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crystalas · 2 years

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Birthday Wish part 5

Chapter five: The nanny-bot heist

Ballora smirked as she watched the Glamrocks head towards the loading bay but as soon as they got close enough, she hit a button on a map and they all perked up as if they heard a sound and heading off in that direction.

The security of the Pizza Plex always sounded daunting to anyone who looked into it as the company themselves boasts about the hundreds of so security drones that they had on site. However, if you checked into it further; the main premise of the pizza plex security was that the drones would sound the alarm and the main animatronics would deal with the threat so really you just had to keep those five busy. Add in that she had just blocked them from the network so they couldn’t check the feed themselves or communicate [another thing that could easily be blamed on the storm] and she had them right where she wanted them.

So here she was playing a very elaborate game of Marco-polo with A.I robots all from the comfort of a security office.

Moon hated being off the network, he felt like he was half blind. Moon glanced at Gregory who was busy cursing out his teacher for making him dissect a long-winded boring poem for reasons that were beyond him. The Day Care Attendant both thought it best to keep quiet about how sudden and jarringly they lost connection to the others. Wouldn’t be the first time the Wi-fi went down due to bad weather or shitty wiring…

Luckily his hearing was still working at optimal levels so he heard the main gate to the Superstar Day Care open.

<That can’t be Freddy> Sun said quietly <They were heading to Monty Golf before the network went down…>

“Gregory” Moon whispered killing the nightlight “Quickly and quietly go hide in the play structures”

Gregory nodded and rushed off clambering up the slide and making his way so he could peek out from the top of the play structure, he gave a gasp and ducked lower when he saw two flashlights dance around in the gloom.

“This is it” a gruff voice said pushing the gate open and looked around.

“Where is it?” another voice asked.

A flash light shone onto Moon who smiled and wave, he liked his toys to know what’s hunting them before the game began.

“Hold up I thought we after a yellow one? This one is blue!”

“Creepy fucking thing, how the hell is that allowed around kids?”

“Look Ballora said we’re after the Day Care Attendant and we found a bot in the Day Care…so…”

“Such naughty rude boys…” Moon purred lowering himself to ground so he could crawl around like a demon spider. “Naughty boys should be punished”

“Seriously who thought that thing should be near kids?!” Balloon Boy gasped but Moon was already racing across the floor like a skittering insect before leaping up and pinning Bon Bon against the wall of the Day Care.

“Aaaw I was hoping for more fun than this…” Moon chuckled darkly as he hoisted Bon Bon up so his boots dangled a few feet off the ground. Balloon boy stood there paralyzed in fear, they had been sent to captured a nanny boy they had expected something soft and harmless not whatever this thing was!!

“Don’t worry short stack, I’ll give you a head start just as soon as I’m finished with your buddy…” Moon smirked putting his hand around Bon Bon’s neck but froze when a sound broke the tense quiet.

Dewdrop had woken up and was babbling loudly before starting to cry. Moon spun his head around to look to make sure she was safe.

In the spilt second that Moon was distracted Bon Bon pulled out a stun baton and rammed into right where Moon’s ribs should be. The Day Care Attendant screamed with both Sun and Moon’s voice as their body was overloaded with electricity, dropping the intruder and falling to the floor twitching as their systems were forced to recalibrate. Gregory gave a sharp gasp before covering his mouth and hiding further into the play structure, rapidly tapping at his fazwatch but got no reply.

“What the hell is a baby doing here?!” Balloon Boy asked looking over to where Dewdrop was crying.

“Does it matter?” Bon Bon wheezed but gave a yelp as Moon started to move with juddering stops and starts. “SHIT! It’s still moving!”

Sun and Moon were rapidly doing the numbers were not liking the answers.

Probability of securing intruders: 98%

Probability of risk of lasting damage while securing intruders: 27%

Probability of risk of harm coming to children while securing intruders: 89%

Day Care Attendant, Priority one: PROTECT THE CHILDREN.

Moon staggered to his feet and saw the two men arm their stun batons expecting round two but instead Moon spun on his heels and ran the away from them and towards the ball pit, calling down his wire as he did.

“Gregory on the bridge now!” he shouted, Gregory wasted no time and got there as Moon leapt up grabbing the boy while securing the line to his back. “Keep your mouth closed so you don’t bite your tongue” Moon instructed.

“Seriously why are there so many brats here!? This place should be closed?!” Balloon Boy cried.

Moon leapt across the Day Care in a single bound using the wire to only slow his descent for a second, he rushed in and grabbed Dewdrop who upon seeing Moon stopped crying and reach up for him. Moon wasted no time bundling her into her blanket and held her close with one arm with Gregory clinging to him in the other. As Bon Bon and Balloon Boy ran around the corner Moon dashed forward and leapt into the air using the momentum to carry them across the Day Care walls and into the rafters.

“That thing can fucking fly??!” was the last thing that could be heard as they vanished into the gloom.

Chica and Monty had searched all of Monty Mini Golf with nothing to show for it, Monty gave a growl and lifted up a table into the air as if the intruder would be hiding underneath. He placed it down and looked around some more. A new blip as one of the drones sent out an alert and Monty and Chica rushed off.

This time they’ll catch them!”

Bon Bon and Balloon Boy searched carefully looking high in the rafters, guns now out as well as batons close to hand. There had come across a pirate style play area and was now searching it.

“It couldn’t have gotten far, I pumped plenty of volts into it not to mention it was carrying two kids!” Bon Bon declared.

“What are we gonna do about that by the way?” Balloon Boy asked.

“About what? The kids?”

“Yeah, we waited for this storm to hit so there WEREN’T any witnesses…”

“I wouldn’t worry, my guess is they were dumped here and if it comes to worrying about witnesses.” Bon Bon said coldly “We could mess up the bodies to look like the bot did it, this place has such a fucked-up rep as it is no one will question it and the company will be so busy covering their butts they won’t even notice they’re missing a robot…”

They walked past the pirate ship climbing frame where Gregory had stashed Moon and Dewdrop, all three were huddled up under the pirate ship silent as stone. A binky bobbed up and down in Dewdrop’s mouth as they stared at the pair of lights bobbing in the dark and the boots march quietly past. They listened out for the ‘clunk’ of the door closing and then waited for another minute their ears straining for any other sounds of danger.

“I think they are gone…” Gregory whispered.

“let’s stay put for now, get some distance between us” Moon whispered back, he laid Dewdrop down on the blanket as he fashioned a sling out of it so he could keep Dewdrop close to their chest. As they finished tying the knots around his neck he looked around. There were wrappers and a blanket here, it looked like it was lived in and Gregory knew about this hiding spot a bit too well for it to be a lucky discovery.

“Gregory, how did you know about this place?” he asked as he bounced Dewdrop gently to sooth her, the boy didn’t look up at him and started to fidget.

“Can you keep a secret? I mean even from Sun?” he asked.

“I can but I should mention that if you tell me that someone has been abusing you or anything along those lines, I’m legally allowed to go kick their butts” Moon said.

<No!> Sun snapped <Being a Mandatory Reporter doesn’t mean that!>

“Fine I can’t beat them up but I am legally obligated to report them to higher authorities…afterwards I will kick their butts!”

“Its nothing like that” Gregory said softly.

“Okay then!” Moon said “Sorry Mama Sun its Uncle Moon time now!” and with that Sun was blocked off to their side of the shared mental space. “Okay kid now its just you, me and the baby and she seem to be on the level”

Dewdrop gurgled and continued to suck on her binky.

“I…I…sometimes sneak back here and skip school” Gregory explained.

“Why is someone bullying you or something?” the boy shook his head.

“Nah I just…don’t like to go during certain days…”

“Such as?”

“Family events like bring your dad to school day…sports day…ya know…”

Moon felt his metaphoric heart drop, that was the elephant in the room that no one wanted to address. The simple fact that there will never be a chance to be involved in Gregory’s life beyond these walls, Freddy can’t go to father themed events, they will never be able to cheer Gregory on at a sports game or see him graduate. There was also the chance they will never see him grow up, corporate might decide to decommission any one of them at any time for reason they had no control over. Gregory might come in one day and find his family being sold off for scraps and be completely helpless to stop it.

“Skipping school is risky” Moon said “What if they ring home about it?”

“My home room teacher is pretty cool; she understands that Vanessa is more of a sister and I don’t have… …real parents…” Gregory whispered and looked away ashamed. “I know I can’t tell anyone that I do have parents and that they’re robots without looking like an insane lying moron…”

Moon brought Gregory into a side hug.

“It’s a weird thing we have, isn’t it?” Moon sighed, Gregory nodded and sunk into the hug, Dewdrop wiggled about in her sling so she could look at Gregory before giving a smile which made the binky fall out.

“What are we going to do?” he asked popping the binky back into her mouth, “I tried calling Freddy but the network is down.”

“Not sure…normally I’d take care of it but I don’t want to risk leaving you two alone” Moon murmured, Gregory looked thoughtful.

“Wait during that night all Sun had to do to get the other’s attention was to shout ‘security alert!’ and someone always showed up in minutes” Gregory mused “Why can’t we do that?”

“Well for one it’d give away our position to the clearly nasty people with guns” Moon said “for another it was because they were already hunting you and were probably nearby to begin with. And given when we last looked everyone was heading to the other side of the plex there’s a good chance they won’t hear us.”

“What if we made it louder?”

The Day Care Attendant looked at him.

“What if we got to the main stage, Freddy’s mic stand is on there if we got a hold of that and shouted really loud ‘security alert’ there then they’ll have to come running!”

“So will the intruders”

“Yeah, but that’s the beauty of it, once we’re done, we’ll go below to parts and services you can hide Dewdrop…”

“And you”

“Fine and me, put us somewhere safe and with Freddy and the others kick their butts!”

“Risky but it’ll have to do”

<Can I come back now?> Sun asked quietly.

<Yeah, we’re done with sharing secrets we’re on ‘planning daring deeds together’ levels of bonding now> Moon smirked to which Sun shook their digital head.

Moon got to their feet and with one hand steadying Dewdrop crawled forward and peeked around, the intruders had yet to reappear, they emerged from their hidey hole Gregory realised a glaring hole in their plan.

“Crap!” he hissed “We need power for the stage to work and the storm knocked it out!”

“I don’t think it did, the fact that these bozos showed up right after the power and network went down? It’s too convenient I bet they hit a main breaker or something”

“So, first thing first? Find a breaker?”

“Yup”

Moon picked Gregory up whom wrapped his arms around Moon’s torso, he called down a wire and connected it with ease despite having his hands full.

“How is that still working in a blackout?”

“it’s connected to the same back-up power the security system has, ya know seeing as I’m part of security!”

Gregory gave a hum of acknowledgement as Moon leapt up into the air, the wire going taunt as it took the weight. Once high into the rafters Moon began to bound across the metal beams in wide almost impossible leaps, what was in reality was a minute or two felt like exhilarating hours as Gregory felt like they were soaring over the entire plex. They landed as they approached the exit and came out on the balcony of Kids Cove on the second floor, disconnecting one wire and reconnecting another he already had waiting Moon hopped from one balcony onto the other until they were high above the main atrium.

Dewdrop had taken all this in her stride this was just a big game of ‘bouncing baby’ for her, Gregory however looked down at everything and giggled from the adrenaline rush.

“Moon, you have the coolest job here!” he laughed.

<Uncle moony for the wiiiiiiiin> Moon gloated internally.

“What the heck is taking you two so long Balloon Boy?” Ballora snapped over the coms after sending Roxy and Freddy further into Fazer Blast. “It’s only a matter of time before I’m booted from the system or the robots wise up!”

“You need to update your intel more!” he griped back. “You said we were after a yellow nanny bot! Not some blue starry pants spider thing that can fucking fly!”

“Wait what?” Ballora asked.

“The thing had a moon for a face and red eyes! All demonic and shit!” Bon Bon butted in.

“That makes no sense that’s the nanny bot’s night mode, its early afternoon it shouldn’t be out…” she muttered.

“You knew??!!!”

“Unless…if it’s not time set, maybe it’s light sensitive? Jeez what a dumb feature for an indoor robot”

“Ballora!” Balloon Boy snapped. “Did you miss the part where I said the thing took off like bloody Peter Pan?!”

“No that’s part of its night mode, the moon phase doubles as a security feature its why we came in during the day!” Ballora snapped and she started to scan the feeds “Right I just saw it jump out of level 2 near the pirate area!”

“Great so how do we catch a flying robot?!” Bon Bon demanded “We can risk shooting it down!”

“Don’t worry” she said with a smirk as she began to bring the power back on “I’ll clip its wings.”

#daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sundrop #moon drop #sun drop

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dancing-to-architecture · 9 months

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41 - Otis Redding - Otis Blue

Welp, all I know of Otis Redding is "(Sitting On) The Dock of the Bay" and that he wrote Respect before Aretha covered it and effectively made it hers.

Wikipedia says this is (paraphrased) mostly a cover album. Otherwise, I'm going in blind on this one.

•Ole Man Trouble-

It's ostensibly a blues album, and this is an amazing first track; a blues song about getting stuck in the dumps again and again and again. Fuck Ole Man Trouble.

All my homies hate Ole Man Trouble.

Those horns are hot, though! Hoping for a lot more of that coming up.

•Respect-

Okay, I was expecting this, but this version is just WEIRD. The pieces are there, but it's subtly wrong. Lukewarm take: Aretha did it WAY better. This song works so much better as a feminist anthem than it does like this, it's very 'better have my dinner ready when I walk in the door'.

•A Change Is Gonna Come-

Hearing this man's beaten-down and bedraggled optimism about how things have to get better for the black community despite living though a particularly dark part of America's history gave me a bit of hope that, yeah, things have got to get better.

Then, I think about my racist, fascist governor and I can't stop myself from thinking: "well, not fuckin yet, I guess."

Then, I lose myself in thinking about pushing Ronathan Desantis into the industrial crushing machine from the end of 30 Days of Night, and I get just a bit happier.

It's legitimately soul-destroying to think that it's been so long since this song was written and we've gotten to "no no, you see, slavery was good actually because it taught them valuable skills!" and that kinda makes me want to slit my fucking wrists

This country sucks shit.

•Down in the Valley-

As if he knew the last song was gonna be A Bummer, this one is basically "oh yeah, shit SUCKS, but those motherfuckers can't stop us from dancing, even if it's just to spite them."

That said, I really like it. A breath of fresh air.

•I've Been Loving You Too Long-

My man, she's gone. She's checked the fuck out.

She wants out, you said as much. Let her go.

I get that you feel like you can't let go, but you're being the Crab in the goddamn Bucket right now.

(For real, it sucks to be in a one-sided relationship but let them go if they want to leave, and you'll both be happier eventually for it.)

•Shake-

This song has some SERIOUS energy to it. Funky as hell, and the horns are working overtime. If this doesn't make you want to move, you're broken.

I bet this one was a killer at a live set.

•My Girl-

I was initially going to say that this sounds wrong without the Temptation's back-up singers, but the horns actually work pretty well in their place.

Also, god DAMN, the man could sing.

A beautiful cover. I almost like it more than the original, tbh.

•Wonderful World-

Was expecting trees of green and red roses, too, aaaaaaaand now all I can think about is Animal House, a now deeply problematic fave from my younger years. (But still not nearly as problematic as Revenge of the Nerds.)

(For those who aren't familiar, this was a featured song in that film, iirc the last song of the movie that plays over the epilogues.)

I definitely relate to this song though, as I also don't remember much about the French i took, either.

Possibly the most upbeat song so far.

•Rock Me Baby-

2001. Junior year history class taught by one of my all-time favorite teachers: Mr. Bradish.

This song was the given example of how creative people could get around the strict censorship laws in the mid-century like the Hayes code.

"Well, we can't say 'i want you to screw me all night long', but these dipshit honky record executives don't exactly understand what we mean by the word 'rock', they're just snapping their fingers, so we're good."

I simply cannot divorce this song from that moment in time.

That said, A SERIOUS blues guitar solo, hot damn.

•(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction-

To be totally on the level, I was always more of a Beatles fan than a Stones fan.

That said, this cover FUCKING SLAPS!

In a perfect world, this song would be known as an Otis Redding song.

•You Don't Miss Your Water-

The inverse of I've Been Loving You Too Long, and the return of: "Aww, man I've been such a gigantic cheating prick it's been so great, wait, why is my girl leaving me? [Surprised_pikachu.jpg]"

I seriously CAN'T believe how common a subject that has been during this project.

Well, that was an interesting album, all in all. Otis Redding had one hell of a voice, and it's on full display here.

Definitely worth checking out, especially since it's a quick one at like 35 minutes long.

Favorite Track: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction. It's amazing how much better this song can seem when it's not being sneered at you by a quasi-noncey British multi-millionaire. It comes off much less like the diatribe of a jaded douche when it comes from Otis.

Least Favorite Track: You Don't Miss Your Water.

Yeah, maybe I'm a dyed in the wool wife-guy, but I will never, ever be a fan of the nigh-omnipresent "I'm an asshole, I'm a cheater, wait a minute, why doesn't my partner like me anymore?" song.

#1001 albums #dancing to architecture #Otis Redding #Otis Blue

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marvelmusing · 2 years

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Vengeance & Vanity

Part 1

Pairing: The Darkling x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re by Aleksander’s side on Stormhond’s ship as you search for the Sea Whip. That is until things go drastically wrong, and you’re separated from Aleksander - held captive by the enemy as they return to Ravka.

Warnings: canon level violence, mentions of canon death, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

A/N: This is kind of a mixture of show!Darkling and book!Darkling, and I’ve changed Alina’s character a little. So it’s practically just me rewriting Siege and Storm where Alina is the villain?

Word Count: 4.9K

My Masterlist

Aleksander’s chuckle shakes you out of your thoughts. You tilt your head up to look at him, your forehead brushing the side of his thigh. He looks down at you, lying down in the grass next to him.

“Are you even listening to me?” He asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. You open your mouth in feigned shock.

“Of course I am.” His hand falls from the page in his book to trail through your hair, and you hum happily. Both of you remain quiet, soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. A gentle breeze traces over your bare arms, and you watch as the wind tugs at Aleksander’s ebony locks. A strand falls down over his face, and you reach up to smooth it back into place. His smile is wide and adoring - a rare sight that he only allows for you. Your eyes flutter closed and you can hear the children from the school at the Little Palace running and playing. It must be later in the afternoon than you thought. It will remain light for many more hours, but you and Aleksander can’t stay for long. How you wish you could stay here in your lover’s arms, warm and safe, until the shadows creep around you, and you walk back to the Little Palace, hand in hand, in the dark. Aleksander leans over, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” He murmurs against your skin, a touch of melancholy colouring his tone, displaying that uncanny ability to read you that has made you question whether he can read minds. You smile softly, enclosing your fingers around his wrist and providing a reassuring squeeze.

“One day,” you reply softly. “One day we will, Sasha. One day we will have nothing to do but love each other.” His smile returns. He’s always marvelled at your optimism. You may share his gift for the shadows, but you will always be his sunshine - even during the darkest days.

Your body lurches and you feel far too conscious of your racing heart. Your eyes are heavy, and when you try to open them the light is near blinding - so you keep them closed. There’s a bowl of something pressed to your lips, and you have no choice but to swallow it down. There’s a familiar voice - a voice that brings a flash of anger to your heart,

“Put her under again.” Then everything is black again.

The darkness has never bothered you. It’s something that you can share with Aleksander. But the darkness in Baghra’s hut has always seemed claustrophobic. Maybe it’s the heat from the fire that’s always crackling in the hearth, that is never able to cast enough light on the room. Or maybe it’s just Baghra herself that makes you feel so cornered. Her stare is always too direct. You’ve always thought that her purpose in life is to confuse and belittle you. Of course, you would never be good enough for her son, but you were also the fool that loved him despite his mistakes. Which was more than she had ever done.

Your mind drifts to your first few months at the Little Palace. The General had been distant with you, and the other Grisha whispered and excluded you. Despite this, Baghra was your main source of torment. You had read every book the teachers had assigned to you, and more, but you still couldn’t summon. Not from lack of effort from Baghra. She had wacked you with her cane, poked you with a hairpin, yelled at you, and still you couldn’t shift the sickening darkness that festered in her hut. She even abandoned you in the woods at one point, leaving you to find your way back to the Little Palace in the dark. The General was furious when he heard, though at the time you thought he was mad at you.

There’s a small stream of sunlight that casts over your face, and you groan at the tenderness behind your eyes. The bowl is at your chapped lips again, and you swallow it down, desperate to ease the scratch in your throat. You’re a little more aware of your surroundings now. The last few times you’ve been still swimming into unconsciousness as they fed and watered you. Your head aches as you strain to look around. You meet her eyes. Alina Starkov. If you weren’t so thoroughly out of it, you would have thrown an angry remark at her. Instead your words fail you, and your gaze slides down. Then you notice it. The ring of scales around her wrist. The sea whip. She has its power. Whilst that was what you and Aleksander planned, you can’t help but feel that everything else has gone drastically wrong. Where is Aleksander? You hear Alina give the order, and darkness slips over you again.

“The use of amplifiers is a barbaric, lazy practice.” Baghra’s words echo through your consciousness. Then Aleksander’s fingers entwine with yours, and you feel the rush of his power.

“What’s mine is yours.” He whispers against your ear. His other arm is around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. Aleksander has always been careful with his touch. He knows there are people who will want him solely for the power he can give them, the power that runs through his bones and his blood. He spent years believing his amplification was a curse. He knows better now, it's a gift, and one he wants to give to you whenever you need it - whenever you need him. Aleksander doesn’t just amplify your power. He loves you wholly, and unconditionally. When his lips meet yours, you feel the initial flow of power but you ignore it. You don’t want that. You want him.

Baghra was wrong. This isn’t barbaric. This is heaven.

You’re barely conscious before you’re dragged up to the deck of the ship. Yes, you’ve been on a ship. Your memory is still foggy, and your head throbs when you think too much. In your pain and confusion, your mind drifts to Aleksander. The memories come back slowly. Alina’s tracker finding the sea whip, Stormhond’s betrayal, the struggle on the ship. You swallow hard, remembering Ivan’s body hitting the deck. You breathe slowly, trying to ignore the grief clawing at your heart. You cannot cry in front of your enemies. Not even for your friend.

You blink in the starlight, the salty air a stark contrast from the clammy cabin you’ve been holed up in for Saint knows how long. There’s a small group gathered at the side of the deck. Stormhond, Alina, her tracker, and a few other crew members. You stare hard down at the metal rings around your wrists. there’s a metal rod that separates your hands - preventing you from summoning your shadows. If you were as powerful as Aleksander you could summon from pure will, but you can’t. A pitiful sob is fighting its way up your throat, but you suppress it.

“Ah, Lieutenant.” Stormhond observes you with a smirk. You no longer miss your shadows, when you're free you’re going to punch him in his smug little face. “Glad you could finally join us.” You don’t respond, simply staring hard at him. Some of the crew shift with uncertainty. You’re glad some people still fear you, even when you’re powerless and looking as bad as you feel.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, keeping your voice firm despite the hoarseness from disuse.

“Nearly two weeks.” Alina says with a little smirk. You nearly laugh at her. Revenge isn’t very Saintly, Sun Summoner.

“Let’s go.” Stormhond orders his crew, and some of them begin to climb over the railing - no doubt to board a smaller vessel. Looking into the distance, you think you recognise some of the coast that is visible - you’re returning to Ravka. Where you’re considered a traitor, and an accomplice to the Darkling. “Are you going to be difficult?” Stormhond asks you. You stare him down. Powers or not, you will fight tooth and nail to get back to Aleksander. You know that they can see it in your eyes. You lick your chapped lips before remarking,

“Is that a genuine question?” You see Alina nod at the person behind you, and you feel the control of your own heart slipping. Then you return to the darkness.

You don’t dream this time.

»»---------------------►

With a shuddering breath, you startle yourself awake. You feel horrendous. Your head throbs painfully, and every breath feels strained. You close your eyes, trying to will the pain away. You sit up, pushing away the dizziness that accompanies such a task, and survey your surroundings. You’re in a tent, and for a moment you nearly believe that the past month has been an awful dream. That you’re visiting the camp at Kribirsk, in bed waiting for Aleksander, and any moment now he’s going to walk in and tell you how useless the First Army commanders are. But he doesn’t. Instead, Alina Starkov walks in. You sigh, you can’t even be left alone to your misery. You look down at your hands, still manacled. A sudden wave of panic sets into your heart. More than two weeks without summoning. Perhaps your current state isn’t just from having your heart slowed regularly. Maybe the wasting sickness has already settled in. You swallow hard. You’re strong. Alina survived her entire life not using her powers. You should be fine. But every Grisha is different. You’ve heard stories of Grisha going insane from not using their power.

“What do you want Starkov?”

“We’re taking you to the King.”

“Why bother? Just kill me yourself.”

“To get you a pardon.” You stare at her for a moment. Then you laugh. It makes you terribly light-headed, but you laugh.

“If you think that I am some poor naïve little girl, who was seduced by the Darkling, then you should be very disappointed.”

“Nikolai says you’re useful.”

“Nikolai? The Second Prince of Ravka?” She nods,

“Stormhond.” You lick your lips. Well that’s an unexpected development. “And how am I to be of use to his highness?”

“I’m going to lead the Second Army.” You nearly laugh again. You can hardly believe your ears. This child wants to lead an army. “And you are going to help me.”

»»---------------------►

The journey to Os Alta is a nightmare. They keep you conscious, but you’re not sure whether that’s better. The route they chose treks through half of the country - parading the Sun Saint to the people of Ravka. You don’t leave the coach that they’re holding you captive in, and your hands remain bound. Despite how you try to fight it, your appetite is slowly dwindling and your nights are increasingly restless. You blame it on nerves - that the king will soon decide your fate - or on the fact that travelling has always been difficult for you. But you know deep down what’s happening. Your heart longs for Aleksander. You wonder what happened to him. You know that Alina would never stop gloating if she knew that Aleksander had died. But you can’t help but be haunted by the idea of him falling into the icy depths. When you do sleep, you dream of him.

Each night you try to summon the shadows. At first you try wriggling your hands rather pathetically. The metal bruises your wrists until they ache, and you continue to strain in an attempt to get your fingers to touch. Violent tears fall down your cheeks as you try and try. Then you attempt to summon without your hands. Aleksander had always made it look smooth, as if he belonged with the darkness. You close your eyes, trying to remember what he had taught you about summoning. Relax. You were made to bend the shadows. Your power is a part of you. No one can take that away. But try as you might, it doesn’t work.

The meeting with the King is as tedious as always. The Second Prince easily bends the conversation, and he soon gets what he wants. Not that you’re surprised. The King has never cared enough about actually ruling. You see Alina’s jaw clench when he makes a snide remark about the Grisha - good, now she knows how it feels. You do your best to look traumatised, not that it requires much effort. You haven’t slept or eaten properly since you last saw Aleksander. If you close your eyes and concentrate, you can almost remember the last dinner you had with him. The two of you talking late into the night, then holding each other close as you went to sleep.

The Prince convinces his father that you’re willing to serve the royal family and atone for your lack of judgement when siding with the Darkling. You retain your sanity through the exchange by imagining how Aleksander would kill them all and whether you would join in or just watch him work.

You trail behind Nikolai and Alina as they walk back to the Little Palace. There’s one guard following to ensure you don’t run away - although you’re certain you couldn’t get far even if you tried. In all honesty, you’re struggling to keep up with them both now. You’re utterly exhausted and you can’t help but compare this moment to the thousands of times you had walked this path with Aleksander. It was one of the few times you could both speak freely about the idiocy of the monarchy and what you would do together when it was gone.

Alina’s little band of followers are waiting by the gates of the Little Palace and before long you’re making your way over the gravel pathway.

You weren’t as old as Aleksander, you were around the age of his most recent alias, General Kirigan. You spent the first years of your life running. You never stayed anywhere long in fear of being discovered as a black witch, a shadow demon, or whatever the locals called you at the time. Then you found Aleksander - and you weren’t alone anymore. It wasn’t long after that Aleksander had built the Little Palace. You knew he had created it as a sanctuary for Grisha, but whenever Aleksander was feeling particularly romantic he would tell you that he built it all for you. You would always laugh, but your heart still warmed at his words. You had never had a real home. Not until the Little Palace. Not until Aleksander.

Your heart pounds as you near the doors, you can’t believe you’re back here. You hadn’t realised how much you had missed it - and it makes you ache for Aleksander again.

Things already seem different. There’s First Army soldiers posted through the doorways and along the paths. Are they holding the remaining Grisha hostage - keeping them in line before they are to be used to fight against Aleksander’s forces? Your stomach twists sickeningly at the thought. Grisha have never fought against Grisha. You follow the group through the entry hall, and enter the Hall of the Golden Dome.

There’s a fair number of Grisha remaining. More Corporalki had sided with Aleksander, which makes sense. You recognise a few faces throughout the crowd, and attempt to find any that might be willing to help you. Most of them seem young - they most likely still believe that the King has their best interests at heart. You’re at the back of the group, and the Grisha seem more interested in Alina to notice your presence, which was fine - you wanted to see how this would play out. You glance across the room, not much has changed except the disappearance of the Shadow Summoners’ chairs. You wonder briefly whether they were destroyed, or just moved into storage somewhere.

Things are immediately tense. The majority of the questions directed at Alina regard the Prince that accompanied her into Os Alta. You’re glad not all of the Grisha trust the monarchy. You notice Zoya in the crowd, who proclaims her support for the Sun Summoner - which you find odd considering she was not Alina’s biggest fan the last time you saw her. In all honesty Zoya wasn’t your biggest fan either, but you were both powerful and intelligent Grisha so you usually let the other get on with their life. As the group descends into bickering you try to pick who should lead the Second Army. Surely a Corporalki would be the best bet - they have the most military experience. But Aleksander is technically an Etheralki, so perhaps a summoner of some kind. But not Alina. Definitely not Alina.

You try your absolute hardest not to smirk when more and more questions are hurled at Alina. Then they start theorising on her relationship with the Prince. Then with Aleksander. Your smile widens. This is the most fun you’ve had in ages. You would feel sorry for her. But now she knows how hard it is to earn respect. You scoff lightly at one of her more ridiculous responses, which attracts the attention of the room. You straighten your shoulders, attempting to look dignified despite your current state.

“What’s she doing here?” Sergei asks, a strong emotion - whether fear or anger you don’t know - clouding his words. You mentally remove Sergei from your list of potential recruits.

“The former Lieutenant has offered her assistance in retribution for her crimes.” Alina informs them, shooting a pointed look at you. You flash her a wide, dangerous smile. My only crime is your murder, which is currently on my to-do list.

“I live to serve, moi soverenyi.” Your words express loyalty, but the mocking in your tone is evident and several of the Grisha shift uncomfortably. Good. They move their attention back to Alina. No one would dare question your motives or actions. At least not in front of you. You watch as Alina‘s face darkens as more and more criticism is thrown her way. Her gaze is fixed on Sergei and she makes a gesture that you recognise all too well. Surely she wouldn’t? Then there’s a colossal flash of light, and a thunderous crack echoes through the hall. Grisha duck and scream. You’d been expecting it, so you don’t flinch, but the sudden noise makes your ears ring and your eyesight blurs for a moment. Which can’t be a good sign for your health.

You look up at the ceiling, and there’s a monumental gash in the roof of the dome. The sunlight pours in through the gaping hole and even you can’t help but stare at it. Fury and grief tear at your heart. How dare she? Not even ten minutes into her return and she’s destroying the place. She doesn’t know how much thought and care Aleksander put into building this place. To make it beautiful, and to give Grisha the respect and luxury that they have been deprived of for centuries. You breathe slowly through your nose trying to stop the onslaught of your emotions and focus on whatever it is Alina is saying.

“If you want to remain at the Little Palace, you will follow me. And if you don’t like it, you will be gone by tonight, or I will have you in chains. I am a soldier. I am the Sun Summoner. And I’m the only chance you have.” A soldier? How much battle has the mapmaker actually seen? Whatever it is, it certainly won’t compare with the centuries that Aleksander has lived through. She strides across the room, flinging the doors open that lead to Aleksander’s chambers. The thought of the doors being locked, and Alina slamming her face into them gives you a flicker of amusement, before the guards push you into following her. The eyes of the Grisha are on you, but your gaze is fixed on the doors and you walk calmly out of their sight. The guards leave you to wait in the Oprichniki quarters while Alina and her group explore the rooms. After a while they return and Alina informs you that you’ll be sharing Aleksander’s room with her since she’s the only one who could overpower you. You don’t comment on the fact that you couldn’t possibly summon with your hands bound, and that you could simply suffocate her with a pillow in her sleep. Not that you’d be able to get far even if you did manage to get rid of Alina. You nod resignedly and settle on the large cushioned window seat. It’s big enough to be a bed. She seems rather shaken by something, but you can’t figure out what. You lean your head against the cushions, breathing in Aleksander’s scent. It’s good to be home, but it’s not home without him.

It doesn’t take long for Alina to fall asleep, but several hours later you’re still awake. Your eyes scan over the room in the dark. You hadn’t looked over everything when you’d first entered the room - not wanting to award Alina with any kind of reaction. Now you notice that the place is nearly empty. It’s been completely gutted. Whilst this was Aleksander’s room, it was also unofficially yours as well.

Sentimentality is painful for an immortal. But objects last longer than people, so you had allowed yourself to become attached to the little trinkets that had adorned your vanity table, and the books on your shelf, and the clothes in your dresser. Now they’re all gone. You also try to ignore the fact that Alina is sleeping in Aleksander’s bed. In your bed.

Your sleep is as fitful as it always is these days. Being back at the Little Palace brings very little comfort. Every time you find something that reminds you of the good times spent here, a painful thought will cross your mind - whether it’s your separation from Aleksander, the ache in your bones from not summoning, or the miserable existence that awaits you as you are forced to help Alina lead the Second Army.

»»---------------------►

You wake when you hear a commotion outside. If Aleksander were here no one would dare disturb your morning peace. You close your eyes as the voices continue, and you hear Alina climbing out of bed. You would join her in investigating - but it’s not your problem so why bother? She opens the door, and the voices direct themselves at her. You hear the Grisha squabbling over her first order - not a fantastic start to her rule. A small smile plays on your lips as you listen. The Grisha have always enjoyed bickering amongst themselves. You try to find amusement in the situation, even though you should really be angry. You’re in the middle of a war, Grisha have enemies everywhere - including in their own country - and they still want to fight amongst themselves. The Little Palace should be the one place where Grisha can be accepted. You discard the resentment gathering in your heart, it’s too exhausting to carry.

You listen as the Grisha complain about Alina’s request for two members of each order to speak in her new council. A smart idea, you admit. You and Aleksander had planned such a thing, to establish in the government once the war was over. You hear Alina make her orders, and the door shuts. You sit up on the window seat and look over at her. Her eyes narrow at the sight of your small smirk.

“What?” She snaps. You sigh,

“Well I would have personally had three people from each order. One of each kind of Etheralki, three Corporalki because they have the military experience, and three Materalki to keep things fair.” You shrug lightly, “But what do I know?”

“If it’s that easy why haven’t you done this before?”

“Because we are at war. We don’t need a merry little council were everyone is happy and included. We need a General, someone who knows what’s best for Grisha.”

“Saints, you even sound like the Darkling. He really did a number on you didn’t he?”

“No Alina. Years as a persecuted Grisha did a number on me.”

You don’t know what her response would have been to that, as Nikolai decides to make his presence known. You turn away from them both as they talk, you stare out over the grounds of the Little Palace. Mal makes an appearance, and you try your hardest to tune out their ridiculous conversations. A few of their words catch your attention, and the irritation of their presence slowly creeps under your skin. Usually you’d lean back in your chair, finger folded together delicately, and allow the shadows around you to lengthen. In meetings that tested your patience, Aleksander would sense your agitation, and fold his shadows against yours in an attempt to soothe you. Your heart aches at such a simple memory.

Alina informs you that you’ll be accompanying her to her council meetings in the morning, and spending the rest of the day dealing with the logistics of the Army. That’s not a job that can be done by a single person, but you simply nod and follow her as she walks to the War Room.

The council meeting isn’t a total disaster. You remain quiet through most of it. There’s talk that Aleksander has been sighted in the south - though you think this is unlikely. He would have more of an advantage if he came from the northern border. The Grisha ask you about the nichevo'ya but you can provide little detail, you don’t know much about merzost - no one does. Once the meeting is over Alina asks for someone to escort you back to Aleksander’s room to start on the pile of papers that litter the desk there. Sergei takes your arm and walks you down the corridor to Aleksander’s room. You’re quiet for a moment before asking,

“Where’s Fedoyr? Is he here?” You think Sergei isn’t going to answer, then he says,

“He left. He wanted to go and find Ivan.” You swallow hard,

“Ivan’s dead.” It hurts to say it out loud, and Sergei goes pale. Your eyes soften in sympathy. Besides Aleksander, you had never had any close friends. Fedoyr was the first real friend you made at the Little Palace. His infectious personality had somehow managed to steal a soft spot in your heart.

You’re immortal. You knew you would eventually lose him, but the thought of him searching Ravka and the True Sea looking for his husband - the man who had died in front of you - makes your chest ache so painfully you can’t breathe.

“How?” He asks quietly.

“One of the Sun Summoner’s loyal guards is a Heartrender.” Venom laces your tone and Sergei stares at you for a long moment as he realises. You open the door, and thank Sergei for his brief company - not that he had a choice really.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander’s fury grows day by day. He’s angry at Stormhond for his betrayal. He’s angry at Alina for being the one to take you away from him. But he’s mostly angry at himself. For the mistakes that led to your capture. For not chasing after you fast enough. But the thing that infuriated him the most is this bond he has with Alina. Whether it’s subconscious or not - Aleksander isn’t certain - but she calls to him. And like a fool, he answers. Not to see Alina. But in the hopes of seeing you.

He hates this connection to Alina, and wishes that it were you that could see him. Then he would be able speak to you. Tell you that he’s coming for you. For you to stay strong. That he loves you. That he will kill every single one of them for how they treat you. If he gathered enough strength, the tether might have even let him hold you - if only for a moment. But instead he is bound to her.

So he haunts Alina like a spectre, hoping for a glimpse of you. Every time he sees you, his heart breaks and the fury blazes through his body. He sees you grow weaker by the day. Your hands bound, preventing you from summoning, disconnecting you from the deepest part of your soul. He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, in the way your hands shake, and how easily you shiver in the cold.

One night, he appears in his bedroom back in the Little Palace. Very little has changed, but it doesn’t look anything like the room he once shared with you - when you would lie in the warmth of each other’s arms.

Alina is asleep under the covers, and he rolls his eyes. How is he supposed to torment her when she’s asleep? He glances over the room at the spot where he knows you’ll be. He hopes he’ll find you asleep - that you’ve somehow managed to find some comfort in your dreams. But you’re wide awake, staring out of the window. The moonlight shines over your face, reflecting on the tears that stain your cheeks. He crosses the room soundlessly. His heart shatters at the sight of you, and he knows that the shadows will be curling furiously around his physical body. You hug your knees close to your body, and Aleksander wants nothing more than to tuck you into his arms. He wants to tell you that he’s here for you. That it will be okay. That he will make it okay. But he can’t. The words are lodged in his throat, and you wouldn’t be able to hear them anyway.

He draws himself back into his physical body, and when he opens his eyes his shadows are swarming his tent. They twist around him, itching for destruction. He can hear the nichevo'ya lurking outside as his own anger ripples through them. He pushes the shadows back, allowing the moonlight to fall into his tent. He stares up at the moon, knowing that the same light is now caressing your face just how he longs to.

I am coming, my love. Just hold on.

Part 2

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wisteriavines · 2 years

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Anchored Soul

naruto prompt & snippet:

trigger/content warning(s): abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, body dysmorphia, gender dysphoria

Haruno Sakura liked to think she was average.

No, that’s not correct. She wished that she was average. She dreamed of the day her name did not taste like ash on her tongue or make her skin crawl every time it’s called. She prayed for the day her body didn’t feel too small, too big, too long, too short, not right, not right; the day the blood in her veins didn’t feel like lead and poison, painful and dragging her down. She desired that a day would come that someone would take notice, will see past her bright fake smiles, underneath the excuses and lies.

Haruno Sakura learned to give up on such things.

No one was going to see the way she flinched at touch. No one was going to link her small weight, slim figure, and short height to malnutrition. No one was going to discover her fear of small, closed off spaces. No one was going to think there’s anything wrong with her mother’s overbearing and strict nature or her distant businessman of a father. No one was going to save the six-year-old girl in the attic, hidden away beneath masks and structured out lies.

Because Haruno Sakura does not get saved. She gets abandoned.

By her parents, who never wanted her. By her teammate Sasuke, who didn’t spare more than a glance at her. By her other teammate Naruto, who was blinded with ignorance and optimism. By her teacher, who didn’t know what to do with her. By her mentor, who wasn’t interested in teaching her in the first place.

No one wants her, they want what she can offer, what she presents to them.

It was stupid, maddening- the way she woke up every morning feeling nothing, wondering why she still breathed, yet stepped outside with a smile plastered on her face.

She expected - no, she wanted to die on a mission. Because Haruno Sakura had obligations to full fill and meet. She couldn’t be so selfish as to kill herself.

But, oh, she craved it. The moment she could stop pretending, could finally scream that she didn’t understand what it means to be happy, has never understood. She doesn’t know what excitement feels like or what it means to be proud. Jealously and envy escape her. Security and insecurity aren’t anything she’s experienced. Anger is too exhausting to keep or study.

She’s exhausted, empty.

“Why do you put on a show?”

But then he showed up.

Sai was the complete opposite of her. Black and pale to her pink and tanned. Tall to her short. Genuine and free compared to her lies and caged existence.

The first time they met, she didn’t know how she should feel. She acted friendly enough, offended at the appropriate cues, kind when it was expected. But privately, she was confused (she's always confused and it hurts-).

Before her stood someone that didn’t understand emotions (just like her) and didn’t bother trying to act as if he did (unlike her). Someone that eventually wanted to learn and actively put effort into it.

She has long given up on such things. It was fascinating to watch, to point she watched him with almost child-like curiosity.

He saw her. Saw past her smiles, laughs, practiced lines and behaviors. She had never known just how lonely she was until then. It made her want to reach out, to meet him face to face - without the lies, mask and show. It went against everything life has beaten into her, everything she's come to learn.

But once, just once, please-

“Let's take a walk.”

She should have known better.

"It's okay," he whispers, his gaze warm and soft while his smile is small and tender. There is blood in his hair, on his face, chest and hands. Her hands, trained to be steady, shake and slip, the blood on them making it difficult to crawl forward just a little more please, god, just a little closer, please no- "It's okay."

But that's fine.

"No, no, no! Sai! Please, no, look at me, please, Sai!"

Because they have a plan, a way to fix things, to save everyone. And even if it means she has to live with her parents again, has to stitch a smile on her face once more, Sakura will do anything for the boy, the one person, that actually saw her.

Only one person can make the jump, that's all they can afford to send. She remembers the dark, cramped space of the house attic; the cold that seeps through the walls; the hunger that pinches her; and can only feel the familiar urge to grab her kunai to slit her own throat. "I'll do it." But she's also the healthiest of the group and in the best position to change things.

She should have known better.

"Another daughter? What use do I have for another daughter!"

This is Team 7, when have things ever gone according to plan?

"Your name is Tatsuo, a male. Do not embarrass me."

-don't take this away from me too.

"Team 7 will be Uchiha Obito and Nakaya Tatsuo joining Chunin Hatake Kakashi under the leadership of Jounin Namikaze Minato."

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missjanjie · 3 years

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Better Than Revenge | (2/?)

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.6k (this chapter) | ~5.3k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

TW for this chapter: implied domestic abuse, attempted sexual coercion of a minor, deadnaming/transphobia

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Nicky, Jan, and Mik's revenge origin stories

Milwaukee, WI - 2007

“I think my parents are starting to get suspicious,” Jaida quietly confessed, her gaze downcast to the floor while Nicky sat behind her, braiding her hair.

Nicky frowned, her brows furrowed as she tied off the braid she’d put Jaida’s hair in with a hair elastic. “What is making you say that?” she asked, moving so she was facing the other girl and taking her hands into her own.

She shrugged, fumbling with the hem of her shirt until Nicky’s grasp stilled them. “Just feels like they’re snooping around more, suddenly real interested in my life. And you know they’re always acting weird whenever we’re at my house together. Last time they made us keep the door open, remember?”

“I had assumed that was an American thing,” she confessed. She had only moved to the states a couple of months ago, at the start of her and Jaida’s junior year of high school, and she was still learning how to differentiate cultural differences from people behaving unusually to her specifically.

“You think everything you don’t understand is an American thing,” Jaida rolled her eyes with a fond smile, “though I guess you’re right most of the time,” she conceded.

Nicky shrugged it off, redirecting back to the topic at hand. “But you’re worried they’re going to find out about us and poop will hit the ceiling.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” she corrected, then sighed. “I mean, think about it — my mom’s a Sunday school teacher and my dad’s the son of a preacher, they take ‘traditional family values’ very seriously. And I don’t know how things are in France but there’s nothing traditional about this,” she explained, gesturing between the two of them.

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But we are happy together, surely once we graduate, we can—”

“It’s not that simple, Nicky!” Jaida tossed her head back and groaned. “I love you, but in a place like this, sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

And maybe it was denial, or maybe it was blind optimism, but Nicky had refused to take that answer lying down. She fought for Jaida and fought even harder to keep the relationship away from her disapproving parents. For a while, it seemed to be working, they had their beautiful, fleeting moments that let them believe that everything would be okay.

It was the first day back after spring break and Nicky immediately noticed a change in her girlfriend. It was like the life and light had been drained from her like she was only present physically. And despite the warm weather, she was dressed for late fall. She rushed towards her, taking her hand. “Ma chérie, what’s wrong? You look so unwell.”

Jaida hesitated before pulling her hand away. “I can’t hang around you anymore,” she replied. “Though I’m not gonna see anyone around here for a while starting real soon,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents found out, Nicky,” she choked out, forcing back a sob, “and they were mad, I ain’t never seen them so mad. They’re sending me to military school… well, they gave me a choice between that and conversion therapy… seemed like the better option.”

Nicky bit down on her quivering lip. “But you can find me when you are done, right?” She reached out to her again, but Jaida backed away to step out of her grasp.

“I can’t. Besides, you won’t want me anyway, I won’t be the same person.”

She tried to grab for her once more, desperate to keep her, looking at her with watery, pleading eyes. “Jaida, I can’t—”

“Please,” she sniffled, “don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

And perhaps Nicky should have let it go, accepted losing her first love, and moving on with her life. Sure, she would eventually. She would move around for school, for work, meeting many beautiful women along the way, but none of that happened until she made sure Jaida’s parents experienced at least a fraction of the hurt they had caused the both of them.

Her plan had been elaborate and convoluted and would require a heavy amount of stealth work and computer literacy to pull off. But as it turned out, her plan of convincing the two parents that the other was cheating on them was quite easy when her snooping unearthed the fact that both of them already were. All she needed to do was bring it to light.

Present Day

“When you think about it,” Nicky mused, “I did them a favor. There are worse ways they could’ve found out than having an envelope full of proof dropped off at your workplace. At least no one made a scene… as far as I know, at least.”

“Does Jaida know?” Rosé asked. “Now that you guys have reconnected, have you caught her up to speed? Because it seems like something you should tell her.”

Nicky winced and looked away. “It… has not come up yet,” she murmured. “There is no easy way to inform someone that you were the catalyst in their parent’s divorce. Unless you have a way, in which case, feel free to share with the class.”

She shrugged, putting her hands up in surrender. “I got nothing, but my point remains. It’s gonna bite you in the ass badly if you wait too long to say anything.” When Nicky shrugged it off, she decided to move on. “What about you, Bubbles?” she asked, looking towards Jan, “what sort of scathing revenge does someone as bouncy as you come up with?”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line, holding back what was either a smile or a grimace. “Well, this also happened in high school, an all-girl Catholic school, of course…”

Old Bridge, NJ - 2009

Jan was nothing if not brave. Coming out in tenth grade, especially considering the environment she was in, was a choice that couldn’t be taken lightly. While she had the support of her family and closest friends, the school environment had been a different story.

“Janice, could you stay back for a moment?” her math teacher, a conventionally attractive man in his early thirties, prompted as the final bell rang.

With math being her weakest subject, Jan was instantly concerned and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is something wrong?” she asked as she walked over to his desk.

“I think something is very wrong,” he replied as he got up. “Janice, I am highly concerned with your mental wellbeing.” He stopped in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. “You’re such a bright, beautiful girl. It would be such a shame for you to throw that away because you’ve chosen to shun God and live in sin.”

Jan felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and her throat tighten. This was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. She started shaking her head. “N-No, I’m… I’m not, I—”

“Shh…” he pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her, then swiped it across her bottom lip. “Part of being a good Christian is overcoming temptation. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it what your parents want for you?” His hands move to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “God gave you this body to lay with a man, you just need to be put in the right direction before it’s too late. I could help you, I could save you.”

Jan felt sick to her stomach. She hated every moment of the interaction; she hated the feeling of his hands on her, the way he was leering at her body, undressing her with his eyes. But at the same time, it was hard to lean into that hate, because he did pick on every insecurity she had in regards to her faith. But her sense of self won out and she was able to free herself of his grasp and run out of the room as fast as her legs would take her.

Any shame or guilt she might have felt was quickly replaced by anger and a desire to stop the man that tried to rob her of her innocence from harming anyone else. But she was still cautious, she knew there was a risk of retaliation if she spoke out alone, that was when her plan formed.

She created a fake Facebook account of a fifteen-year-old girl who was ‘planning on transferring to her school’. That was why she messaged the teacher, and after a few days of exchanging messages, ‘Samantha’ had agreed to meet up with him, the conversation in no uncertain terms making his intent clear.

Now, the obvious path from there would have been to go to the police, but that wasn’t good enough for Jan. Instead, she went to her godfather, who had promised he’d always help her ‘by any means necessary’. So, it was neither the police nor ‘Samantha’ that met the teacher at the park. Instead, it was two burly men who drove home a rough lesson that he was to turn himself in the next day, lest he face even worse consequences. He’d been given a flash drive with a copy of the whole exchange and was told he had exactly twenty-four hours and that the police would be expecting him.

Of course, those details weren’t in the subsequent news story of the teacher’s arrest. The conviction, however, was disappointing to Jan, as it was only two years and a thousand dollar fine, as well as losing his teaching license and having to register as an offender.

Present Day

“But rest assured, people are keeping an eye on him these days. You know, should he ever try and act up,” Jan explained with a shrug.

Rosé’s mouth was hanging open by the time Jan had finished her story. “So, you put a hit out on a pedo. I mean, shit, color me impressed,” she chuckled softly, then quickly followed up with, “I’m so sorry any of that happened to you, though. I’ve had people in my life try to weaponize religion against me after I came out. It’s never an easy pill to swallow.” She then looked at the group curiously. “Are you all…”

“Mik’s pan but yeah, the rest of us are gay,” Gigi confirmed with a nod. “At first, I thought that’d be the only thing we all have in common, but here we are now.”

“Chosen family is super important,” Mik agreed, “you never know who you can’t trust in your bloodline.”

Rosé quirked her brow. “That what happened to you?”

Scottsdale, AZ - 2015

Mik had been sitting across from his parents in dead silence for the past five minutes. There was no easy way to break it, let alone a correct one. On the coffee table in front of them were printed pictures of screenshots from his private Twitter account, where he presented himself as his true identity, but the precautions he took weren’t enough.

“Kady, sweetheart, I’m sure Uncle Joe brought this to our attention with your best interest at heart,” his mother said in as sweet of a voice as she could muster, which only served to sound fake to her son.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that. If it was ‘concern’ he would’ve told you privately. He sent it to the family group chat then told you that, and I quote, ‘your daughter thinks she’s a tranny’,” he struggled to keep his tone even, but he knew he needed to coddle his parents’ feelings if he wanted a chance of being taken seriously.

“I’m sure it just caught him by surprise,” his father offered.

Mik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if he did, he wasn’t treating it like a fun piece of gossip, he hunted down my private account and outed me to humiliate me, and it would mean a lot if you guys had my back on this.”

This brought another wave of silence upon his parents. He couldn’t get a clear read on them, but they seemed stressed, confused, and most painfully, they seemed sad. His mother slowly picked her head back up. “Kady, I—”

“My name is Mik.”

“Listen, honey, you’re going to have to give us some time to adjust,” his dad tried to ease the tension, “you’re still our child, but this isn’t an easy thing to process, your mother especially is mourning the loss of her daughter.”

Mik felt his chest tighten in anger and hurt. “But I’m not—” he got up, shaking his head. “Right, fine,” he mumbled and escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Left alone with his thoughts, the anger he had towards his parents dissipated and the rage shifted solely onto his uncle. After all, this was his fault. He was the one that robbed him of the opportunity to come out on his terms, and with the active intent to cause harm.

The anger didn’t go away over the following weeks. Instead, it built up, it festered inside of him as the summer after high school began. He had downloaded Grindr out of casual curiosity, and it was only a matter of minutes before a profile caught his eye. “No fucking way,” he grinned.

Of course, it was Joe, Mik realized how much of a cliche it was, but that didn’t change the fact that his bigoted uncle that tried to ruin his familial relationships was soliciting male escorts on a gay dating app. The opportunity for revenge essentially fell into his lap. He made a fake account and exchanged messages with him, just enough to get the evidence he needed.

The last step was simple, he dropped the screenshots into the same group text without any comment and removed himself from the group chat right after. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfold, Uncle Joe’s absence from the next family gathering was all he needed.

Present Day

“Just to be clear,” Mik added as he finished the story, “I’m against outing people, for the most part, obviously it should be something done on your terms. But shit, sometimes it’s gotta be an eye for an eye, you know?”

“Wait, I have a question,” Jan chimed in, “is he out now? Do y’all even talk to him anymore?”

He shook his head. “He moved to Alabama, I guess he wanted to go somewhere to double-down on the bigotry. No idea what happened after that. But, you know, good fucking riddance.”

“Amen to that,” Rosé agreed. “I don’t know how you guys have figured out that line of deciding what’s morally sound and what’s ethical enough. It seems to work, but it seems hard.”

“Jackie helped a lot with that,” Jan told her, her face lighting up and her smile broadening as she continued, “she has this pragmatic take on these things while still understanding that there’s so much ambiguity and morally gray areas. She’s honestly the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Rosé nodded as she listened. “I’m glad you guys have someone like that on your team. How long have you two been dating?”

Jan turned bright red, worsened by the way the rest of the group laughed. “Oh, um, we’re not dating. She and I are… very close friends,” she explained.

“Ah,” the corners of her lips tugged into a smirk, “you’re just fucking, got it,” she observed, causing another eruption of laughter from the others, much to Jan’s chagrin. Once it died down, she redirected her attention to the half of the group that had yet to recall their stories. “Alright, who’s next?”

#halldoll #jankie #rpdr rpf

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softer-ua · 3 years

Note

I'm actually more worried about "The Talk" Bakugo and Izuku are bound to have, these two have a lot miscommunication issues. Izuku doesn't understand Bakugo's actions, specially his sacrifice and Bakugo might be too set in trying to atone to actually listen. I don't know, I think they still need a lot of work before connecting again

That’s a fair worry, we don’t really have any canon evidence that either of them are be good at communicating with anyone in general

Bakugos fuck ups are numerous and obvious

But Deku actually isn’t good at equal and receptive communication either, he’s very good at empathy and his listening skills are decent but that only goes so far

Deku will empathize with you being upset and let you vent about it but he doesn’t hear the other person if it contradicts what he wants to do

And that’s fair, that’s a learned skill from years of living around people who were mad at him for things he couldn’t control, from bullies to teachers who treated him differently to his mom who acted like she was grieving him even though he was alive.

It’s a smart move to be able to actively show that your empathizing with with people who are upset with you while also closing off from internalizing it

People keep saying “you breaking yourself is a problem”, “you trying do this by yourself isn’t right”, “your hero idolization is blinding you**”

And he keeps saying “I’m sorry I troubled you and caused you worry, I’ll do better” which is exactly what the other person wants to hear

But by do better he means I’m gonna keep pushing myself harder until I’m strong enough that no one has to worry about me and I can stand on even footing with my idols

Which interestingly enough while Deku has been focusing on to getting stronger Katsuki has been very busy improving himself and unlearning all of those ideals

**I think it’s going to be very interesting to see how that hero worship stands up in the current circumstances, because while we have seen him take in a few criticisms of the hero world and has been slowly seeing heros as fallible humans and the problems of society he has still met it beat for beat with a sense of optimism but now after all he’s been through to see heros not even try?

I wonder if he’ll see this scene differently now

All Might all but confessed that he was going to to let Katsuki die if he hadn’t seen Deku, a quirkless kid, run to save him

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red-jaebyrd · 4 years

Text

Perfection at a Cost

Whumptober #25 Blurred Vision

Whatever had been sprayed into Damian’s eyes, somehow got through the lenses of his domino. Damian couldn’t see a thing, but blurred shadows. Anyone else would have been panicked that their vision had been compromised; overwhelmed that they had to compensate for a lost sense. Instead, Damian was angry. Fury surged through him at letting his guard down for a split second. He was better than this; he had been trained by the League of Assassins.

It was hard to keep his eyes opened. They stung and burned from whatever solution was sprayed in his face; and while pepper spray made the eyes swell, this substance made his eyes burn and his vision blurry. Still, Damian didn’t move, instead he closed his eyes concentrating on all his other senses. He used the acoustics of the warehouse to help him. He could feel the vibrations of clunky footfalls and hear heavy breathing. As well as smell cheap cologne and alcohol.

It was just like training.

‘You cannot rely on all your senses to be available to you in times of battle, Damian. There will come a time when you must compensate for the loss such as your sight. Concentrate.’

He couldn’t believe his Mother’s advice would actually help him in the field. But she was right…at least at this moment.

Damian had been trained to fight blindfolded. His mother had insisted upon it as part of his training. At least in this situation, instead of complete darkness, he could still see blurred cloudy shapes. However, the straining on his eyes was giving him a migraine. He took deep breaths through his nose to block out the pain.

Fighting blind had been a hard skill to maintain now that he was living with his father. No one in the family would spar with him while he wore a blindfold. Father had refused, even though he was the optimal opponent and teacher. Grayson and Todd refused on principle. On rare occasions Damian had bullied Drake into sparring with him, but that had been only when Cain was unavailable.

Cain had been the only one amongst the family that had agreed with Damian that it was a worthy skill to maintain and therefore had agreed to help him preserve his muscle memory. However, she set the terms of the blindfold sparring sessions with him. She would not push him beyond his capabilities; the session would not go passed half an hour, and the first sign of injury or exhaustion they would stop.

But this wasn’t training, or sparring with Cain. Damian wasn’t fighting to hone a skill, he was fighting to stay alive and avoid capture.

He could hear Nightwing fighting three guys of his own in his periphery.

Damian stood his ground. If he concentrated enough he could see the blurred shape of a big guy in front of him. He continued to stay silent, yet maintained a fighting stance.

“Got nothin’ to say now that you can’t see, huh?” Big Guy taunted.

He heard someone snicker behind him to his left.

“Quit teasin’ him and be done with it, will ya! I wanna get this over with!” someone yelled behind him to his right.

Damian waited for Big Guy to come at him and sure enough the guy charged him with a punch. Damian was able to duck in time and connect a hit to his gut. He could hear him gasping for air. The second guy grabbed him from behind pinning his arms to the side, but his hold was sloppy. Damian knocked his head back hitting the guy square in the nose. The guy let go of him screaming in agony. Luckily the third guy coming at him was loud enough that Damian was able to land a punch and a kick to his face to finish him.

Amongst the din of the fighting, Damian wasn’t fast enough to move away from a sharp blow to the back of his head. Big Guy had come back for more. Damian fell to the ground seeing stars. His eyes and now his head were killing him. For the second time tonight, Damian had let his guard down. His Mother would be furious.

Failure is not an option, Damian.

You’ll never be good enough to serve in the League if you keep allowing your guard to fall.

Your incompetence is shameful of an al Ghul.

Get up. Stop crying. Pick up your sword.

Before the idiot could land another punch, he heard the familiar sound of escrima sticks hitting flesh; followed closely by the whistling sound of zip-ties.

Damian sat up, but did not stand. There was ringing in his ears and the light from the warehouse was hurting his eyes. Not to mention, the room was still spinning. He knew the familiar feeling of a concussion. He was going to be benched for at least two weeks. He was not looking forward to it.

“Robin, are you alright?” Nightwing asked, bracing to help Damian stand. “That was a nasty hit you took to the head.”

He got up too quickly and swayed as his blurry vision filled with spots. “I’m fine.”

Damian kept his head down and his eyes closed. His eyes were properly burning now and the blow to his head ached making his muscles feel sluggish. The shame of allowing himself to be compromised was starting to take over as the adrenaline of the fight was fading.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine,” he answered again.

He followed Grayson’s black blur until they were outside the warehouse. Once outside everything changed. There was no light to help differentiate moving shapes from stationary objects.

Damian’s shame seeped away into panic. There were too many sounds of the city to help him navigate where to go. Too many smells to help ground him. Damian stopped moving at the doorway. He was not fine. He was exhausted and in pain.

“Robin?” Nightwing asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. The tone in Grayson’s voice commanded the truth, no excuses. It was his ‘Batman’ voice. Damian was too tired to lie.

“I can’t see. They sprayed something in my face and it got through my domino,” Damian answered. “It was different in the warehouse. I could distinguish between the blurry shapes with the light and use the acoustics to my advantage. Out here there is no light and there are too many sounds and smells…and my head hurts.”

It was humiliating admitting the pain he was in, but he knew Grayson wouldn’t ridicule him for his honesty. In fact, Grayson would be concerned that he had kept his condition from him.

“We can fix that,” Nightwing said, bending down in front of him and tapping his shoulder. “Hop on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

“T-T,” Damian replied, yet he wrapped his arms around Grayson’s neck as Grayson hooked his arms under Damian’s knees and stood up.

Damian rested his head on Grayson’s shoulder and his body finally started to relax.

“Don’t fall asleep. We still have to double check you for a concussion and flush your eyes out.” Nightwing reminded.

“I know concussion protocol, Nightwing,” Damian yawned, not moving his head from Dick’s shoulder.

He closed his eyes against the night air as they walked to where Grayson had parked his motorcycle.

“So the entire time we were fighting, you couldn’t see anything but blurred shapes and shadows?” Dick asked. “Dames we’ve talked about this, you have to tell me when you get hurt.”

“I was trained by the best to fight under any and all circumstances…including blindness. Saying something to you would not have changed the fact that I could not see properly or that we needed to contain the situation.”

“All valid points, but I still needed to know that your vision had been impaired.”

Damian said nothing in response. There was nothing for him to say to make this situation better. Voicing injuries was something Damian was still not used to actively doing in or outside the field. The more Damian thought about it, Grayson was one to talk. He had hid a stab wound for a solid week before Alfred noticed that he kept favoring his right side. Hypocrite.

“Do I even want to know the types of methods your mother used to train you to fight blind?” Dick asked, breaking the silence.

“No.”

“Tell me anyway…please.”

The exhaustion Damian felt in his bones wasn’t enough to filter all the words that came spilling out. The disorientation from the concussion was like a truth serum. He told Grayson everything.

“Most of the time it was a blindfold, sometimes Mother used…other means; that was how I knew to use the blurred shapes to my advantage. It took me two years to master the skill. I was finally able to do it the summer before I moved in with Father.”

Dick sighed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lil’ D. What she did to you was wrong.”

Damian and Grayson had faced enough situations with his mother in the past to get the gist of her mentality for perfection where Damian was concerned. This however, was the first time he had spoken of her methodology in regards to his combat training.

“Her methods, though unsatisfactory in a conventional sense, did achieve the desired result. Mother demanded perfection in every capacity and used every scenario to her advantage to make me a better fighter. However, my actions tonight did not reflect her training.”

“No, don’t do that to yourself. You are one of the best fighters I know and you did awesome tonight,” Dick praised.

“Do not patronize me, Grayson. I did poorly. I allowed myself to be compromised putting you and myself in further danger. I was trained to be perfect.”

“Nobody’s perfect and I’m not patronizing you. You fought three guys twice your size relying on shadows and blurred shapes; that takes skill. A skill you mastered at the age of nine. You did great. I don’t think I could have done what you did.”

“Probably not. Mother would still have been disappointed in me.”

“Well, she isn’t here. I think Bruce will be impressed.”

Damian wasn’t so sure.

888

They got back to the Cave and Damian allowed Alfred and his father to make a fuss over him. They flushed out his eyes, but since he also had a concussion it left no change with the blurred vision, but the burning subsided.

Damian gave a full report of the nights events. When it came to retelling his fight with the three criminals in the warehouse he hesitated. Dick sat next to him on the bed in the med bay encouraging him to continue his story. Damian was thankful that he couldn’t see his father’s face as he didn’t wish to see his disappointment. Once he was finished he turned his head away expecting to be admonished for his shortcomings on patrol.

“Wait, am I hearing this correctly that you fought three guys twice your size with your vision impaired and essentially used a form of echolocation to defeat them?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, it was part of my training with the League.”

“Son, I’m very impressed with what you did tonight.”

“But I failed.”

“No, you didn’t. Something like this could have happened to any one of us. I’m very proud of you.” Bruce praised, stroking Damian’s hair. “We will need to reinforce your domino and make sure that the lenses protect your eyes so this doesn’t happen again.”

A warm feeling washed over Damian as his father held him. There was no criticism laced in his words. No passive aggressive instructions on what he could improve upon next time. No tearing down of his capabilities and skills. There was only praise and most important of all, his father was proud of him.

“You are not angry with me?”

“Oh course not. I’m impressed with how you handled yourself and the situation. You did good, tonight, son. Now let’s get you to bed.”

He stood and swayed shutting his eyes tightly as his head started to pound at the sudden motion. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

Bruce moved swiftly to steady him and then picked him up gently pressing Damian’s head to his shoulder.

“I’m not a child. I can walk,” Damian sniffed, wrapping his arms tightly around his father’s neck and keeping his head on his Father’s shoulder.

“I know,” Bruce answered, rubbing light circles on his back.

Damian tried to keep his eyes open, but somewhere between getting into the elevator and into his room, Damian fell asleep.

#whumptober2020 #no.25 #blurred vision #Batman #fic #mention of abusive actions toward a child tw #mention of abusive parent tw #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #robin #Nightwing #Bruce Wayne #batfic #batbros #fanfiction #dc #batman fanfiction

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Text

“I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 3 Scene 5

Brown and blue both stare up at the many a love declarations on the underside of the bleachers of Hawkins High. Football practice has begun, along with their ever so faithful cheerleaders, and while Robin was here just for how short those skirts went, Steve was here for both those legs, and the sweaty muscles of the blonde haired quarter back; how he shone like diamonds underneath the ruthless summer sky.

Robin hands him the roach, and he has possibly never felt more at peace than now, in the shade with the occasional breeze. But of course, he thought so every time the two of them decided to get high and lie in the grass.

“Tommy + Carol 4 Ever,” Steve reads out loud. “Fucking asshole.”

“Aw, does poor Steve still feel abandoned?” Robin pouts falsely and puts both hands behind her head.

“Shithead was my best friend for most of our lives, and now he's off somewhere licking Billy Hargrove's boot.” He frowns whilst pressing the final embers of their joint into the grass.

“You're just jealous,” she laughs mockingly at him and turns her head to peek out through the seats.

And Steve leans up on his elbows to look past her and in the same direction, to where he sees Billy Hargrove tearing off his helmet with a victorious smile, mullet done up in a low bun, bangs clinging wetly to his forehead.

“Fuck no,” he lies.

“Come on, Dingus.” Robin knocks their shoes together. “You know you can't lie to me.”

“I can try,” he huffs a laugh and looks at how she mimics him genuinely.

“You think I got it any better?” her laugh turns to a scoff and points up. “Tammy Thompson loves John Johnson.” And there's a deep silence for a few short seconds as she keeps her finger in the direction of that etching. “Who the fuck names their child John Johnson?”

Steve cannot contain his chortle, and she is right behind with her usual snort; the one that only comes forth when they're this high.

“It would be like-” Steve takes a deep inhale. “If you were named Robin Robinson!”

“Or you Steve Stevenson!”

“Is that a real name?!”

“Y-yes?” Robin fights against the grin that wants to spread all too wide, and looks at him. “Robert Louis Stevenson!”

“Who?” Steve keeps breathing slowly to try and calm down from something that isn't actually that funny, but when you got bloodshot eyes like these, everything is.

“The famous writer? He wrote Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.”

Steve leans up on his elbows again to stare down at her with the most bewildered look this illiterate teen can manage. “Mr Hyde as in... our chemistry teacher?”

“Oh...” Robin's blue blue eyes grow as wide as they can. “My God... Steve... No wonder you're failing literally every class.”

And his expression falls from confused to somewhat offended, but it is the inevitable truth. “It's fine,” he says with nary a worry, “I will get a job at my father's office as... I dunno, coffee guy? Mailman?”

“You really think he'd put you in charge of something as important as their postal service?”

Rather than come up with a sensible reply to that remark, he simply grabs a fistful of grass and throws it at her.

He smiles, she laughs, and the both of them settle down once more with only the loud cheers from the girls in uniform to fill the comfortable silence they find themselves in again, as they continue reading everything that's been carved and written into the far too old wood.

Steve's name can be found numerous times, both in forms of compliments-

“I wish Steve Harrington would notice me.”

“Mrs Harrington is my dream job.”

“Steve Harrington the Keg King.”

All surrounded by hearts.

On one step it reads, “Steve 'The Hair' Harrington” in suspiciously familiar handwriting.

He used to bring girls down here, too, and would have them watch as he reached high above them and wrote his name + theirs.

Steve + Laurie. Crossed out. Steve + Amy. Crossed out. Steve + Becky. Crossed out.

He never got to bring Nancy here. Brought Robin here originally for the same reason as the rest, but she was quick to tell him the truth as he stood too close.

At least they remained friends.

“Is your name up there somewhere?” he asks her, having never actually found it.

“I'm a band dweeb, what do you think?” she sighs but acts like it doesn't bother her.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Nope,” she lies and pops the p.

And of course he doesn't believe her, but he considers himself too nice to press her on any of it.

Silence drags on for what feels like eternity crammed into one minute, and he's got something on his mind, but has absolutely no clue how to work it into conversation all casual like, because it's kinda a big deal, but he doesn't want to seem a fool for thinking so.

So he tries to just flat out say it, “Robin?”

“Steve.”

“You're... smart, right?” He feels himself failing at just saying what he's thinking.

“Smarter than you, although that's not saying much,” she chuckles out and looks to him, but he seems... nervous, and she stops. “What's up, dingus?”

“I... I got a note in my locker today, and I don't really know what it means,” Steve speaks hesitantly and rips small pieces off of a blade of grass.

Robin's brows quirks up. “Oh? And you want me to decipher it for you?”

He sits up far too fast, and even though his body remains still, the world spins for longer than what is possible. “Would you?” There is such a brightness to his tone.

“Sure, what does it say?” She gets up as well and crosses her legs.

Steve fishes out a paper that has become impossibly crumbled up in his front pocket, to a point where the letters written in beautiful cursive is almost unintelligible.

“I love you more than words can wield the matter; dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

And while she turns the paper around and re-reads those words, Steve stares unblinkingly so at her.

“So?” he finally asks, bursting with anticipation.

“So, it's a love letter.” She hands it back, and he looks at the paper with such admiration, as if he had forgotten he was worthy of such, just to be reminded of it now. “It's Shakespeare, King Lear. It means that she loves you more than words can describe.”

At that he looks up, beaming with elation as he asks for reassurance, “Seriously?”

“Yup.” She is clearly far less excited, but there's optimism to her tone, to know that he might find what they're both longing for, whether out loud or in secret.

“Someone wrote me a love note...” His smile wide with shocked disbelief.

“Congratulations.” She rolls her eyes although with raised lips, and lies down again.

The very next day, shortly after lunch has begun, he finds another in his locker and runs to where Robin would be eating her lunch alone in the unattended library.

Steve slams down the paper in front of her, and she pauses just before biting into her boring ham sandwich.

“Well well well lover boy,” she mocks lightly and places her food back down on the tray. “I assume you're in need of my service once again?”

The chair next to her screeches across the floor as he sits down with a hard bump. “Yes, and it's the same handwriting as last, so that means it's the same girl, right?”

“Hey now, I haven't agreed to anything yet!” She slaps her hand down on top of the paper, and smirks. “I will help you with this, again, if you buy me pizza after school.”

“Yeah, deal, whatever, just-” He gestures wildly to the neatly folded paper. “Tell me what it means!”

Robin shakes her head and slumps back into her seat; slipping down a bit with her legs splayed out all comfortable and taking up far too much space.

“Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, the pretty follies that themselves commit.”

She nods for a moment in thought, fully ignoring the way Steve's eyes could drill holes in her skull.

“I think it's from The Merchant of Venice. It means... something like, how love makes you act different?”

And since she seems satisfied with that, nods more and lets out a little “Yeah,” so is he.

“Okay, so, someone that acts differently around me?”

Robin taps her temple with a blackened nail and continues nodding like it's all he understands. Still, to ensure he gets her point, says, “You got it.”

Now it is his turn to slump into his chair, but far more confused. “How... how am I supposed to know that they act differently around me? Isn't that how I'll always have seen them, then?”

She raises her brows at that and sits up a bit more straight. “How astute!”

As if he knows what that means.

Through the weekend he waits on his bed, each note in hand and smiling so wide his cheeks grow sore.

Two love letters in two days? They are meant for him, right? This girl didn't accidentally put it in the wrong locker, right?

Steve catches himself briefly hoping she's beautiful, but pushes that aside by the fact that she's so poetically inclined, so sweet and shy that her looks hardly matters, for her choice of words warms his heart and makes it beat in a way that he has oh so missed.

Another thought is what if it's Robin, but he shakes his head violently at that stupid little thing, because no, she's his best friend and that's all they'll ever be, and he truly is happy with that. But everyone gets wrong and bad ideas from time to time, so he won't fault himself for her name popping up, as he mentally goes through a list of all the girls he knows. Or thinks he knows.

And though he tries to distract himself with TV and swimming in his pool and letting Robin paint his toenails, Monday always feels so far away.

It is the first thing he does when he shows up at school; pushes his way through his peers to fling open his locker, and sure enough a little note slips out.

He skims it for just a second before he rushes off to stand by Robin's locker for when she eventually moves to it and shoves him aside.

“Another?” she asks with her head in her locker as she rummages for gum.

“I knew she was gonna leave me another! I could feel it in my body the entire weekend!” his tone pitched high with excitement.

“Ew, gross, I don't need to know that!” she jokes and yanks it from his grasp.

“Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy, that one short minute gives me in her sight.”

And Steve folds it, lovingly so, before placing it inside his wallet, and thankfully he doesn't have to wait long for a more modern translation of it.

“Something something about how her pain and misery goes away in your presence; in the presence of a loved one. Romeo and Juliet, which is not a happy love story!” she says ardently and points a stern finger at him for emphasis.

“Okay, but does that mean we have classes together at least then?” Steve shrugs and runs a hand through his shiny hair.

“Probably? Or maybe some extra curricular activity,” Robin's tone careless and she starts down the hall, with Steve right behind.

“But the only other extra whatever I take is basket.”

“So maybe your admirer is a guy.”

He shakes his head with conviction. “Nah, I doubt that completely, I mean you've seen the handwriting! And what guy is into Shakespeare?”

“Anything is possible Steve, don't be so close minded.”

For once he is early to first-period history class, and he sits on the desk Robin usually occupies, to which she responds with throwing her bag into his lap, accompanied by a cocked brow and strong stare.

Steve doesn't say a thing, simply lifts up a fourth note, and she snags with from his fingers with an exasperated sigh.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

She groans out loud now and pushes him off of her table. “Come on dingus, this one is easy! You cannot be this stupid.”

“Just tell me what it is!” he says as he shuffles into the seat in front of hers.

“She only wants you, no one else, Jesus.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, his wide grin that of pure joy, and although this is a tiring thing to be bothered with every day now, she does appreciate his happiness to some extend.

Wednesday morning Robin is already by Steve's locker, arms crossed and a friendly smile painted across her face.

“Let's see what your stalker has come up with this time,” she says and leans away so that he can twist the lock in the right order.

And today it is a far shorter note.

“Love hath made thee a tame snake.”

She doesn't bother waiting before saying, “Love will humble and soften even the most hardened individual.” And there's a glint in her eyes, so short and easily missed, revealing that she might have an idea as to which hardened individual this could be. Not that she hadn't thought about him before already.

For she had seen his copy of As You Like It by Shakespeare fall from his bag in English Literature, but it is not her place to out anyone.

“That's a weird one, right?” His brows furrowed as he awaits affirmation. “Hardened individual? What does that even mean?”

“Steve, I-” She rubs her eyes hard and nods. “Yeah, it is a weird one. But it probably means someone who's acting tough, but in truth softens around you.”

He folds it back up and slips it into his wallet together with the other four.

“Tomorrow, then,” Robin says and pats his shoulder a few times before heading to class.

Steve stays still for a moment, looking at how the five notes stretches the leather of his wallet. His thumb runs over their ripped edges, all seemingly from the same piece of paper, thinking about the dainty fingers that must hold the ballpoint pen to write him such loving words.

Cheeks flushed, smile tender, eyes soft, he wanders towards class as well.

Months ago when he and Robin became best friends, she took a very slight interest in him and his education, because he very clearly needs help with school, and she's suspicious of the fact that he might be dyslexic, but when asked about it he gets mad.

So instead she demands food and favors from him whenever he starts screwing up in school again, starts falling behind, or shows up late to class. And of course he has slept through his alarm for the first time in weeks on this Thursday, the one day of two where they have first-period together, and now he'll have to pay for dinner at the diner, but he has a good excuse!

Sat up all night with several books written by none other than William Shakespeare that he had checked out at the library.

He's hungry and tired and in a goddamn hurry to get to class ASAP; the hallways empty and silent save for the occasional teacher yelling at an unruly student, but even that he can hardly hear over the beating of his heart, which is just great, because now he'll spend all day with floppy hair and reeking of sweat.

He just has to make a quick stop by his locker to see if there's a new note, the only thing that truly matters and overshadows the importance of getting passing grades or upholding his deal with Robin.

Around the next corner and... and...

And it never dawned on him at any point, even with Robin's constant droning of “Guys can read Shakespeare, too!” that his secret admirer might not be a girl at all. Maybe he was just so stuck in the expected reality of the world, the one he's so used to, before Robin helped him see the light, to help him realize that there's other options than gay or straight.

No he never even bothered thinking that way, till he sees Billy Hargrove slip something into his locker.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Billy Hargrove #Shakespeare #Fluffy fluff fluff #pining #I got drunk last night and listened to #twelfth night #And was like #Poet Billy? Poet Billy.#I think I've seen some other people talk about their love for that #and altho out of character imo #it was nice and fun #I write a lot of smut so stuff like this is RARE and a breath of fresh air to me #10/10 would write Poet Billy again #Also dumbass oblivious Steve #too much fun

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the-middle-grounds · 3 years

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So now that I have energy and have rewritten this about 5 times! Blind (and colorblind) Batfam!

*I tried to be as sensitive about how I wrote this since I’m not 100% familiar with the blind community (I know basic etiquette) so if I did something bad or inappropriate, send me an ask with where and what can be fixed!

BRUCE

Bruce’s occipital lobe was severely damaged during the murder of his parents, and he was blinded as a result.

He got Ace, a service dog, to help him with the trauma, as well as helping him get around whenever he wasn’t in the mood to be with Alfred. The two of them are close.

Bruce eventually started hearing about echolocation in humans, and started to learn about that and even using it. He’s so proficient in it, he doesn’t even really need Ace anymore, but there’s not a chance in hell he’s getting rid of his best bud.

People know Bruce Wayne is blind, and they try to use it to their advantage. Bruce is smarter than that, and is very much aware of how shallow people are.

Most people don’t know that Batman is blind, however. Catwoman is one of the notable people who know, and whenever she’s being playful, she likes to sneak up on him and surprise him.

The Justice League also know, but don’t treat him any differently because why would they? Dr. Mid-Nite exists for one.

DICK

Dick lost his vision when Hayley’s Circus was set on fire. While escaping, he was hit by debris and blinded. By the time he’s a young adult, the scarring is pretty much gone.

In an effort to help out Dick, Bruce helped developed a device that could pinpoint noises. Dick then proceeded to thank Bruce by using it to get into trouble and play hide-and-seek.

Bruce eventually stopped using Dick as a guinea pig, and offered up the tech to the public. Dick still kept his, however; even when he left to join the Teen Titans.

Since Dick likes to drop several dozen feet off buildings, Bruce actually shed a few tears when Tim gave him more advanced echolocation tech. Dick will never admit how many times he miscalculated because of rain.

Bruce has seen his hospital bills; he knows.

JASON

Jason was born blind, and since he was a street kid with not so great parents, had to learn to get around by himself. He was pretty good at it too, and was stealing the Batmobile’s tires when Batman arrived. Jason tried to beat him up, and he made a real good effort too.

Jason got used to using the tech after a while, though he prefers only using it for fighting.

When he came back to life, he ended up becoming better at hand-to-hand without the use of technology. But he does use it for accuracy whenever he aims.

People have lied to Jason and told him he’s put his helmet on the wrong way around. These same people have gotten said helmet pelted in the direction of their face.

TIM

Tim and Cassandra both have a degenerative eye disease. When Tim found out Batman’s identity, he insisted that Bruce take him on because they weren’t too close from different.

Tim later ended up improving on Bruce’s tech, and even customized some for the others.

Tim eventually went completely blind, but he’s adjusted just fine.

His favorite thing to do is get carried by Kon for a flight. That and doing a Dick Grayson and gliding off buildings.

Tim is very much still tech savvy, working off muscle memory and occasional assistance whenever he needs it. Admittedly, it’s pretty rarely. But you will never see him ask Barb or Steph for anything involving colors.

BATGIRLS

Barbara has monochrome colorblindness, and Bruce didn’t realize it until he realized she kept describing colors by how dark they were. This led to a bunch of reminiscing about colors, and Dick even joined in to describe colors to her.

Whenever Bruce pisses her off, Barbara realigns things ever so slightly. Bruce could care less, but Dick will trip over something and play it off like it was a stunt.

After her incident with Joker, Barbara took to the moniker of Oracle, and her colorblindness was hardly a hold back for her.

Cassandra did manage to retain some of her eyesight. As it stands, she can see somewhat, but it’s all pretty blurry. She wears glasses most of the time, but prefers fighting with the tech Tim designed.

Because they can’t use sign language with Cass, she had a rough time learning to fit in. Eventually, they learned to communicate through morse code and occasional fingerspelling.

Even though Cass learned to speak, she still prefers morse code with her friends and family.

No one (except Barbara) actually realized what form of blindness Steph had until she asked Barbara if waffles were pink. It turned out she had Tritanopia.

Steph and Barbara tried out colorblindness glasses once and Barbara lost her shit.

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS PURPLE!” “I don’t know what to tell you except that that’s 110% dark blue.”

Cass has to tell the other two which colors they’re looking at whenever they hang out. Specifically when they start debating colors.

DUKE

Duke, like Jason, was also born blind. He’s also the only one who uses a cane for when he walks.

Unlike the others, however, Duke doesn’t need to use any external devices to see; his powers work well with sound and allow him to move around just fine. (I know his powers focus on light, which would require him to see, but I changed it slightly for this AU.)

Rather than ‘seeing’ in color/definition, Duke perceives shapes and figures in something like a bunch of different parts of sound altogether.

Duke has the ability to ‘steal the light’ out of people’s eyes, and temporarily blind them so they’re on the same playing field.

People typically know when Duke is coming because of the sound of his cane moving around. But he once scared Bruce because he didn’t use it and Bruce didn’t hear him coming.

Duke is still a great writer, though he obviously writes in braille. His teachers love him.

Some people don’t even realize Duke is blind unless they watch his eyes; they’re unfocused and occasionally ‘wander’.

DAMIAN

Damian lost his sight as a young child. Talia was regretful, and put a lot of attention on Damian to help him. Damian disliked the babying behavior, and felt as though Ra’s was disappointed in him.

Talia sent Damian to Bruce because she knew about how he had learned to adjust to his disability.

Damian was LIVID. He hated everything, he would throw fits, and he hated every- oh hey is that a dog.

Damian got Titus, and over time, began to settle into the family.

Damian initially refused the echolocation tech, but took it because it was helpful for fighting. Over time, he learned how to work with and without it.

Damian once offhandedly admitted to Jon that he couldn’t remember colors, and Jon sat with him for over an hour describing colors.

Eventually, Damian started getting into abstract forms of art and presented them to everyone. Since he couldn’t see what he drew, he took to 3D pieces for his family and friends. No one even cares what they look like, they all love everything he makes.

Jason is jealous that Damian got a dog but he didn’t.

MISC

They keep playing hide-and-seek and Bruce is tired.

Except for Barbara and Steph, everyone is very sensitive to sound, and it is most definitely their biggest weakness. Meanwhile, Barb and Steph keep getting blinded by flash bangs and other bright things.

Damian keeps sneaking animals into the house because he knows they won’t see it. What he keeps forgetting is that roosters scream in the morning, and they can hear that.

In-family fighting is an absolutely insane event. Things have been thrown and people have fallen down things that shouldn’t have been fallen down. Dick once tried to pull apart a fight between Tim and Damian and he honestly can’t tell if he slapped Tim or if Damian did it.

They can all tell each others footsteps apart easily, and can even tell who’s arguing even if their in the Batcave and the argument is in the attic.

Someone keeps moving containers out of the typical places, and the finger pointing is always at optimal level. Alfred is just as frustrated.

Bruce is tired.

They also save a lot on electricity!

#Blind as Bats AU #Batfam #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Barbara Gordon #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #Stephanie Brown #Duke Thomas #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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The Dragon Egg (Part 2)

Part 2 for @secrettunnelatla

“No, this isn’t good enough!” Azula grits her teeth. It is decent work--as far as sound goes--but it isn’t battle of the bands worthy. Not even close. If they wanted to make it to Audio of Agni their concept would have to be much stronger, much less generic than a silly gimmick. “What kind of lyrics are these? Who came up with this concept?”

Chan, Zirin, and Ruon all point at one another before ultimately jabbing their fingers at Zirin who points to Azula herself.

Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. “Necrophilia, Zirin? That’s what you came up with?”

“You said that you wanted ‘attention grabbing’.” Zirin shrugs.

Azula rubs her hands over her face. “Our talents need to be attention grabbing.” Hers certainly are and she needs lyrics and a concept that will do them good service. “We need something that will highlight and showcase what we can do.” An absurd gimmick will only draw attention away from the aspects that matter the most.

“You got any better ideas?” Zirin grumbles.

Ruon quirks a brow and smirks, “we can try…”

“Don’t say it.” Azula frowns.

“Surf rock.” Chan finishes for him.

“We need something bigger.” Azula declares. “Something that hasn’t been done before.” She wishes that she would have saved their dragon metal concept for a later date. Then again, dragon metal is what had given them the propulsion they needed to break out from under her father’s shadow. The propulsion they needed to get their start.

But now she is at a loss for how to top that. She can’t imagine that there are many things that can top emerging on stage with a full suit of glimmering metal scales and glowing talons. She isn’t sure what can draw attention better than staring down an audience with reptilian contact lenses.

“I heard that steampunk is in.” Chan shrugs.

“Steampunk is overdone.”

“Zombies?” Zirin suggests.

Azula shakes her head. “The Blind Bandits already did that.”

“We can hold a seance on stage.” She tries again.

“Why are you so keen on utilizing dead things?” Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. Though a seance isn’t a particularly terrible idea if, perhaps, they incorporated other elements, such as handing out tickets in the form of tarot cards. “I suppose we might be able to work with that.”

But an evening of phantoms and psychic energy is a rather far leap from dragon metal and she isn’t sure that their style of music would line up neatly with the aesthetics of a supernatural night…

She spares a glance to the clock. “Keep coming up with ideas, we need to practice.”

“We’ve played these songs hundreds of times, shouldn’t we be coming up with some new songs?” Chan asks. “From Ashes To Phoenix, just announced their second new single.”

Azula’s face reddens if only slightly. “Zuzu can release as many new singles as he wants, that won’t make them sound any better than someone chewing on a microphone with feedback for three minutes.”

Chan stifles a laugh.

She should have known then that the rest of practice was going to be a waste. She has known Chan since they were children and she knows how he can be. She isn’t particularly surprised when he makes practice hell, purposely floundering his way through certain guitar riffs and singing off key when he saw most optimal. His screw ups always through Ruon off and eventually Zirin would practically flop over her drum kit with laughter.

As per usual, Azula is the only one not laughing.

As per usual, Azula is the only one with anything real at stake.

She is reminded quite potently of it when her father calls. Chan has thrown Ruon off for the sixth time that night, they already have to take it from the top so Azula steps out into the hallway and swipes to answer.

He starts in on her before she can even put the phone to her ear. “How is it that your brother has already put out two new singles and you haven’t even come up with one?”

“Because I’m trying to come up with something that has some quality.” She has chosen her words carefully but neglected to watch her tone.

She thinks that it would be more befitting of him to simply yell violently at her. But his voice is so slick and smooth that she can’t even hide behind incoherence. “I’m not funding your band for you to disgrace the legacy. I handed you a blazing torch and you are letting the fire die.”

“I’m trying to…” she pauses. “Pick out the best kindling. Something that will burn for a long time. Zuko is just tossing random sticks into the pit and hoping something will catch.”

This seems to satisfy him, though it doesn’t keep him from ending the call with a curt, “there’s a fine line between perfecting a song and stalling.” He doesn’t even know that she hasn’t started working on a song yet.

He doesn’t need to know.

She rubs her hands over her face. The man was pissed when Zuko’s first album flopped and he’d had low expectations to begin with. She vividly recalls childhood music lessons; they’d come so naturally to her. She could pick up a violin or stroke the keys of a piano and it would come out just right after the first few tries.

Her voice, they said, was golden. A gift. A marvel. She had impressive range. She has impressive range.

And Zuko, even with extra lessons and several teachers struggled to make use of even a recorder. His vocals were ‘generic’, ‘nothing special’ and sometimes he would sing off tune. Ozai wasn’t fond of his improv either when lyrics slipped his mind.

He still forgets lyrics.

His own lyrics.

Azula isn’t sure how he hasn’t yet been booed off of a stage. She supposes there are perks in having magazine writers fawning over abs and ‘chiseled faces’.

But she wants more than that. She wants real talent. She wants a voice so sublime and lyrics so powerful that they draw focus away from any other aspect of her. She loathes and dreads the day when they push out cover that fancies her physique over her genius.

She won’t rely on that.

Unlike Zuko, she doesn’t need to.

She has a voice and she can do things with it that so many others can’t. She glares at Chan and Ruon as they cackle to themselves. She joins them once more, whatever aura she emits, their laughter cuts off. “Are you finished?”

They nod and Zirin nods.

“Good.” She says in a low hiss. “Start over. This time lets focus. We’re going to have a new song by the end of the night.”

It will be a lackluster song, but it will pacify her father, at least until she can come up with something better.

By the end of the session the only thing that she has acquired for her troubles is a headache and a sudden resentment of Zirin. Chan at least knows when to bring a terrible and tired joke to an end. Zirin is a collection of relentless crass comments.

Even if she doesn’t mean any harm by them, she doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Sometimes Azula thinks that Zirin is holding the rest of them back. Sometimes she regrets seeing the potential in her. Sometimes she regrets having vouched for her during music lessons until the teachers saw the same thing that she did.

Sometimes she thinks that she only lets Zirin stay because she is Chan’s girlfriend.

Sometimes she lets it go and carries on with practice as though the comments are only mild annoyances. And most of the time they are.

Tonight she has had her fill of aggravation.

Tonight she has had her fill of letting the woman pound on the drums every time she attempted to speak. She locks her microphone in its stand and without another word or a glance back, she leaves the recording studio.

As the door slams she could hear Zirin remark, “daddy’s little diva.”

She doesn’t know how long they wait for her to come back. But she doesn’t. Not that night. Were it not for her father’s expectations she would be well on her way to finding new bandmates. She can’t afford that yet; she is too pressed for time.

Too awkward and isolated to find anyone else anyhow.

She uses her walk home to come up with excuses as to why practice has been cut so short.

.oOo.

Seicho doesn’t expect a call so soon. Spirits, it would be embarrassing if her work had given Azula an allergic reaction. With the woman’s number flashing across her cellphone screen, she pictures rock ‘n roll legend, Fire Lord Ozai showing up at the shop all muscle and fury to tell her off for ruining his daughter’s flawless skin.

Seicho shudders and grins all at once. She isn’t sure if she would particularly mind getting yelled at by her idol, it would be like one of his concerts, but without the music. She picks up the call before it can go to voicemail.

“If it’s a rash, you should probably call the doctor! I’m sorry for…”

“What are you talking about?” She can see Azula’s half-frown through the phone.

Seicho clears her throat. “Nevermind, I thought that you were someone else.” She lies. “Is everything going okay with your tattoo?”

“So far, yes.”

“Are you cleaning it at least twice daily.”

“I clean it once in the morning, once at noon, and once at night. I’m not calling to talk about my tattoo.”

“What are you calling for then?”

Azula is silent for quite a while.

“I suppose I just want someone to talk to.”

Seicho very nearly asks her why she doesn’t just phone a friend, why she has decided to talk to her of all people. Instead she inquires, “what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” There is a long pause. “Nevermind.” The phone clicks.

.oOo.

She feels foolish hanging up just to call again. But her father is still up and about, she sees his silhouette behind the curtain and she hasn’t come up with an excuse that he’d accept. She could tell him that Chan had to leave early but then he’d ask why she hadn’t continued without him. She could say that the other two refused but then he’d question her lack of control and ask why she didn’t practice alone.

She should just enter and get it over with, it is better if she does. It is the difference between a scolding and a slap.

But today she can’t take any more berating. She hits redial and holds the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Can we meet somewhere?” She doesn’t bother backtracking to return the greeting.

Seicho draws out her pause for so long that Azula nearly hangs up a second time. “Does the skate park sound good? I’m already there.”

It isn’t her scene. “I’ll be there.” She hangs up before the girl can change her mind.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Background Character #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #Fanfiction

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rachetmath · 4 years

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Optimistic Realism: Support Character Purpose

This may be my last rant about this show. As usually it’s my opinion and if you agree then like or reblog, your choice. If you want to add on to this or have a question then comment. If you disagree, fine, but afraid to leave a comment. Read this at your own will and time.

I know I been talking about RWBY a lot, mainly about Jaune Arc, however I am going for a new approach. I am going to discuss what I feel should have been implied in the show between team RWBY and JRN from the beginning and how it should have played in volume seven. And that is with in the title, Optimistic Realism. It’s basically a combination of optimism with realism. But, before we discuss this, let us first know what they mean individually and see who fits in with that definition.

Optimism as stated on the internet, "Is believing no matter how bad things get there will always be a bright future ahead." Basically, staying positive. Team RWBY fits this definition considering each of them are based on characters with these traits. We have seen that in volume one through three on their missions and during the fall. They always go with the flow and stay positive even when things seem impossible. Even in volume four and five they had to regain some of their courage in order to continue forward but to win the battle at Heaven. In volume six, even put their positivity to test, considering what they learned about their world and Salem. Knowing that information crippled them allowing the Apathy to take over, and them barely making it out alive.

Now for realism. Basically "Having to deal with a situation at hand, to the best of your ability." Team JNR fits this well because their based-on warriors. Warriors in order to get stronger they must train, and gain experience while going through hardship. In volume one to three Jaune had to get stronger because of world he chose inhabit. Pyrrha had to deal with being outcasted by her peers and teachers. Ren and Nora do to the fact that they have no home to return to, being hunters was the only thing they had going for them. When the fall happened Pyrrha died leaving team JNR broken. In volume four, Jaune mourns over Pyrrha just like Ren with his home. In volume five, team JNR were ready to fight Oscar the moment he mentions Ruby’s name and Jaune still attacked Cinder, all for realistic reasons. And in volume six, team JRN like team RWBY were upset with the information they were given, and in order to continue, they realistically have no choice because one; Pyrrha died for this. Two; they came to far to fail. And three; might as well not let the next generation have to deal to with Salem. Even volume seven they act real. Jaune and Nora may have stated facts about James’s actions but due to the situation at hand they still followed orders.

Now before I continue let me explain what I believe a support character's job is. Support characters do not just heal or defend the main character. The support characters help the main characters by being stronger, smarter, or have a better since of their emotions than they do. They do not have to be cool or invincible. Zoro, from One Piece, is Luffy’s second in command because he asserts authority. And Nami is third because she can make a plan for the crew to follow. Luffy is too carefree to do any of that. Edward, from Full Metal Alchemist, has Scar, Winry and Mustang. Scar because he knows more about alchemy than Ed does. Mustang considering, he is a soldier of the military, knows more about the complications of city affairs and knows when to take necessary action over being pacifistic. And both are more powerful than Ed and Al are. Winry despite not doing much continues to encourage Ed to get stronger, to see his goal through, and goes anywhere Edward may be to help repair his arm and leg. Basically, the support character's job is not just to be some cheerleader, but serve as guidance and guardians, people who act in the main characters best interest even when he or she may not know it yet. Or if it is mixed in with their own.

Now with that out the way, let us discuss how optimism and realism could affect their actions in volume seven. Yes, James was acting like a nice guy, however it ran the risk of us hating our main characters for their actions. To me, volume seven was like Clover said, "The right choice is the hardest to make." However, his words hold no weight when we the audience had no choice but to side with James because the other two factions were doing nothing but stealing and lying in his face. So here is how I would in some levels re write volume seven.

In volume seven, let us keep half of everything the same. The group become professional hunters, Penny is framed, Jacque still wins the election, Robyn goes criminal and Yang still tells her everything. Instead of team RWBY and JNRO thus far doing nothing, they should have been more active. Now after Yang tells Robyn the truth and lies to the Ace-ops about her getting away, returns to Atlas to their dorms, only to have everyone waiting for them. Ruby decides to talk somewhere private where James or anyone outside their group could not hear them. Truth of the matter is Ruby and the others were already suspected of Yang and Blake, since one, Yang never backs down from a fight and two, Blake has a history of rebellion. The two know they cannot hide, so they admitted to what they done. This led to an argument amongst them with Weiss and Oscar taking Yang's side and Ren and Nora, not so much, until Ruby and Jaune silence them, demanding they return to their dorms and discuss the matter tomorrow.

The next day, early in the morning, Ruby and Jaune decided to talk about the matter themselves. This led to them arguing with each other. Jaune using levels of facts while Ruby uses levels of reasoning and opinion. Both continued to yell at each other until they reach a conclusion. Ruby and Jaune both agreed what Robyn is doing is wrong, but they cannot deny James recent actions to be affective either. So, they made an idea to mix their teams together with Jaune going after Robyn and Ruby staying in Atlas trying to talk with James. Jaune teams up with Nora, Yang and Blake considering all three of them want to help Mantle. Ruby gets Ren, Weiss and Oscar, since Weiss knows Atlas, Ren sides with James and James will not let Oscar out of his sight. Now the real fun begins.

Jaune and his new team JNBY, goes around the streets of Mantle along with Penny to fight grimm and come up with a strategy to capture Robyn and the happy huntresses. However, Jaune wanted to be clear that he is not trying to arrest her but persuade her to surrender and go talk to James. He tells them while Ruby and Oscar tries to reason with James and investigate Weiss's father, they will be watching for Tyrian while chasing down Robyn. Basically, they are trying to make two factions come together and fight against a common enemy. Jaune and his team later manages to capture Robyn only for the citizens to shame them and demand they let her go. Jaune does release them out of their cuffs, however, remember, Jaune is representing realism, so while the crowd is cheering and Robyn celebrates her victory, Jaune makes it clear to her on what is happening. Jaune using facts, expressing his experience and asking questions in which Robyn could not answer, made her think for moment that something big is coming and she will not be able to protect the people from it. Basically, Robyn was sorrowing up in the air, only for Jaune to slam her back into reality and making her choose a realistic approach to solving a matter, even if the people may not agree with her. Putting her in James’s shoes.

Ruby and her new team RWRO, goes on missions to defend and find resources for the new tower. Oscar would continue trying to talk to James but also trains. Weiss tries to figure out if her father had cheated the votes only for Jacque to stop her at every turn. Ren was still being true to James, reports to him but keeps their secret about Jinn and Salem from him. At first, Ren was about to squeal but when James heard what team JNBY were doing, he became skeptical about it and order his men to keep an eye on them. Even willing to fight them if they pose a threat. When Ren heard this, he started believing James may not be as noble as he thought he was. So, he kept his mouth shut and informs Ruby on what is going on. Ruby then informs Jaune in return that way James's soldiers do not get in their way. Finally, when she hears team JNBY captured Robyn and persuaded her to talk to James, she was happy but after the links James went through, because of his suspicions, she decided to tell him the truth. Once he heard everything, he was furious and more importantly scared. However, Oscar using his words persuaded him to see things through. James accepts the truth and was willing to talk to Robyn. Good timing too because team JNBY were about to fight the Ace-ops.

This is when we can consider James a villian or an anti-hero. James turns from being a reasonable man to an unreasonable dictator when him and Robyn meet face to face. Robyn agreed to his demands to return all the stuff she stole as long as James continues to protect Mantle. However she still wanted the wall to be repaired, and the security to be moderate as Atlas so no one can gain control very easily as they did at the rally. James refuses, believing it to be a waste of time. This is where Ruby and Jaune get angry. Jaune tells James what was on his mind about Robyn, believing what Robyn states is fair considering half of the soldiers down in Mantle are robots, and she was willing to return what she stole and maybe assist them in capturing Tyrian. But James believing in his military might does not listen. He then told his Ace-ops to take Robyn away, only her to pull off one last trick up her sleeves. She fired a heavy flash arrow grenade, blinding everyone and escapes.

After that, Ruby and others were in the training room, trying to practice, only to feel apathetic. They felt defeated. Qrow and Maria tried to cheer them up but decided to let them be. Ruby apologized, thinking she never should have told James anything, only for Yang to say the opposite, stating at least he knows what’s at stake. Jaune questions her statement based on what they already saw so far, feels James has no clue at all, only for Oscar to calm him down before he goes too far. Weiss asked what they are going to do now. Nora suggested they just leave and go to Vacuo, Ren suggested maybe stay in Mantle and try to keep it safe, only for Ruby to tell everyone to be prepared for the worst. The gang were surprised and turns to Jaune, only for him to nod his head in agreement. Jaune stated facts, if they turn on James, they will be wanted national criminals. If they go about recklessly it could makes things worse than they already are. And if they do not know what Salem could be planning then they might as well be setting Atlas up to be destroyed. Everyone despite how cruel they feel, understood and decided to keep training and prepare for the next day.

And that is all. Salem never shows up, James still wants to continue with the new tower, Robyn is relevant and RWBY and JNRO are now fully active. Basically, what I hated about the seventh volume is it was completely one sided. James was the only good guy, the main characters were not active but reactive to their situations, and Robyn was just some nobody who could have served a purpose in story. Nobody but James was given any sort of character. And those who did get some character, did not deserve it. Like Yang, who was supposed to have more of a problem with keeping secrets especially from James.

So, what do I want out of all this? Simply, give everyone a role to play other than the main characters. The main characters do not have to do everything. If team JNRO can relate to or handle a situation better than team RWBY can, then let them do their jobs. Team RWBY can still be stronger than them but they cannot always be wiser or more decisive than everyone else. They can be reckless but give a group like Jaune, Ren, Oscar and Nora an ability to grab them by their hairs or the collar of their shirts and know when to tell them; Jaune to Yang: "Calm down and think."; Ren to Blake: "Focus."; Nora to Weiss: "It's okay."; and Oscar to Ruby: "Slow down and listen." Team JNRO unlike team RWBY suffered the most out all the characters. Jaune lost Pyrrha because she was stupid to go back to fight Cinder. Ren and Nora lost their homes and families because hunters were never there. And Oscar literally had to leave his home behind and may never see his aunt and uncle again, since he could die or fade from existence. What I am saying is give support characters room to breathe and grow so they can continue to do their jobs. Which is to act in the main characters best interest.

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jeromevalseka · 4 years

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SCAREBAT FIC RECS:

Equivalency Series by @neyiea

The evolving relationship of Jonathan Crane and Bruce Wayne.

Working with the Dark: Their excursion into the Green Zone had proven fruitful, but not everyone seems to have had as good a time as Scarecrow.

There's an Echo of Myself in You: “Tell me, Bruce, what do you think you would see if I used my fear-toxin on you?”

Bruce looks straight into Jonathan’s eyes, keeping his face purposefully impassive as he says, “Nothing that I haven’t already lived through. Nothing that hasn’t already made me stronger.”

Tell Me a Scary Story: It's difficult to have a proper date in No Man's Land, but they make do in their own way.

notes: this series makes me lose my whole mind! i don’t think my words would do it any justice. the development of bruce & jonathan’s relationship, the slow-build of trust, jonathan’s reluctant character development...amazing. stupendous. everything i could ever want.

Spooked by @neyiea

Bruce somehow gets wrangled into tagging along on Selina and Bridgit's date to a haunted house. It goes about as well as he expects it to (which is to say; not at all) and his hair-trigger reflexes are set off at the worst possible moment.

Or:

How Jonathan got kicked while working at his seasonal job, but he also got a cute boy's phone number.

notes: meet-cutes! an alternate universe where teenagers are allowed to be happy! background bridgit/selina! the whole package!

a moment at the start of history by @queergordon

It must a Wednesday, Jonathan rationalizes. Because it used to be a Sunday, on Sunday something went wrong, in his office. Visions, yes, and acidic smell, sharp and bitter, he recalls this – and then Monday, in his bed, fighting a migraine. Tuesday, yesterday, he’s not sure what he did. But it must be Wednesday, and the visions came back, rushed in like a great, black nasty tidal wave.

notes: no exaggeration....i think of this fic like once a week. it’s set in the future where bruce is established as batman and its just........please read it.

tomorrow? by @alpacasandravens

It's No Man's Land, and Bruce finds out that maybe he and the Scarecrow aren't so different after all. (a scarebat story somehow featuring neither dark!bruce nor a redeemed!jonathan)

notes: both a really good relationship study AND character study for both jonathan and bruce, that deals really well with how complicated any relationship between the two would be. somehow still manages to be really tender!

those nights by @alpacasandravens

“Friend.” The word is so soft as to be almost unintelligible, and Bruce thinks it probably came from an original sentence where the other words were too quiet to be heard. Something like ‘You’re my friend.’ This was complicated territory. Bruce is glad Jonathan considers them to be friends, but he’s not sure if he would consider Jonathan his friend. At sixteen, Jonathan was an enemy, and at nineteen he would have liked to use the word ‘boyfriend,’ and now - enemy again? ‘Friend’ seems like an oversimplification.

It's never simple, not in No Man's Land or when Bruce returns to Gotham after 10 years, but they do their best.

notes: sometimes....things that are canon.....hurt the most. listen. listen. this is SO good and SO painful and just thinking about it drives me crazy. it’s non-chronological which honestly i think is one of my favorite parts but it also makes it hurt so much more.

Blue Ink by @she-loves-you

high school au where bruce and jonathan sit at the same table throughout the day (like they both take the same history class but bruce is first period and jonathan is last) and because it’s so fucking boring they doodle on the desks until one day they start writing messages to each other. and one time bruce shows up after school to ask the teacher a question and he catches jonathan writing and he’s like “oh fuck he’s c u t e”

notes: listen. i read this and i was like. jenny slate /SCREAMS/ another really adorable, fluffy fic for when you don’t want to deal with the stress of canon.

a murder of crows by aesthetically

He’d expected Bruce Wayne to flee from Gotham, tail tucked between his legs like the rest of those who could afford it.

Oh, and how wrong he was.

notes: this is the fic that made me crawl back to gotham with my tail between my legs. it’s just unbelievably fun and jonathan’s characterization made me !!!

MY FICS (AKA SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION):

now, i don’t want to self promote too much......but i also have a few scarebat fics you might be interested in!

i don't want to rest in peace Series by @jeromevalseka

Post-canon exploration centered around the question: what would happen if Bruce and Jonathan met?

take the white pill (you'll feel alright): In his defense, Bruce doesn't mean to sleep with the Scarecrow.

and i want to fight but i can't contend: Jonathan knew fear, just like he knew that Bruce Wayne was running from his own. That wouldn't do.

in the face of blind optimism: Jim Gordon had been enjoying a quiet day in the office. Then Jonathan Crane was arrested.

notes: since these are my fics i won’t say much. BUT if you’re looking for character studies as well as plot you make enjoy them!

step into my candy store by @jeromevalseka

Jeremiah wasn't the only thing lurking in the Dark Zone.

notes: tldr, jonathan is horny and an asshole.

our lips are getting looser by @jeromevalseka

"You wanna get high?"

It's a bad idea and Bruce knows it. Of course, that doesn't mean he says no.

notes: high school au & shotgunning!!!!!!!!!!! like. 90% shotgunning. that’s literally it.

say you can't breathe without me by @jeromevalseka

In one world, Thomas and Martha Wayne give birth to a healthy baby boy who they name Bruce. He becomes a hero.

This is not that world.

notes: an au with fem!scarebat wherein bruce isn’t a hero and jonathan definetly isn’t one either.

#gotham #scarebat #gotham fic recs #p: bruce x jonathan

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lennydaisy · 3 years

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EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FIVE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Here is a link to the EPIPHANY SERIES MASTERLIST!

"Come on, hurry up!" I shouted over my shoulder, running as fast as my legs would take me. The overhead birds chirping and singing encouraged me to go faster, looking up as they danced and twirled under the clouds, "We're gonna miss it."

"Macy, wait up!" I heard him yell, but I didn't listen. Dodging in and out of the sun beat trees, welcoming the comforting smell of freshly cut grass. The sight of the warm, orange sky meeting the deep, blue ocean made my eyes shine with wonderous adventure. The hot, summer rays beat down on my exposed arms as the humid air erupts my hair into a frenzy.

Beat sneakers skidded to a stop when I reached the edge of the drop. My chest heaved as I watched stones and dirt fall into the pool of water, scaring away the sparkle of fireflies.

"Since when-" my friend eventually caught up to me. His hands planted on his knees, leaning over with tiredness, puffing in and out air with his cheeks tinted red, "-since when did you get so fast."

I paid the exhausted boy no mind, my eyes never leaving the still oceanfront. We couldn't have missed it. I heard the lady at the dock say at sunset. It's sunset so, where are they?

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" He asked, not understanding why he is here staring at practically nothing. As soon as I had heard the news, I bolted to his place, pushing past his shocked mom who yelled profanities at me as I dragged her son out of the house.

"Shush," I hushed the boy, refusing to give up. The sun was slowly but surely setting in front of us, whilst the winds became nippier. Still, there was no sight of what I had been so excited to show my friend.

A few minutes of silence made my optimism fall quickly, "Let's just go," with slouched shoulder and a petted lip, I turn away from the edge feeling embarrassed, wanting to just get back home, "It doesn't matter."

"Macy, look!" I heard his voice chirp with excitement, Spinning around wondering what could be so exciting about this failed adventure. I followed his crooked finger that points outs at the ocean and the bubbling feeling explodes in my stomach again.

They're here!

In the distance, bobbing out from the waves was a pod of dolphins. There had to be at least ten of them. All making their away east of the sun that sparkles off the tip of their fins.

Now sitting at the edge of the drop, our feet dangling over the water as we watched the amazing creatures. I knew that dolphins were his favourite animal and sadly he had never seen them in person before, and neither had I, until today.

It was magically. With the sun shining its last light for the day, everything just felt peaceful. Turning to the boy beside me whose face is lit up with wonder, "How cool would it be to swim with dolphins," I dreamed, waving the last of the animals away. A feeling on contentment fluttered in my chest.

"That would be pretty cool," he agreed before flicking his eyes over to me, "you can't swim though," he teased, nudging his shoulder into mine.

It's true, I never learned how to swim. It's not that I don't want to, it's just, scary, I guess. We have no clue how big the ocean is. To put it into perspective, we have explored more of outer space than we have on our own planet. That's unsettling! It was hard enough for my dad to get me comfortable enough to go on a boat. The thought of teaching me how to swim was completely out of the picture.

If I did one day decide that I wanted to learn how to swim, my teacher would have to be someone I trust wholeheartedly. Someone who wouldn't give up when I complain. Someone who wouldn't laugh at me when I think I'm sinking. Someone who knows my limits.

I just nodded my head, ducking down timidly at my inability being mentioned. He placed a soft hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, Macy," he comforts, but his fingers slowly grip my shoulder tighter. His nails digging into my skin.

I didn't have time to wince before he said in a harsh tone, "Don't want you to drown like your old man."

And then I was falling.

He pushed me roughly off the edge. My legs scrapped against the tough dirt as my arms flap wildly in the harsh winds that dry up my eyes. I couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his distant laughter. The surface of the water getting closer and closer, as I finally let out a scream.

Jumping awake with a gasp, my hands gripping at my bedsheet tightly. Sweat drips down the bridge of my nose causing me to twitch. I look around. I'm in my room. 'I'm safe,' I remind myself.

Pushing my sheet off me, I didn't even want to remember what happened, but spotting my alcohol cover clothes in the corner of my room floods my mind with the memory. Shaking my head, erasing the thought as I place my bare feet on the cold floorboards, a shiver shooting up my back.

My head is pounding, my eyes feel like they are burning, no thanks to the blinding sun, and my throat feels drier than the dessert. 'I'm never drinking again' I thought but knowing fine well that's a lie.

I make my way out my room, the whole shack radiating nothing, but peaceful silence. John B must still be asleep. My knees shaking with the early morning chill as I make my way to the kitchen with one thought on my mind. Warm lemon tea.

Very Kook sounding I know, but that's because Kie introduced me to it me years ago when I had tonsillitis. I was reluctant to try it, but she practically forced it down my throat and it surprisingly helped me. And it tasted good too.

Since then, Kie gave me an emergency stash of lemon tea. It never tastes as good when I make it, but right now I will do anything to get rid of the stinging in throat.

It took a lot of resilience for me not to rip my throat out as I watched the water boil. The whistle of the kettle sounded like a prayer from God. Pouring the water into my ladybug cup, I can't help but scowl as I look out the window at the relentless rooster that's dancing across the yard. That thing is the devil. I nearly need to give it name so I can swear at it with confidence.

Norris.

Do you know who would like Norris? Mrs Adams. Do you think JJ would notice if I got rid of his beloved rooster? At least I gave it a name, he just calls it rooster-

A gentle knocking coming from the front of the house catches my attention. I go to glance at the clock that is nailed lopsided on the wall but realise it’s no use because I keep forgetting to put new batteries in it. Sipping my tea, I waited for a few minutes to see to if they would knock again.

It's too early for social interactions. The thought of having to talk to some chipper morning person is already giving me a migraine. Humming at the warm sensation in my throat, I stop peering around the corner and decided to make myself comfortable. It's my house. They'll just have to go away.

"It's the Sheriff, open up," the sudden voice of Peterkin’s causing me to choke on my drink, wincing as my knee smashes into the cabinet. Throwing my cup in the sink, ignoring the smashing sound as I quickly grab the trash can, running around the house in a fit of coughs, picking up the empty beer bottles, "No one's home!"

"The DCS called," I let out a scream, spinning around to see the woman now standing in our living room, "They want me to check on you," she said, eyeing the half-smoked blunt that was laying on the table.

Trying to hide my discomfort at the officer in my house, I force a smile onto my face, "Well I'm here," I hold out an arm, trying to lead her out the door, "Thanks for stopping by."

I can already she's far from done with me as my attempt to usher her out failed. Peterkins who has had a curious eye on the house since she entered, spots the picture that is hanging on the wall, "Is that Uncle T?" she asks, but I know what she's trying to do, "How's he been."

"He's uh," I clear my throat, picking at my hangnails, feeling pressured under her gaze, "Can I wake up my lawyer before I answer any questions?"

Running past the officer, I bolt into John B's room. The boy was still fast asleep, lying at the foot of his bed. I would have winced at the shiner on his eye, but I have no time. "John B," I shake him harshly. He just waves a hand tiredly in my direction, humming, before turning over away from me.

"John B," I whine harshly, "Peterkins is here, please get up. She scares me," I admit, smacking him with a pillow. At the mention of Peterkins, John B shoots up, wiping his drool on the back of his hand and attempts to make himself look like a normal, law-abiding citizen.

Stopping at the entrance of his door, he turns to look at me. I could see what he was asking me. He wants me to go first. No way. I shake my head at the boy, pushing him into the hallway first. Did he just ignore me confessing that the lady scares me? She always looks like she knows something and that because she knows everything. That's how she gets you.

Peering over John B shoulder, I spot Peterkins shuffling through the pile of letters that we have dumped on the counter. I would have pulled her up for raiding through our personal detail, but again- she terrifies me. And also, the amount of empty beer bottles that are scattered around the place is concerning.

I grab a bottle of the cabinet and pass it to John B with stern eyes. Understanding, he greets Peterkins picking up bottles as he goes along, "Peterkins. How nice of you to stop by."

"How you been John B?" she asks, getting straight to the point, "besides the-," pointing at his eye.

"I'm fantastic," he claims, eventually stuttering out an answer, the ladies early morning appearance shaking him up. "Thanks for stopping by," he excuses her as I rush over to the door, holding it open for her.

"Am glad to hear that," she muses, hat in her hands as she blatantly ignores my kind gesture. She really can't take a hint. "However, I've heard a few things that worried me. Let's see if you two can help me out."

Oh boy.

I let go of the door, knowing that she won't be leaving anytime soon. Listening to the list of worries she has; I walk around the house trying to hide any evidence that she could use against us. "One thing I heard was that your Uncle T, your guardian, has been out of state for three months."

"You think we could survive for three months on our own?" I laugh, trying not to wither under her gaze, "With his cooking, we'd be dead in a week," I point at my brother who turns to me with a look of insult and betrayal.

"As if you're any better, Miss 'can I put tins in the microwave'," He outs me, not wanting to be the only one under fire. And yes, I did put a tinned can in the microwave, but it wasn't that big of a deal, just don't try it at home. I mean it.

"It was one time!"

"The microwave exploded!"

"And we got a new one. Minor details, John B."

Clearing her throat to interrupt our argument, "Give up the act, I called the school," she stated, now leaning against the wall, sheet of paper in hand, "You guys use to be good students, now you're falling all your classes," she flashes the report card she is holding to us as evidence.

Looking at the card all I see is a long line of C's and D's. Her evidence holds nothing against me though. That's John B report card. I was smart enough to shred mine before I even got home.

"Actually, only Johnny boy is failing all his classes-" I start, John B butting in, "-No. Only history, the guys a dick, he's got it out for me," I nod my head understandingly at the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I, however, am a model student. Straight A's"

"Expect for home economics?" she questions smartly, raining on my parade. I didn't have anything to say to that, just pulling a face which probably gives her the answer.

"I also heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday," I bit my lip, finally understanding why she's here. I move to sit on the couch, knowing I was in for the long haul, "and a gun was involved."

Did he really run and tell the police?

"Okay," John B huffs, shaking his head in disappointment, "Did I get in a dustup?" He asks and points his finger at me to answer for him, acting like we were on a game show

"Yes," I nod my head in excitement, smiling brightly when he holds his thumb up confirming my answer. Moving swiftly onto the next question, "But was there a gun?" he asks, acting out like it was a scenario I suppose to play out in my head.

I tap my chin, pretend to think, "Nope, that would make sense," I dwell before crossing fingers, saying my answer, "No."

"Is that your final answer?" John B sits down next to me, hold out the imaginary microphone. You could feel the anticipation rising, along with Peterkin patience, "Yes!" I confirm.

"Congratulation Miss Routledge!" he announces, "You've just won an all exclusive trip to The Bahamas," revelling my award as I wipe away the pretend tears, sniffling with happiness, fully prepared to give my thank you speech.

"I know who it was," she deadpans, ruining my moment, forcing me back to reality, "and I'll get to him."

"All I care about is makin' sure you're in a safe home," she continues, and I see the look in her eye. She thinks we're lost causes. That's a bit harsh, true, but harsh.

"We are in a safe home," I confirm, reaching over to pull the string of the light that was left on from the night before. In a blink of an eye, the blub blows out, short-circuiting with a sharp spark as the drawstring snaps from the lamp, "Super safe."

"And sturdy," John B adds, "besides, Uncle T's coming back," he says in a matter of fact, knowing that's what Peterkins would want to hear.

"Is that what they told you?" She muses but looks at me, already knowing what John Bs answer would be. I glance quickly at my brother, "Yes," I confirm, trying to act nonchalant.

"If he's coming, I think you should be allowed to stay," she shrugs, taking our side as John B and I nod at her, "Thank you."

It feels like the whole world is against John B and I. We're always wrong. We're always looked done on because we're Pogues. We're always pitted because our dad is missing. I want to believe that Sheriff Peterkins is truly on our team for once, but I can feel a strong meaning coming with her agreement.

"But if I stick my neck out for you," 'there it is' I thought, "you have to help me. Tit for tat."

"What does tat mean?" John B asks confused. What I'm more confused about is how did I end up with such a dumb twin. I'm the brains and he's the brawn, I guess?

"She wants something in return," I define the phrase for him. It's a bit corrupt if you ask me. She is basically acknowledging the fact we did something wrong but is willing to kick that under the rug for any information that we might have.

Pointing her finger at me, "Your 'A' in English is showing," she says before falling serious again, "A body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I confirm, seeing no point in lying about it, "we went fishing."

"You catch anything?" she asks, suspicion radiating of her voice as she leans against the wall in front of us. I feel like I'm being interrogated. I am being interrogated.

"Nah, we were skunked," Peterkins just laughs under her breath at John Bs reply, "Strange. Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up."

I know where this is going. Scooter Grubbs body was found yesterday morning, but there was no sign of the boat that he supposedly left on. I'm assuming the still haven't found it, that's why Peterkins is here. Of course, she'd question us. With a background that is filled with trouble, it always finds a way into our lives. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume we knew something.

"You come across a wreck yesterday?"

The sheriff sigh as John B and I both shake our heads at her question, "The pair of you are just skimming above the surface," she starts, her patience completely gone, "now, down here is foster care, juvie," she lists off as I watch her twirling finger. My stomach churning at the mention of foster care.

"Pretty big drop for smart kids like you," she compliments, continuing of her sentiment, "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want." I like it up there.

"Outer Banks," she weights in one hand with a soft voice, "or foster care on the mainland," her tone changing at the other option.

It hard to imagines that one singular event led up to all this. After dad went missing our life has just been a downwards spiral. Everything that Peterkin had said is true. John B and I used to be good students. We never missed a paper, or even dared to skip class. Fair we're friends with JJ, but we knew that dad wanted us to have a good future. I'd hate to know if we've disappointed him.

"You are one inch above the surface," she stresses, knowing that she is getting to us, "If I were you, I'd start flapping my wings."

We've had too many close calls. How many more can we have?

"Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?"

"We're sure."

Hopefully one more.

"It's better if you didn't, you understand?" she crouches down, placing a hand on both our knee's, her eyes not flickering, "I'm going to look the other way, as long as you two stay out of the marsh."

I bit my lip, listening to her footsteps heading toward the door. My body finally relaxing, realising she was leaving. "I've got dogs livin' better than this," she insults. Eyes snapping up when the sound of an empty bottle crashes into the overflowing bin, "You might want to think about cleanin' up."

When I was younger, I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to live in a big castle, with the most luxurious ballroom that would hold the biggest and best events of the year, and a huge kitchen with a countless number of chefs and bakers.

I dreamed of swirling dresses and pointed shoes. Dragons and dashing knights. True loves kiss and happily ever after. I would be friends with all the animals. I would have a Fairy God Mother. I would have anything I wanted.

My life would be the perfect fantasy.

The closest I've been to a princess is the one time JJ called me it, and I immediately told him to never do it again. Not because I didn't like it. It just scared me. My whole life I've wanted to be a princess and I like to believe that I know what it takes to be one. I'm not a princess. I don't feel like one.

A princess should never feel the way I feel.

"Watcha doin' out here by yourself?" I hear a voice call out. Turning my head, watching as Pope made is way over to the hammock that I'm occupying. Moving over slightly, I make room for him at the other end.

"Oh y' know, scheming," I joke, looking at the boy who makes himself comfortable. After two minutes of huffing and puffing, he eventually settles into the hammock. My eye catches the thick book that he has held in his hand, "What you reading?"

"Just some autobiography I found in the library," he shrugs like it’s no big deal. The book he's holding had to be at least 600 pages. I don't think I've read 600 pages of anything in my entire life, but this boy could probably read it all in one night. Also, we have a library?

"For my scholarship entry paper, they want me to write 6,000 words about myself and what I intend to do over the summer," I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is not looking forward to writing that and I wouldn't either.

"My name is Pope Heyward," I start, trying my best to mimic Pope's voice, "I have an obsession with dead bodies and this summer I plan to go grave digging-" he kicks his foot against my shoulder as I giggle at the disapproving face.

"It isn't an AA meeting"

"No, but it should be," I shove this foot away from me, "you really have a problem."

Whacking my knee with his ten-ton book, he urges me to stop talking, "With violence!" I exclaim, holding my kneecap with wide eyes. Pope just shakes his head at my dramatics, a small smile covering his face.

"Macy, this is serious," he huffs, "I have no idea what to write."

"Why don't you volunteer at like a youth group or something?" I suggest, now giving him serious ideas. I don't like seeing Pope stressed and I can tell that this scholarship means a lot to him. I might not be the best at advice, but I want to help him, "You can teach them how to dance?"

"Not happening," he deadpans, but I'm not taking no as an answer. Pope is the best dancer I know. I've asked him multiple times to teach me, but every time he declines, stating he 'Can't Dance'. If he can't dance, then what does that say about my dancing ability?

Jumping out of the hammock, I hold my hand out for Pope to take. I shake my hand wanting him to grab it, my eyebrows wiggling, "Come on Pope."

"No," but I didn't listen, reaching for his hand to pull him gracefully out of the hammock. I ignore his objections and helping him back onto his feet, taking both of his hands in mine.

Obnoxiously, I sing a cliché ballroom waltzing song, gliding around the grass with Pope. Pushing and pulling. Spinning and twirling. Both of us red-faced with cramping stomachs, stumbling over each other's toes.

For the first time today, I felt happy. After the mess this morning with Peterkins, John B and I have been in a stumper on mood. She really did rain on our parade. I know that she is only looking out for us, but it just feels forced. Right now, despite the slight overcast that is clouding the Outer Banks, I feel warm and peaceful.

I could feel my eyes shining with childish innocence, as I dragged Pope in circles around the hammock. I was having fun with my best friend.

The clearing of someone's throat caught my attention, halting me from twirling under Pope's arm. He was finally giving in, actually enjoying the silly dance. My hands still clasped tightly in Pope's, I look over to see JJ standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"John B's back, let's go," he says quickly and walks away even quicker. Exchanging a look with Pope, both of us not sure what's up with our friend, we just shrug. It's probably just one of his moods.

Following JJ onto the HMS Pogue, I sit down at the bow of the boat, minding my step as I leap over the gas canisters. JJ had somehow convinced John B to steal from our boss, Ward Cameron. It felt wrong and that's because it is wrong.

I didn't want to agree with JJ, but in some twisted way, he was right. You never see rich kids going to foster care. And with the way, Peterkins was threatening us to not go near the marsh, it means she knows something. Something is down there in that wreck, and we have to be the first one to find out what it is.

Dad used to say that the OBX is America on steroids. You have your haves and have-nots, just multiplied. It's a rigged system we have here. One that makes the rich richer and poor poorer. And with no dad and no money, John B and I have no chance in life. Unless we make it on our own, away from the system.

Since Scooter body was found in the marsh yesterday, the whole body of water that surrounds the island just gives me a bad vibe. Maybe cause it sunset, and the winds are getting nippier or maybe I'm just freaked out because someone died. I don't know. But what I do know this that the marsh is the last place I want to be right now.

"This is empty," Kie complains, looking at my brother who is sitting beside her, "you took empty cans?"

"This one's a quarter full," I say before John B could interrupt, but even at that Kie still complains, "That's only enough for one of us."

"Do any of you even know who to dive?" I ask, moving to sit beside Pope at the wheel. I feel like this question should have been answered before we stole from my boss, but when do we ever think anything through. What I am saying is that there is no way that I am getting in that water, let alone diving down into a dead guys wreck.

"It's kinda a Kook sport," JJ finally answers after pointing back and forward with John B.

"I've read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die," Kie nod sarcastically at her friends comment. I mean out of everyone here, Pope reading about it is more than what anyone else on this boat know. The boy next to me just looks out into the marsh, embarrassed after Kie comment. Placing a hand on his knee, I send him a smile hoping to cheer him up.

"Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe," JJ reasons, not understanding that there is more to diving than that.

"Well, if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood," Pope begins to inform us as I wince at the information, "and you get the bends."

JJ, still not understand what Pope is talking about, he holds onto the pole in front of him and bends over in a laughable position, "Bends like," he strains his voice as his back cracks, "bend over and-"

"The bends kill you."

"Right."

"I can dive," John B announces confidently, but the tone of his voice is telling me another story. Watching JJ nod in agreement with a John B, he's only happy because it's not him that has to go down there.

"No, you can't," I object looking at my brother, "remember that one-time dad took you snorkelling, and you got a nosebleed," I start laughing, remember that day like it was yesterday.

The local pool had just officially opened, and they had an arrange of clubs for the kids on the island to sign up to. One of them being snorkelling. John B was stoked, claim that he had always wanted to snorkel despite never mention it once in his 6 years of living.

I was just peaceful eating my doughnut, watching as the kids my age flapped around in the average-sized pool. Two seconds later, however, they were all screaming and running for the hills except for John B. Not understanding why all his new friends had run away in terror until he saw the crimson colour that danced around in the water.

The entire building had to be evacuated, so the pool could get cleaned. Let's just say that John B never went back to snorkelling club. One good thing came out of that day however, my doughnut. I've never had one like that since.

"I was 6," he argues, still looking determined as ever, "I'll do it," he says.

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says, ripping a page out of his book, pulling a pen out of fine air. He began to write, "So, that boat's about 30 feet down. So, it will take 25 minutes at that depth. Which means you need to make your safety cheek at about ten feet. For two minutes."

I look at Pope calculation in wonder, is this what I missed out on in the Math Team. John B was trying his best to remember all the information that Pope was throwing at him. I glad he's taking it seriously; I don't want my brother to get the bends. I don't have enough money for a medical bill.

The movement of Kie taking off her shirt caught all our attention. All of us watching with confused eyes as she jumps off the boat, into the marsh, "What was that all about?" John B asks.

"I don't know," JJ wonders before looking at me, "but I like it. A lot."

Why is he looking at me?

"Me too," I admit, moving over to the scuba gear, wanting to help John B get it on. Turning around, all I'm met with was curious eyes, "What?" I question, not understanding the sudden silence.

John B just shakes his head, moving towards me to put on the gear. Helping secure the tank to his back, JJ finally speaks up again, "When you're down there, you look for the cargo hold," he explains and holds out a small key, "You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

"Stick in, twist, pull."

"Hey!" a voice call out from the water, "I tied my shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down," Kie says, John B just looking at the girl confused, "It's where you need to do your safety stop," she explains like she's talking to a child. To be fair he does act like one sometimes.

Making sure he is strapped in properly, I grab the monitor attached to the tanks, "Please keep an eye one this Johnny B," I say, showing him how much air, he has, "You need to have enough air to decompress."

John B just looks at me worried, but I place a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You'll be fine," I reassure, "Just don't breathe a lot."

I move to stand beside JJ, just for him to move away from me, 'What is up with him?' "Think zen, you know?" JJ suggests with exaggerated breaths, showing what zen mines in his mind.

Sitting at the control of the boat, my knees resting against the panel, I watch Kie march her way over to my brother. Thinking she was going to tell him he's stupid, I prepare myself for the show, but when she kisses him on the cheek I almost vomit. What? Since when was this a mutual thing?

Sharing glances with Pope and JJ, I see that they're just as confused, both their faces scrunched up at the affection.

"Diver down?"

"Diver down."

Watching as John B jumps down into the marsh, I salute him, "Diver down," I try to smile but I have that feeling in my stomach. Somethings not right.

Once John B was fully submerged by the marsh, the boat fell into an awkward and suspenseful silence. What is wrong with everyone? Kie's sitting at the edge of the boat, probably worrying about John B. Pope is staring intently over her shoulder doing the same. But JJ. JJ is standing at the back of the boat, playing with his rings. He hasn't looked, let alone spoke to me since John B got back.

"What's up with you?" I finally asked, his abnormal silence being unsettling to me. Nothing changes, he just continues to ignore me, clearly finding his hands more interesting than talking to me.

"What's wrong?" I ask again, but the blonde just shake his head, "It's clearly something, you're ignoring me." I stop beating around the bush. Even when JJ is in one of his moods, he still finds it in himself to talk to me and tell me what wrong, but today I can't tell what's got him in such a bad mood.

"It's nothing," he snaps, now looking at me with nothing but anger flaring in his eyes, "Just drop it, Mason."

Mason. What happened to May?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I spin around, my back facing him. Looking up I earn looks from Kie and Pope which I just shake my head at. Turning my eyes towards the marsh, just wanting John B to come back.

The altering whoop of a siren breaks through the tense air. Coming our way in a rubber boat is two cops. Shit.

"Guys, that's the police," JJ points out what everyone can see.

"Yeah, no shit" I snarl at the boy, trying to move from my spot as subtle as possible, "Guy I'm not supposed to be on the marsh," I whisper, peering over the steering wheel at the cops that are slowly approaching.

Cursing under her breath, Kie grabs my arm and moves me to the edge of the boat, "Hide under the boat," she says before helping me lightly dip into the water, not wanting to cause an obvious ripple.

The warm water usually feeling comforting, now feels completely disgusting. A man died like two feet away from where I'm floating. Trying to block the thought from my memory, I squeeze my eye close and pinch my nose before ducking fully under the boat.

It's not a secret that I'm not the best swimmer, I only learned properly a few years ago. And even at that, I don't actively enjoy diving into open banks of water just for fun. I know that this moment it's detrimental that I don't get caught. Peterkins has probably told every cop on the island about our talk this morning, and I'm not about to get caught. Especially by Shoupe, whose voice I can hear above the surface.

"So, where's trouble?"

"Who?"

"Mason. Don't you guys usually hang out with her?"

Kind of like John Bs relationship with Peterkins, I have a similar one with Shoupe. Not by choice. He just happens to be the cop that always catches me. I don't do it on purpose and besides the last big thing that Shoupe had to turn me in for was the Komodo Dragons. Everything after that has just been minor inconveniences. Naturally earning me the nickname of trouble.

I've never been in a cell before, and I don't ever plan to be put in one either. It's just- when you live the way we do; you have to find your own fun. For example, what we are doing right now. It not exactly breaking the law, but it's not in line with their code of conduct. Also, I don't think Shoupe has the heart to put me in a cell. He might joke about it, at least I hope he's joking, but he would never actually do it. He has a bit of a soft spot for me, especially after my dad went missing.

The constant need to kick my feet in order to stay afloat is starting to take its toll on me. My legs are numb, the hand that I have gripping the bottom of the boat is slipping and I don't know how much longer I can hold my breath for.

Trying to push past my dizziness and ignoring the tiredness that is trying to take over my body, I hear Shoupe's protruding voice speak again, "Beautiful day."

Thinking is wasting too much of my running low energy, but when I hear the engine of the other boat start up again, a wave of relief rushing over me. Watching as the air bubbles push their way through the marsh water, the shadow of the boat getting further and further away.

Using the last of my energy, I swim up towards the surface, my lungs squeeze under the pressure of no air. As soon as I broke the tension of the water and breathed in the warm evening air, a rush of relaxation floods my body.

Floating on my back, I hear the relief coming from my friends, "May, are you okay?" I hear JJ ask, but I only care about one person right now.

"Where's John B?" I begin to panic, realising that my brother hasn't come up yet. He definitely ran out of air. With erratic eyes, I skim the marsh looking for a single sign of where he is, "Where is he."

Seeing the ripples in the water, I swim tirelessly towards them. Watching as John B emerges from the surface again, I let out a sound of relief, "Don't scare me like that, you idiot," I splash water in his direction.

"Did you find anything?" JJ asks John B, running to the back of the boat. Letting me go up first, I except the hand that JJ is holding out for me. I give him a small smile before making my way over to Kie how had her arms open for me.

My teeth chittering cause me to hold the girl tighter, my chin resting on her shoulder, trying to steal her body heat. Looking towards the setting sun, watching as the gulls dive for fish, I notice something come towards us. Squinting at the sight, I quickly realise it was another boat.

"Hey, guy? Boogie, two o'clock," I announce, moving away from Kie to get a closet look, halting the cheering of John B's finding, that was going on behind me.

"Do you recognise that boat?" Pope throws out the hopeful question. Shaking my head, noting that I have never seen it before, "What are they doing here? The marsh is closed"

"Let not stick around to find out," JJ concludes, not liking the idea of another boat being on the marsh. It a bit hypocritical of us to judge anyone who didn't listen to the sheriff's rules, but I really don't like the look of the two men that are making their way t over to us.

"JJ, help me with this," I ask, rushing over to the bowline, pulling up the anchor with the help of the boy, "Don't wait for us. Just go," I urge John B to start driving, not wanting to meet the figure on the boat.

"I got it," I hear JJ whisper, taking the wet anchor out of my hands after noticing I was struggling to hold it.

"Maybe they're fishing," I hear Pope wish as I run over to John B, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, "Or maybe they're following us," I suggest, more like state the truth noticing that the boat was tailing us out of the marsh.

"John B, please go faster," Kie begs, not happy with the pacing of our boat, "I'm going! Act natural."

Looking back at the men on the boat, them being a good 20 feet away now allows me to see their faces more clearly. There is something oddly familiar about their brawniness. Both wearing all black, a bad choice in the Outer Banks if you ask me. Both very scruffy-looking, with uncut hair and beards that need a serious trim.

The smaller of the two reaches down for something just out of my sight. But when he stands back up, I knew what it was right away, "Get down," my timing just on the beat as he takes his first shot.

Grabbing the person closest to me, I pull them down to the deck, our backs pressed against the floor. My hand clasped tightly over my ears, I turn to my left to see JJ laying close to me, "You good?" he shouts over the sound of the amplified engine. Going to nod my head, but I get interrupted by another shot being aimed in our direction.

Pressing myself further against the floor, I watched as Kie runs to the back of the boat, "Kie get down," I shout, as another shot is fired at us. Watching with a wary eye as Kie grabs the old fish tangled fishnets, wobbling over to the edge. Shots still continuously coming our way, before Kie throwing the net with force into the water.

The sound of the net getting tangled in our follower's engine brings a wave of relief through my body. Pushing myself back onto my feet, I look back at the two men now stuck in the marsh. Definitely familiar. John B didn't slow down, turning the boat just in time around the bend before another shot could land.

"Oh my God!" Kie laughs out, running her hands throw her hair, "That was insane."

"Pogue life, man," JJ cheers, raising both arm over his head. Understanding the feeling, I sit down on the edge of the boat, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I can't believe we were just in a boat race being shoot at.

The ride back home was filled with adrenaline and giggles. All of us felt on top of the world. Like no one could stop us. But I still can't shake away the fact that those two men looked familiar. They definitely weren't from here, from their stance to them shot a gun at a group of kids on a boat. It just doesn't feel right.

I hadn't even realised that we had pulled up to the dock until I felt a tap on my shoulder. The marsh was now shining a deep blue. An unsettling feeling coming from the sudden overcast that roamed above us. Shake my daydream away, I go to step off the boat, but a hand circling my wrist stops me.

"I'm sorry for back there-" JJ apologises, scratching the back of his neck, struggling to keep steady eye contact with me, "-I was, uh, y' know, uh."

Wanting to hear what he was going to say, I try my best to keep the smile that I can feeling creeping on my face away. Raising my eyebrows at the boy, wanting him to continue. For some reason watching the usually cocky JJ stutter over his word is very entertaining and endearing to witness. I don't know why whatever happened back on the marsh happened, but with the way JJ is struggling to splutter out an apologue, gives he the feeling he doesn't either.

"I'm sorry," he manages to say again, letting out a rigid breath.

Against popular belief, JJ and I have never fallen out. Never had a serious argument. Never had any sort of conflict between us. Our friendship has always been smooth sailing. Sure, we've had disagreements, but it ends at that.

With a personality as strong as JJ's, you are bound to but heads sometimes. He does stupid shit, and I've told him this. But does that stop him? No. It often just leads to him pulling me down with him. And I'm not complaining.

JJ and I are very similar but also completely different. We complement and contract with each other. I know his limits and he knows mine. I know what a typical JJ thing to do is and JJ knows what a typical Mason thing to do is.

We might but heads sometimes and tease each other, but JJ genuinely blow up in my face earlier and it was different. I didn't like it. JJ has always been on my side. I like to believe that we have a relationship where we can tell each other anything. If he isn't comfortable with telling me what had him so stressed back on the boat, then that's fine. I won't push him. He doesn't have to tell me everything. I'm just happy he apologised.

My silence must have been unsettling for him, watching as he picks at the edge of his t-shirt, "So, we good?" he asks, his voice sounding as uneven as his thoughts.

"I'll think about it," I tease, blinking innocently at the boy. A small smile creeping onto his face, knowing that we're cool now. Looking over at the dock, I spot, John B, Pope and Kie all waiting for us, "Race ya'" I laugh, darting off the boat, running as fast as I can up the dock.

"That's so not fair," I hear him yell from behind me, the sound of his feet pounding of the deck pushing me to run faster.

"Beat you," I cheer triumphantly, giggling at him when he eventually caught up. "That because you cheated," he whines, flicking me on the nose causing me to push him away slightly. A smile permanent on my face when I feel JJ wrap an arm around my shoulder.

All standing around John B who had placed the black duffle bag from the boat onto the deck, we eagerly watching him unzip the bag, "What do you guys think it is?" Kie asks, excitement still lacing her voice.

"Gotta be money, right?"

"If it's not imma be pissed."

"Could be a couple of keys with street value of a low- to mid-mils!"

We all let out our expectations, the atmosphere high, "Can we please just open the bag!" Pope snaps, our cheerfulness coming to a sudden halt. Shocked by the outburst.

"Wow, Pope," John B gaps, looking up at the boy with impressed eyes, "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Yeah, something you want to talk about, Pope?" I ask, false sympathy radiating from my tone as I joke with him.

"You guys are literally killing me with anticipation," Pope whines, his eyes screaming with his pleas, "Open the bag."

I can't argue with his anticipation, almost want to rip the back out of John B hands. How long does it take for someone to unzip a bag?

Finally, John B pulls something out of the dripping wet bag. Another bag. Untying the smaller bag, a silver time capsule falls into his hands. Twisting of the secure cap, the excitement leads me to lean forward, wanting to see what we had almost risked our lives for. It better be worth it.

My gaze softens when I see what lays in John B hands. Kneeling down beside him, I gently take it from his hands, pressing the button delicately, watching at the lid pops open. Ignore the complaints that I hear coming from my friends, I turn to John B, looking for any sign that what we have is what I think it is.

It is.

"What? It's not worth anything."

"This was our fathers."

It was my father's compass.

Chapter Five: FIN!

Ummmmm Hi again... I don’t know if anyone still cares for this fic but I’ve had this in my draft for months and I kinda want to start this back up again because writing the first few chapters geniunely made me so happy and I want to feel that again, so yeah... surprise!

Mason and Pope are cute don’t you think. I want her to have good relationship with all the characters and I want to show that and not just tell, so expect flashbacks and fluffy moments from baby pogues.

I loved writing the scene with Peterkins and the twins, I wanted to show you their dymanic and playfulness especially since I have a rocky future planned for them...

What did you think?

I hope you enjoyed this long-awaited chapter <3

I’m going to start my taglist again, so if you’d like to be tag in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

Lots of love,

Daisy <3

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besidemethewholedamntime · 4 years

Note

FS + “Stay here tonight” (if you want to of course) 😊

hello! I absolutely loved to! This was so so much fun to write and I hope you like it. Thank you so much for your prompt!

dancing in the dark

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

-x-

“Dance with me?”

The snow is falling outside the window, creating strangely patterned shadows on the walls in an orange street-light hue. There’s a small lamp in his living room corner, but it doesn’t cast much light. Throughout the whole evening his face has been in half shadow. She thinks she’s misheard. “Excuse me?”

“Dance with me,” he repeats, standing up and offering her his hand. “You know, where you hold each other close and move in time to the music.”

“Ah,” she says with a smile, “that kind of dancing.”

There’s a hopeful look on his face, an imagined boyish innocence that suddenly transports her to ten years ago. If she were to turn around, she would half expect to see them back in that dingy flat, shoes piled up in the corner and takeaway menus stacked precariously on the hall table.

“Yeah.”

She checks her watch, though she already knows what time it is. She’s known what time it is for the past few hours. “Fitz,” she sighs. “My train leaves soon.”

“I know.” Simple, completely devoid of any emotion. “But only for five minutes.” He gestures outside the window. “The weather is perfect for it.”

Jemma can’t resist her smile, and she puts down her gin glass and accepts his hand as he pulls her into the middle of the living room floor. “You’re horrible at dancing.”

His face does a funny thing. For the life of her she couldn’t name what it was. She’s never been the best at deciphering his emotions. Whatever it is, it’s happened a lot this past day. Even more so ever since darkness has fallen.

“I’ve gotten better.”

His voice does a funny thing, too, but she elects to ignore it in favour of clasping the top of his arm lightly with her right hand, and entangling her left fingers with his right. Whenever she did social dancing at school, the teachers used to chide her for being too rigid. Relax, Simmons! they used to holler across the gym. It’s a boy you’re touching not a bomb!

Fitz laughs under his breath, as if he has seen the memory she was reliving in her mind. He pulls her closer to him, gently but firmly, and murmurs, “You never change, do you?”

“It seems not.” She looks down at their socked feet, standing on the oak floorboards. Fitz has done very well for himself. She cannot meet his eyes when she asks him, “Would you ever want me to?”

“No,” he tells her immediately. “No, never.”

She hums a response and settles into Fitz’s grip. Somehow he has turned on music, and a slow, sad sort of song starts to play from behind them. Their feet begin to move and her limbs begin to loosen up and she follows wherever he goes.

It’s not dancing, not really. The living room is too small and their hearts are too big. There’s too much emotion between them for proper steps and rhythm. It’s shuffling in socks across a wooden floor as Fitz hums the tune under his breath and moves them from side to side. It’s not caring about the way it should be, only caring about the way it is. Jemma’s never been very good at that.

She resists the urge to check her watch again.

“Fitz.”

“Just until the end of the song.”

“Alright.”

Despite her worries, she clings to Fitz tighter as they turn around to the slow melody. It’s been so long since she’s been this close to him, and though she’s always comfortable with him, she’s suddenly very aware of his hand burning her lower back, and his warm breath caressing her face. To be with Fitz, to be within his presence, is one thing, but to be touched by him… well that’s entirely another.

There was once a time when Fitz’s body was more familiar to her than her own, and that when they lay next to each other they used to breathe at the same time, both chests rising and falling at the exact same moment, moving together the way they move together now, almost as one. A part of her always aches for those days, when everything was simple and the future stretched before them like the sea, with not a thing on the horizon.

Fitz keeps humming and suddenly Jemma wants to be here with him more than she’s ever wanted anything in her life. There’s nothing to be done about it, not now, and she pushes herself closer to him instead, resting her head on that perfect place on his shoulder, the spot that’s always seemed meant for her. Fitz adjusts his head so it leans on hers, and it feels like the two of them are dancing in a snow globe, with nobody in the world but them.

“Stay here tonight.”

The murmur is soft, a warm whisper against her skin, but it freezes her blood. Oh why did he have to ruin it? Why couldn’t the two of them have just kept on dancing?

“What?” She whispers back. The only way to survive is to feign ignorance. She’s done it before, but she just never imagined she’d have to do it again.

“Don’t get the train.” He swallows hard. “Stay here. With me.”

There is no way to pretend he hasn’t said it, but she wishes he hadn’t. She wishes he’d lost his nerve as he once always did, and swallowed the words down into that forbidden place in the heart where such things reside. This isn’t ten years ago where this kind of situation was acceptable, welcome even. Things are very different now.

“I can’t,” she says. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,” he says, sounding hurt, though of course she knows he doesn’t. “And I know they’ll be expecting you but…” he turns her around again. “Stay.”

Each time he says the word it’s like another dagger in her heart. Stay, please. Just stay. Each time he says it now it feels like they’re back in the past once again.

“We’d make a mess of it.” She tries to sound decisive but instead she just sound small. “We always make a mess of it.”

“We wouldn’t.” Fitz’s voice is soft but firm, an eternal optimist. He’s a scientist, can’t he see the trend here?

“Fitz…” Jemma feels tears at the back of her throat, a burning sensation uniquely associated with him. With them.

“Things are different now. It’s not like it was.”

She wonders if Fitz remembers how it was, or if the memories are cloudy like they are for her. They throb painfully like an open wound, and she is always too afraid to touch them but sometimes she just can’t help herself. It’s a blinding pain whenever she does, an overwhelming wave that leaves devastation in its wake. For days afterwards it’s the only thing she can feel.

She swallows past the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry on him. He would be soft and gentle and he would hold her in all the right ways and say all the right things but it’s not what she wants. Or is it? It’s so easy to forget who she usually is when she is in Fitz’s arms.

“When I left, you mean?”

It’s always the elephant in the room, something neither of them will mention if they can help it. The memory of her selfishness leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. The lure of adventure was too much. The advert promised her the dream life she had always envisioned for herself. She was young and she wanted it so very badly and she gave up almost everything for it. Almost. Even after everything, in some capacity, she still has Fitz.

“Yeah.” He inhales deeply, as though it hurts to say but he’s pretending it doesn’t. “When you left.”

She left and Fitz had stayed but her heart had been caught somewhere in the middle without a home. Even now it’s still wandering around between them, and a part of her worries it’ll be wandering forever.

“I’m always leaving,” she murmurs. “You’re always staying. It’ll always be a mess.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “But maybe not. We could try.”

“What if we made a mess of it again?”

His must realise that his earlier statement isn’t enough of an assurance for her. “Then nothing’s changed.” His arms hold her tighter. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

They’re not even shuffling anymore. They’re standing in the same spot gently swaying to music that is fading away until it is barely there.

Her head is still pressed into his shoulder and so he can’t see his face, but she can imagine the expression on it. That optimism coupled with those wounded puppy-dog eyes. It makes her wonder the point in trying to protect her heart when she no longer knows where it is.

To miss her train and stay the night… oh it’s not that she doesn’t want to, can’t he see? It would so easy to stay and to let herself feel safe and at home and loved.

The song is winding down now. Fitz releases his hold on her and Jemma removes her hand from his arm. Their fingers stay entangled. It’s not quite time to let go just yet.

“Jemma?” He asks, and his voice is a question but also an answer.

She glances outside the window at the snow coming down, and she looks at Fitz and his hopeful face.

The music ends and she squeezes his fingers. “Alright,” she tells him, in a voice so unlike her own. “I’ll stay.”

Fitz’s smile is small but genuine, a small flame in the low light. He says not a thing and instead pulls her close, and they keep on swaying, not an inch of space between them. She can feel her heart pulse against her cheek, from where it rests in that special spot, her face pressed into Fitz’s neck.

#aosficnet2 #fitzsimmons #aos #fitzsimmons fic #fanfic by moi #kate #prompt fill things #i hope you like it!!#this one has a special place in my heart for some reason

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