagined she’d screwed everything up completely.

He chewed on this as he returned to his car, unhurried because, regardless of if he ran or crawled, he’d still be stuck in some kind of traffic between here and there.

&&&&&&&&

Scully, for her part, hated the crowds in the Metro, disliked strangers pressed this close to her, shuffled together with the unwashed masses of society, tourist and native alike, all collectively tired from their day and frustrated same as she with the swaying train and the endless wait to put on comfortable clothing and take a deep breath.

And it afforded her time to analyze Mulder’s look.

Which is exactly what she did not need at this point in time.

&&&&&&&&&&

Both moved several times during the evening to pick up the phone, find out what the other was thinking but in the end, Mulder fell asleep on his couch, worried about her, and Scully fell asleep on hers, angry at him.

&&&&&&&&&&

He honestly thought the next day would be okay. She would have spent the evening picking apart her testimony and should have, logically, arrived at the conclusion that she’d done nothing to hinder anything. He would be telling her that today when she walked in, deciding at 5:42am, while shaving, that a little reassurance would be an appropriate thing.

She walked in still irritated but hiding it … not so very well ... but well enough to return his greeting and nod when he told her she’d done fine the day before and not to sweat the stumble.

Her mug got set no so gently down on the edge of the desk , tea splashing out the sides.

All right.

Plan B.

Waiting until she’d wiped up the carnage of her very own personal DC Tea Party, he handed her her keys from the day before, “come on. We’re taking the day off.”

With a sigh, “we can’t.”

“After your stellar week with Kersh and Skinner, you deserve diamonds and ice cream. Come on.”

Fuck it. It was Friday. Why not follow? God know, she could just as easily be irritated with him outside as she could be in the confines of the basement.

&&&&&&&&&

“Are you kidding?”

“When is the last time you touristed DC? I mean, like, looked around and went to stuff and stared at it and read the little signs and learned something from what you read on those little signs?”

Another sigh, “it’s been awhile.”

“Then come on.” They walked over to the Mall, then Mulder tuned them to the Museum of Natural History.

Seeing the building and the crowd, “Mulder, it’s going to be packed in there.”

“Not where we’re going.” Up the steps, weaving through throngs in shorts and gym shoes, flipflops and sunglasses, they stood out like a tandem sore thumb, leather heels and barely there hose, Trinity tie knot and tartan pattern socks.

They drew more than a few stares. Thank God he’d left his suit jack behind.

Once they’d dropped the donation fee and flashed badges for guns, he led her past the dinosaur bones and then up to the second floor. Even though she wasn’t exactly happy, she had to ask, “um, you realize you passed the T-Rex, right?”

“He’s not going anywhere, Scully. I’ll see him on the way out.”

She hadn’t been to the second floor since, well, she wasn’t even sure what was on the second floor or if she’d ever been there at all, to be honest. Mulder turned her when they got out of the elevator and before she knew it, she was in a quiet area, glass cases surround her, a few people milling but the majority still downstairs with the bones and fossils.

“There’s nothing like the gem room in the morning.”

She fell in love as she took her first good look around. Minerals and elements and crystals along the walls, lights dimmed in spots, a sign for the Hope Diamond beckoning. Looking up at him, “how long has this been here?”

He laughed, quietly of course, because the area felt akin to a church or other place where silence and low murmurs were preferred over screaming children and echoing chaos, “the building, since around 1910, but the contents,” pretending to do some heavy math, using all his fingers and some of hers just for fun, “longer than that.”

Her crank meter dropped like a rock but some remained, “one day I’ll find you funny.”

Taking her elbow and feeling happy she didn’t jerk away from him, he led her towards the wall, “first, I’m going to take you on a tour of the blue section.”

“Are we dispensing with scientific names today? Will it be the green shiny ones and the square yellow ones and the ones that look like table salt but will kill you instantly if you ever tried to put them on a piece of corn on the cob?”

“One day, I’ll find you funny as well.”

They wandered in somewhat comfortable silence, sharing the oft-comment of ‘this one’s pretty’, ‘this one’s three trillion years old’ …

“Three billion, Mulder.”

“Once you get above a couple million, it’s all just really damn old and doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure you passed your science classes in high school?”

“Cute girls helped me cheat.”

She didn’t doubt it.

&&&&&&&&

Round about an hour later, while looking intently at the diamonds, Scully finally had to ask, her anger drained away, an empty hole left behind waiting to be filled with some kind of explanation. Standing beside him, hand resting lightly on the edge of the case, she asked in a soft voice, “why did you get angry at me yesterday while I was on the stand?”

What?!

“What?!”

“Right before I humiliated myself by not being able to say the word ‘epiglotal’, I looked at you and you were pissed at me.”

What?!

“God, Scully, no. No. I wasn’t mad at you at all. You were doing great.” He was leaning into her at this point, the intensity radiating off him enough to send world leaders to their knees in fear and her cheeks to warm at his proximity, “I wasn’t mad at you at all, I swear.”

Still quiet, “then what were you mad about?”

Talking at the glass but catching her reflection beside him, he felt like an idiot but didn’t think this was the time to attempt a lie, “um, the little shit paralegal behind me was whispering to his buddy about things he could imagine doing to you if he could get you alone in the closet in the hall for a few minutes.” She stayed silent as he stood there, feeling his stupidity growing in leaps and bounds, until he had to do something. Moving his hand closer, he reached out until he found her pinkie, hooking it with his momentarily, “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I’m sorry I messed things up.”

Sliding her hand out from him a second later, she moved it to his back, running fingers along the indent of his spine, up and down, down and up, stopping to palm his side before letting her arm dangle between them, “it’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t irritated with me. I should have asked you sooner, I guess, instead of letting things fester in my head.”

Her touch sent his skin buzzing, his hand always on her back, but hers rarely on his, and he knew she felt his quick breath in but both ignored that for now, “just to let you know, I’d have throttled him had we not been sitting in front of that many lawyers and the judge.”

She finally smiled, the left side of her mouth turning up, “I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Going for broke, he moved his hand to her elbow, then slid it down, working his fingers into hers, as he leaned in a second time, a little bit closer, a little bit quieter, “jealousy is an ugly thing, Scully, let me tell you.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Finally, finally, finally meeting his reflection, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Now warm from head to toe, “since I’ve already showed you the diamonds, how about I go get you that ice cream now?”

“In a few minutes.” Wrapping her free arm around the one holding her hand, she whispered over to him, “I kind of like it here.”

#msr #xfiles fanfic #x-files fanfic #no mama scully but peanut M&Ms so that's something #i miss the smithsonian and dc and travel #diamonds and ice cream #i think i like it here too #My writing

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Moments Too Late

In honor of spending too much time on my own Universities quad because of the nice weather (which is promptly going to shit because it’s going to be cold again Monday) and because of @olivinesea college AU I give you...

The false promises of March lure them from the comforts of their dorms. Each morning now a little warmer, the sun beaming down forgiving and loving as it’s not the quiet time for it to swelter down great beams of heat that melts clothes off the skin off muscles off bones. Today it heats the ground, enough to encourage them out of their shoes to feel the still slightly chilled nature of the not yet up to pace earth beneath their toes.

Derek laughs deeply, unabashedly as he chases Spencer along the grass. Seemingly all the more pleased the louder he can get the younger boy to screech in terror as Derek pins his thin arms in contorted positions as they wrestle. The only mediation, the only warnings they get, comes when JJ looks up from her textbook. More often to tuck strands of hair behind her ears than to break from her reading. “Don’t hurt him, Derek,” she warns. Not because she’s afraid he will but to continue these halves of theirs. Where she stands to allow Spencer this idea that she will step in if need be.

“The winter,” Emily says softly. “I think the winter depresses him.” She’s laid out on the jacket Dave spread out on the ground before them. He’d given a little “hmph” of disapproval but not altogether displeasure when she laid herself out on it. Her legs break out in rashes and the shorts she’d chosen to wear leave her too exposed to rest comfortably in it.

Dave rests back on his elbows, chest lifted to take in all the rays of the sun that he can. He cracks open his left eye, scowling over at her as he processes what she’s just said. The raised eyebrow of doubt -- of further need for contemplation and clarification on the generally just vague statement she’s just made -- goes unnoticed as she watches Aaron. Dave’s eyes follow suit and while he might not understand the full complexity of what it is that she means, he might be able to gather what she sees.

“Winter depression?” he whispers. There’s no way that Aaron could be anything but… well, Aaron. By definition, that means dark and spirally with a complexity not a single soul, at least Dave suspects, knows him in his entirety. They are all bound by bits and pieces, half-truths that they have put together like children and those little cheap boxes that are covered half-hazardously in Elmer’s glue and macaroni shells.

Aaron lays out on his back, eyes closed and more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. Shoulders sinking into the ground and limbs open. His ankles set aligned with his hips and shoulders. Palms up, a sunflower turned to face the warmth. He can feel the heat crawling up his body, nearly too warm with the sweater on his arms and the jeans that don’t quite fit the length of his legs. Softly, he clears his throat doesn’t even bother cracking an eye open as he says, “the word the two of you are looking for is seasonal and I’m not, nor have I ever been, depressed.”

Though Dave shoots Emily a look that says it all -- leave resting snakes to lie, don’t poke a bear you’re not ready to kill -- she sits up and observes him further. Letting his head thud against the dirt, Dave lets her poke that hornet’s nest knowing he’ll be the one to soothe Aaron’s buzzing anxiety and pull the stingers from Emily’s skin.

“You locked yourself in your room for two weeks,” she reminds him. As if she wasn’t the dead girl in the freshmen dormitory wrapped around a toilet and sent to the emergency room where they know her by name. Where they take turns picking her up in the lobby, waving to the doctor’s as she signs out against their advice with her arm still bleeding where she pulled too harshly, too angrily at the IV snaked under her flesh. Who is she to point fingers at his oddity? At least he can go a weekend without visiting the bottle.

The two weeks in question were from hell. He’d been with them Tuesday, present in a way that they reflected on as oddly so. They also thought he’d killed himself, a theory started by JJ too good to pass up so their application might be flawed. For two weeks, there was nothing but radio silence from him. His dorm was empty and they couldn’t even find him in the library, a place they more often than not have to drag him from. He didn’t show up until Thursday, so he was actually gone for sixteen-days, and looked like maybe he had died and dragged his corpse all the way back to them.

Not yet adults and very much the children raised by their parent’s hips, how could they not think in the extremes that they have known their entire lives? Too young to know the complexities of the life ahead of them but too damaged to ignore it. JJ knows what her sister did and Derek could feel his father’s blood hardening on his hands, could understand and see what JJ was telling them.

One. Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself; Eyes closed and back sinking further and further into the blankets behind him. Nearly unaware of how close they all are, of the hand on his knee or the shoulder on his hip. “It would be nice… I think,” he whispers. “No stress. No obligations. Like sleeping.” He doesn’t sleep well.

Two. Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose; The warmth of his eyes has frozen over, the helpless desperation that he feels bubbling over. The carefully orchestrated faux look he’s spent years building burns at his feet. Leaving behind the broken child that he is at his core, searching for something that makes sense. For a father that loves him and a mother that protects him. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” he rasps. “Nothing matters because all I do is fuck everything up.”

Three. Sleeping too little or too much; He pulls from the hand that JJ gently reaches out with, flinching. “I -- I just don’t sleep well,” he defends, avoiding her eyes when she tries to look harder. To really see how pale he’s become. “It’s just -- just insomnia.” Nightmares are what he means but twenty-year-olds shouldn’t have that kind of horror built up into them so he lies. It’s easier that way.

Three strikes. You’re out but… they just couldn’t find a body. Dave had told them about how old dogs will drag themselves away from their homes to die and Spencer had cried for hours after that. Maybe that seemed a little too on the nose, Aaron being compared to an old beaten dog. They yelled at Dave out of fear but knew he was right.

Then Aaron just showed up to campus Thursday, a lump of human underneath his comforter as if he’d been there the entire time.

“We couldn’t find you for two weeks, Aaron. That’s -- That’s crazy, even for you.”

JJ looks up from her textbook, sees Dave, and looks back down. She’s certain that they’re about to have to deal with one of Emily and Aaron’s nuclear fallouts. With hindsight, she can see how that’s been festering up. Every semester they have one of these martial spats, bad enough to leave Spencer (who loves nothing more than to be one of their shadows) afraid to be left alone with either for a few days. Rightfully so, Aaron gets a little dark and Emily never pulls her punches, it’s a scary thing to witness.

“My father died.” The group freezes for a moment. Spencer and Derek’s wrestling had died down, both watching Aaron and Emily. He’s sitting up now, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “My father died and it wasn’t any of your business.” Emily opens her mouth but he’s shaking, having opened something not so easily contained. He doesn’t know how to put it all back. “Sean called, what was I to do, Emily? Would you prefer I tell a scared nine-year-old to fuck off?”

He wanted to. Despite how scared Sean had been, how small he’d sounded sucking in little sobs. Aaron lost his father ten years ago but he couldn’t tell Sean that. He’d gone out of obligation and the strange weighted sense that this might be the last time he truly sees his little brother. And he couldn’t know it yet but it’d be the last time he saw his mother too.

“I wasn’t out mixing my name up with Jack Daniels.”

Well… it was only a matter of time.

She stands first, fist clenched at her sides. “We’re your friends, we would have been there. You’re just too much of an insufferable bastard to notice!” She seethes good and properly angry. Misplaced but firm. “If you spent half as much time locking yourself away, pretending to be someone you’re not--” She pulls in a deep shuttering breathe. “Everyone knows, you know? All of us. We’ve seen the scars.” She’s not sure if it’s what she wanted but he flinches as though he’s been hit and that’s not enough to stop her. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice the flinching? That we can’t touch you? You’re not as good as you think you are, Aaron, and we’re not stupid.”

Silence.

Emily always knows what to say.

“Ex-Excuse me.”

Penelope comes up just as Aaron’s stumbling to his feet, pale as a ghost and trembling. He nearly runs into her. “What’s--” she’s brought them snacks. Little pieces of fruit she’s painstakingly cut for this little snack. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and mumbles another “excuse me” and tears past her.

Penelope looks hopelessly at them, confused and hurt. She turns, watching Aaron stagger and wipe furiously at his eyes. “What… What did you do?” She looks back and forth, settling on Emily. Penelope watches tears gather in Emily’s eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh God,” she whispers, hands raising to her lips. Emily looks over at Dave and to JJ, Spencer, and Derek still watching in terror. Her own words coming back to her, funneling through moments too late. “Oh God, what did I do?”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #penelope garcia

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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

I am the Alpha Now Part 18

Bakugo x Reader

Words : 3023

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

************************************************************************

Bakugo started pacing, his boots stomping, his fists clenched in anger. If he wasn’t sure Hawks was somehow in on this before then he was now. The asshole slipped out at the first chance he got. “Mother fucking bird brain! I can’t believe him! I’m gonna find the son of a bitch and pluck out every last feather.”

Kirishima and Midoriya had followed him outside and where giving nervous glances to each other, neither one wanting to bet the one to talk to their ticking time bomb friend first.

Finally, Karishma’s shoulders slumped as he decided he was a little less destructible. “Hey bro. I know this is a stupid question… but are you doing alright? I mean besides the obvious y/n situation.” Kiri could see Bakugo open his mouth to argue but he cut him off before he could. “I mean you just look a little, I don’t know… unhinged. Have you slept at all since you left UA? You look exhausted.”

Bakugo growled, “I’ll sleep when I find her. It’s already been two fucking days, almost three since she went missing! Just cuz you extras need to take your little nap time to function doesn’t mean that I do.”

Kiri gave him a nervous look, “Bakugo, believe me, we all want her back safe. But you have to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You won’t be much help if you pass out. Maybe we could just head back for a little bit. You can catch us up on what you’ve found since we left this morning maybe catch a quick couple hours of sleep.”

“I said I don’t need a fucking nap. I don’t have time…” Bakugo chewed on his lip as debated on whether he should tell them his new theories. He knew they probably wouldn’t believe him. He understood how crazy it sounded. But if they were going to help then they needed to know. “I think I know who took her… but it doesn’t exactly make sense.”

Midoriya could see the hesitation in his eyes. “Kacchan, whatever it is, you can tell us. We’ll keep it between us. Well us and Todoroki. He’d be here now, but he’s busy trying to get the new house put together. He’s still working on this though. He’s keeping a close eye on internet activity. He’s using his dad’s hero agency’s software to scan through for anything posted about Y/n.” Midoriya rubbed his neck, “It’s not exactly allowed, but I don’t think he cares either way.”

Bakugo looked around to see if anyone was listening. He gestured for the other two to follow him. He was nervous Hawks might still be hanging around somewhere. Finally, when he deemed it safe, he stopped and spun around to face them. “I think the League of Villains took y/n. Well specifically I think Dabi did.” Both Midoriya and Kirishima’s eyes bulged. Bakugo’s nostrils flared, “And I think Hawk’s is helping them.”

***************Y/N’S POV***********************************

Your eyes filled with tears, but it wasn’t the pain of Dabi burning your skin that provoked them. It was the helpless, useless, frustrated feeling that was festering in your chest. You couldn’t do what Dabi was asking you to do. You were trying, but you just… couldn’t do it.

You dug deep, you gave it everything you had, and yet you still had nothing to show for it.

“Come ON! Do you want that crusty creep to turn you to dust? Is that what you want? You want to leave that annoying loudmouth and precious little puppy behind.” You could feel your anger boiling over. But what was its source? Were you mad at yourself for not being able to do it. Were you mad at Dabi for trying to force you to do something you clearly couldn’t? Or maybe you were mad at both Dabi and Hawks for getting you into this fucked up situation. “What do you think will happen to them once you’re gone huh? Will your pooch go back to being just another dumb dog? Will their connection die without you? Will THEY DIE WITHOUT YOU? Who’s to say, maybe I’ll get mad and just kill them myself”

“STOP IT!” You fell to your knees. Fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut. “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! I’m sick and tired of your annoying ass voice!”

You felt his scared hand grip your chin harshly, “Show me your eyes. Or are you scared I’m going to see you cry and finally understand how fucking weak you are?!“

Your eyes snapped open. They glowed brighter than you can ever remember. The bright blue only reflected in Dabi’s eyes. You could see that he had to squint just to see through it. The words that left your mouth were eerily calm. “I said… shut up.” You gripped the wrist that held your chin with one hand and with your other you broke his thumb and he screamed. “You don’t get to talk about my Mercy like that.” Your grip on his wrist tightened as you pulled out a staple on his hand, watching the blood flow. “How dare you threaten my pack.” You ripped out another staple. “My family.” Another staple. “The love of my life.”

Your eyes glowed brighter and you could feel pure Alpha power coursing through your veins. “Look at you. All stapled together like a patchwork quilt. And why? Because you’re the weak one.” You could see something in his eyes now, was it fear or something else you didn’t know. “I’m an Alpha.” You let go of his wrist and punched him in the face.

Dabi spit out blood and cradled his bleeding hand to his chest. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

********************** Bakugo POV**************************

Midoriya paced, “Kacchan. You have to know how crazy that sounds.”

Bakugo groaned, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand dumbass Deku. Did you even listen to anything I just said! I have proof!” His eyes bore into Kirishima’s “You believe me right Kiri?”

Kiri rubbed his neck nervously. “Come on man. You have to give us a little more to go off of. All of your proof is just guesses and gut feelings.” He raised his hands up in defense before Bakugo could start yelling at him. “Before you get mad at me, just know I’ll follow you wherever you go, no matter how crazy. But you really need to think this through. You say Dabi has her because you think you felt her being burned through the bond. A bond you also say she’s turned off. You think Hawk’s is in on it because you think you heard her moan in the background of a phone call. You say you think you know where she is because saw something in your head. Something that none of us could see, not even Mercy saw it. You have to understand how that’s not proof right?”

Bakugo started to grow. “Did you follow him like I asked?”

Kirishima looked back and forth between Midoriya and Bakugo in concern. He really thought his best friend might be losing it. “Did we follow who? Who are you talking to?”

Mercy walked out of the shadows. “He’s smarter than you think. He may not have seen me, but he knew he was being followed. I got a good whiff of him though so I should be able to track him down. Even now I can tell he still hasn’t left his apartment.”

“Good. Continue your patrol and report back to me in an hour.”

Bakugo could sense Mercy’s frustration. His fur was sticking up slightly as he showed his teeth. “I know we’re packmates, and I know we’re doing this for Y/n. But you need to remember that you aren’t my alpha any more than I am yours. Quit bossing me around.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, “Oh give me a break. Are you really going to be a brat right now? You know I didn’t mean it that way. How about instead of bitching about who’s in charge of finding Y/n, we just focus on actually finding her huh?”

Mercy growled, “I’m not bitching, you’re just bossy.”

Before Bakugo could even respond, both of their eyes glowed bright for a brief moment. And in that moment they surged with power. So much power that Bakugo accidentally let off a small explosion.

Bakugo was staring at the hand that had just sent an explosion into a nearby dumpster while Midoriya was up and pacing again. “Okay. I’m just going to say it… What the fuck was that?”

************** Y/N POV*****************************

You could hear you heart pounding in your ears. Your vision started to tunnel. You smelled ash and you could taste blood. But feel? You couldn’t feel anything. You were completely numb. You looked down and was surprised to see your skin had a weird glow to it. You and Dabi had been going at it for a few minutes now. But it honestly felt like an hour had gone by.

All the power you summoned was draining and draining quick. It left you almost as fast as it came. You had blacked out during most of it so you assumed you had gone feral. It had been years since you had done so and you had forgotten about the toll it would take on your body. Were you hurt? Were you dying? You couldn’t tell. You were just numb. You sank to the floor, back pressed against the charred remnants of what used to be the couch. You could see Dabi’s chest rise and fall over to your right. He had passed out, but the fucker was still breathing.

You crawled over to him and fumbled through his pockets. You groaned as fatigue attempted to pull you under. Your fingers finally found what they were looking for and yanked it from his pocket. You focused as hard as you could on the screen in front of you trying to scroll through Dabi’s contacts. Dabi only had like ten numbers and yet you still struggled to find it in time.

You clicked dial and the name feather dick popped on the screen. After a few rings you heard him pick up. “Listen now’s not a good time. I think the mystery gang is onto us…”

Mystery gang huh? Would that make Katsuki, Fred or Shaggy? You chuckled, “It’s me.” You threw up rather loudly. “I think I need help…”

********************* Bakugo POV************************

“Did you seriously just say fuck? Mr. Perfect just swore?”

Midoriya narrowed his eyes, “God Damnit Kacchan! You’re the one out here having one sided conversations with dogs and spouting conspiracy theories, and your worried about me saying FUCK?”

Mercy cocked his head. It would have been cute if he hadn’t been baring his teeth only moments before. “This idiot knows you weren’t having a one-sided conversation, right?” He sniffed Midoriya causing him to stiffen, “I don’t like him.”

Bakugo snorted, “Yeah get in line.” He looked at Midoriya, “Listen if you care about your balls at all I’d stop talking about Mercy as if he’s not here. He’s smarter than you and shitty hair combined.”

Mercy nudged Bakugo’s hand in approval before resuming his sniffing. He went up to Kirishima and shoved his nose in his side, “This one I like. He smells sweet. But not too sweet.”

Kirishima chuckled, “I think what Bakugo’s trying to say is they have a bond we don’t understand.” He rubbed Mercy’s head fondly, “Just because we can’t prove they’re right, doesn’t mean they’re wrong either.” Mercy gave an exaggerated nod and a bark of confirmation. “I say we just go with it.” He shrugged. “If they’re wrong, the only thing we’ve wasted is time. If they’re right, then we find y/n…. seems worth it to me.”

Midoriya gave a long glance at Mercy before leaning down putting his face level with his, “I’m sorry if I offended you. It wasn’t my intention to belittle your intelligence… I’m sure having your alpha torn from you is hard and having Kacchan in your head 24/7 is probably making it even worse.” He ignored the seething look he was getting from Bakugo. “If you can promise to look out for him, and to somehow let me know that what he’s saying is true. I’d really appreciate it.”

Mercy gave a low humming noise, as if he was sizing Midoriya up. He was about to go off on him for even doubting Bakugo but suddenly his head whipped to the side. All of his muscles tensed, and a growl ripped through his chest. “Bakugo. Hawks is leaving his apartment and he’s moving fast.”

“Shit… Okay lead the way. Guys Hawk’s is on the move. Last chance to back out.”

After a few tense moments they both nodded and followed as Bakugo and Mercy took off.

It wasn’t long before they were back in the same district, they had been patrolling earlier that morning. Mercy came to a stop and looked up. “They’re here, now that we’re close enough, I can smell her.”

“Okay Deku and I can start from the top while Kiri and Mercy start on the bottom and we’ll work our way to the middle. Mercy and I can keep each other updated so-“ He pointed to his friends now, “you two idiots stay close to us.”

Without even waiting for a confirmation Bakugo blasted himself into the sky towards the top of the building with Midoriya quickly following after him. Kirishima sighed and looked at Mercy, “Not exactly subtle, is he?” Mercy whined and walked towards the entrance of the building. “Lead the way man. I’ll watch your six.”

*********************Y/N POV********************************

Thankfully you hadn’t passed out, but you still felt like shit. Three days of torture and hard work will do that to a person. The door slammed moments before you felt Hawks pulling your head into his lap. “Hey kid! Open your eyes and look at me.” You groaned at the idea. Even lifting your eyelids felt impossible. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re safe. Big bad Dabi is passed the fuck out. Let’s just get those eyes open yeah?”

You just groaned again like a petulant child before letting out a weak, “…no”

Hawk’s sighed, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay kid. But fine. Be stubborn. I’ll just have to-“

A loud explosion sounded from outside the building. Your heart pounded because you’d know that sound anywhere.

Before you knew it your head was being dropped back to the floor with a dull thud. “Shit.”

You could hear Hawks scurry over to Dabi, “Hey! Patchy! You need to get up and get the hell out of here. There are heroes here. I can still spin this in my favor. But you need to leave. Like NOW!”

You heard Dabi hiss as he tried to sit up and if you had the energy you would have smirked at the fact that you were the reason he was hurting. But then you remembered that you weren’t much better at the moment.

Dabi shuffled over to you, leaning over to speak directly into your ear. “You go along with whatever he says. Do you understand me? You air our dirty laundry and I’ll air yours. I just need to hit a button on my phone and your little secret is out.”

You took a deep breath and forced your eyes open. You could tell by the shocked look on his face that they were still glowing. This had to be a record. Usually they stopped as soon as the adrenaline wore off. “I’d get going if I were you. I may be too exhausted to kick your ass but I don’t think Katsuki will feel the same way.”

Dabi growled before forcing himself onto his feet and leaving the room.

You figured there was no point trying to hide from them anymore. They found you, the jig was up. You looked at Hawk’s pacing. “So what are you going to tell him?”

Hawks played with a feather as he brainstormed, “I’m going to say I received an anonymous tip and flew out here as soon as I could. Found you here, by yourself and that Dabi must have gotten away. I mean look at the place you guys tore it to pieces. It’ll be obvious I didn’t do this.”

You nodded knowing full well that Bakugo wouldn’t believe a word of that. “So is it okay for me to tell him where I am? I mean if you just “rescued” me then that would only make sense, right?”

You reached out before Hawks even said anything and felt for pack. The bond opened up and you were flooded with relief. Your eyes even teared up a little at the empty spot in your chest felt warm again. You could tell Bakugo was two floors above you while Mercy was three below. Sneaky boys. You hoped Mercy caught the chance to sink his teeth into Dabi.

“Y/n. Baby! I’m here where are you pup? Please tell me you are okay.” You brushed a tear aside. You could feel Mercy’s presence as well, but he must have been focusing on something else because he remained quiet. Maybe he did find Dabi after all.

“I’m fine. I’m two floors down from you-“

You heard a loud bang come from the other side of the door. Naturally your impatient boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to use the stairs. Nope. He came straight through the ceiling. Next thing you knew the door was blown from it’s hinges and he and Deku were rushing in.

He looked around frantically until his eyes met yours. He crossed the room in seconds and fell to his knees in front of you. He scooped you into his arms as his lips found the top of your head. “I’m here now pup. It’s okay. God damnit please don’t ever do this to me again.”

You gripped the front of his shirt and just breathed in his comforting scent. You allowed yourself to relax into him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t really have a choice. I’m so sorry.”

***********************************************************************

Tags: @tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2, @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph@xxoperatexx @runrabbitrun3 @insane-without-delirium @yolei94

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #my her academia

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cantquitu · 3 years

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Hey! So I’ve just recently actually gotten into the 1D fandom. I liked their music back then but wasn’t a “directioner” until like 3 weeks ago lmao. i’m very susceptible and I’ve got a lot of shit going on and you seem pretty level-headed so I thought I’d talk to you.

Why do you think it’s so easy to get dragged into the Larrie fandom? And why is the desire for it to be true is so strong? I was at first, and honestly seeing the relationships between all the boys is what got me into the fandom. but then I found multiple posts debunking basically everything and someone going off on a tangent about stickers on a bear and I realized that was crazy so I quickly got out of that. And yet, even though when I say it out loud and I can hear how crazy it is and I know logically I don’t actually believe it, it still festers even though I only believed it or even thought it for like a week.

Then just yesterday I found the conspiracy I guess you could call it about Louis and him being promoted in the media and the things regarding Harry specifically by sea… I can’t remember their full @ And honestly some of the things they said I thought about even before I read it, not to that same extent obviously, but… but I can’t seem to find anyone debunking it or giving me something else to see because i’m all about facts and so when something is presented as fact, as they did, I tend to believe it

I wanted to hear from you especially when you pointed out the antisemitism because i realized i could trust you. I’m Jewish and yet lived in a bubble without really being exposed to antisemitism. so I see and understand the hidden antisemitism in believing that Harry’s managers are a “big bad” behind every corporation controlling everything who are responsible for every artist but it wasn’t until you pointed it out that I even noticed it. Now I feel like a bad Jew for not being able to see it. I just wanted someone to vent to about all this I guess?

sorry for staying anonymous i’m pretty ashamed…

Hi! There's no need to be ashamed; conspiracy theories are designed to intrigue and pull you in. The alarm bells seemed to go off for you very quickly.

I think it's very easy to get sucked in to Larry because it's so seductive - on the surface it's bright and pretty, with seemingly endless archives of 1D content; pretty pictures and gifs; a young, engaged, super-passionate fanbase desperate to tell you all about it and bring you into their world... It has romance! It has angst! It has two pretty English teenage boys at the centre! It has villains and allies, and endless scope to indulge persecution complexes and saviour complexes...What more could you need apart from it being real?

With Sea, so much of what she writes is so very, very stupid that nobody bothers 'debunking' it. Her blog is a joke. It's debunked by common sense. But it's a good example of what happens when conspiracy theorists turn sour and, instead of stepping away from the conspiracy, they twist it in a new, intensely negative direction.

Sea is a Larrie. She believes all the basic Larrie crap like the closeted romance, the teddy bears' secret messages, the fake baby, the hired girlfriends, the show houses etc. She doesn't want to be called a Larrie because that's intensely embarrassing, but she can't let go. She cannot separate Louis from Harry, and vice versa. She sees everything they do through the prism of their non-existent former romantic relationship. She thinks their albums are full of songs written about that relationship. She mocks Larries relentlessly as if it's somehow less delusional and ridiculous to believe in her version of Larrie than theirs.

Just because Sea says she's presenting facts it doesn't mean she actually is. Larries do this all the time. "I'm sorry, but I can't unsee what I've seen with my own eyes" they say, referring to slowed down gifs of a gesture or a look shared 10 years ago. "It's impossible to let go, knowing what I know", they say, referring to their belief that Harry and Louis were sending them secret messages about their relationship via two teddy bears. "I've seen the facts and where I see injustice, I must speak out", says Sea, referring to her belief that Harry Styles has spent the last five years of his life trying to destroy his former lover/bandmate's career in a quest for fame and glory.

First of all, her facts are not always facts. You'll notice that she self-references all the time - hyperlinking to her own posts which in turn hyperlink to her older posts etc etc, getting further and further away from the actual fact at the core of it. After enough time, she doesn't even need to hyperlink anymore, she just uses a buzzword and her clueless followers do the rest. For example, "Euphoria" is one of her buzzwords. Sea and her followers have perpetuated the belief that Harry deliberately had an explicit Larrie fanfiction scene inserted into an episode of Euphoria without Louis' consent. This started with the fact that Jeremy O Harris, whom Harry had recently got to know at the time Euphoria was broadcast, had been a consultant on the first season of Euphoria (not a writer, not a producer), and tweeted about the episode tagging Harry. It's got to the point where I saw a tinhat post recently that said in the tags that Harry had "literally" written the script for Euphoria! Sea reblogged it.

She and other tinhats like her will also wildly exaggerate to emphasise Louis' "persecution". Using the Euphoria example again, they claim that the episode unleashed a new wave of mostly negative press about Louis that implies he is homophobic...

...Google "Louis Tomlinson Euphoria" and make up your own mind.

It's important to remember that you can tag a lot of facts together and draw whatever outrageous conclusions you want - it doesn't make your conclusion real. You just have to look at how Larries took one fact ("there is a picture book called Louis The Fish") and another fact ("Adore You features a fish") and concluded that Harry was sending messages about his love for Louis in his video (or that HSHQ wanted Larries to believe Harry was sending messages about his love for Louis in his video). Neither of those conclusions are true.

Good luck!

#larrie bullshit #tinhat bullshit #euphoria #rads #seasurfacefullofclouds1

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runrundoyourstuff · 3 years

Text

Redirection

(Avatar: the Last Airbender one-shot, rated: T, 2,015 words)

cn: for implied/referenced child abuse

He’s not explicitly invited to the Agni Kai, but no one attempts to hide it from him—though in retrospect, long after, once he finally has time to process, this fact will strike him as odd. Wouldn’t someone have expected him to protest, had he known? But then only Azula knew the depths of his ambivalence in Ba Sing Se, and had apparently elected to keep it hidden in her sleeves like so many of her plots, no doubt to brandish as a secret weapon should the need present itself.

In any case, when Zuko does hear of the duel, he must convince himself to attend. All the royals—(all the free royals)—will be there, after all. It’s an honor. The nobles in his father’s court would be suspicious if he weren’t present. And besides, though he hasn’t seen the inside of the arena since before his banishment, since he was a child, since...since he—since his father…since the day he got his scar, it’s not as though he’ll be fighting this time. (For that matter, he doesn’t yet know who is involved in this Agni Kai—just that one or both of the combatants is notable enough within Court for this to be an event.)

He manages to calm his trembling knees in time to enter the arena before the proceedings began, but just barely. Zuko wafts in, hands clenched at his sides, trying and failing not to think about what it looks like, how his uncle’s reputation for tardiness might have rubbed off on him—all the times Uncle had lingered behind at a port-of-call, delaying Zuko’s carefully crafted schedules, (you worry too much Prince Zuko, you should rest, a man needs his rest). But when he finds his seat in the section designated for the royal family, only Azula is there waiting for him.

“Where’s Father?”

Azula smirks. “Well, hello to you too, Zuzu. Here for the show?”

“Where is he?!”

Azula steadily moves her gaze to the platform in the center of the arena, and when Zuko follows it there, his hand finds the branded skin on his face, stomach tumbling out from within him, blood flushing like he imagines it would if the sun were to disappear from the sky.

Ozai stands there, elevated, ceremonial Agni Kai garnet draped around his bare shoulders, just as it had been three years ago.

Zuko inhales. “Who…?”

“Just watch, Dum-dum.”

But he doesn’t have to watch long. After a moment, two members of the Royal Guard appear, dragging a lump of a third person up onto the stage. They drop him there, bare-chested, clad only in ragged dueling pants because the Agni Kai sash falls from his shoulders as he hits the tile floor, and though he’s conscious, he doesn’t seem to have the strength to readjust his position.

Zuko cries out, leaping to his feet. “What’d they do to him?!”

“Really, Zuko, you’re causing a scene.”

If anyone turns toward him at his outburst, Zuko doesn’t see it. His focus is singularly on the platform. The guards seem to laugh as they retreat from the stage and leave the man there—Zuko can tell even beneath their masks, people have been looking at him that body language for years: the way their chests rise and fall, how they tilt their heads back like they don’t have a care in the Agni-forsaken world. They’re looking at him and laughing, like they don’t care that this is what’s become of the Dragon of the West, who used to be their Crown Prince, their general, their hero, like they think it’s funny...

“Azula!” he demands.

“Perhaps he was simply always feebler than you remember.”

“He was not! The only reason he didn’t destroy us in Ba Sing Se is because he wanted to give the Avatar time to get away—”

Azula raises an eyebrow. “I thought the Avatar was dead.”

“—they did something to him! Drugged him, or beat him, or something—don’t you care?!”

She shrugs. “He’s a traitor.”

“He’s our uncle!”

“I guess I’m just not as sentimental as you are, Zuzu.”

“But why—” On the stage below, Ozai looms over his brother, burying him in a dark shadow. “Why is he...Is Father going to duel him?”

“It’s not going to be much of a duel, if you ask me.” A pause, and then she continues. “You didn’t think Father would let treachery like Uncle’s go unpunished, did you?”

“But…” But he’s his brother. The words die on Zuko’s lips. Yes, Uncle’s his brother. And Ursa was his wife, and what did that matter? And…

Blood rushes to his face, and it burns—it burns—like it’s on fire.

Uncle is on his knees, and it looks almost like a prostration.

And I was his son.

Ozai doesn’t even bother moving to the starting position, just shrugs the ceremonial garnet off his shoulders to signal his intent to begin. “Well, brother,” he smirks in a voice loud enough for the entire arena to hear. “You have betrayed your Nation and your Fire Lord. Will you fight for your honor?”

Uncle just barely manages to lift his head. If he says anything, it’s too faint for Zuko to hear.

“Sad,” Ozai continues, projecting, raising his hands with his voice. “That this is what has become of the famed Dragon of the West. And to think that this country once thought that you would be their ruler.”

Something in Zuko’s chest lurches, like it’s trying to escape, to run from the fire it knows is coming, that lives in its muscle memory. Family sticks together, Uncle had told Zuko once, had shown him patiently, over-and over-again every day for three long years, even when Zuko screamed that he didn’t want to see it.

Family sticks together. Family does not raise hands to each other with the sort of glint that is currently in his father’s eyes and speak gleefully about it. Family does not orchestrate public duels and give whatever orders are necessary to ensure that those duels are just for show.

This is wrong. Even if—if—Uncle is a traitor, this is wrong. Uncle is Father’s brother. Uncle is on his knees. This is Uncle. And Ozai looms over him, flames growing in his palms, and Zuko’s fingers clench in his lap, his head, his chest buzz...This is wrong.

(And if this is wrong…)

(Zuko had been on his knees once. Ozai had towered, fire growing in his hands…)

(If this is wrong…)

“My Nation is fortunate,” Ozai smiles, angling his hands toward his brother. “That I am here to purge it of such weakness.”

And then whatever it is that had been screaming in Zuko’s chest bursts forth, mingles with all the lingering doubts that have been living in his mind the past several weeks since his return home. And Zuko doesn’t know what he is about to do until he does it, springs to his feet in the most honored seats of the arena, and yells in a voice as loud as Ozai’s so that there is no one in the entire stadium who will not be able to hear: “Stop!”

This time, when all eyes turn to him, Zuko feels them. But he doesn’t move his own gaze from his father—who has turned toward him, smile fading from his face, flames flaring in his hands—and it’s just enough to make the man hesitate. But the flame is still growing, and Ozai has a history of venting his red-hot anger onto any in the vicinity. (Not anyonein the vicinity, Zuko will think later—much later, after he has time to process, not only this moment but everything else too—Ozai has a history of unleashing his anger on the most vulnerable target. Once, that was Zuko. Now, it’s Iroh.)

In the present, Zuko doesn’t waste the opportunity. He propels himself forward into the air and toward the stage with Firebending, and it’s not until he’s halfway there that he feels the fear sink in his stomach, not until he lands in front of Uncle that he feels the tremble behind his knees. But he remains upright, and whatever he feels, he wills his face to be the same level of impassive as it was behind the Blue Spirit mask before he’d cast it away.

“Zuko...no…” Uncle’s voice is a murmur behind him, but there are resonances of a moment of when it was much stronger. You never think these things through!

And it’s true, he knows now, no matter what he’d yelled under that lake. But sometimes you can’t think things through, or you’ll be paralyzed, and sometimes there’s no time, you just have to act…

He clenches his fist.

“Why does it not come as a surprise that you’re a traitor too?” Ozai snarls. “I should have killed you three years ago and spared myself the embarrassment!”

“Maybe,” Zuko hears himself say, and to his surprise his voice is steady. “But you didn’t.” A pause, and then: “Leave my uncle alone.”

“Treachery must be punished. He will fight for his honor!”

“This isn't a fight! It's a show! You know you can’t beat him for real, so you staged this whole thing just so the country will think you look stronger than you are!”

“Zuko…” Uncle’s whispers grow desperate, but Zuko doesn’t turn.

Ozai’s nostrils flare. “How dare—”

“It’s just another lie! Like all the lies you told us about how the Fire Nation is the greatest civilization in the world! Like the lies you were willing to tell to all those young soldiers you’ve sent to die…”

“Zuko…”

“You will pay for this insolence—”

“But the truth is that we’re not the greatest country in the world! And the truth is that Uncle Iroh is better than you are! He’s stronger, he’s a better father, and he would have been a better Fire Lord!”

It’s not a surprise when the lightning comes barreling toward him from his father’s fingers. And even though Zuko knows the technique in theory, executing it in practice brings him precariously close to reckoning with his own mortality. He catches the blast with his fingers, and it pushes him backward. He just manages to dig his heels into the floor and stop himself before he ploughs into Uncle and spills the electricity onto him—which would defeat the entire purpose of this whole charade—but it festers in his own arm, like it’s singeing it from the inside, and it’s going to kill him, it’s going to kill him, Agni, he’s going to die, and he didn’t think he’d care, or that that would scare him, not after everything, but he...he doesn’t want…

“Breathe...Zuko.”

Uncle’s voice is nothing more than a rasp, but it grounds him nonetheless. Zuko inhales, then releases, lightning still festering at his fingertips.

“Focus...your...energy. In...Down...Up…Out.”

Another breath, and then Zuko obeys, just like Uncle taught him in the ruins of forgotten that Earth Kingdom town, a lifetime ago now, it seems. And when he lets the lightning fly out of his other arm, he angles it upward, toward the roof of the arena, where it explodes on contact in a fiery burst.

Later, Zuko will think with a wry irony that he ought to make an offering in gratitude to Agni that things always seem to blow up in his face, because it’s that fact that ultimately seems to save him. The center of the ceiling of the stadium collapses as it detonates, and for the second time in minutes, Zuko doesn’t waste the opportunity that presents itself. In the chaos that ensues as chunks of tile and plaster falls to the stage between him and Ozai, as all the Royal Guard is occupied with protecting their monarch from falling debris, Zuko hauls Uncle onto his shoulders and flees.

It’s not until they’re well beyond not only the palace, but indeed the very walls of the city itself that he brings himself to look back.

[ao3]

#my fic #zuko #iroh #ozai #atla #child abuse tw

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Note

I’m literally in love with the way you write Dick and Jason’s dynamic

Thanks, glad to hear that! Personal preferences aside, I honestly do think it just opens up SO many more potential stories if you go with the idea that they did have a brotherly relationship before Jason died, just they didnt get together around Bruce because Dick was still hoping Bruce would make the first move in reaching out to him. Rather than just stick with the usual assumption that because it wasn’t seen on the page, they had barely any interactions and both resented each other for various reasons.

But those reasons all trace back to Bruce, and if you look at them as two people who are united by the common experience of being fish out of water, adapting to the same environment after coming from DRAMATICALLY different origins, able to connect over that and understand each other in a way nobody else really can because nobody else has ever really had to straddle two worlds as definitively as Dick and Jason had to in their formative years....

Like, the big sticking point for me in the Dick vs Jason: The Grudge theory was just that....at the end of the day, these are two boys who grew up with very few loved ones to start with, or having had to deal with the loss of those loved ones.....

But one way or another......are these two specific characters really ones that make sense as wanting to reject the possibility of more family?

They’re connected through Bruce, like it or not, that was never going to change even from before they ever met......and the idea that Dick Grayson and Jason Todd would each be content to waste literal YEARS never even TRYING to connect with the person who was probably most like him and who by all accounts was already his brother in most ways just by way of Bruce...not even to see if maybe they COULD actually be brothers? To have family beyond just Bruce and Alfred?

Me @ every fic or headcanon that says Dick had Only Child Syndrome and resented Jason because of that: right because Dick Grayson of all people is anti-family. He’s full up with that one guy whose legal guardianship of him has been expired for a couple years and who he hasn’t spoken to since long before then.....nah, why would he want any more or any other family beyond that?

I mean, I absolutely believe that Dick was upset and hurt that Bruce adopted Jason while he’d never even offered to adopt Dick......but Dick has never been one to pass around blame instead of focusing it on its true point of origin. That’s his and Bruce’s issue. And honestly, there are TONS of reasons for Dick to be upset about that, without making it about Jason at all.

There’s literally no reason for Dick to take it out on Jason ever, if his biggest issue or grievance is that like....it feels like Bruce was just so done with Dick and considered him so out of his life, something like “just added a new kid to the family” didn’t seem like relevant information he should pass on to Dick despite the tenseness between them. When you have to find out from the NEWS that your old family unit just full on up and adopted this kid you’ve never heard of before now without even so much as a phone call.....there’s plenty of cause to feel like this is a message that you’re not really considered part of that family unit anymore, so why would you need to know?

Or like, the fact that Bruce didn’t consider hey I’m thinking of adding another kid to my family that consists of me and the kid I’m so afraid to tell I think of him as a son in case he doesn’t feel the same way, that I’ve sat back and let things get this bad between us and fester.....hey maybe before I issue adoption papers for a second kid, I should think about putting in an equivalent effort at fixing things with my first kid first?

Or why not write Bruce thinking: “Hey if I can’t even fix things with the kid I raised for almost a decade and think of as my own no matter how long its been since I talked to him.....what on Earth makes me think I’m qualified to take on a SECOND child?”

Like....Bruce was the one who held all the power and all the options, Dick had no other option but to go along with whatever Bruce decided Bruce was going to do, and neither did Jason really.....so there’s no real reason in my head that should be a point of contention between them or a reason to resent each other instead of just stressing to them the importance of having significant family ties beyond just Bruce because history clearly showed even at that point that best intentions aside, the man is fallible.

If anything, that should have been common ground!

I think there was like, an initial negative reaction of maybe one night, the first time they met and Dick even though he was prepared for it still had to adjust to the reality of actually seeing this stranger he was irrevocably connected to now by both his names, even if neither was technically his anymore....like to actually SEE him standing there in his old role....that’s gonna hit anybody hard.

But he also would have clearly been able to see that whatever else he may have been, this twelve year old Robin was still a kid, and one who hadn’t had a lot of time to ever be a kid in the first place.....which again, instant camaraderie, because boy could Dick relate.....remember, Dick may have had a happy childhood with his parents before they were murdered but it was also a childhood where he WORKED. He loves being an acrobat, he loved being in the show, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t WORK, that his childhood didn’t consist of training as long and as regularly as any adult acrobat while everyone else his age was running around playing outside and making friends. And after Bruce took Dick in, most of Dick’s free time was spent being Robin, training as Robin, etc?

Which IMO would have made him take one look at this kid in his old costume, literally standing where he had once stood, stepping into his old shoes.....and I think Dick’s real honest reaction once he brushed aside any kneejerk feeling of pain or bitterness the way he brushes aside all the physical pain he feels when out as Nightwing but refuses to let get in the way of him doing what he has to, doing what’s right....

Nah, Dick would have taken one look at this tiny kid full of fire and bravado but also so clearly eager to please, to be praised, to be told he was doing a good job and even without that he was worth something, his life had value, the world was better just because he existed......

And I think Dick’s bitterness about the situation would have crystallized into him resentfully thinking well B’s not exactly the best about dishing out affection or praise so I’m gonna make sure this little Mini-Me standing there in my old colors looking just as young and small as I must have looked then even if I didn’t realize it at the time....I’m gonna make sure I keep him supplied with a steady diet of “Nice Words and Gestures That Kids Should Grow Up Receiving Regularly.”

Dick has always been a firm believer that the best way to make sure something gets done is to do it yourself.

So yeah, I honestly do think that back during those days, Dick and Jason were thick as thieves when their schedules allowed for it, with it being simultaneously painful and unspoken that they had to like....work around Bruce’s presence so Dick could avoid him, but somewhat softened by the challenge and thrill of two brothers scheming to pull one over on the Big Bad Batdad every time the older brother wanted to take the little brother to go somewhere or do something, like, even just to spoil him rotten.

Cuz really....isn’t that a lot more interesting than ‘oh they barely ever even met back then and it wasn’t great, that’s it, the end’? There’s so much you could do with even just that, from them sneaking Jason out for a fun adventure that’s layered with just a hint of poignant angst because of the unspoken why of him needing to sneak out instead of them just saying hey Bruce, we need some bro time, Jason’s hanging with me this weekend? Or you dial up the angst and layer it with lightness or literally anything between those two points on a spectrum.

There’s so much Secret History potential buried back in those years....adventures they had together and never told anyone about, secrets shared between brothers they never shared elsewhere.....maybe Dick opening up to Jason more than he usually likes to, but here felt it might be the only way to get Jason to do the same, with Dick thus offering up some painful tidbit from his past that he never told even Bruce or Alfred for some reason, if he thinks Jason’s upset about something and needs to vent but will just keep insisting he’s fine unless Dick leads by example and goes first.

There’s so much potential for in-jokes that only the two of them know and everyone else is ENDLESSLY curious about, because everyone always forgets that those two have so much history because it was literally kept out of sight, out of mind, so they could keep it free of the friction that was bound to come of adding Bruce to the mix before their father cleared the air with his eldest first.

So its an easy thing to forget about or overlook, especially since it rarely comes up....but everytime it does rear its head via some private joke only they know or a reference to some event back then that everyone else is kept boxed out of having any context for....that’s the kind of stuff that would drive a family of detectives craszy, because they want to know! What’s the joke??

And yet its likely they’d never ask, because as curious as they are to hear about the mysterious missing years of the first two Wayne children, back when there was literally nobody else present to ask for details.....they never can figure out HOW to ask those questions, not when they’re equally aware of the swiftly hidden expressions of pain or bitterness that flash across the two eldests’ faces after each unearthing of some long-buried treasure they shared between them. Unable to ever escape the fact that each of those treasured moments would forever be followed with an inevitable reminder of why there were so few of those moments, in the end.

Why those years ended far earlier than they should have, and why their reunion upon Jason’s return was hindered and complicated by Dick’s obligation to other siblings Jason hurt while dealing with Pit after-effects and the lack of a strong support system while swayed to League sympathies...

And of course, ultimately there’s the reality that after the Adventures of Young Dick and Tiny Jason were cancelled far ahead of schedule, and that several year long intermission....by the time everything else was gotten out of the way, the stars of those earlier adventures were as long gone as the adventures themselves. Dick and Jason were both entirely different people by now.....still containing within each of them enough of who they were back then that those memories are kept carefully protected and hidden away, all the more valuable for how few and sparse they are, and how rarely they’re brought out to look at and enjoy.....

But with those vaults buried deeply enough within who Dick and Jason both are these days, that there’s a lot of blood and loss and pain you have to cut through just to reach that vault. There’s no retrieving anything from it without a cost. A cost worth paying, given that they can’t help themselves from calling back to it every now and then, even though they know the inevitable result is going to be end negative and not end positive. But still high enough to give them pause before actually doing so....holding back sometimes so the toll is doled out sparingly and over time. Getting greedy and trying to bring out/back/up too much too fast is far more daunting than either can afford to pay at the moment.

So that’s how I like to view the two of them and their dynamic back during and because of those early years before Jason’s death. Bittersweet and shaded by nostalgia.....temptation and warning both, in how much they want to revisit it but how much they fear ruining what they’ve managed to cobble together now by bringing the past too much into the light, comparing past and present too clearly and risking that being reminded too strongly of the brothers they were back then, will just make it impossible to ever be content with anything but that bond replicated in full and they’re not sure it can be, are both too afraid too much has happened since then and trying too hard, putting too much pressure on the dynamic they’ve built now could risk shattering the relative fragile bond completely.

Pretty much everything I write with the two of them, unless I specifically state otherwise via context, is generally written through that lens, with me viewing that as the backstory for their dynamic that I’m running with.

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