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imaginationoverspill · 3 years

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A Rebel's Destiny - Chapter One : The Great Escape

Imprisoned in an imperial labour camp on an unnamed prison-planet in the Unknown Regions of Space, you decide to escape with help from two brothers. Not only do you piss the imperials off, but you also steal something that could be very valuable.

Pairing : Cassian Andor x reader

Main Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Warnings : mild violence, some swearing, a little angst.

Word Count : 4000 words (exactly)

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you finished one of the trillions of circuit boards produced by the labour camp you was imprisoned in. The warehouse was stifling hot. There was no air conditioning and the thousands of bodies working hard did not help to reduce the humid atmosphere. The sounds of banging and welding made a horrible din that never stopped, even as you lay in your cot at night among ten others in what could only be described as a prison cell.

The inmates were under constant scrutiny of the KX security droids as they patrolled the warehouse. Occasionally, a shout could be heard as a droid punished an inmate if it viewed their work unsatisfactory. You had been at the end of that electric shocking staff once or twice. It was a rather unpleasant experience that left you both numb and in agonizing pain.

During the time spent in the prison-come-factory, you had spoken to many of the inmates, many of whom had spent several years there, even before the prison became a labour camp. Ocat Fuli, a middle-aged yellow twi’lek, and Toc Fuli, his younger brother, had spent nearly a decade surviving this place. The brothers were complete opposites, where Ocat was calm with a paternal attitude, Toc was, for lacking a better word, insane. You got to know Ocat as he was, he was your work neighbour and slept in the same cell as you. The prison did not separate the inmates by gender, especially since some species imprisoned do not conform to the old-fashioned concept of two genders, humans included. Besides, the imperialists who ran the place did not give a bantha’s crap about the inmates’ comfort.

During the day, you would stay at your respective stations, only mildly conversing during your daily 20-minute break at lunchtime. Ocat was very kind, he helped you adjust during the first few days of your sentence. He had introduced his brother Toc at the end of your first day. The twi’lek exuded chaotic energy, and it often caused him to be in trouble, much to the chagrin of his older brother. Although, he found himself frequently having his break-time reduced or even removed altogether, his trouble-making was never for no reason.

On one occasion, a fellow inmate had planned to quietly celebrate their birthday. Upon finding out, Toc made it his mission that Jula Visz, a young human woman he had taken a liking to, would have the best birthday possible, despite the circumstances. He had stolen extra dessert from the canteen to give to her, and encouraged the other inmates to loudly sing whilst on the way back to the cells. However, as the droids were distracted by the cacophony of off-key singing. Toc took the opportunity to high-jack one of the control panels used by the droids to communicate through-out the base. In doing so, he cut out the power to the communicators, preventing the droids from calling back-up or sounding the alarm. What started off as jovial singing turned into a riot that was forcibly brought under control, but during the commotion, Jula had disappeared. No one knows whether she escaped or was recaptured, either way she was never seen again.

Of course, Toc, being the optimistic, believes she escaped and insisted as such. Much to Ocat’s dismay, word had got back to the imperials that he had orchestrated the uprising. They isolated him for several months, hoping it would bring the Twi’lek to submission. If anything, it had hardened his resolve to be a pain in the backside to all imperials.

It had now been several months since you first arrived at the stupid prison planet. You had quickly realized that your work wasn’t just meaningless labour. The Imperials were building something and using prisoners as slaves. As to what they were building? Only the maker knows. But, you knew that when it comes to the Empire, it is never something good. After hearing Toc’s story one evening, you and your cellmates had formed a plan, and today was the excellent opportunity to set it in motion.

As the prison was transformed into the warehouse, the two brothers, along with the other veteran prisoners, became familiar with the layout. Ocat had known about some repairs being made to the outer shell of the base as the hull had a gaping hole from the last Barri attack, comprising the main route you usually took back to your cell. The planet’s atmosphere was too thin for most beings to survive without a spacesuit, but not for the Barri. The giant worm-like creatures were native to the planet and were mostly known for hitching rides on asteroids, hence their ability to survive with little to no oxygen. The creatures secrete an acidic substance to digest the asteroid they’ve hijacked. The individuals who are left on the planet are juveniles, nowhere near the size they can grow to be. Their acid, however, is just as potent as the adults’ and they regularly attacked the factory, attracted to the harsh vibrations and bright fog lights.

A loud siren rang, signalling the end of your shift. All the inmates stepped away from their stations, creating lines that would then form long queues so that they can be herded back to their cells by the security droids. You did the same as Ocat stood next to you, Toc was a few places ahead of you in the queue.

A stormtrooper stood at the start and end of the line. The front trooper barked an order before beginning to march away, with the line soon following. As expected, rather than your usual path to the prison cell, the droids were taking the line through a different passage to avoid the repair team. As you continued walking, the line progressed through the base and headed close to the side hangar, as the repair team blocked the main hangar. The plan you, Toc, Ocat and the other bunkmates had spent organizing since the Barri attack was finally going to happen. Once you approached a crossroad, Ocat signalled to his brother, who responded with a small nod. As planned, Toc began to sing:

“Droids preyed on the innocents, the sick, and the old

Mechanical murder, a murder most cold”

The closest KX droid turned to Toc at the sound of his out-of-tune voice.

“It made no difference what flag our foes flew

For Cham rallied our forces, charging boldly anew”

“Prisoner! Cease from singing or face punishment”, demanded the droid, but Toc ignored it.

Toc had begun to sing the Ballad of Cham Syndulla. Ocat had told the story several times about the brave Twi’lek, Cham Syndulla, who led a group of freedom fighters to combat against the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the subjugation of the people of Ryloth. The song had been written to honour the Twi’lek and had been taught to your cellmates by the brothers. You and Ocat joined in, and soon enough so did your cellmates :

“Our brothers have fallen, tread upon by steel feet

We buried their bodies, we tasted defeat”

As the noise of the singing grew, the more confused members of the line started to join in as well. Even though many of them didn’t know the song, they understood the meaning and as planned, a riot was beginning to stir. Noticing the rowdiness of the inmates, the security droids lit their shocking rods and threatened to punish if the inmates did not calm down. The droids efforts in frightening them to submission were in vain.

“Though we have been pushed back, our resistance won't fall

We're twice again in might, with headtails to the wall!”

We will continue the fight, with blasters and knives

With teeth bared and fists balled, we fight for our lives

Cham will free Ryloth, our home soil we hold dear

He will bring us our victory and teach droids how to fear!”

Suddenly, the power to the section they were currently in cut out. The only visibility came from the blinking blood-red emergency lights that made the corridor seem dark and ominous, especially with the warning siren that followed. Whilst the KX security droids were preoccupied with the inmates singing, Toc had taken the opportunity, as planned, to unscrew a hatch covering an electricity distribution board thanks to the screwdriver he stole from his workstation. Thankfully, they don’t search the inmates until they reach the cells.

Once darkness fell, all hell broke loose. Some inmates took advantage and began attacking the droids. You and Ocat did the same. You grabbed the hilt of the KX droid who had threatened Toc and slammed the end into its chest, causing an electrical surge to run through the droid, hopefully frying it in the process. The electric pulse caused the droid to lash out, violently throwing you against the wall and causing you to bang the back of your head from the force. You slumped to the floor as the world seemed to spin, and a nauseous feeling washed over you. The noise of the fighting sounded muffled and your vision blurred. Among the stifled commotion, you heard a more distinct shout, although you still couldn’t quite make out who it was until they crouched down next to you: “Ai’Jou! Are you alright !?”

Ocat had shoved through the crowd upon seeing you being tossed aside. Breathing heavily from having the air knocked out of you, you tried to focus on him.

“I’m fine”, you attempted to wave him off. The loud sound of the ongoing riot making your head ache even worse.

“Are you sure, Ai’Jou?” He gently titled your head to look in your slightly dazed eyes. He noticed something went at the back of your head. You hissed in pain as he gently pressed there, discovering a slowly bleeding wound:

“You are definitely not okay”

“I’m fine, we have to stick to the plan. This is the only chance we have”, you insisted.

Ocat wasn’t convinced, but he knew you were right, once the imperials figure out what the plan is, they weren’t likely to survive being caught. He gently helped you to your feet, using both hands to grip your arm as you stood. You were still dizzy from hitting your head, but the blurriness had eased, as well as the nausea. Once he thought you weren’t going to immediately collapse as soon as he let go, he picked up the discarded shocking stick and handed it back to you before picking up his own stolen weapon. You and Ocat shove through the crowd and breakthrough to an unguarded corridor. After having spotted you and his brother, Toc followed closely behind. The first phase of the plan was success.

You quietly rush down a set of corridors, pressing against the wall to avoid detection from troops heading back towards the uprising. Just as Toc went to take another turn, something in your gut told you to hold him back. You grabbed the back of his prisoner’s uniform and tug him into through the closest door that was luckily unlocked. Ocat quickly followed. Just as you all entered the room and pressed yourself against the inside wall next to the open door, stormtroopers turn down the passage you were just in. The quick movement had caused your head to spin again, and you screwed your face up, closed your eyes and gripped your deactivated staff tightly, willing the lightheadedness to go away. The three of you held your breath as the troopers jogged past. The clanking of their amour and their heavy footsteps fading away as they disappeared down the hallway.

“Woah guys, look at this”. Toc’s whisper caught your attention, and you opened your eyes to look at what he was referring to. He was stood over by a sleek black desk, with his attention being drawn by what was on a slightly transparent standing screen on the desk. You moved away from the wall to see what he was referring to. The file on the screen looked very official, the title ‘Project Mark Omega’ was written in a large font next to the imperial logo and a stamp marked ‘Confidential’. Whoever owns this office clearly left in a hurry, probably in reaction to the trouble your fellow inmates were causing. You watched as Toc began messing with the computer, pressing seemingly random buttons.

“What are you doing ?”, you asked. He smirked when a small data chip exited the machine.

“Well, whatever this is looks important. If we ever manage to pull our plan off, what an even better way to piss the imperials off than stealing a little intel too.” You huffed a laugh at Toc whilst grabbing the data chip and stashing it away in one of your uniform’s pockets.

“Come on, let’s go”, Ocat urged, leaning against the wall near the door and becoming more on edge the longer you three stayed in the office. He checked the hall for the all-clear before all three of you left.

The three of you continued on your path until you walked through into another a corridor that opened up to a larger passage with the right wall being replaced by transparisteel overlooking the side hangar. You looked through the transparent wall to see rows of stormtroopers standing to attention. The sight made you nervous, and you hope that what you had planned was going to work. As the low-level nausea came back, you stumbled slightly. Ocat grabbed onto your arm to stop you from falling over. He looked at you with concern.

“I’m not entirely convinced you are well, Muchi.”, remarked Toc.

“I agree. You did hit your head hard. I believe you have a concussion”

You waved them both off as the queasiness relented, and it no longer felt like you were being spun around in a TIE-fighter by an overzealous pilot. Ocat reluctantly let go of you, but kept his arms hovering over you in case you collapsed.

“I know, but we can’t stop to rest just yet, Ocat”, you insisted. He let out a sigh before lowering his arms and moved on towards a closed large metal double door that seemed to be protected by a hand scanner. Toc rubbed his hands together in excitement as he prepared his small kit to hack through the door’s security. You and Ocat stood in front of the door, stolen shocking sticks at the ready for whatever might be on the other side.

As the door slide open, the two stormtroopers who were standing guard on the other side turned around. Ocat quickly jabbed the trooper in front, hitting them in the space between their helmet and their breast-plate. The trooper dropped their weapon as the electricity immobilized them, and they fell to the floor, either unconscious or dead.

You weren’t so lucky, as your head injury had made you more sluggish than usual. As you aimed for the neck, the trooper was faster and knocked your weapon out of your hands. Left without a weapon, you grabbed at the trooper’s blaster, trying to prevent them from aiming. Ocat was about to help you, but whilst locked in a grappling hold, you hooked your left ankle around the trooper’s leg and forcefully pushed them, causing the trooper to lose their balance. As they fell backwards, their grip on the weapon loosened. You took advantage and ripped the blaster from their hands before firmly slamming it into their helmet. Ocat quickly followed the attack by jabbing the trooper with his stick, thoroughly making sure that the trooper stayed down.

Whilst you and Ocat were tackling the troopers, Toc had moved forward through the double doors and into a rather dark room where three officers were sat in front of multiple screens and a complicated panel covered in buttons and levers. Thanks to Ocat’s knowledge of the base, the three of you had managed to find the side hangar’s control room which, due to the repairs, was currently being used as the main control.

The three officers had turned around at the sound of the fighting and drew their blasters once they realized they were under attack. You surprised yourself how swiftly shot them with the trooper’s blaster, despite the fogginess in your head that didn’t seem to want to clear. Toc, impressed with your sharp shooting, hastily closed the control room doors before joining you at the control panel. In front of you were several screens displaying the different areas of the base. On one of them, you could see the original corridor where you, Toc and Ocat had begun the revolt. Remains of the KX droids that were attacked littered the hall, but they were also some victims. As you had left the fray, some inmates had done the same, attacking troopers and droids as they go, others hadn’t managed to escape. You watched as a group of inmates were made to kneel, hands on their head in surrender as stormtroopers had them surrounded. An officer stood with them, looking down at them and seeming a bit too happy with herself.

“We have to hurry”, Ocat stressed, looking just as tense as you were feeling at the scene. You nodded to him before all three of you sat in the seats that were once occupied by the officers. You knew exactly what to do as Toc gave instructions on what buttons to press. Section by section, all the cell doors were opened and the emergency shutdown that was initiated in an attempt to control the uprising was turned off. The haunting imperial alarm sounded as inmates fled from their cells and began to overwhelm many of the droids or troops they came across. You all cheered and whooped, high-fiving each other in celebration. Toc grabbed the microphone :

“Ladies, Gentlemen and every being in between, the base is ours!”

Upon Toc’s announcement, you saw as inmates cheered as the troopers and officer’s fled. His announcement wasn’t exactly true, but it did the trick as some of the inmates flooded the corridor where your fellow workmates were kneeling. The officer stood terrified as the troopers failed to control the incoming crowd. The kneeling prisoners became emboldened and joined the attack. Having seen this, you looked at Toc, grinning wildly, before you all left the control-room and headed down a flight of stairs down to the hangar.

The hangar had become mostly empty, the troopers that were originally there had left at the imperial alarm you triggered by releasing all the prisoners. Within the hangar stood several ships, mainly Lambda-class shuttles, often used as both cargo and troop transportation, and more basic cargo shuttles. You cautiously made your way into the spacedock still aware that more troopers might come. Suddenly, a shout was heard along with the clanking of stormtrooper armour. A small group of prisoners had also made their way into the hangar, with stormtroopers hot on their tail as they fired at them.

“This way!”, shouted Toc as he gestured to a small cargo shuttle. The three of you dashed towards it, dodging rogue blaster bolts. You screamed as a bolt flew past your head, barely missing you. Toc made it to the shuttle first and immediately started on hijacking the security system. He let a shout of victory as the shuttle door lowered and the three of you rushed inside to escape the blaster fire. Once inside, you and Ocat sit in the piloting chairs. The engine rumbled as you, rather roughly, began to take off. More stormtroopers had entered the hangar, but it was too late as they continued to fire at the shuttles leaving the base.

Leaving the prisoner planet once and for all, you prepared the ship for the jump to hyperspace.

“The Gordian Reach?”, Ocat questioned as he noticed the coordinates you set in the computer.

“Trust me”, you replied, before pulling down a lever. You felt the shift in gravity as the ship sped up, and you jumped to hyperspace. As the blurred blue light of hyperspace flew past the cockpit, you released a heavy sigh, letting go off the tension that had been building up.

“We did it”, said Toc, almost in disbelief.

“Yes we did”

You grinned at Ocat’s reply. Your plan had succeeded, not only had you escaped that hellhole, you three had stolen confidential information AND help other prisoners escape too.

“So … Now, what we do ?”, questioned Toc.

“Well. I suggest we find some supplies and plan from there. Ai’Jou, you set the coordinates for a sector in the Outer rim, perhaps there is a space station there.”

“Actually, I have a better idea. I have, um, some … special friends in the sector who can definitely help us out.”

“Special Friends?”, questioned Ocat, a little dubious about you meant by friends.

You winced at the pain in the back of your head before you could reply, and Ocat immediately became more concerned about you.

“We need to check that head injury of yours, no excuses”

“But-”

“I’ll go look for a medkit”

“Thank you, Nerra.”

You knew there was no getting out of it when Ocat went it to what you like to call ‘Dad mode’. As Toc disappeared from the cockpit, Ocat made you turn your chair to face him. “Follow my finger”. You did what you was told as Ocat held up a finger and moved it from left to right.

Toc reappeared and made you jump slightly as he gently placed a cold bacta patch to your wound.

“I think we should all rest, you especially Ai’Jou. We should be arriving in the sector in a few hours. You can explain your excellent plan then.”

The shuttle you had stolen was small, probably only used to ferry small cargo or a small group of people. Ocat had decided to take the first shift of piloting the ship, while you and Toc laid on the hard benches that lined the side walls of the craft, using the emergency blankets in the medkit to keep warm. You slowed your breath as the sound of hyperspace lulled you to sleep, and your headache subsided thanks to the bacta. The next thing you know, you were gently woken by Toc as he had swapped places with Ocat a few hours ago, and you were now dropping out of hyperspace. You groggily rubbed your eyes as you sat up. You no longer felt any dizziness or nausea, and your headache had lessened considerably. As you sat, Toc checked on your wound.

“Looking good, muchi”, he cheekily reported. “We’ve arrived, so now’s the time for you to contact these special friends of yours”

You smirked at his attitude and made to stand. Toc made sure that you were stable as you stood up and headed to the cockpit, where Ocat was sat in the pilot’s seat. You sat down next to him as the brothers watched you expectantly. Without another word, you opened up the ship’s communications line :

“Calling all rebel Alliance vessels. This is Ferox, I have escaped the imperial prison on an unknown planet along with two others. During my escape, I have obtained information that may have some importance.”

“Rebel Alliance!”, exclaimed Toc, “They’re your ‘Special friends!? Why didn’t you tell us that you were some badass rebel fighter or spy?!”

You smirked at the surprise on their faces, “I would have been a terrible spy if I had told you”

Suddenly, a crackly sound came through the comms:

“Hello? Come in Ferox? This is red flight squadron leader, do you copy?”

“I hear you loud and clear, red flight squadron leader”

“Excellent! We’re glad to hear you from you again, Ferox. We’ve transferred your ship’s code, and you’ve been granted permission to land”

“Copy that, squadron leader. Over and out”

At the end of the squadron leader’s transmission, a series of coordinates and a code appear through the comms. You knew exactly where they were to land.

Next Chapter

Notes :

Translations from Twi’leki :

Ai’jou = informal term used for young, Muchi = friend, Nerra = brother

I did not write the Ballad of Cham Syndulla, the song appears in a webcomic written by Pablo Hidalgo and I found it thanks to www.starwars.fandom.com

#A Rebel's Destiny #star wars #cassian andor #rogue one #cassian x reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #Cassian andor x reader series #fanfiction series

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asagi-s-garden · 3 years

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WB is the worst when it comes to DC. It's no coindence that Constantine is leaving 'Legends of Tomorrow" in the wake of the upcoming HBO Max show. And this pandemic ruined a lot of plans. As you said "BL" wasn't meant to be in the Arrowverse put when it happened they were all gung-ho for it. They had plans for Jeff to visit Central City and for Anissa and Grave to chill in Gotham. But then the pandemic and whatever BTS drama that got "BL" canned. Like *something* happened. It got an early renewal in Jan then it was cancelled in Nov. And CW didn't even bother to have proper trailers for new episodes. Don't tell me somebody on the show didn't rub the network the wrong way to result in that level of pettiness

Yeah, WB isn't just the worst with DC, but really the worst with favoritism in my personal opinion

They tried so hard to make the DC streaming service a huge success but as soon as they saw it wasn't going to be they got rid of everything like it was on fire, HBO Max is the new golden child so they're cutting their own throats in other areas to make it succeed- IE: Theaters

My poor Suicide Squad 2 ;_; no I won't say "my THE Suicide Squad" it won't roll off the tongue it was a sacrificial lamb to the damn streaming service :(

I know it's an unpopular opinion to not be all over streaming but they're really clearly cutting way more than just corners in order to feed that specific beast and try to make it compete with Disney+, that's why they're starting to draw the string on the Arrowverse :/ The same thing happened, I think, with the DC streaming service though, when they saw that the biggest success of DC was the Arrowverse, they decided to pull their dying streaming service as well as the DCEU into it to pump the Arrowverse up more, now that the Arrowverse is starting to go under- with three shows being gone, Batwoman being in questionable territory, and the two biggest successes of the year being largely disjointed from it (Superman and Stargirl), I think they're going to try to scramble it like eggs :/ They're doing the same with the DCEU to a degree though, by having loosely connected stories that do more universe hopping and tone changes (IE: Joker coming out just months before Birds Of Prey and having been preceeded by Shazam!) I think since they're seeing more promise in that approach right now for the movies, they might be trying to do the same for TV- or they're just trying to let the Arrowverse die of neglect so they can pump up HBO Max like you said

Ofcourse now that WB has been bought by Discovery, we might get some big changes to this; Discovery already said they wanted to pour seven BILLION dollars into DC properties specifically in the first year alone, and I know the rumor is that they're only going to try to gloss up DC so that they can sell the assets to the highest bidders once their "probation" period ends but like.... seven billion is a hell of alot of gloss..... and if they can start pulling in more numbers like Joker, Superman & Lois, and The Suicide Squad (wich may have not been a huge hit at the box office but wich reportedly smashed the HBO Max numbers enough that WB is circling James Gunn like a starving shark), then I have a hard time believing they'd be wanting to get rid of it, especially when, let's face it, DC is easily the most well known and most marketable asset Discovery has ever had and probably ever will have purely because of Superman alone, you can't find a person anywhere who hasn't atleast heard of Superman, regardless of how much the film properties are hit-and-miss financially, I have a hard time believing anyone would just throw that kind of name power to the wolves....

But onto Black Lightning, I actually have a pretty strong theory about that one

I'm almost certain that China Anne McClain is why the show was canned

And do not get me wrong, I don't mean that in a snippy way, but China quit Black Lightning pretty urgently- to the point that she only wanted to do limited episodes for the final season

Backing up a moment here though, let me explain why I think this was the nail-in-the-coffin

Black Lightning was very quickly becoming centered around Lightning specifically

That doesn't mean to say that it wasn't still Jefferson's story and that Anissa wasn't still important, but Jennifer was getting set up to be The Powerhouse of the show, with the bulk of the drama probably surrounding her and the thought of her potentially taking on her father's mantel

It seemed like the idea of Black Lightning retiring or atleast putting on the suit a little less was starting to become a thing, and with Jefferson firmly accepting his daughters as part of the world of Metas at that point, that would have lead to Anissa and Jennifer taking much more of the spotlight than they had in the beginning- that's a natural progression of things, and although I actually prefer Anissa's storyline (it's just more my personal cup of tea), I will readily admit that Jennifer was the one who had the ability to carry an entire season's worth of story on her shoulders.... not so much Anissa, who has her wife (so romantic subplots are pretty toned down), her powers are developed and stable (nothing quite like the learning curves Jennifer was facing), she has a stable job and a stable superhero identity- two, in fact-, so no literal schoolyard drama or issues with "Am I in my father's shadow? Is this how the world sees me and do I want them to see me this way?" much like what Jennifer was starting to experience in the end of the show either

TLDR Anissa mostly had her shit together, wich is great for her, but it doesn't lend to being able to carry the most dramatic storylines like it does with Jennifer, who's still figuring out pretty much everything

I think Jennifer was already starting to take a very large amount of the story as of the last season and even starting to steal the spotlight before that, if they were to come back for more I feel like she would have been in a place of being much more obviously groomed to take on the main charector status wile Jefferson stepped back just a little bit to be more supportive to her journey instead of the other way around

And the show could still exist very much as Jefferson's story wile that story happened to center on Jennifer

.....Buuuuuuuuuuuuut that's where the problem comes in

China said before the show was cancelled that she was going to step down from playing Lightning because she wanted to focus on her faith more and be removed from anything that wasn't "in service to God", wich is totally fine for her, but it does put Black Lightning in a bit of a difficult position because the charector they were gearing up to make their breakout star was suddenly going to either have to pull a Winn and just... be.... gone.... or have to get recast

To be entirely honest, I'm not sure why they didn't stick with the recasting instead, I thought Laura Karuki did a fantastic job as Jennifer and the "Am I Jennifer or am I JJ?" story would have been a great thing to explore for an entire season, but if I had to guess, they maybe just didn't want to mess with it?

Black Lightning had good numbers but it wasn't in the top five or anything to my recollection, not since it's premiere season anyway, and it could have been a compound decision of "We weren't going to keep this up much longer anyway so let's just take this as a sign to wrap it up", although I think that the way the recast was done could have presented a stable option for them if they had decided to give it a go for a full season, although maybe that's just my opinion and they initially made the recast so that the people behind the curtain could see if Laura would work well enough as Jennifer and when they decided that the vibe wasn't right they went on ahead and pulled the plug rather than risk getting the same um... resistance.... than Batwoman met over their recasting choices

Although I could go on for days about why that situation is different (to be clear: I do like Ryan quite alot but I don't think the Batwoman situation was nearly as seamless as Black Lightning's in terms of recasts, but that's another story for another day)

TLDR I think if China had stayed aboard they would have gone on for atleast another season or two, but there are some shows where members of an ensemble cast are so essential that their leaving is too big of a blow to stay through

It's much like when Dylan O'Brien had to bow out of Teen Wolf for a little wile, I think you'd be hard pressed to find a fan who absolutely loved season six, and even before that people were having a hard time staying with a lack of Tyler Hoechlin, with some even stepping away when Crystal Reed left, even though- at both of those points- most of the core cast was still there and at no point did the titular main ever leave, I feel like Black Lightning's situation is very similar, people were just too invested in Jennifer

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bungou-stray-dingus · 4 years

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hey!! could you do the non ability innocent s/o scenario but with fukuzawa and mori? (Ps I just binged all of your writing I love it so much 🥺💗)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU’RE AMAZING!!

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, WORK HAS ME BACK AT IT AGAIN.

LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Fukuzawa

You were perfect to him, and for him. He first saw you sitting on a park bench, all the stray cats were flocked around you as you handed treats out to each of them. He saw you every day doing the exact same thing, and it was always the same cats. He had overheard you talking to the cats in a soft sweet voice as you passed out the treats. He decided that he would join you one day after watching you do this for two weeks. (It took him that long to build up the courage to talk to you. Silver Wolf is good with the blade but not with the words with woman.)

You were shy, slightly awkward, your cheeks would turn the most beautiful shade of pink whenever he sat next to you, and the blush wouldn’t fade until he left. The two of you bonded, conversations went from the cats that you were feeding, to personal lives, dreams and wishes.

You had been dating for about five months, and he still thought you were just as stunning as the first day he saw you. You were still shy and soft spoken, the dictionary definition of pure innocence. He’d come visit you after work, and his eyes would light up, seeing you curled up on the couch with your cats, Mochi, Mimi, and Mogi, watching funny cat videos on your tv.

Your cheeks would still turn a bright red whenever you’d see him, covering your face with your hands to hide your smile. You were just too much, you had to be protected at all costs. In his eyes you were the most precious thing on the earth, next to cats.

He didn’t think you were weak, he just thought that you were too sweet to put up a fight, and he always feared that you would end up in a bad situation because of your sweetness, it would be taken as weakness by people who could take advantage of you and you’d get hurt.

You were walking to your spot one afternoon, meeting up with the local stray cats to hand out their daily treats when you saw a group of men surrounding one. They were throwing things at the little ball of fluff, and they had it circled so it couldn’t run away. Your heart sank, but you saw red. Your fists were balled up, and you stomped over to where the men were standing around, laughing at the tiny creature in the center. You swing at one of the men, hitting him square in the jaw. He staggered back as the other men started shouting at you. You seemed to black out, not remembering anything but throwing punches, kicking and scratching these men who found it somehow amusing to torture a poor defenseless animal.

When the cops showed up you were sitting on the bench, the cats surrounding you as you fed them their treats. Your knuckles were red from the hits and you had blood from one of the men under your nails from the scratches. There were tiny blood splatters on the ground from the man who’s nose was bleeding. They were standing around, glaring at you as they explained to the cops “what happened”.

“May I ask something?” You called to the cop who was questioning the men. He sighed and walked over to you, nodding for you to continue. “Would you be able to get in touch with the Armed Detective Agency Director, Fukuzawa Yukichi?”

“I’m sorry, this is no case for the ADA ma’am.” The cop said, turning back to the men to continue his questions. You sighed and pulled out your phone, calling Fukuzawa yourself. He came as soon as possible, eyeing the scene in horror. He saw the blood on the ground and ran over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“What happened?” He asked you in a hushed voice. The cop eyed him, confused about the presidents interest in such a minor situation.

“They were messing with the kitten. I couldn’t let them do it.” You said, and he nodded.

“So you’re not hurt?” He asked, just to be sure that you were alright.

“I’m fine. Are you mad that I fought them?”

“Of course not. I’ll handle this.” He was serious as ever when he walked over to where the cop was standing, jotting down notes on a notepad. You couldn’t hear him, but his mouth was moving quickly as he motioned his hands between you, the men, and the cats on the ground in front of you.

Fukuzawa took you away from the area before you could figure out what happened to the men. He was quiet as the two of you walked down the street towards the agency building, but once you got inside and into his office his questions were endless.

“I didn’t know you could fight.” “When did you learn how to do that?” “Why did you never tell me you could fight like that?” “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” “It’s just so strange, I never would have thought you had it in you. You’re sure you don’t have an ability?”

“I’m sure. I’m fine. I didn’t learn how to do it, I didn’t even know I could fight like that. I just got really mad, and I blacked out and it happened.” You explained, your voice soft and sweet, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes wide and doe like, it made it hard for him to believe that it was you who beat the hell out of the men.

“Well, I’m proud of you, for defending the cat. Try to stay out of situations like that though, I don’t want you getting hurt. Alright?” He said, trying to stay serious, but when you smiled at him he couldn’t help but smile back.

He never brought up what happened, not around you at least. He talked about it with everyone at the agency. “Welcome Y/N, Defender of Stray Cats!” Dazai would call out whenever you walked in the door. Fukuzawa would just roll his eyes, but secretly he found it even more adorable, your little nickname. He even started using it.

You were Y/N, Defender of Cats, and he absolutely adored you.

Mori

Being Mori’s s/o meant watching Elise way more than you usually had when you were just his intern at the Port Mafia. She became something like your daughter, even though you knew she was just Mori’s ability, you absolutely adored her, and she loved you. Your almost motherly love towards Elise made Mori’s heart sore, he absolutely loved both you and Elise more than anything else.

He often watched you and Elise from his desk, you laying on your stomach on the floor coloring with Elise, talking about anything and everything that kept her interest. You would let her play with your hair, or put makeup on you. Mori enjoyed watching these moments between you and Elise. Your heart and your soul were so pure, he often wondered how you managed to get mixed up with the Port Mafia, somehow ending up with the boss of the organization. Everyone there had blood on their hands, their hearts and souls were tainted with the blood and carnage they had caused, you were like a bright light that shines brighter than anyone else there.

You’d often come into the office with gift wrapped boxes, laying them all in front of Elise before making your way over to Mori’s desk, standing behind him as he sat in his chair. He and you would both watch Elise open her gifts, and then you’d spend the rest of the day playing with the new toys you had bought her.

“You are so kind to my dear Elise, I’m so glad that we both have you.” Mori would often say, calling you over to him, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You never struck him as a violent person, especially when compared to the other members of the Port Mafia. You were sweeter than sugar, Mori’s complete opposite when it came to feelings, morals, values, sympathy... everything. He wouldn’t change anything about you though, you were the contrast in his life that he didn’t know he needed. He cherished you like a fine jewel, he would happily murder anyone that tried to take you away from him.

Mori, Elise, and you were out shopping one afternoon, it was kind of like a family day, at least that’s how you labeled it. He couldn’t help the wide grin that was plastered on his face, seeing you walk down the street a couple steps ahead, holding Elises hand as you window shopped. You’d point out little things that caught your eye, smiling down at Elise when she picked out something that she liked, he knew she would most likely have it the next day.

“I’m going to step in here for a second.” Mori said, walking into a clothing store to pick new dresses for Elise. She was dragged in by him and you decided to stay outside, knowing that if you went in you’d come out with double the dresses.

It was a nice afternoon, which is why you were completely shocked when a group of thugs cornered you, backing you up into a side alley. It was a dead end, you didn’t know what to do.

“Port Mafia garbage.” One of the thugs mumbled as he pulled out a switchblade. Your gulp was audible, and your entire body was shaking with fear.

“Your boss will be here soon, we’ll just keep you until then.” Another thug said, his arms crossed as he seemed to be enjoying the look of terror on your face.

Soon fear turned to worry, they were planning on hurting Mori... you couldn’t let it happen. “Please, I only have a little bit of money, but you can have it. Let me go.” You said, reaching into your purse. Your fingers brushed against the metal, it was the scalpel that you had saved in your purse. Mori has given it to you as a way to think of him, and at the time you were confused by the item, never finding a need for it, but he must have known something like this would happen. You silently thanked yourself that you hadn’t taken it out of your purse, until now.

You quickly pulled it out, moving too fast for any of the men to notice. You swiped it across the closest mans throat, the blood shot out onto your face. You were swift, finishing off the rest of the thugs in what felt like only a couple seconds. They all had their throats slit before they realized what was happening, they didn’t have time to run or scream. They didn’t even have time to think about what was happening before they were on the ground, choking on their own blood or bleeding out.

You stared wide eyed at the scene in front of you, dropping the scalpel to the ground by your feet. You couldn’t seem to move your eyes from the bodies that were strewn across the ground, the gurgling gasping breaths from one of the men seemed to echo in the empty alleyway.

“Oh my, someone is going to have to clean this up.” Your head whipped up at the sound of Moris voice. His eyes were glued to you, a grim smile on his face. The blood that was splattered on your face reminded him of himself when he murdered the president of the port mafia. In this moment you reminded him of himself, and he couldn’t be prouder.

“They were going to hurt you, I couldn’t let that happen.” You whispered, but Mori wasn’t listening. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received from him.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet sweet darling. You’ve done well.” He murmured into the top of your head.

He couldn’t get over the fact that you wiped out three grown men with just a scalpel, he couldn’t believe it. He knew you didn’t have an ability, but it didn’t stop him from thinking that you would make a great addition to the Black Lizards.

You weren’t as innocent as he believed, but that just made him adore you even more. You were an angel, his crazy angel.

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ifeedhimimmobile · 4 years

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Hi. I need to talk about some things...

I thought I’d take a little bit to talk about why I left. A lot of it was due to mental health so buckle up.

When I returned the first couple times, I got a lot of messages I didn’t like. I feel like the most obvious of those are dick pictures because how much I talked about not liking them on my blog. Those didn’t bother me as much because I could get rid of them with a simple block; however, I feel like it’s time for me to open about some of the other ones because I don’t think I’ve talked about them before. I’ve received many messages that were people trying to bully me into being their feeder. I got a lot of messages on the lines of: “I don’t think your feedee is gaining fast enough. You say he has *insert a health issue here* and that’s preventing you from making him gain faster. Why don’t you just dump him and make me fatter instead?” Most of the time, I just ignored those people or tried to change the subject, but I’m fucking tired of it now. Why the hell would anyone try to stoop so fucking low to pick out every assumed flaw of my relationship and try to convince me to break up my relationship of ..what...almost 5 years now?...just because they think they can just prance in and get with me by trying to trash talk the feedee side of my man. I have talked many times on my blog about wanting to propose to my feedee. I have a lot of things in common with him, love his personality, and will care for him to the best of my ability, even if that means putting our fetish on the back burner so he can get better. Maybe I’m not a “real feeder” for doing that because I’m not shoving gainer shake down his throat despite him talking about being in so much pain that we might have to go to the ER. And I’m sorry if anyone that follows me feels that way about the situation. I’d rather take it slow, help him get better in between gaining instead of rushing in, having him in pain the entire time and he only lives to see 400 lb. I’m mostly saying this to the people that have tried to make me break up with my feedee. There were many friends I left on this site that were understanding of it all and I regret going silent for so long to those people because of the assholes that DMed me. I tried advertise my discord server here to let some of those people still interact with me, but as those assholes crept in and immediately flooded my DMs on discord also I decided it was best to stop reblogging the link because I was on the verge of leaving the Feederism community completely. --This is where I need to insert a warning because ED and self-harming topics ahead-- I also had issues with my self-esteem. Around the time I left, there were a few images that kept circling were as the feedee gets fatter, the feeder gets dangerously thin. It hit me hard and I started having eating disorder thoughts again and I started to self-harm more. My feedee saw me self-harm and he’d make me promise to not do it again and I would...but some nights I’d go off in another room while he was sleeping and do it anyway and try to hide it from him until either he would notice or I’d cave in and admit what I was doing. I’d self-harm for many reasons, mostly revolving around those images I mentioned, hurtful DMs revolving around how fat I was getting despite me being the feeder, or the other DMs I mentioned earlier. I didn’t want to let my ED take hold, so I used self-harming to try to cope because in my mind that was a “healthier” way to cope with it all; which it absolutely isn’t. I felt like I wasn’t worthy to be a feeder and I wasn’t good enough or sexy enough. I’d binge eat in guilt and instead of throwing up, like I used to do, I’d self-harm instead. It was nasty. I didn’t tell my boyfriend until around a little over a month ago I was having ED thoughts again because it started to impact me so much that I was wanting to throw up after every meal but would stop myself from doing it because I didn’t want to get into that cycle again. Then it turned into I didn’t enjoy going out with him on the occasional date that involved food because I didn’t want to feel guilty for eating. I’d eat very little, come up with excuses over it. I started skipping meals when he was at work so he wouldn’t see what I was doing to myself. I don’t particularly hate my body anymore but the food eating guilt is still there. On a brighter side, I have stopped self-harming for a few months so I don’t use that to cope anymore. --- Where am I now, you might be asking? Will I return completely this time? I don’t know. As I mentioned before, those messages kept me away as well as some of the stuff mentioned in the warning section. I moved. It was sudden and forceful. I work full-time now at a shitty job McDonald’s. I’m probably going to be quitting Starbucks because they aren’t liking how long my absence has been due to having to move so suddenly. I’m just looking forward to moving away from this place we’ve moved temporarily so I can focus on getting a better job until me and my feedee work on opening the cyber cafe we’ve been planning on opening. I also don’t know if I’ll fully return because I run a pretty big discord server and I’ve been trying to make sure I’m more active in it instead of just lurking and doing admin type jobs. Besides those life updates, still have a cat, I update with pictures of my feedee sometimes on my server, and right when I was making plans to schedule a vacation for the bf proposal covid crashed in and ruined my plans. But life goes on. Feel free to send asks about anything. I’ll answer.

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years

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Maybe you’re not the worst thing ever

A new story based on this song->https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLYiyK7uqUE

So enjoy! It is based on the two's first meetings-ish. So they're all still getting to know each other.

You're frigid and demanding I shudder at your call

"Victor, move your ass! The wood isn't hauling itself."

"I am hauling ass and hauling the wood unlike you." Victor yelled back at the brunette shrew who roughly pushed past him with her much lighter load of cooking supplies and weapon belts.

Ash ignored his words, the usual coming from her, and Victor grumbled to himself seeing a knife slip out from her pile. The wood dug into his neck, splinters digging into his sweaty skin as the hot burned down despite the shade of the trees.

"You heard the woman, haul ass." One-eyed Sousa cackled, making a whipping motion as he walked past, carrying nothing. Dios, he hated that guy. He thought he was all that because he faced down the Captain of the Norburg Guard and lost his eye as a result. The eyepatch being a point of pride and a mark of being one of the toughest criminals in the Everrealm.

If he didn't have this wood, he'd show Sousa a thing or two about his right hook. Make him No-eyed Sousa. As Victor thought his bitter thoughts, his boot got caught in a root. He struggled to keep his balance, managing to stay upright despite dropping a few pieces. He left them there. They were in the damn woods, there was firewood everywhere.

As he stared ahead at Ash and Sousa before him, he knew he really wouldn't try to pick a fight with Sousa. There was a reason he was lagging behind with the woodpile with the likes of Justino, Mario and Luis. Together, they were a fearsome gang, but they weren't top dogs. Not like those two. They made the plans, stole the most money, more willing to stay and fight. They’d kill if needed. Victor bent down to pick up the knife, jogging a little so he could reach the cave that they were going to shelter in faster and dump the wood as well as give the knife back to Ash.

It wasn't a gesture of nicety. She just needed to know that she wasn't so perfect. If not for the fact that she had a lot more knives she could throw back at him, he would have shown his knife throwing skills. Aim it at the tree she was leaning against, impatiently waiting for the rest of them to catch up. As if glaring at them would make them come faster.

He reached her side, touching her shoulder to grab her attention.

She slapped his hand away, a knife aimed at his throat, "Don't touch my body!" "I wanted giving you this." Victor responded, pointing a knife at her throat in turn. "Hmmph" She snorted, grabbing the knife, still looking at him suspiciously.

Victor rolled his eyes. She was always snippy with him whenever he came too close. As if he was going to try anything with her. He didn't like her that way. Sure, he may have had a few dreams about her and stared at her too long a moment but he was only human. He glanced back at her turned away from him. Hip jutted out as she ordered the other men about.

She turned to the side, her silhouette perfectly reflected from the sun shining behind her. All those curves hugged in all the right places by her tight pants and corseted vest. All for practical purposes. She didn't need any loose fabrics getting caught in thorns. He loved that practicality.

But that was where the attraction stopped. She yelled so much. Looked down at him for some reason. Which was a lie. He knew when she lost her respect. It was during the Cariza heist. As he ran out of the side entrances, bags stuffed with doubloons and precious artifacts, he bumped into a little orphan girl.

He knocked over, and like a rookie, he stopped to help her up. It was a mistake, but it was just instinct. She had such big violet eyes and was so small. She was a kid. It had been a close call but he got away, the guards had no chance of getting on his heels once he wheeled into the labyrinth of side streets.

But that little orphan girl. She had been a pickpocket. She cut a hole in one of his bags and he had left a trail of coins leading to them. They had to the bags there and make a run for it.

Ever since then Ash gave off the air that she thought him as a bumbling fool and he wouldn't stand for that. He had already been treated like a clown by the people in the palace growing up. Yelled at by Shuriki when she exiled him, his so called best friend doing nothing to help. Being called a disgrace as his parents kicked him out of their family once they learned of his part in the Shuriki plot. Yelled at guards for pickpocketing and thievery to survive.

No, he didn't need that. Someday he'd get the respect he deserved by reaching the top. The top of what He didn't know. But he needed power for that.

He looked at Ash again. If he was held at knife-point with no chance to escape, another thing he would admit was that he admired Ash for more than her looks. He admired her ambition. She didn't take crap from anybody. No one dared to disrespect her. She had presence, she had confidence in herself as she should because her mind was cunning. He liked how unlike Sousa or even Shuriki, she didn't make others do the work for her, she controlled the operation. She did the research, she found the entrances and exits, she took charge.

She annoyed him with how she disregarded his abilities or use, yet when she talked of her plans for a new heist, he felt swept away by her.

With her, he felt like nothing was impossible, they could achieve anything together. If only she realized that he was talented in his own right.

Unlike the other men, he had come from nobility, son of the treasurer, he knew how to act among the upper class so as to infiltrate parties. He could charm the men and ladies, disarm them with only his words.

His quick hands were not clumsy as the others. They may have teased him that with his pampered upbringing that he had soft hands, but he also had soft hands so as to steal people's pockets clean. Yes, if anything she should be sticking by him instead of Sousa.

In a platonic criminal partners sense. Not that it would matter much. He'd eventually screw her over so he could be on top. “Victor! Get the fire started!" Ash's voice cut through his reverie. Then again, maybe he was better off alone.

Whenever you come near me My flesh begins to crawl

Ash walked around the perimeter of the cave, the moon full in the air highlighted how desultory the woods were.

Only owls and crickets chirped in the biting night. She looked back at the cave, the dying embers barely lit their faces but it was enough that she could see the men were fast asleep. As if their snores weren't enough indication.

She sniffed the night air and started to walk into the darkness. She closed her eyes, knowing it was better to rely on her sense of smell to find the lake she had noticed as they walked through this area than be distracted by her sight. Yes, she smelled the fresh odor of natural water just ahead of her, then felt something brush against her shoulder.

She paused, eyes flying open. Her eyes adjusted to the dark to find nothing. She slowly touched her shoulder and found a stray leaf. Ash growled at herself for her stupid cautiousness.

She'd been alone ever since she was a child. Ever since Zopilote destroyed her village, she had relied on herself. She faced thieves, guards, animals and more. She feared nothing. But she knew that wasn't why she jumped at the leaf.

It had felt like a man.

It had felt gentle, like when Victor touched her shoulder to hand back the knife she dropped.

She wasn't used to a gentle touch.

It just...she didn't even remember the last time she hadn't felt someone touching her softly.

She was more acquainted with tackles, punches, shoves and others among the like from living with criminals and running from the guard who didn't care about her gender when it came to roughing her up.

Ash shook her head trying to banish any thoughts of gentleness from her head but Victor popped up again. Gentle. It was so like him.

In the middle of a damn heist, he helped a child after knocking her over, and look what happened, he got nicked by a tiny brat and they lost all the loot they had worked so hard to steal.

He was too soft. She saw the look in his eyes when he railed against his family and some friend named Esteban. Oh the anger and malice were there, but she also saw fondness when talked of happier memories. He wasn't hardened like the other criminals. He had had love in his life. He was more likely to show love to others too.

He was a weak link and he'd bring down them all someday.

And yet there was something about that was intriguing to her. For a moment, when he touched her, she almost had wanted to lean into him.

Not that she'd ever try again to find out.

She had a mission to focus on. Even though this mission had been taking 27 years with nothing to show for it. It was exhausting and dejecting. She wanted a break.

No, she couldn't go there. That was weak. She couldn't allow herself to take a break, she had to focus. She had discarded almost everything of her past, her old name-Azula, her innocence, everything that would bring back those painful distracting memories. The memories themselves were harder to lose, but she was dedicated. She could force herself to ignore them through sheer will.

She reached the edge of the lake and pulled out the tamborita she had stolen from a hermit wizard years ago.

She inhaled deeply and began to practice the spells she had memorized before Sousa carelessly burned up her book for fire two months ago.

The magic thrummed through her veins, a raw burning rose in her throat. She felt her body ache and boiled as if lava was flowing through her, electric sparks, flying from her the tamborita.

She looked at the water despite the watery tears from the power. Water helped, she could imagine she wasn't as fired up as she felt.

But the magic was too much. It hurt too much. She couldn't concentrate enough to get the pain within her to concentrate itself into a blasting spell.

She wobbled, falling into the water, gasping and cursing her weakness. She needed to do better if she was going to find Zopilote and convince him to teach her. If she could even find Zopilote. No, she'd get to that later.

Now she had to focus on her own paltry abilities. She was pathetic.

“Hey, is someone here?" An unfamiliar voice called and several light blue uniformed guards come out of the pine trees.

The Norburg Guard!

Ash dived under the water, holding her breath as long as she could, unhearing of what was going on above.

But her lungs burned almost as much as the magic had, and she couldn't take it.

The need for oxygen pounded her chest and she rose up. But sometimes, there are moments I'm not repelled at all Maybe you're not the worst thing ever

Victor was not stalking. He had merely noticed that Ash who was supposed to be watching them had wandered off. That was never a good sign.

It allowed them to be open to ambush by whatever was out there in the wild if a guard wasn't there to sound the alarm.

Alternatively, she was hoping for exactly that to happen so she could be rid of all of them. Either way, he wasn't going to be suckered into that sort of trap so he followed her to see what she was up to.

He had almost been caught, when she had paused suddenly he banged into a tree. But he kept his cool. He had been so confused when they ended up by the lake. She wanted a bath?

Unfortunately, she did not strip off her clothes as he had been somewhat hoping for, instead she pulled out some strange wand object and began waving it around, muttering an indecipherable language.

It hit him where he had seen such a familiar image. Back at the palace when he was a boy, he had seen the royal wizard Alacazar perform spells for their amusement. It had taken, he, Elena and Esteban a lot of begging since King Raul and Alacazar had told them that Alacazar was busy doing spells for the protection of the good and couldn't be on call like a jester but sometimes that managed to persuade him.

Ash was nowhere near Alacazar's level. Though there were few sparks flying, the brunette ended up diving into the lake before anything substantial came blasting out of the tamborita.

Victor was at odds with what he should do. On one hand, it was clear that she didn't know what she was doing while he had some information that could help.

On the other hand, Ash was practicing magic which he was pretty sure the rest of the gang didn't know about. Especially Sousa. He would not look kindly to the threat of someone being more powerful than him. Maybe he could let it slip and become Sousa's right hand man, close enough to overthrow him when the time came.

But then again, Ash had magic. He knew magic was a much easier way to get power than through fists. Shuriki had taken over Avalor in less than a day with a swirl of green clouds and a llevlqu spell. She controlled armies and controlled people like his cowardly ex friend, Esteban.

If Victor had someone with magic by his side. If Victor had magic... He had never considered it before, he knew only the most learned men and women could become wizards after years and years of practice because they had access to the books and the chispas.

But if Ash was somehow practicing in the middle of nowhere and on the run, maybe Ash could teach him as well?

“Hey! Is anyone there?" A squadron of guards burst through the trees, killing the quiet of the forest with snapping branches and hacking away at bushes.

Victor could see Ash had gone underwater but he knew she wouldn't last long. She'd have to come up for air sometime and the guards were closing in to examine the lake. The moment they saw her face, they'd know who she was. Wanted posters of her face were in twelve kingdoms.

There were Wanted posters of his face too, less prominent than the others but maybe that would be enough to get their attention.

"Over here, suckers! You don't even deserve your swords if you can't catch me!" Victor called out, waving his hand mockingly before running. He didn't dare look back, that was the best way to get distracted and fall, he just stared ahead, branches whipping face, needles stinging his eyes, but he didn't let up. His lungs ached but his legs never stumbled.

He ran on instinct heading straight for the cave. He trampled hands and fingers as he ran into their hiding spot, raising anger and alarm in the den of thieves but he gave no warning of who he was running from.

He headed to the back where a small crevice had been formed and shielded over by a plaster of rock. Thin enough to remove if needed but looked as solid as stone. He dove in, frantically digging himself into the cramped space before putting the plaster in front, cutting off any source of light.

He heard the yells, the clashing metal of sword against daggers, the sound of skin cut and groans of wounded. He heard the curses aimed at the guard, at Ash, at him. He heard the sound of rhythmic soldier boots, pacing through the cave, methodically searching for any hiding places where he could have gone. Then he heard silence.

His muscles popped and cracked as he untwisted himself from the tight space, thankful that his fear of getting caught overcame any remnant of his claustrophobia.

He slumped against the cave walls, allowing himself to breath again and become reacquainted with his limbs.

He began to berate himself for his foolish chase now that he had time to think about it.

Was he crazy? Now that Ash and he were a gang of two, easier to run from the police, but less protection if they were surrounded. Neither of them were the best fighters when it came to hand to hand combat. And he was only assuming that Ash would stick around with him. Díos he had been so damn stupid, idotic.

No wonder she thought of him as a fool. What kind of criminal rescues his partners? Why did he—

His thoughts were interrupted by the presence of another in the cave. Ash.

Just like in the sunlight, her face was hidden in the shadows but the moon high in the sky behind her, framed her body beautifully like a nocturnal fairy creature, the water that clung to her body glistened. It made her look gorgeous, magical, unreal.

But her blue eyes, the same color as ice pinned his green orbs to her, making him very aware that she was real and starting to come a lot closer into his personal space.

She was searching his face for something, he couldn't imagine what? Was she trying to find some sort of mark to prove he was the idiot she imagined she was. If so, this ungrateful wannabe witch should know he wouldn't take such disrespect without a snark.

"The common courtesy of when a person saves your life is to say thank you." Victor said, eyes firmly squinted into a glare. Ash's eyes stopped searching his face, and looked into his, "Why did you do it?" "That's not a thank you."

Ash glared.

“I want to learn magic and become a wizard." Victor said, making it more of a command, leaving no doubt that he'd badger her if she turned him down.

Ash's eyes grew wide and Victor grinned. Haha yes. He, the common thief, the fallen noble had stalked her to her "secret" magic practice without her even realizing it.

She looked away with a huff. They stood side by side staring out of the mouth of the cave for longer than a few seconds that made Vicor uncomfortable. Was she going to say anything? Should he just chance it and leave?

"I'm not a wizard." Ash said quietly, "I'm training to be a malvago." Victor tensed, trying to still a shudder than ran down his back. He had heard of stories of malvagos, the twisted wizards who only worked for themselves using dark corrupted magic.

But another part of the shiver was not just apprehension of the dangerous magic that the woman beside him was toying with but intrigue. She was right.

Malvagos were evil to the wizards' good, and he knew he was cast out of the good 19 long years ago. Malvagos didn't live by any rules, malvagos could do whatever they wanted. Just what Victor wanted.

“I want to be a malvago." Victor corrected. Victor could see the side view of Ash's face with her disdainful scowl, "It takes dedication." "Which you don't have enough of because you failed." Victor needled.

Ash smacked his torso with her tamborita, hitting a particularly sore spot he had strained from wood-carrying.

"It is painful." She snapped.

"I can handle pain." Victor shot back. “You're a pampered royal."

"I've been a thief for 19 years. I've lost my softness." "The pickpocket girl." Ash pointed out.

Victor cringed thinking of his blunder, but managed to twist the situation.

"Better yet for infiltrating the nobles. I know how to act, how to talk. I'll blend in which is more than I could say for you. Plus I know several languages, how to find secret passageways in mansions and I cook." Ash raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “You cook?” You're utterly disgusting I loathe your manly stink

Doña’s lips curled into a sneer as Chancellor Esteban struggled to enter the carriage and close his umbrella at the same time without getting wet.

He failed in both respects, the umbrella getting caught in the doorway allowing the wind and rain blown in more, splattering them both with its icy sting.

Dona wrapped the shawl tighter around herself and looked out the window at the turbulent darkness and trees swaying unsteadily in the storm. Of all days to go to Córdoba for trade talks.

However, business waited for no one and it wasn't like they were attempting to travel overseas in this weather. It was just going to be several bumpy, uncomfortable hours in a carriage with a man who was awkwardly moving around in the tiny carriage area and getting water all over her.

With the limited room, Esteban threw the umbrella onto the floor and took off his jacket, shaking his arm out of its sleeve, water droplets flying everywhere with no regard to the fact that she was in the carriage too.

This was so like him. So oblivious and self-absorbed.

She had made no secret of how incompetent she found him in financial matters and that she'd much rather work alone despite their last few collaborations working for the better.

But at least she was respectful enough to limit their conversation to business matters and ignore him in all other areas of life. At least she didn't jostle and bump into him as if she didn't notice his presence.

Esteban managed to wrangle off his soaked jacket and sank into his seat with an audible huff of annoyance. He raked his hands over his bangs that were also sopping wet and dripping unattractively onto the upholstery and down his face.

The carriage began it's uneven ride, the abrupt start causing her to smack her head against the window she was leaning against.

Her head pounded in time with the rumble of looming thunder and it matched her mood. She had been feeling at the most neutral about this upcoming event, figuring that she'd be more enthusiastic once she was in a room with a blazing fire and with merchants that she could actually talk to instead of this stuffy chancellor who seemed to move in perpetually state of panic or resigned dutifulness to the queen.

But now, everything irritated her. Her head with a throbbing bump. Her hair felt strained against her scalp with bobby-pins. The rain was incessantly pounding like a hundred pebbles against the carriage that no amount of covering her ears would muffle the sound. The enclosed quarters where she couldn't move without entangling her legs with his. His overpowering, overused amount of woodsy cologne permeated the air, canceling out the much more pleasant smell of her jasmine perfume.

And she was so unnecessarily wet thanks to Esteban.

Another splash of water dampened the edge of her gown as the umbrella Esteban carelessly dropped rolled around the floor. It was no matter, her dress was black and no one would notice, but she hated the feel of the soggy silk against her ankle.

She felt the random streams of rain that still ran down her hair and neck and wiped it in disgust as some trickled it down her back before she could rub it dry. She closed her eyes, trying her best to keep calm at the less than pleasant feeling.

There was no use reminding this annoying man to think of other people beside him, he'd only forget.

She inhaled but all she smelled was the awful cologne filling her nose. It's wooden tang combined with the wet rain burned her nose, the sound of constant rain became more acute as the thunder grumbled louder.

Sudden and unwelcome like the spontaneous outpour above, she remembered another time she'd been wet, and miserable, in much worse circumstances than this. She hated these flashback, memories she should be over with by now, it’s been 9 years, but she still could feel it as if it was yesterday.

The thunder changed to the rumbling crash of flooding waters going over her, silencing all other sounds, numbing her body with its frigid temperatures as the waves dragged her down.

Water, water everywhere. Water pushing and bowling her over, her eyes blinded by the sting.

The water reaching down her throat, grabbing the screams and oxygen. Esteban ran his fingers through his hair once more and shook his head, the water hitting her in the face.

That was it! I see your mouth start moving And God, I need a drink

And then, from out of nowhere, I'll look at you and think Maybe you're not the worst thing ever "Do you have to shake yourself like a dog? Who raised you?" Esteban’s carriage companion snapped.

Lightning flashed at the moment, sending jagged shadows across her face, highlighting her furious green eyes sparking with barely concealed ire at him.

It's been one minute in the carriage and he wanted a drink. He knew he should have brought the two bottles of wine. One as a thanks to King Juan for hosting and one for himself to get through this.

Honestly, she was being over dramatic over a few drops of rain. He was the one who had gotten soaked to the skin. He could feel his shirt clinging him to uncomfortably and hated the dark grey look of his once white pants. He was the one who had the right to be irritated.

And who was she to ask who raised him? She was the one who constantly made jabs about how his royal upbringing made him lazy and ignorant of financial matters even though he had been doing very well in conducting and organizing the foundations of Avalor trade for the past 29 years.

He practically invented the jargon. That was all him. No, he wasn't going to respond. Any conversation with her was going to be a headache. He had papers to study for the upcoming meeting.

Esteban's teeth grinded together as he casually smoothed down his pants and went on to open his leather-bound ledger where he held his files for the event so he could begin to read them over.

He quickly became absorbed in his work, crossing out lines and rewording paragraphs so demands would be more palatable even though Shuriki was asking for more jewels and materials than Avalor would be able to return.

However, Shuriki's demands must always be sated.

Esteban felt a migraine come on as he thought about the last time he came up short from the trade deals. Shuriki had railed and yelled at him, not too bad considering they both knew she couldn't do worse or else lose the only one willing and competent enough to do the kingdom's paperwork so she could look at herself in the mirror all day. They both knew she could not execute him.

That didn't mean she'd wouldn't toss the painting of his abuelos and Isabel into the sea. Or tear it apart.

Or a dozen other types of destruction she could imagine up and describe in detail with that cruel, knowing smirk on her face.

Just thinking about it brought the pressure of guilt against his heart. His family in stasis, unknowing of his secret, of the pain Shuriki had brought to their beloved kingdom.

Perhaps it was merciful but he hated to imagine that stasis. Happily staring at him through the pastel paint, shriveling up in flames and ending in the Spirit World.

All because he had brought Shuriki to Avalor in a misguided attempt to gain power and defeat her. All because he hadn't worked hard enough to protect them. All because of him.

This had to go well or else she'd-"Will you stop that?" Doña’s voice hissed, cutting through his thoughts like a sharp teakettle.

"What now?" Esteban snapped with an audible defensive edge from the thoughts that still consumed him.

"Stop reading under your breath, I'm trying to sleep." she said.

“I'm preparing for our meeting. Something more important than your beauty sleep."

"It's called time management. I sleep at night, and rise with the sun so I finish all my work by mid-morning. It's something you should do instead of constantly scrambling around between your siestas." She put an sarcastic emphasis on siestas.

Esteban bristled. She had no idea how hard she worked. No one did.

She may think he was lazy but he needed those siestas because he couldn't sleep. Not when the silent night allowed his noisy thoughts run wild, usually to memories of a far-off happier past that he had no idea how much he'd treasure.

So he moved on to less personal subjects than his sleep schedule. "The kingdom's future economic collaboration with Cordoba is at stake here."

"Avalor's future collaboration with Cordoba will be fine. Don't act like it's so dire when it's Shuriki's favor you're so worried about." Esteban reeled back like a gut punch at how close to home that comment was.

How he hated the truth that he was breaking his back to make this witch, this murderer happy and comfortable on her crystal throne and help her oppress the kingdom he had loved.

And that this ice queen had also guessed the ulterior behind most of his actions. He wasn't going to tolerate it. She may be young and may not like be other wannabe lackeys who only wanted to smooze up to Shuriki and increase their own power. Or those council members that truly wanted to help but were to naive to last. She was competent, a deadly combination of useful, practical with ways to help the kingdom but not easily manipulatable. He could appreciate that in a co-worker, especially since she did make his work go faster since their collaboration. However....

He didn't want another person who could needle him and remind him of his misery.

Worse than crabs

Worse than scurvy

The morning sun rose and for once in her life, Ash was staying by a man who she was pretty convinced was her inferior in every way.

A man who hummed under his breath as he cooked, who smiled at his little successes in pickpocketing, proclaiming he was a "Victor," who helped people up when he knocked them down, who saved her when he had no reason to. A true criminal would never do that.

Yet when she had broke the surface of the water and saw Victor coaxing the guards to chase him, something..something giddy and strange entered her heart.

No one had ever saved her before.

It just wasn't done. Criminals betrayed one another, they delighted in it, showing off their lack of loyalty and selfishness.

Ash would never have done such a thing as risk her neck for someone else nor would she have wanted anyone to do the same. She could handle herself just fine. But Victor wasn't like that.

She was grateful that he saved her. She had never felt something like that when she realized what he had did. The feeling of relief, thankfulness, the feeling of safety.

She hadn't felt that in a long time, and what's more was that she liked it. What was worse was that she wanted more of it.

It was like a break from the harshness of life.

“No," she reminded herself, "I don't need a break from the harsh world. I thrive in the harshness." Not that she wanted to be rescued. She wasn't going to be stupid enough to put herself in danger for no reason when she could handle situations herself.

But he was cooking breakfast just for her.

Something else no one had done for her and it was bringing the same happy thankful feelings she was trying to squish down. It was so pathetic.

So she busied herself with drying off her tamborita by the fire, forcing herself not to look at him cooking even though her eyes had a strange newly powerful pull to see what he was doing.

She didn't look up when he handed her the food so he set it on the ground beside her. Only once he had gone to the other side of the fire to eat his breakfast did she pretend to have just noticed it.

She hoped he didn't think she was trying too hard to ignore him. Then again, he couldn't guess that she was intentionally ignoring him. It's what she did on a regular basis.

He knew better than to imagine her being soft to him, she was out of his league.

She ate the stew, surprised by how flavorful and rich it tasted. He really could cook! They should have put him on dinner duty more often, this was delicious. She must have been looking too satisfied because she saw from the corner of her eye that Victor was smiling that foolish boyish smile that made him look younger than he was.

Reminded her that he was untrained as a criminal, a rookie despite his 31 years on the street if he was making such stupid mistakes as helping someone when they fell.

So Ash reluctantly set down the stew without finishing it and began to hunt around the area for weapons that guards may have dropped when hauling Sousa, Luis, and Justin away.

Victor ambled up behind her, scouring the ground and talking, "So when did you begin learning magic? Why? I mean you're pretty tough on your own with a knife."

Must he insist on filling the silence with conversation? Especially with that questions. Why did he want to know about her life, the whys and whens? They were criminals together. They did not need to know about their personal lives.

But she could sense Victor waiting for her to reply or else he'd just ask the question again. He didn't know, but it was just too personal.

Close her eyes and she could go back to that fateful day as vividly as if it happened yesterday. The screams of people losing their homes, their belongings, their lives. The crash of buildings.

The crunch of her beloved mice's bones so similar to the squishing sound of her parents being vaporized.

Ash shook her head, she never dwelled on that latter thought too long. It made her too emotional. If she allowed herself to think about it, she'd freeze, stuck in that awful memory just as she had been too helpless to do anything when she saw it happen. She saw the buzzard's crooked nose, his dark wings flaring out and those vicious yellow eyes as he gleefully cackled at all the destruction. Zopilote, the malvago who ruined her world and her worst enemy. He was the reason she was trying to learn magic.

So she could get close to him, ask him to let her be his protege. Surely, he wouldn't remember that helpless little girl.

That way, once he taught her all his tricks and spells, she'd use them against him, and burn his feathers to the dust. Then she could go on to take over the kingdom if she chose to.

She'd be the one and only. No one would dare to hurt her. They'd all fear her power.

But to say that outloud. She could never. A personal vendetta. To save herself from helplessness. Her reasons were weak, emotional. Almost as soft as him.

"I began to learn magic a few years ago when I stole a wizard's tamborita as for why... isn't it obvious? Power." Ash raised herself to her full stature which unfortunately was just a little shorter by the forehead since her heels broke and she had to make do with sturdy boots, "Power is all that matters if you want to make it the world."

Victor nodded knowingly at her statement, "Power is everything. I understand the feeling completely."

She doubted that he experienced the same sort of pain she had suffered but she remembered.

Criminals didn't share pasts, too personal, too weak, but Victor tended to rail about his past. How his parents abandoned him when they found out his part in a coup d'etat. Exiled from his home. How he lost his entire world. He knew how she felt.

Worse than lice or plague But truth be told You're growing on me just like mold

And though, you're so annoying

"Yes, I'm working for Shuriki's whims but it's the only way to get anything done." Esteban yelled, surprising both of them with his volume and by the rawness in his voice, the crack in it when he said the last word.

He inhaled, but his voice still held a waver from the emotions tumbling forth from his words, "I-I don't want to. I don't like to work to make her happy. But I have to. I'm the only one in the kingdom who has the ability to help form the laws and legislate among a dozen other things that you don't know about.”

“The laws that required cities to open homeless shelters and soup kitchens, the repeal of the whistling act punishing anyone who dared to "disturb the peace" by whistling, the creation of new cement roads to lower villages, that's all me. The only way I could do that was by suggesting these acts when she was in a happy mood. It's a bargain. She's willing to "throw me a bone" if she has her silver mines and noblins. As long as I seem loyal and useful." Esteban raised his head, forcing eye contact with the woman across from him who looked frozen with shock. Esteban slumped back, tiredness overtaking him as his emotions ebbed. He was so so exhausted. I tired of having to deal with this disdainful co-worker. So like all the others who sneered at him and dismissed his contributions. They would never know, no one would ever know all the work he did. It was what he deserved. He brought this upon himself. The tiredness. Emptiness. Faking civility to that evil witch who killed the people he loved. The was also an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. He was stuck here. He couldn’t just quit her job. He had nothing to go back too. He was alone in this crowd of nobles who either sucked up to him or derided his work for the queen. And what was worse, was that all this work was so small in the grand scheme of things. Everything was worthless.

His breath caught and he clamped his mouth shut. Steeling himself against the choked sobs in his throat. He couldn’t show more weakness. He would not. He already knew the mistake of being vulnerable in front of someone who seemed harmless. Besides he still had his work to do. As long as he was alive, he would try to lessen the cruelty of Shuriki’s rule. The Avaloran citizens wouldn’t suffer more than they had to because of his mistake.

“I may work for Shuriki. But I'm trying to make Avalor better for the people too."

So easy to despise

Doña knew her mouth was moving but she couldn't make anything come out of it. She didn't know what to say really as she processed everything that Esteban said.

Doña settled for curtling nodding her acknowledgment and turning to stare out the window. She could settle some of her thoughts better without his dark eyes boring into her, daring her to contradict him.

All her ideas of Esteban were wrong. She had known Esteban worked for Shuriki. He was Chancellor, Shuriki was queen, it was obvious.

She thought he had done it somewhat willingly as a way to continue his luxurious lifestyle as well as it being his duty as a royal from the former royal family, continuing the family legacy. A way to act like he knew everything when he knew nothing.

She had thought he'd done it for duty and money, with no care to the lower class people he supposedly served. But he did care.

She could hear it in his voice that the people of Avalor mattered to him. That Shuriki was his cross to bear if he could lighten their life with cement roads and the permission to whistle in the street.

She also felt stupid. Who did she think created the laws?

Everyone knew Shuriki didn't work, preferring to stay inside doing secretive Shuriki things and only coming out for formal parades in her honor, cheering required. It all had been Esteban.

Under his arrogant, condescending, regularly irritated demeanor, his concern for appearances and royal protocol, he cared.

She cringed thinking of all the snide comments she had made, all the opportunities she used to remind him that she thought him incompetent and she had no respect for him or the work that she had thought he didn't do.

A guilty coil formed in her stomach she hated apologizing, especially when she knew her words meant nothing to him. "I didn't know." She mumbled in direction to the window, hoping that maybe her words would get caught in the noisy rattle of wheels over rutted stones. "Obviously." Esteban said disdainfully.

"I-I..." Doña stuttered, frustrated by how she had no words to say. Well nothing she could say out loud. She couldn't tell him that she had been so prejudiced against him because she had never met a rich person who actually did his own work. She never met a noble who actually cared about poor people, they only believed the poor were lazy and deserved their station in life.

But she couldn't say that. He already thought she was stupid enough compared to him, he didn't need the added fuel of lack of credentials and education that came with being a peasant.

So she settled for half-truths, "I've been told I'm judgmental- I thought that you were just a lapdog for Shuriki and I was the only one carrying all the work You do much more than I realized, so.. sorry I guess."

She chanced to look back at the Chancellor who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. It was pleased, and questioning, and suspicious all at once making her squirm uncomfortably. She already apologized, what more did he want.

"Thank you," he said slowly, "It's good we have an understanding."

Doña began to relax, when Esteban added, "I'm glad you care about the citizens of Avalor too." Doña opened her mouth, ready to argue the point. No, she didn't care about ordinary people too much. Her business took priority.

She found the people in the city to be whiny, what did they have to complain about? They had their shops and restaurants, they should be learning to pull themselves up with their own money than come to complain to her about the roads and restoring crumbled sidewalks. If people in the mountains could survive for years without the amenities like cement roads and street lamps while working on the fields of others, these independent business owners could too. She only fought for their rights because of electability.

Yes, that's right, she did it for electability. To admit anything more, people would get suspicious.

Why did she, who claimed to have been born of a rich merchant family from Nueva Vista, care about the likes of farmers and villagers in the hills?

Not unless she understood their poverty, was a former peasant.

But Esteban was different. He wouldn't suspect she had closer ties with the poor. He'd assume she was just as caring like he was. At that came another realization. Esteban cared about the citizens more than she. It was an unfortunate epiphany. She had liked the idea that she was a better person than him.

Not that she would admit she thought he was a better person than her.

In fact, it might make things easier between them with this... what was the world he used? It'd give them an understanding.

“Yes. Sort of. You know." Well that was eloquent. This was exactly why people called her silver-tongued.

Esteban just nodded at her, a slight smile peeking from his mustache as he went back to reading his papers. Doña turned back to the window, the rain had faded to a gentle cascade down the window lulling her to sleep. And though, there's something scary Behind your cold, dead eyes

Ash was smiling at him. It was weird. Very weird.

It was so genuine and almost fond and...Victor couldn't help but return it too.

Though the look in her eyes still unnerved him with how intense the icy blues were. But the smile...she looked almost sweet.

And it dropped just as quickly as it came and she started ordering him around. Again.

Victor rolled his eyes. He should have known better.

She would never look at him as an equal. It was best to think of her as a platonic criminal partner.

Ash began to walk away, her hips swaying. Fine. He would only think of her as a sexual being with no real emotions whatsoever.

Not that he'd ever make a move. She’d probably add easily seduced on top of emotional weak and leave him.

Something he could never admit was that he couldn't bear the thought of doing the criminal life alone.

When he had first been cast out, he had wandered the streets in a daze, unsure of how to survive by himself without money.

He had pieced his way of surviving through minor pickpocketing tricks and sleight of hand on street corners, impressing tourists and citizens before attempting bigger thefts. But he had been alone.

The isolation felt like a physical presence even though he was alone in the crowd.

No one to confide with, no one to even talk to. He could go days on end in silence. Or only talking to himself. But he felt he might go mad from the loneliness.

Then he met up with a gang of small-time thieves. He had dumped them, transferring in and out to whoever was most useful to him or wasn't in jail but at least he wasn't alone.

They weren't going to be friends, but she were company. He didn't want to be alone again.

"Victor, come." Victor defiantly stood where he was. He wasn't some dog though she seemed to act like it. Then he felt a bit stupid standing there like a statue but before he could casually walk to Ash, she was stomping over to him. "Are you going to constantly disobey my orders?" Ash scowled, ominously stating "If you really want, I'll teach you magic but you need to follow my orders or else."

Victor froze, his mouth open idiotically but unable to close it. She was offering to teach him some magic.

There were so many things this could mean.

That she thought him capable of learning magic. So unlike his parents who thought he was capable of nothing but failure.

She thought of him having potential to become an equal. Unlike Shuriki and Esteban.

This scary, sexy, intense woman wanted him to stick around. Unlike everyone else in the world. Maybe she was not always the vicious shrew he thought she was. And though I'll never like you It's nice to realize

Ash scowled fiercer but inwardly screamed at herself. Why the hell did she offer that to him?

She should have just threaten him like anyone else and not offer him a chance at power.

She couldn't imagine Victor with magic.

He would only bumble it up like he did without magic.

Yet..it might make things easier if he stayed around.

Someone to cook for her, someone who seemed easier to control, someone who wouldn't try to grab power from her or hurt her. Someone that wouldn’t hurt her.

That last thought sent an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach. Safety was something she always wanted. Safety in power would be preferable but...

She looked at him, his eyes wide with amazement as he nodded, unable to speak his answer.

Ash nodded curtly and forced herself to walk back to the cave, and not betray how uncertain she felt with this turn of events and whether she'd be able to control its outcome. Maybe I shouldn't quite say never....

Esteban wiped the sleep from his eyes as the coach-man knocked on the door.

The carriage had rolled to its stop at a local inn since they would be meeting the King in the morning. It was rather too large a house to acquire the title of an inn, but that was a mere label since this establishment hosted many nobles who wanted to "rough" it in a quaint peasant-style house that had all the amenities and servants of a mansion.

The rain had left when they had crossed the Avalor-Córdoba border so he had no trouble with his umbrella as he stepped out of the crisp night air. The sun was up in the horizon and Doña was looking far too alert for the morning while Esteban was still asleep on his feet.

"Oh good. I'm getting hungry." Doña said briskly, sweeping into the doorway.

"You weren't kidding about being a morning person." Esteban stared at her, dumbly trudging inside. He couldn't wait to fall into the bed. “Chancellor, your book." The coach-man tapped him on the shoulder as the tired man got inside. Esteban gratefully took the book, horror at having forgotten his files for even a moment breaking through the fog. "Thank you, sir."

Esteban looked through the book, all the pages were accounted for, however.. he had only edited two thirds of his proposal. He had fallen victim to sleep before he could finish. And he had to finish before he presented it. This was important. He could always sleep after the trade talks. So he dragged himself to the dining room where Doña was sipping some tea and looking over her own work as the kitchen staff bustled around.

The image wasn't as irritating as it usually was to him. Doña acting all superior about her time management and constantly working on her financial statements even at a supposedly relaxing meal like breakfast. She was just doing her part in working for the kingdom, for the benefit of the people like he was.

"Coffee por favor. Strong with sugar and cream." Esteban yawned.

Doña looked at Esteban skeptically, the guy who complained every morning that he went on trips to other countries that the maids woke him up too early, he was going to have breakfast with her?

He looked like he was about to face-plant and sleep on the table. She must have been staring since Esteban made an attempt to straighten up and pat his ledger, "I need to finish this."

Oh right.. His work. If Esteban was going to sacrifice his personal comfort and beauty sleep, it'd be for the kingdom.

Esteban was holding his head up with his chin and Doña felt her heart tug with pity. What yesterday she would have seen this as another strike in his laziness but now..."How about you go to bed, Chancellor? I'll handle this."

Doña gently tugged his ledger from his grasp. Esteban opened one suspicious eye, "You'll get the Córdobans to give us more silver than what we're willing to give in return?"

“Yes, to please Shuriki and help you help the kingdom." Dona nodded, a smile creeping across her face even though she didn't quite know why.

It was a little gesture, she shouldn't be feeling this..this good about making him happy. They were just co-workers, they weren't going to end up becoming friends because they shared a common interest. Please.

Esteban looked at her and a fond smile grew, perking up his mustache which made Doña smile more in return even though she tried to resist the urge. "Thank you." Ash arranged the leaves and moss in a somewhat comfortable arrangement to sleep on and started gathering another for a pile for Victor to sleep on near the windy, colder edge at the mouth of the cave.

No need for him to get too happy thinking she respected him. She didn't, she really didn't. He was inferior, no matter how he made her feel inside.

But as he dragged the cauldron inside to get out of the heat, a feeling of contentment settled over her. It was peaceful, no running, no practicing, no watching others for backstabbing. She didn't feel tense and alert as usual which worried her since that usually meant the beginning of a trap.

But Victor wouldn't do that to her. He was safe. She wanted to enjoy this feeling while it lasted.

Victor brought the cauldron to its place, wiping his forehead from sweat but didn't allow himself to huff and stretch his muscles even though he wanted to.

He wanted to look like he was so strong that these things were effortless. Not that he was trying to impress her or anything. He just wanted to make himself seem useful and that way she wouldn't leave him.

He looked around at the much more empty cave and noted the two makeshift moss and leaf beds with a pleased smile. It was nice that she was trying to include him now even if she was as bossy as ever.

He felt good about the future of their potential partnership. Though he was nowhere near her level of confidence nor her ability to lead, make plans nor her relentless determination. He hoped that some of it would rub off on him too.

And maybe together with the magic they learned, he would get the power he wanted. He'd get the respect he deserved.

But for now at least he wasn't alone. Maybe you're not the worst thing ever

#estoma #the delgados #esteban flores #ash delgado #victor delgado #doña paloma #elena of avalor #shuriki era #maybe you’re not the worst thing ever #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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nautiscarader · 4 years

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Calm yo’ tits - a present fic for ZekkKiray

Rating: E, ladynoir/Adrinette (post-reveal), 9143 words (by notepad++ count, 8886 according to Ao3, so one of you is LYING)

Read on Ao3

contains breastfeeding, lactation and mooificated large breasts.

Now, if you look at the tags (and the word count), and you know me, you might be understandably confused and worried that I might have been possessed, hacked by a Russian bot, or simply gone mad. The last part is very likely, but it is not the reason of this fic's existence.

The fic you are about to read is a present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, a vastly superior fic writer, who on one occasion quoted my works as inspiration for his, which solves once and for all the age-old philosophical dilemma, proving that something can indeed come from nothing.

I knew, to some extent, what his favourite kinks are, which sadly, were not exactly compatible with mine. So I needed to find a fandom we both like, and where I wouldn't have to worry too much about silly things like logic or common sense.

Enter "Miraculous Ladybug".

To put it simply, this fic is a bit of crack, I tried working some elements from my personal headcanons, and it doesn't break, assuming you don't push it too hard. More importantly, though, it's a birthday crack. Happy birthday, pal!

Also, this takes place after S3 finale.

================================

Sitting tensely in her chaise-longue, Marinette eyed her tutor and a temporary enemy with a keen eye. She has taken many exams in her young adult life, but this one might have been the most important so far. She concentrated on the small, levitating creature that flew that past her head, and when Tikki revealed a card, Marinette instantly replied.

- Zaggu, gnu kwami, the hero is Ram-page, and has ability to shapeshift terrain. Strong, but not too agile. Best pair with Pegasus for optimum efficiency. - she spoke quickly. - Yes! That's the last one! - Tikki cheered, flying to nuzzle Marinette's cheek.

For the past few days, Marinette has been extensively trying to fill in the shoes of Master Fu, as the new Miraculous guardian, and she has passed her self-imposed exam with flying colours, guessing each and every Kwami Tikki has tested her with.

- Well, if there are any challenging akumas, you will surely be able to know how to dispose of them! - Tikki cheered. - I sure hope so. - Marinette smiled - But now I have to study for actual exams, Tikki.

Marinette walked to her desk, took her college textbooks and opened them, her other hand already deep in the bowl of fruit snacks she prepared beforehand, knowing of the revision session ahead of her.

- Don't you want to study with Adrien? - Tikki flew by her head - Last time you said he's helped you a lot. - I wish. - Marinette sighed dreamily at the sound of her boyfriend's name - And he did, but...

Her cheeks suddenly became slightly deeper shade of burgundy, and she shied away from her Kwami. The mere thought of her boyfriend made her instantly forget about her duties, both as a college student and as a protector of Paris. She let herself indulge in a fantasy of what could happen if the two were put together in her room, and were given a choice between studying for a very boring exam, or doing anything else... However, Marinette had to exert some self-control, and with her friend acting like a second moral compass flying next to her, she had to abandon of her daydream.

- You know, this is quite an important exam, I don't want to be easily distracted and-Adrien!

She let out a gasp when her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it to answer at once. Tikki smiled, watching as her friend melts in her chair at the sound of Adrien's voice. Something told her she's not gonna do any revisions today.

===================

In his dark lair, Hakwmoth was listening. With closed eyes, he concentrated his powers to filter out hundreds of voices, trying to find the loudest and angriest, speaking with pure rage and despair.

He heard squabbling teenagers and forgot about them at once.

He heard depressed, neglected workers and didn't give them a second chance.

He heard a man crying, pitiful and heartbroken, because of his beloved pigeo-NO, NOT HIM AGAIN, THIRD SODDING TIME THIS MONTH.

Gabriel sighed and closed the aperture overlooking Paris. Finding a good source for akuma was sometimes surprisingly difficult. So many voices, so many possible candidates. And yet, again and again, he has failed.

Gabriel stepped down into the staircase that brought him down to his office, and was not surprised to find Nathalie waiting for him.

- Anything new for me, Nathalie? - he corrected his glasses - Just one call from the office of Coco Marocco. They asked for a call-back... - Nathalie paused and dropped her formal attitude - Gabriel, is everything alright?

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, and his body twitched in an instinct to brush it off. But he restrained himself, paused and took another deep breath.

- It's sometimes so... difficult. To find a good one... - I know.

He looked back at her and gave her a rare smile, saying much more than he could have at the time.

- I'll make the call, thank you.

Nathalie left his office, never taking her eye from him as she closed the door. Gabriel sat in his chair, leaned back and dialled the number.

"Hi there! You have reached the office of Coco Marocco, the finest brand of clothing this side of the equator. For English, press One. Für Deutsch drücken Sie bitte..."

Gabriel sighed and let the voice machine continue its job.

"... for business inquiries, press 7".

Gabriel quickly pressed the number, and was welcomed with the same, lifeless, mechanical voice.

"To access your account, please input the number..."

Without thinking, Gabriel typed the eleven-digit number on the tone dial, and waited for the next step.

"We apologise. In order to access your account, you need to speak the numbers", the voicemail said.

A small vein twitched on Gabriel's forehead. He spoke each digit, loud and clear, hoping beyond hope it registered properly.

"We apologise, please say the number again."

It took him two more tries to reach the next step, and he finally heard the familiar waiting music. The second it stopped, he started speaking, but he was met with even more disappointing reality.

"Hi there! Thank you for your patience. Your call is incredibly important to us. Your number in the waiting queue is... FOURTEEN".

The mobile phone crashed and broke into dozens of pieces when Gabriel tossed it across the room, careful not to destroy the painting of his wife that hid the entrance to his observatory.

- Why does it have to be so difficult? - he grumbled - Bunch of incompetent buffoons, making the easiest of things so much more difficult-

And then, a sudden burst of inspiration, privileged only to visionaries of his calibre, has dawned on him. He quickly got up and dashed to the elevator, not noticing that the crash alerted Nathalie to peek into his room, as he was too eager to bring his plan into motion as soon as possible.

When he stepped into his lair, he was Hawkmoth again, and he knew exactly what to listen for.

=====================

The glorious weather outside taunted Nino to end his revisions early and go to the nearest park to bathe in the warm sunshine, but alas, he had to spend his day in the near-empty university library. Unable to concentrate, he took his phone and launched the app to check if the last paper has been graded, but was left with a disappointing, never-ending loading screen. He looked at the only other person in the room, sitting by the computer in the corner, and decided to break the ear-splitting silence.

- Hey dude, are the uni servers down, or something? - And when were they not? - the chubby student replied - The app constantly crashes, we can't even check anything, so I'm just loafing around.

Nino gave him - or rather his large neck - a curious look and decided to end the conversation swiftly.

- Well, at least tumblog works... - If only - his interlocutor replied, much to Nino's chagrin, without even taking his headset off - Ugh, why did they change the colour of the background again? - You okay, dude? - he looked at his freckled face, and the man gave him a contemptuous look. - Yeah. But you seem to be okay with using this sub-par version - he glanced at his phone.

Nino raised his eyebrow and glanced at his phone.

- What's wrong with that?

The man groaned.

- Ugh, where do I start? The app also never works, they haven't implemented half the features of the desktop version, they still show sponsored messages, I mean, not for me, I hacked them myself away, and the options, can you believe they dared to change the font, it's so unreadable now...

He took a sip of a drink he definitely shouldn't have been allowed to bring into the library.

- But the site is so full of idiots now, it's not even worth going there anymore. Can you believe there are people defending the new Flunkies game? They've added cut content DLCs now! All of them sheep, they will buy whatever you throw at them, and...

The guy continued to complain into what was now a Nino-shaped void, as he left quietly a minute earlier, slightly afraid that arrogance might be catching.

And he wouldn't be exactly wrong...

If Nino stayed, he would have noticed that the same window that finally tempted him to walk outside with its glorious view, became also a gateway for a dark-purple moth that landed on the student's headset, turning it into equally sinister shade.

Suddenly, the student's complaints, spoken into nothingness, fell on listening ears, and a voice spoke in his head.

- Anton, I am Hakwmoth. I have heard your eloquent delivery, and I must say, you are quite right. - I know I am - Anton replied, without missing a beat. - There are so many little things wrong with this world, and only you know how to fix them... - Yes, I wrote it all on my blog, but now they changed the tagging system, and they don't even filter by the- - The point is - Hakwmoth interrupted him - As all geniuses in history, you are underestimated. Like the Cassandra of the Greek myths, people do not believe you, despite you speaking the truth. But I can change that.

For the first time in rather long time, Anton listened, instead of talking.

- I can give you a platform to speak your wisdom, better than any social media would ever offer. I can give you the voice, and I can give you the chance to make others hear you... And to sway their views at once... - You-you can do that? - Anton asked excitedly, though remaining in his slumped pose. - Oh, yes. - Hakwmoth replied with an oily, greedy voice - All I need in return is for you to bring me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi. They are wrong anyway, so they don't deserve them... Embrace my akuma, and rise-

Gabriel paused. He expected to feel something by now, but instead, he heard a quiet tapping.

- Are-are you typing? - Well, duh, someone is wrong on the Internet. - I was going to give you powers to do all of that a hundred times faster... - Gabriel spoke, unable to believe what he heard. - Okay, I'm done. - Anton spoke - What were you saying?

Stopping the urge to find a new herald of his will, Hakwmoth stomped in place and let the power flow through him and into his new apprentice, transforming his somewhat shaggy clothes into regal, red-and-golden attire. The chair he was sitting in merged into his body, becoming a golden, ornamented throne. And finally, the device around his head became a golden, conical-shaped object, perfectly suited for his new puppet, already fitting well in his hand.

- As I was saying... Rise, Echo Chamberlain, and correct the world, for only you know how. - I will! - the new villain spoke into his megaphone and flew out the library in his levitating chair, smashing the window to pieces.

========================

- Adrien!

Marinette jumped the last few stairs of her house and nearly tripped, but fortunately for her, she landed exactly where she wanted - in the arms of her boyfriend, meeting his lips a minute or so earlier than she planned. She smelled his trademark cologne, singed with his name, and she positively melted against his chest, blissfully forgetting about everything around her, until her mother's grunt brought her back to reality.

She jumped to her feet, fixed her hair and waved her parents goodbye, as the two walked outside for a stroll on the sunny day, with just a chance of studying in the park, in between kissing.

- How was the journey? - Marinette asked, eager to learn all about his latest business trip. - Well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I mean, for me. - he quickly added, afraid he sounded too immodest - I wish I could have brought you with me. - No biggie. I know how strict your father can be... - she leaned against his shoulder. - Hey, look, we should get some ice-cream!

Marinette eagerly pulled Adrien towards the famous André's ice-cream stand that now was parked underneath an old arch, and, predictably, has already amassed a small crowd, hungry for some cold refreshment. But as the two approached them, they heard an angry voice, dissonating with the rest.

- What do you mean you don't have chocolate chips? What kind of ice cream vendor are you? - a young woman was arguing with the poor ice-cream maker, who reacted to her anger with his usual jovial, kind behaviour. - Ah, but mademoiselle, I have other toppings, perfect for you! Brandied cherries! Candied walnuts! Peanut brittle! Or even... - he paused, before saying the next word with less enthusiasm in his voice - Sprinkles... - But I want my chocolate chips! - Excuse me. - Marinette gently addressed the angry woman - Don't you think you act a bit selfish? I'm certain André has been working so hard to bring us these phenomenal treats, it's not his fault he ran out of some of the ingredients... - Yeah - Adrien added quickly - And I think you will find some of these are as good as the one you crave, I can attest to that. - Plus, there are a lot of people waiting...

A shared murmur spread behind her, with people nodding, agreeing to Marinette and Adrien's polite reasoning. The woman sighed, and was about to accept the lesser version of her favourite dessert, but the next words she spoke left her mouth with a volume of hundreds of people.

- I WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

Adrien and Marinette instinctively put their hands over the ears, and as they watched in horror, they might have just saved their sanity. Thre eyes of the people surrounding them glew with red tint, and the same people that a moment ago scoffed at the picky woman, now shouted with her.

- WE WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

The two shared a concerned look, and they frantically looked around, knowing full-well it was a work of an akuma. Adrien spotted him first, a bizarre, red-and-gold man flying in his throne above their heads. They gave each other a nod and ran as far away from the crowd.

- André, run, it's an akuma! - Marinette cried, but it was too late.

The kind man now was roaring with them, demanding his own ice cream booth to give him chocolate chips, smashing it with his bare hands. Adrien and Marinette hid in an alleyway, and as soon as they could catch breath, their Kwami escaped their pockets, ready to transform them.

Two bright flashes of light later, Ladybug and Chat Noir escaped the same alleyway, following new source of cries and shouts. Ladybug shoot her yo-yo to climb onto the nearest rooftop, while Chat accompanied her onto his magical baton that propelled him into the air, so they could level with Hawkmoth's new puppet.

- You there! - Marinette shouted, gaining his attention - What are you doing to these innocent people? - And whatever it is, we are here to stop you!

The akumatised man laughed and rolled in the air in his throne.

- I am the Echo Chamberlain, and I have done nothing to them! I merely gave them the same voice I have. How dare these ice cream makers don't have the perfect ice-cream I want!

He grabbed his megaphone and spoke into it, emitting once more a deafening cry that reverberated amongst the buildings.

- People of Paris! Throw away your chains! Go to the barricades! And demand the ice-cream you want! Ha-ha-ha!

At once, the people beneath them, scared and cowering, stood up and rushed to the shops, big and small alike, chanting the same familiar phrase for their now-beloved condiment.

- You fool! - a sudden voice rang in Anton's head - I gave you the voice so you can get me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi! - Oh, right. - he took his megaphone again - But before that, get me Ladybug and Chat Noir! They took all the chocolate chips!

Echo Chamberlain flew onto his throne, leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir with the horde of people, that now began surrounding them with his single command. The two thought that they were safe on the rooftop of the building, but the angry people began climbing each other, forming human ladders, and in matter of seconds, the two had to escape in the same way they got there to begin with.

- He's using some sort of mind control! - Ladybug spoke, when they landed on slightly taller building, though they've already heard the clatter of broken glass beneath them. - The akuma must be in his megaphone. - Chat added - Also, I never thought people like chocolate chips so much. - I don't think they do. I think he likes it, and so he makes other people like the same thing.

Ladybug took a cautious look down, spotting some people rushing away from the angry mob.

- And I think he needs to target like-minded people. Or at least those that share some form of opinion with him... - she pondered. - Great observation, but may I add one? Duck!

Chat Noir pressed Ladybug's head down as a carton full of ice-cream cones flew right through the space once occupied by her head. The two rushed to their feet again, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, escaping the swarm of zombiefied people.

- Maybe there will be fewer of them here... - Chat spoke, but he was immediately proven wrong by a sudden voice behind him. - Oh, do you think ice-cream toppings is the only thing that makes people angry?

Echo Chamberlain arose from behind the building, already aiming his megaphone at the ventilation shaft.

- How about... Mobile chargers! Don't you hate how they always get lost and get tangled?

The powerful sound wave reverberated throughout the building, and the small rooftop door quaked when a small mob of residents rushed to the top, with said chargers in their hands, ready to strangle the two. Ladybug tried sniping a few of them with precise shots of her yo-yo, but the crowd was too dense.

- My lady!

Chat Noir grabbed her and propelled themselves off the building, landing in the vicinity of the same park they were meant to not-study in. But as they landed, they were already surrounded by more hypnotised civilians, this time complaining en-masse about mosquitoes.

- There's too many of them! - Ladybug shouted, jumping onto the nearby lamp post and then onto the tree. - I mean, they aren't exactly wrong, mosquitoes are horrible... - Chat! - Ladybug scolded him - That's the problem, he is making these people aware of all those small, insignificant problems of their lives. - But everyone has those!

Chat Noir's statement suddenly sounded ominously, as the sea of multicoloured people of every race, size and age surrounded them. Each person beneath them complained about something, creating a powerful choir of cacophony.

- We need... we need something to calm them down all at once...

Marinette looked around, and suddenly, as she spotted André's destroyed ice-cream stand, she saw the bell he would rang to alert Parisians of his presence, and a smile appeared on her face.

- I know what to do! - she cheered - Follow me!

The two escaped the tree just as if it was bout to be uprooted, and the two traversed the Paris to land on an even more familiar balcony.

- Don't peek, I'm gonna change my clothes. - she gave him a quick peck as she opened the hatch door to her apartment. - I'd never think of doing that. - Chat grinned, prepared his baton and jumped to the ground to defend the Dupain-Cheng bakery from the horde of people.

Once she was inside, Marinette quickly opened her supplies cabinet. Under the multitude of sewing accessories lied the hidden, oval-shaped red-and-black object that once looked like an ancient music box. The new guardian took it and gently tapped the black spots on the Miraculous Box, and under her touch, the small drawers began opening, one by one, like petals of a flower, revealing the multitude of Miraculi inside. Each of the intricate jewels glowed with a magical light of its own, as if to invite Marinette to try them, but she already knew which one to pick.

She took a small, circular Miraculous and spoke its Kwami name, illuminating her room with calming, white light, as the small, furry creature appeared in front of her.

- There's no time to explain, I need your help. Tikki, unify!

=====================

Meanwhile, Chat was getting more and more surrounded, forcing him to jump higher and higher, hoping the crowd would follow him and not Ladybug, trying his might to defend himself with his baton from the hypnotised masses, chanting their many inconsequential complaints that made them so strong.

- The prequels suck! - The sequels suck too! - Everything sucks!

As the mob was about to grab Chat, suddenly, he felt a familiar grip around his torso and his stomach did a somersault when he was dragged upwards, away from the crowd, as Ladybug reeled him on her yo-yo as if he was a fish.

- Thanks Ladybug, your timing is impecca-

Words got stuck in Adrien's mouth as he turned his head to meet his rescuer. At first, he wasn't sure it was Ladybug, but he recognised her yo-yo and her charming smile, though they were the only familiar element of her looks that remained. Only half of her original red could be found on her new costume, and the tidy, trademark polka-dots merged into black blots against white-brown rest of her costume. But it was the accessories she was wearing that truly befuddled Chat and forced him to pursue his curiosity, even if he was to be proverbially killed for it.

- My lady...! - Adrien stopped mid-way, taking another long look at Marinette - You... Your choice of fighting style is always impawssible to predict, but... Really, a cow? - What?

Marinette looked at herself, turning in place, as if to check if she's made a mistake choosing a Kwami to merge with, but once she ascertained herself, she shot him with a stern look.

- I'm not a cow. - she spoke quickly - The Kwami, whose powers I'm borrowing, is a yak! From Tibet! - Er, my lady - Chat raised his hands in defence, trying not to stare too long at the horns that adorned her head now - With all the respect, half of your costume is white with black spots, you have a ring in your nose, and you wear a cowbell around your neck... - IT'S NOT A COWBELL! - Marinette stomped in place - It's a Tibetan singing bowl, used for meditation. The Kwami told me so. - And what was its name?

With some hesitation, Marinette looked at Chat, whose lips curled into a sly smile, somehow foreseeing the answer and using every ounce of his intelligence to prepare a comeback.

- Lhamuu... - she whispered. - Lha...MOO - Chat articulated, his smug grin becoming unbearable to look at. - Oh, shut up! - Marinette yelled - We have an Akuma to defeat. - You're right, we should get mooving.

The superheroes nodded and jumped once more into the crowd of people under the super-villain's control, a plan already forming in their heads.

===========

- What's this?

In his observatory, Hawkmoth looked through his puppet's eyes at a sight he most certainly didn't expect.

- Ladybug... is a cow. - he muttered, unable to believe his borrowed sight. - Actually, it's a yak, you can tell by the horns, they are quite common in Asia and- - Never mind that! - Hawkmoth interrupted him - Ladybug has acquired a new power! That means she's wearing two Miraculi! Get them at once! - Is it "Miraculi" or "Miraculouses"? Or does this word even have plural form? - Anton pondered - I think there was a thread on Ladyblog about it, and- - THEY CAN BE CALLED "CROISSANTS" FOR WHAT I CARE, JUST GRAB THE JEWELS! - On it.

==========

Anton's throne flew closer to the two superheroes, who kept fighting the overwhelming crowd of people. Though banking on disappointment from recent block-busters wasn't unreasonable, he decided to play on even more delicate strings. He took his megaphone and spoke one word that electrified the masses and angered them all.

- Don't you just hate... CAPTCHA?... yes, it's because of Ladybug and Chat Noir you have to solve those stupid riddles, finding fire hydrants and whatnot! Destroy them!

At once, the mass of people acting, ironically, like radio-controlled robots, roared with pure hatred and began swarming towards them climbing onto balconies, just so they can get to them. Chat took a step backwards, knowing the crowd there was equally dense. But just as he was about to secure Ladybug, she did something utterly unpredictable.

With grace and skill only she possessed, SHE jumped off the rooftop, right into the horde of people, ready to tear her apart.

- My lady!

From the rooftop, Chat watched as Ladybug landed on the plaza, and let the crowd of people encircle and approach her from every side. And though he was afraid, he also had faith in her, strengthen only by her charming smile and a wink she sent him, while the shouting mob surrounded her.

- It's time to use... The Bell of Clarity!

Marinette touched the bowl affixed to her neck, enveloping herself in a delicate, yellow light, grabbed what looked like a ring in her nose and swiftly pulled it, revealing it to have two small balls on each side, and twirled around, ending with a stylish, victorious pose. With her new weapon in hands, she reached it, and gently stroke the bowl with the metallic ring, letting its vibration travel towards their target.

A powerful sound wave surrounded her, spreading in all directions, engulfing more and more of space, finally reaching the ears of the hypnotised people. When the note rang in their minds, they stopped, appearing confused and disoriented, as they suddenly lost the connection to their master's words.

- No, no, get them, you idiots! - Echo Chamberlain shouted through his megaphone.

Marinette stroke the bowl a second time, producing a more melodious tune. The crowd of like-minded zombies became even less coordinated, much to the supervillain's anger. And when she gently began moving the ornamented metal ring across the bowl's edge, instead of producing a single note, it began singing, its soothing melody finally dispelling the charm put on the people.

- No! You have to listen to me! I am right! - Anton took his megaphone and began speaking into it again - The games now suck! The-there are micro-transactions everywhere! The-the toilet paper! It's never turned the right way around! There is product placement in movies!

But no matter how many annoying details about life - or rather lack of it - he spoke of, the crowd remained calm and peaceful, unified with the sound of Ladybug's bell, that spread across the city each time she hit it.

And just when he was about to think of some new annoyance, something hit him from behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Chat Noir, wrestling with him, his baton already locking his arms from reaching his tool of control.

- It's time to dethrone your highness! Now, Ladybug!

At once, Ladybug shoot the yo-yo, grabbing the megaphone, while Chat and Echo Chamberlain wobbled in the air, each trying to overpower the other. But as soon as Ladybug got her hands onto his prized tool of control, it was over. She broke it in half, releasing the purple akuma, she then gracefully caught with the same yo-yo.

- By bye, little butterfly... - she spoke to the purified Akuma, watching it, as it flew away. - Miraculous Ladybug!

A storm of light, radiating from her engulfed the city, repairing the damages caused by the entitled mobs. As for the Echo Chamberlain, he found himself in his regular, not-levitating chair, and only thanks to Chat Noir's strength he didn't hit the ground.

- I believe it was yours. - Ladybug handed him the headset. - Y-yeah... - Anton stuttered. - Uh, Ladybug, I... - That's okay, Anton. - she spoke calmly - We all get upset sometimes, and we all think we have all the answers. - But maybe it's better to walk outside every once in a while, and, say, have some ice cream? Regardless of toppings? - Chat Noir added, giving him equally warm smile. - Y-yeah...

The two watched as the man waddled away, pondering what his behaviour has done. Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other and bumped their fist with a cheerful "Pound it!".

- So, the Bell of Clarity, eh? - Chat Noir leaned against the wall, watching as his partner affixes her new accessory once more to her collar. - Jealous of my new toy, kitty? - Ladybug shot him with a mischievous grin - It has quite powerful properties, I should tell you about that some time, since I've been studying all the Kwamis and... - Nah, I was just pondering the name...

Marinette eyed him suspiciously, noticing the familiar smirk appearing on his face, about to turn into a full, unashamed grin, but when she did that, it was too late, as words already left his mouth.

- It's "Bell of Clarity"...or Clara-bell, if you will.

The Tibetan singing bowl made one last, long, pronounced note as Marinette struck Chat's head with it, putting an end to his jokes and another successful mission.

===========================

Another tune, this one of pure sorrow filled the air, as Hawkmoth roared in anger, his voice echoing in his evil lair atop the Agreste mansion.

- Preposterous! I have been defeated by a superheroine dressed like a cow! - I think she was a yak, Gabriel. - Nathalie added - SHE HAD A RING IN HER NOSE! - he yelled, slamming his fists against the floor, as he collapsed onto his knees - I HAVE A HEADACHE!

==================

Far away from Hawkmoth's prying eyes, as well as many security cameras they've learned to evade, two superheroes were celebrating another victory in a way that became almost a tradition for them. There was a time when Marinette would be utterly shocked at the mere thought of kissing in public, let alone exposing herself there, but the years of serving as a protector of Paris has changed her mind. At some point, she started treating entirety of Paris as her home, with every dark alleyway and rows of chimney that hid them from the rest of the world, and with that notion came the desire to express herself and her love in the open air. And it certainly helped that her boyfriend was a horny tomcat.

Though she would have preferred if Chat pushed her against her soft bed, she didn't mind the cold, sturdy surface of a building they were kissing against. With his relentless, but delicate caresses, there was no place on Earth where they wouldn't be feeling comfortable, and something told her she would be soon melting in his arms or underneath his body.

And Chat was especially meticulous today, as he wanted to make sure that he'd cover every millimetre of her new costume and find out if her new alter-ego changed something with her preferences regarding making love.

- Chat... - Marinette moaned and curled her toes, tightening her legs' grip around his body. - I've had you as a Ladybug...

Chat pressed her against the wall, his hand already on her crotch, and his fingers dug through the latex costume that parted underneath his gentle, yet steady caresses.

- ...then as a mouse...

She let out a short squeak, almost mimicking her timid, Multimouse persona, as he continued undressing her using his claws and teeth.

- Then as a Rena Rouge... do you remember that? - How-How could I forget? - Marinette gasped, her hands sliding up and down his slim, but muscular body - Especially since Alya was filming us...

Chat let out a deep purr of approval, letting his lips and tongue take action, as he leaned against the skin on her neck. And while he was busy peppering her skin with kisses, Marinette decided to continue diving into their memories, perhaps just so she won't have to moan in anticipation of her lover's next, carefully planned move.

- And-And do you remember when Mister Bug used Lady Noire's face? I've never thought he would be so rough... - Mhm, most certainly... - Chat purred, nibbling on her ear, both actions making Marinette's skin shiver - Turned out white goes very well with your the black mask... And, well, rest of the costume too... - Naughty kitten... - And now, I'm gonna be with you as a... - Chat paused, looking up at his lover - ...a yak. - It's fine, you can say I'm a cow. - Marinette rolled her eyes, leaning in for a kiss. - And how should I call you? - Figured you would kiss first and ask names second...

She spoke those words in somewhat croaky voice, after Chat's kiss successfully left her breathless. She tightened her grip on him and looked him in the eye, seeing the familiar, fiery spark of lust that could lead them on a predictable route.

- Yin Yak - she answered - That's the name of that-that superheroine... - Marinette paused, trying to silence herself from another surge of pleasure building up in her loins. - So, would you be Lady-yak? - Chat kissed her breasts through her costume, yearning to feel her costume splitting apart - Or Yin-bug? I have to say, I am purrplexed and confused...

Marinette cupped his face and brought his face millimetres away from hers, just so her next words could firmly root themselves into his mind.

- I will tell you how I want to be called. - she paused and without losing a bit answered - Yours.

With her words acting like a spell, Chat Noir smiled and in a single move tossed her into the air, and caught her with his arms again, letting her legs spread. And as he did so, a rip in her costume appeared, under Chat's most delicate of touches, as a final proof of Marinette's consent and her yearning for her lover. Marinette yelped when his fingers brushed the now-exposed skin underneath her partially-torn costume. In response, she yanked his bell and slid it down, finally laying her eyes on his naked, alluring body.

- It's so much easier for you... - Are you complaining about an incredibly minor inconvenience? - Chat paused - Be careful, or you're gonna get akumatised too...

They giggled and closed their eyes, preparing for a kiss, but as their lips were about to meet, Chat found that something began pushing them away. And when the two looked down, they couldn't help but gasp at the sudden development happening right in front of them.

- What the-?!

Both Adrien and Marinette stared at her chest, or more precisely, her breasts that sprung from beneath her costume, ripping it completely and showing properly how enlarged they've become. And neither of them could tell which one was more surprised of the sight that greeted them. Her usually perky, medium-sized breasts now felt like two balloons that became inflated the moment Chat parted the way of her costume, though despite their size they seemed to defy laws of physics, never truly succumbing to gravity. As if in disbelief, Chat gently cupped them, and only under his touch, Marinette could feel how much they have grown, and that they were in fact still parts of her caresses-starved body.

- They-they are huge! - Marinette gasped, stating the obvious. - Indeed they are... - Adrien licked his lips - I have to admit, I am enjoying your new superhero form more and more...

Marinette gasped when she felt Chat's breath around her nipple, even more sensitive than usual, as his lips closed around the nub, a lot bigger and more pronounced now. And while his tongue lapped around her areola, his left hand caressed her other breast, exploring the new, vast territory he was going to conquer.

As Marinette whimpered under Chat's caresses, he moved from left side of her enlarged bosom to the other, finally taking a dive between them, licking the alluring valley between the voluptuous,breasts on both sides of his face. He looked up, meeting Ladybug's widened eyes, seeing the mixture of pleasure and lingering shock in them. He gave her one final kiss, and asked sheepishly.

- My lady, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? - Can you hear me complain? - Marinette smirked - I have no idea what happened, but keep your mouth busy, kitty.

She gently pushed his head back between her huge bosom that almost engulfed Chat's head. Suddenly, she felt his kisses everywhere across her sensitive skin, causing her to moan without any care. They were still hidden, at least partially, since she fully expected her breasts might now expand like a portable raft and take the entire space of the rooftop.

Of course, she knew why this happened. Though Chat was joking, her Kwami certainly had a few bovine traits, and her arousal must have accentuated those even more, just like Chat's claws could tear through her otherwise indestructible suit as if it was papier-mâché when his animalistic needs got over him.

As her kisses became more and more ravenous, her legs slowly gave up, and that gave Chat a chance to sneak his arms underneath her back and raise her leg up, just so his access to her dripping sex could be easier. With her left leg on his shoulder, his fingers continued the delicate dance against her pussy, while his tongue lapped at the skin around her nipples.

- Cha-Chat!

Marinette threw her head back, hoping her lover would bring her to her climax soon, and when Chat closed his lips around her nipple once more, just to contain his scream, she felt something new. An exhilarating, electrifying surge rushed through her, and at the same moment as Chat's eyes opened wide, while his fingering slowed down, though with his new discovery, she didn't exactly blame him.

Once he understood what was happening, Chat smiled and doubled his efforts, suckling on her teat, just so he could taste the delicious, sweet milk she began producing.

- My lady, you are... full of surprises... - he spoke, once he took a healthy gulp of her essence, watching as it dripped onto her large breasts.

To her bewilderment, when Chat brought his lips back to her nipple and continued suckling her milk, she felt the pleasure rising again, and with the newly found source of enjoyment, Marinette realised she couldn't think straight, especially when Chat resumed the moves of his hand again, spreading her folds.

But this time, as his muscular body came in contact with hers, it became obvious he was eager for more than simple finger play. He moved his hips in tune of her moans, sliding his exposed cock along her folds, eager to her her begging. And sure enough, once his name left her lips, he dived between her wet, soaking folds, just like his head dived into the valley of her breasts, equally leaking from anticipation.

Marinette let out another prolonged moan. Chat often made love to her this way, pressing her against walls, often just meters away from busy streets, but never before has her body changed. And now, to each of Chat's thrusts, her enlarged breasts reacted accordingly, bouncing up and down around Chat's face, though every once in a while her lover's thirst for her milk caused one of her mounds - or rather mountains - to remain in place, while he feasted on the liquid ambrosia she kept producing.

Adrien thought that he might have harder time keeping his lover up, and bouncing her with the extra baggage, but it turned out that the opposite was true. She felt lighter, giving him chance to exert a bit more pressure and dominance over his lover, much to her enjoyment. Ladybug dug her fingernails into Chat's shoulders, pushing him against the cushions of her bosom, letting his entire face stimulate her much larger and more sensitive area.

With each kiss Chat placed around her nipples came another deep thrust, reaching further and further into her yearning sex that coated his cock with her juices, only helping his cause of sliding as far as possible. And with that storm of sensation, it came as no surprise to Marinette that her mind slowly started going blank, and she began chanting Chat's name like a mantra, begging him to help her reach the peak he promised her, hearing only his grunts in return.

Their shared orgasm made their joined bodies shudder; at the same time, walls of Marinette's pussy contracted, desperate to contain Chat inside her, coating his crotch with more and more of her juices; then the torrential jets of his warm seed shot up her sex, right against her womb, filling her to the brim. And then, just when she thought she was finished, she felt a new form of warmth on her chest, when milk began spurted from her breasts, though the stream quickly found its way to Chat's mouth.

With each of Chat's final, weakening thrusts, the effects began anew, forcing her lover to switch suckling on her nipples, thirsty for her nectar, as if to use it to replenish his essence he kept flooding her with. But as their juices were leaking out, so was their strength, and even Chat's muscles had to give up at some point.

The two collapsed on the rooftop, still hidden by the shadows of the construction scaffolding, though at this point, Marinette truly didn't care if their love making has been heard, or observed by anyone; with her enormous breasts people might think it's some sort of stunt anyway. Her lips found Chat's and she tasted a new flavour, a sweet one that sent shivers down her spine, when she realised what it was, and she understood at once why Chat was so desperate to milk her.

The same flurry of kisses that drove her to her peak didn't stop, as Chat made sure to pepper her breasts with as many of those as possible, at the same time giving her ample time to recover from her equally explosive orgasm.

And as her mind, hazed by pleasure, slowly returned to reality, a new plan formed in her head, and with a quick, but difficult to pull off maneuver - a drawback of the new addition to her body - she rolled and pinned Chat to the ground, much to his surprise.

- My lady?

Chat's ears perked up when he saw her move along his naked body, leaving a trail of kisses as well as her milk along it. And when she reached her destination, she shot him with a mischievous, sly smirk that would have turn his legs to jelly if he wasn't downed already.

Her delicate fingers closed around his half-lips cock, bringing his sensitive tip to her mouth, and as her lips brushed his skin, it twitched satisfyingly in her hand, signalling he was ready again.

- You just lay there, kitty, and let me take care of you...

Marinette's soft, velvety voice, spiked with just a trace of lust worked its magic on Chat right away. Though Marinette might have been surprised by the sudden changes to her body, the superheroine adapted to them at once and decided to put them to good use. Her voluptuous, wobbly breasts engulfed Chat's hard cock, as Marinette proceeded to give her first tit-job of her life, given that now she had proper equipment for it.

As Chat got lost in her ample bosom, he threw his head back, filling the air around them with low purr of delight, followed by prolonged moan when Ladybug's mouth met with his cock's head upon her first bob. it was equally fascinating for Marinette to watch as Chat's length is enveloped by her breasts, and how she can now stimulate far more of him than when her mounds were small an perky.

She had to keep an eye on his legs that twitched with every few seconds in response to her caresses. Chat's claws closed around the nearest edges, after frantically trying to find one to push away his oncoming climax, and his slim, but muscular torso arched from time to time, in sync with Marinette pushing her massive breasts up and down.

To make things a bit varied, she slowed down her moves, replacing them with a bit of her tongue-work, much to Chat's delight. Marinette could distinguish her name being muttered by her lover, begging her to finish her love torture, but the superheroine had none of that. While she was certain Chat would love nothing more than jump to his knees and face-fuck her, she wanted to prolong his pleasure as much as she could, knowing full well of the building and boiling climax in his loins.

As her tongue ran around his head, Marinette had to steer away to taste her own body, still covered with traces of milk she was leaking, and when the same tongue returned to his tool, Chat moaned again, feeling the liquid she was mixing with his pre-cum, almost as if he could taste it again. Once more he was privileged to see how the once-shy superheroine pushed her limit of perversion with a kink neither of them expected to enjoy an hour earlier.

And it was that knowledge (combined with her dedication to bring Chat to climax, as she started bobbing her breasts up and down again), that drove Chat to his edge, turning his moans incomprehensible begging only Marinette could understand and reply to. She waited until Chat's eyes would meet her again, and spoke to him taking breaks from kissing his swollen tip ready to burst.

- You, kitty - she started - You like my milk... But I...

She pressed her hands against her breasts, wanting to completely envelop Chat's cock between her massive breasts.

- ...I prefer cream.

A loud, yet weak cry of defeat escaped Chat's lips at the same time as first rope of cum flew from his swollen tip, landing straight across Ladybug's face, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily, though she opened them a second later, just so she can marvel at Chat's virility.

Just as second rope of cum was about to decorate her face, Marinette opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, inviting Chat to change his aim, though with his cock still engulfed by her breasts, she was much in control of the trajectory, and with some difficulties, she has managed to fill her mouth with the thick, sticky seed, getting the first sniff of the pungent and aggressive, but alluring taste and smell of her lover.

Three more streams of his cum landed in Marinette's lips, before her treatment has emptied Chat's balls, and the heroine could swallow the veritable pool of Chat's cream sitting in her mouth. She did it without breaking the eye contact with him, making sure he'd hear the guttural, gulping noises as his essence travelled down her throat, his warmth, taste and smell lingering far longer thanks to its consistency. He must have been saving for days...

But that wasn't complete end of Chat's climax; long after he stopped supplying Marinette with his seed, he withdrew from between the heavenly trap of her breasts, and another strands of his seed adorned them, prompting Marinette to perform action she wasn't able before, due to how much bigger and more supple her breasts have become. She pushed her breasts just up enough so she can lick off each and every drop of cum Chat left, as if it was the most delicious meal she wouldn't let go to waste. And the sight of expression on Chat's face was a reward already, aside of the familiar, musky aftertaste that reminded Marinette who has just marked her as his. Not to mention that as she squeezed her breast, Chat's essence mixed with her milk, adding a new taste of sweetness to his salty one.

Marinette revelled in the overwhelming storm of tastes that filled her mouth, and that indulgence gave Chat opportunity to counter-attack. Though he was pressed to the ground by her body and her breasts that now were a significant part of it, the superhero easily rolled her to her back, his head already back between her mounds, licking the milk that has managed to leak during his climax.

- I'd say that's a tie, my lady. - Of course you'd say that. - Marinette chuckled - You just want to get comfy and drink milk, and I just happen to have what you need...

In response, Chat let out a soft purr, as he nuzzled himself into Marinette's breasts, never taking eyes from his lover. Marinette reached and toyed with his untidy golden hair, and her charming smile managed to lure him from between her breasts for another long-needed kiss.

And just when she thought she would be given some time to relax, Chat Noir yanked her legs upwards, pressing them against her body, trapping her enlarged breasts between them, squishing them even more, which made them appear even larger.

- Sorry, Ladybug, but you are just too appetising to not ravish...

Marinette yelped when Chat's hard cock entered her again, and she felt Chat's delicious weight on top of her. She knew her new form would drag a very primal string in his masculine mind, and she did not object when he jumped to his feet and pushed her into a mating press, ready to engage in deeply animalistic form of love making.

His hips worked twice as hard than previously, wanting to reach as far into her throbbing, needy sex as possible, and while he was leaning over her, he was given once more chance to taste her delicious milk, each time he plunged himself inside her.

Ladybug's legs dangled above their heads, in sync of his ravenous thrusts, and as Marinette met his eyes, she had no doubts what drove him into his frenzied state. She knew that her kwami chose to make her look like a perfect mating partner, and that Chat was making sure there was enough milk for his kittens...

Their frantic bucking lasted shorter than they expected, but the same, wild thought they shared pushed them over the edge at the same time. Chat grabbed her thick thighs, buried his face between her breasts that erupted with milk, and in turn flooded her once more with his virile seed, bringing their shared fantasy to completion.

Chat collapsed on top of her, landing his head across Laybug's vast breasts, once more basking in their sweet glory. When their lips met again, they could both taste it, and the two lovers fell into a tight embrace.

The two were blissfully unaware that in the mean time the sun has gone down, but that only meant there will be less light for onlookers to catch them.

=====================

Standing by the kitchen counter, Marinette concentrated on making another batch of freshly baked sweets, so then they can be ready in an hour or so when the bakery opens. It was the quiet before the storm, but Marinette enjoyed those early morning hours... especially when she had someone to help her.

Adrien sneaked up behind his girlfriend, peppering her exposed neck with kisses, while his hands gently travelled up and down her waist, though once he saw what she's been making this whole time, his caresses stopped,and he let out a satisfying purr. On the counter lay several, hemispherical pastries, glazed in white marzipan, each adorned with a candied cherry on top, and the longer Adrien stared at them, the more he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

- Well, our adventure has certainly given you some inspiration, Marinette. Your original design? - I wish. - Marinette snickered - Those are called Saint Agatha's breasts, it's an old, Italian treat.

She handed him one, watching as his fingers dance on the shiny surface.

- It does remind me of what happened yesterday, though... - Adrien smiled, before taking a bite of the sugary coating. - I might have double-glazed them just like you did me.

Marinette brought her finger to his mouth to collect a small crumble of marzipan stuck to his lips, and predictably, her boyfriend wasn't just ravenous for sweets, as he quickly licked her finger clean too.

- Adrien! - Marinette pulled back and rushed to the sink - Warn me next time... - Okay, here's a warning..

Adrien chuckled, closing his arms around her belly once more. He sneaked his mouth to her neck, while his arms separated, each travelling closely to one of her erogenous zones. His left hand dived underneath her apron and tried getting into her panties, while the right one caressed her perky breasts, and as soon as his fingers began toying around her nipples, Marinette addressed something that has been on her mind.

- You miss them, don't you? - You know that I love you exactly the way you are... - Adrien answered tactfully - Don't lie, kitty - Marinette interrupted him. - You are, alas, only a man, therefore, I know you liked when my rack was three times the size of my current one. - Fine, if you want to, then I will say it - he kissed her neck - But just because I had more of you to love. Is it okay if I admit that I do slightly miss them? - If you'll keep finishing inside me, like yesterday, then I can assure you, you'll get them back very soon...

Marinette yelped, when his hands travelled back to her hips and spun her around in place, but once she met his face, she closed her arms behind his neck without missing a beat, just in time for his comeback.

- Is that a warning, or an invitation?

Adrien raised his brow, watching as her face reddened.

- Tell you what, I'm gonna finish in five minutes, and we might find out. - If you'll wear this apron then I will finish in five minutes... - Adrien!

#miraculust #mlnsfw #ladynoir #adrinette #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

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snowdice · 4 years

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The Things We Never Mentioned (Part 2 of 3)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: Logan, Patton, Remy

Summary:

“Believe it or not, academia and relationships are not mutually exclusive.” That was likely true, Logan knew. It was also not the problem.

The problem was his ability to move things with his mind, a blue suit he kept in his bag, and the mountains of red files he kept hidden in his apartment. No one knew that Logan was Bluebird, the cities resident superhero. He hadn’t even told his parents and he wasn’t planning on doing so. Sharing such a secret with anyone was a danger to everyone involved. He refused to do so.

At the same time, he knew that starting a romantic relationship with anyone who didn’t know the truth, was unfair to that person. Inevitably they would find out and there would be a disastrous fallout, but beyond that, starting a relationship on a foundation of lies was a horribly cruel thing to do to another person.

These two conflicting rules Logan followed had never posed an issue for him before recently, but…

But he did like Patton.

This is a three-shot dealing with events set before my story Sometimes Labels Fail set about a month and a half after the mini fics A Coffee Shop Meet Cute and A Coffee Shop Incident Report.

Notes: Superhero AU, Surgery, Medical Procedures

Fair warning, I found while writing this that I actually have no idea how emergency surgery works and so had to boldly guess.

Things to not have be your last line of a chapter if you’re an Emergency Room surgeon “I’ll, um, see you later. Probably not today, but later.”

Things to not have be your last line of a chapter if you’re a secret superhero “Somebody kill me.”

Part 1

It was calm night at work. Which, Remy thought with a wince, was probably not a good thing to think when one worked in an ER. He’d definitely just jinxed it. If some vengeful god decided to crash a bus of innocent people because Remy dared to have the thought that it was a slow night, then that god was an asshole and Remy refused to feel guilty about it.

Remy had only been working in this ER for a few months, but he’d already gotten a feel for how things worked on most nights. It was only about 9pm, but Remy knew he had a long night ahead of him and there was a nice break in his duties, so he was gallivanting off to the break room to snag himself a cup of coffee (the break room coffee was horrible, but it was a necessity) when the city alarms went off.

Most places had televisions set up so people could see the drama unfolding when supervillains attacked the city, but the Emergency Room had one in just about every room that staff frequented which were linked with the alarms so they turned on automatically when the alarm sounded. The staff had to be prepared for the possible influx of patients after all. So, Remy got a first-row seat to the newest super powered fist fight.

The scene on the screen was a fight between two very well-known supers. The villain, Telemonger had been around for almost a decade at this point. She had telekinesis and had a tendency to show up to cities and rain down destruction. She was an A level B in Remy’s book.

The hero, Bluebird, had the same powers but was much newer. He’d only been on the scene for a little over two years, but he was pretty good and had a good standing in the city he protected. People loved him. Beyond the fact that statistically the body counts when he was the one fighting were the lowest in the country, he also just seemed like an okay dude to most people, Remy included. Superheroes weren’t always as heroic as people would wish and sometimes it seemed like they were more going out for notoriety than a desire to help people. Bluebird, on the other hand, didn’t seem to give a flying fuck about statues, keys to the city, hero turf wars, or publicity stunts. Remy could respect that.

So, someone might forgive the nurse if he felt a little nervous about the fight where for most matchups, he’d just be eating popcorn and hoping civilians didn’t die.

They were on the outskirts of the city near the six-lane highway coming into town, both hovering only slightly off the ground and facing each other. The cause of the conflict was clear. There was a passenger train hovering over Telemonger’s head. There wasn’t a train track anywhere near that location, so Remy imagined the people on that train were having quite the fucking day. Bluebird was clearly saying something to her, but this part of town wasn’t set up for this sort of drama and news casters were desperately trying to get the cameras and the long distant microphones working so Remy couldn’t understand what he was saying.

He did, however, very easily understand the response.

She tossed the train right toward the highway. It slowed in midair and stopped only a few feet from crashing on top of the turbine interchange. Remy winced in sympathy. He had never used telekinetic powers himself, but he knew enough theory. Bluebird was strong and had clear potential to get stronger, but he was relatively unpracticed and that had to be quite the strain. While he was distracted, Telemonger sent a piece of concrete directly at his unprotected stomach. He was bowled over by it. Remy could see the train shudder in the air, but somehow it remained there instead of crushing the cars beneath it. Telemonger waved her arm at his face and there was nothing the eye could see, but by the way Bluebird went careening backwards onto the ground, Remy could guess the strength of the hit. The train still didn’t fall though, and she landed to stalk forward toward him with focused intensity.

Oh, Remy realized with sudden clarity. She was here for Bluebird, wasn’t she? This was targeted. As Remy said, he had clear potential and a hero’s will. She was here to nip that in the bud. She didn’t give two shits about the civilians. They were tools for her to get to Bluebird because she knew they weren’t tools to him.

Bluebird suddenly shot straight up in the air flying fast enough that the cameras set to focus on him couldn’t track him. The train was jerked up suddenly and moved a good distance away from the highway over a field before being let down gently.

Telemonger chased after him, tossing ripped up concrete and other objects at him while he did his best to dodge. One he managed to catch as it zoomed by him and redirect in a circle to whip back at her. She just barely dodged. She appeared to grow frustrated with that and spread out her arms before clapping her hands hard in a move Remy recognized from news casts. A wave of force slammed into Bluebird, but Bluebird did something Remy and surely Telemonger had not been expecting. Instead of getting distracted cushioning his own fall, his own hand lashed out and, distracted, she went flying. Telemonger’s head slammed against one of the interstate ramps and she fell. She did not get up.

It had been a decision, clear as day. Remy could see it. She could have easily won that fight and when she did, she would have hurt people. Bluebird had seen an opportunity to take her out. He took it.

Bluebird hit the ground, probably not with as much impact as a person without powers would have, but with more force than someone who could fly should have. He also didn’t move after he hit.

It felt like the whole hospital, no, the whole city, went silent for a long moment.

Then, pandemonium.

People started rushing every which way, preparing for the inevitable conclusion of what was still happening on screen as first responders scrambled onto the scene. Remy hadn’t been here long enough to know what to do in this sort of situation and ended up just allowing himself to be pushed out of the way as things were prepped. Somehow all of that pushing managed to get him right smack dab in the middle of everything.

“You!” one of the higher ups said pointing to him. “In trauma room 2. They need a nurse. Now.” And Remy was definitely not going to argue right now. He scrambled to obey.

When he’d gotten in the correct outerwear and washed his hands, he entered the room. There were a couple of people already in the room that Remy vaguely recognized. There was an anesthesiologist and a surgical tech prepping the room as well as a surgeon. He’d met the surgeon once when he’d given Remy a cookie a couple months before. By reputation, Remy knew that, despite being pretty young, barely older than Remy himself, he was probably one of the best surgeons in the emergency room that night.

“Good,” Dr. Sanders said when he saw Remy come in. He did not look like the friendly, bubbly man who had offered Remy food and a smile. He looked serious, calm, and ready for whatever life could throw at him. “If he’s conscious at all when he gets here, get any information you can,” he told Remy and oh, oh shit. Was this what Remy thought this was?

Well, he couldn’t chicken out now.

He nodded at the doctor and the doctor nodded back before turning to the surgical tech and continuing to help prep everything right.

It was probably less than a minute later when the patient arrived. Bluebird was wheeled in by two other nurses and someone who seemed to be a first responder judging by the uniform.

“I’m with the mask,” the first responder said. She was an older lady with a serious face.

“Get washed up in there,” Dr. Sanders said pointing, “there’s scrubs and a window. Everyone else non-essential out.”

She nodded and rushed over to the indicated room. Being ‘with the mask’ meant she was one of the first people on the scene and was responsible for making sure the superhero wouldn’t be unmasked in medical procedures. It was called the masking courtesy and while all medical professionals were supposed to adhere to it, not everyone could be trusted to do so. She’d made the choice to take on the legal responsibility to protect Bluebird’s identity until such a time as he could make decisions himself or was dead.

Oh god. Remy really hoped not dead. The bitch had probably just saved the city from being razed down and eaten pavement for his efforts. Remy didn’t particularly want to watch him die after that.

He could feel the first responder’s eyes drilling into his back as he approached Bluebird, and he very carefully kept his hands far away from his face and in view of the window. Bluebird’s eyes flickered to him when Remy leaned over him a bit. He was still conscious, but it seemed just barely. “Hey buddy,” Remy said. “We’re going to let you sleep in a minute, but I need you to stay awake for me for just a bit. We don’t have any medical history for obvious reasons and I’m not going to ask you who you are, but is there anything we need to know? Allergies, blood conditions, stuff like that?”

Bluebird thought about it for a long moment and Remy wasn’t sure if he was going to get a response. “No,” he finally gritted out, his voice clearly pained.

“Okay that’s good. We’re going to take care of all of that okay. We’ll fix you up. You know what’s happening? We’re going to have to do some surgery”

“Yes,” he said. “You have my permission.”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” Remy said. Apparently, those words had taken a lot out of him because his eyes started to drift closed. “Hey, hey, come back for a sec. Do you know your blood type?”

There was a slow blink and his eyes didn’t focus, but he still said, “A positive.”

“Possible drugs in your system?”

No response. He was still awake, but he wasn’t fully aware.

“Hey buddy, stay with me.”

“…No.”

“A DNR?”

“No.”

The first responder had gotten all washed up and was in scrubs. She came back over to them. Remy gave her a tight nod. “I think we’re good to go,” Remy said. At least as much as they could be.

“We’re going to get you started on some pain meds now,” the anesthesiologist told Bluebird. He made a sound in response to the new voice, but he seemed to not be quite all there anymore even before the drugs started to hit his system.

Dr. Sanders finished whatever prep he’d been doing and came back over to lean over and address the superhero. “Hello I-” but he was interrupted when Bluebird’s eyes managed to focus on his face

“Patton?” Bluebird slurred, eyebrows crinkling in confusion as he blinked up blearily. “Why are you a doctor?”

Dr. Sanders went still. Remy went still. Everyone in the room went still. He didn’t know, clearly, Remy thought. Whoever the man was behind the mask, Dr. Sanders knew him, but he didn’t know he knew him.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heart monitor.

“This,” Dr. Sanders said softly, but there was something hard and deadly in his tone, “never leaves this room.” He looked up and met each of their eyes one by one. “If it does, I will personally make sure your life is ruined.” Remy believed him.

The anesthesiologist nodded, fear in her eyes and Remy followed suit along with the surgical tech. The first responder pressed her lips together and inclined her head. Dr. Sanders took a breath to steel himself. “Then we have a surgery to perform.”

No one in that room ever said a word about that night to each other or anyone else (at least not for many, many years and even then it was only Remy and the surgeon with the superhero himself in the room). Yet, Remy found himself eating lunch with the surgical tech often over the years to come and always got a birthday card from the anesthesiologist once she’d moved away. They all showed up at the first responder’s retirement party a few years later and her funeral a few years after that. As for the man who was called “Patton” by a man in a mask that night, well, Remy would find, he ended up knowing him very well.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 2 Part 3

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #logicality #relabeled; refiled #labeled universe #adriana writes #medical #surgery #drugs for medical purposes

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neuxue · 4 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 2

Perrin and Galad deal with leadership and its consequences, and I continue to not deal with the narrative conspiring to make me like Galadedrid Damodred.

Chapter 2: Questions of Leadership

With a title like that, this can only be a Perrin chapter.

Because average leader questions himself 10 times per book factoid actually just statistical error. Wolfbrother Perrin, who lives in a tent and questions himself 1000 times per book is an outlier and should not have been counted.

And that might be a new low for this liveblog, which is saying something.

A few days ago, the pervasive cloud cover had turned black, darkening like the advent of a horrible storm.

Luckily for you and the rest of existence, that particular meteorological phenomenon masquerading as a man decided against total annihilation of everything. *shakes head* Weather forecasts. Can’t trust ‘em.

(The science nerd in me now wants to write, like, a short story or something in the form of a journal article called Impact of localised heroic systems on global atmospheric chemistry and I think perhaps this is a tangent).

Anyway, we are indeed with Perrin, who’s been having a great time lately dealing with mud and plague. Yes, well, aren’t we all.

Both Asha’man had nearly died

Yeah well they’re used to that by now, surely. All in the job description.

Perrin you’ve had a month to work on that blacksmith’s puzzle in your pocket and you haven’t solved it? Just – give it to me. There. Solved.

(I used to love these puzzles. Haven’t come across one in ages though.)

Perrin’s taking in refugees because either he’s lying through his teeth or he’s ta’veren enough to slightly counteract Rand’s spoil-everything-edible influence, maybe.

He had bigger worries to bother him, not the least of which were his strange dreams. Haunting visions of working the forges and being unable to create anything of worth.

Is this the blacksmith equivalent of dreaming you’re suddenly sitting an exam you’ve not studied for, and also you’re naked?

Moving so many refugees was slow, even discounting the bubble of evil and the mud.

Hey at least you’re not also dealing with border walls and immigration control.

Everything took longer than he expected, including getting out of Malden.

Oh, TELL ME ABOUT IT. Me? Still bitter about the Malden plotline? Whatever made you think that?

All in all it seems like a pretty standard Tuesday for Perrin: slogging through mud, questioning his ability to be a great leader (not to be confused with the Great Leader), and trying to keep four nations’ worth of soldiers and refugees away from each other’s throats. Only one we’ve not ticked off the list yet is denying his wolfpowers, but there’s still time.

“Find out where they’re from, learn whether they did serve a lord, see if they can add anything to the maps.”

In which Perrin Aybara invents the census.

Oh hey! The road’s getting less muddy! Which is definitely not symbolic or anything.

“Where are the others?”

“They went on ahead, my Lord,” Fennel said, bowing from horseback. “I volunteered to stay behind, for when you caught up. We needed to explain, you see.”

I’m sorry, hold the phone, forward-thinking and communication – a plan specifically about communicating, even – all in one statement? Well. You know the apocalypse is coming when.

So everyone Perrin sent ahead has taken a detour because there’s mud up ahead, which may be the Pattern’s way of saying ‘we’re running out of time can you please just go where I need you for once’ or may just be bog-standard (see what I did there) geology and meteorology, but will, if the glimpses of Perrin through Rand’s special colour vision last book is anything to go by, result in a collision course for Perrin and Galad, which I’m… weirdly looking forward to.

“But from the look of things here, you decided to bring the entire town with you!”

Think bigger, Fennel. ‘Nation’ bigger, at the least. More likely plural.

Perrin does briefly consider splitting the party army nation(s) at his back, but the Shaido are conveniently in the way so instead I suppose they’ll all just make their way, amoeba-like, to wherever they can engulf Galad’s own group. Or be engulfed by. Alliance, phagocytosis; to-may-to, to-mah-to…

No I’m not sure where I was going with that either. Moving on…

He himself could Travel back to Rand, pretend to make up – most people would still think that he and Rand had parted ways angrily

This strikes me as being strangely sad, and I’m trying to figure out why. Maybe it’s because there’s a secondary reading of this which is that their ‘making up’ would be as much a pretence as their ‘fight’ because both of those have friendship as a prerequisite, and are they even friends anymore after all this time and all that has happened and all that lies between them?

Especially because, in terms of timelines, right now-for-Perrin, Rand is… not really in a place to be anyone’s friend.

I wonder, though, because I’m a terrible person who finds opportunities for Suffering even in things that should be entirely free of it, whether Rand-after-Dragonmount is in a better place to be anyone’s friend. I think yes, because that was very much the point, but I feel like there’s a bittersweet potential to it where ascendance is just as bad as damnation for maintaining a normal social life.

Or, less flippantly, there’s a strange loneliness to the messiah’s role, to being a force of nature and a champion of fate as much as or more than a man. He is known to all and all look to him and he stands, surrounded, at the centre, and he has learned to see the hope and promise in that rather than just the despair but there is still the sense of being alone on a mountain, alone on a pedestal, existing alone on a level that is not quite human but not quite divinity, touching all but no longer, quite, as a peer. Forces of nature don’t have best friends, even if they turn towards benevolence.

I mean, I’m spitballing here, because I’ve seen exactly one chapter of Rand-after-Dragonmount, and in fairness he seemed at peace with himself and his role now, but I still can’t help but wonder. And by wonder I mean wish. Because see above re: Suffering.

I guess mostly what I’m looking for is something along the series-standard line of you can’t go back, you can only go forward. And even when forward is better, even when forward is healing, even when forward is hope, it’s not the same as what you had or who you were before, and sometimes there is a sadness to that.

Sorry, this is a Perrin chapter and here I am going on about Rand, but I just… like thinking about all the friendships and relationships between all these characters, and how they change over time, and how those ties can be so altered and sometimes strained and yet even then they can also be what saves them all.

(“My best friend turned into the world.” “That’s rough buddy.”)

Faile was back now, and it appeared that his truce with Berelain was over.

NO.

*throws book at wall*

WHY. Damn it I was so glad when that finally died and Perrin and Berelain got to just work together and appreciate each other’s competence! Why must we return to this? Don’t you know that you can’t go back; you can only go forwards? WHY THIS. WHY ME.

The Prophet was dead, killed by bandits. Well, perhaps that was a fitting end for him, but Perrin still felt he’d failed.

Probably just because he doesn’t know that Masema was Faile-d.

I’m sorry. I’ll see myself out.

(That’s a lie; you’re just going to have to put up with me and my bad puns for at least another book).

His duty was done, the Prophet seen to, Alliandre’s allegiance secure. Only, Perrin felt as if something were still very wrong. He fingered the blacksmith’s puzzle in his pocket. To understand something… you have to figure out its parts…

Because you’ve only done the middlegame part of your duty, Perrin! You still have to get ready for the ending! And that means… *dramatic hammerstroke* forging. But, you know, metaphorically.

Perrin feels awkward around Faile now because when you’ve focused your entire life and self and nation, waking and sleeping, on achieving a single goal, and rewritten your entire world around that goal, and then you do achieve it, it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with the reality of having achieved it, of having that person back at your side but an emptiness ahead of you where the idea of them once occupied everything. Or at least that’s my suspicion but Perrin when this is all over you may want to, I don’t know, talk to someone about it.

Seriously, a qualified therapist could make a killing setting up shop in this world.

“I should start turning them away.”

“I suspect they’d find their way back to our force anyway.”

“Why should they? I could leave orders.”

“You can’t give orders to the Pattern itself, my husband.”

Perrin: “WATCH ME.”

Maybe you could ask Rand to, as a favour? He seems to be on good terms with the Pattern these days. Er. These days in his timeline, I mean.

Yes, Perrin, this is you being ta’veren. Or have you been living under a rock for the last several books? Denial’s not going to last you much longer.

“And so coopers learn the sword,” Faile said, “and find they have a talent for it. Masons who never thought of fighting back against the Shaido now train with the quarterstaff.”

It’s such a ploughshares-to-swords image, and I still just love the way this is how Perrin’s ta’veren-ness manifests specifically: the one who was so careful lest he hurt someone, the one who tries so hard to deny his capacity for anger and ferocity, the one drawn to the Way of the Leaf and a dream of peace, is the one to cause that rippling of peace into war, farmers into soldiers, a quiet nation into a waiting army.

Because on one level there’s the sadness of it, of the only one who returns home bringing that home back out into the world with him and leaving it forever changed, of the one who wants gentleness rousing a people to follow and fight… but even that then ties into the deeper issue of acceptance. Of realising that the potential has always been there – for a ploughshare to be a sword or a blacksmith to be a warrior, or a man to be a wolf or a town to be an army – and that drawing that potential out and allowing it to exist and be used doesn’t negate what was there before. That man and wolf can coexist, that anger does not preclude gentleness, that fighting a war for survival does not negate the hope, one day, of peace.

And so Perrin’s ta’veren power becomes almost another level in playing out what he will eventually need to accept about himself. Just as Rand’s darkness and then light spread out to touch the world around him, it’s as if Perrin’s lack of acceptance of aspects of himself keep these people from truly coming together (the dreams of forging things that don’t come out right), whereas if he can accept what he is, and accept all parts of himself, forge them into unity, then the part of the world he affects – the people who follow him – will be forged together as well.

At least he acknowledges to himself that Faile’s right about this one. That’s a good step.

“Once we have gateways again, I’ll send these people to their proper places. I’m not gathering an army.”

Sigh. Or not. Two steps forward, one step back.

Understand the metal and the tools and the puzzle in your hands, Perrin. Look at what you have. Not at what you wish you had, or think you should have. Look at what the pieces can and need to be made into, rather than forcing them into what you want them to be made into.

“A man’s got to see a thing for what it is. No sense in calling a buckle a hinge or calling a nail a horseshoe.”

The hilarious thing here is that he’s making my point, whilst thinking he’s disproving it. Because Perrin, seeing a thing for what it is means looking at all these people around you and realising you’re their leader and they’re following you and you’re headed for Tarmon Gai’don. No sense calling a buckle a hinge, or an army a random group of refugees. (Well, they are that, too. But if you try to return them home now, soon they will have no home at all).

I do appreciate that he sees and acknowledges some of his flaws from when Faile was gone. He’s a little too hard on himself in places, and misses out others, but it’s a kind of humility and self-awareness and ability to recognise where he could be better that I like.

“It’s not [Berelain’s] fault,” Perrin said. If I’d been able to think of it, I’d have stopped the rumours dead. But I didn’t. Now I’ve got to sleep in the bed I made for myself.”

Perhaps not quite the idiom I’d have chosen in this particular instance, Perrin, but…

When she’d been a captive, nothing had mattered to him but recovering her. Nothing. It didn’t matter who had needed his help, or what orders he’d been given. […]

He realised now how dangerous his actions had been. Trouble was, he’d take those same actions again. He didn’t regret what he’d done, not for a moment.

Well… partial credit for self-awareness, I suppose?

Frustrating as this is, though, it also feels quite realistic. And there’s a certain kind of maturity in the devastating honesty it takes to look at something you’ve done and say ‘I shouldn’t have done that, but in the same situation I’d make those same choices again’. Even if it’s a mistake, being able to acknowledge that about yourself is… impressive.

You couldn’t make a drawknife into a horseshoe by painting it, or by calling it something different.

Yeah, and you can’t make a ta’veren lord, leader, wolfbrother, and warrior back into a simple blacksmith’s apprentice boy by sheer force of denial, but don’t let that stop you.

“I’ve been thinking on this for the last few weeks, and – odd though it seems – I believe my captivity may have been precisely what we needed. Both of us.”

*throws book against wall and lets out an Elayne-like scream of pure rage*

ARGH.

WHY.

‘It’s fine, Perrin, you see I actually think it’s good that I was just used as a plot device to further your character development because I was tossed a bit of character development as a last-minute consolation prize, so really it’s all good!’

Sigh. Okay. I mean, in-story and in-character… I get it. It’s over now, it’s past, and they’re both trying to move on, and Faile has always been one to try to find a pragmatic angle – even an optimistic one – on a situation. And she’s strong enough to say this and make it sound (almost) believable. To look back on harsh lessons learned in harsher circumstances and appreciate the fires that forged her.

Which of course puts me in mind of Rand and his if a sword had memory, it might be grateful to the forge fire, but never fond of it ‘gratitude’ towards his imprisonment in Far Madding, but with Rand and that thought, we are given fairly obvious narrative cues that point to ‘yikes, Rand, that’s maybe not the healthiest of responses to trauma’, and we know full well that we’re not supposed to think ‘ah, yes, being locked in a cell with his worst nightmares was good for his character development so everything’s fine’. (Which is not to say we can’t enjoy it, because sometimes you just want to see your favourite character broken and bleeding and chained to a wall, but that’s uh. Neither here nor there).

But here, it’s as if we’re supposed to take Faile at face value. As if we’re supposed to nod and think ‘yeah, actually, that probably wasn’t fun but it was What She Needed’ (which… wow that is an entire pile of yikes, because yes, what a female character in this genre needs is to be held captive and sexually coerced and deprived of all agency… is maybe not a point you want to be making?). It feels like trying to hang a lampshade on that travesty of a plotline and say ‘but look! It brought them both character development! So it’s fine!’

Anyway I’m still just bitter about the way Faile has been used as a plot device for Perrin’s character development across the last few books, and this… while entirely understandable from a character and story perspective, from an external perspective feels like salt in the damn wound.

Moving on.

To Galad, apparently.

Galad who is bound and in pain after being tortured. I’m listening.

(Why am I like this)

All was dark around him, but pinprick lights shone in the sky. Stars? It had been overcast for so long.

Huh. There’s something almost sweet about how closely this echoes that chapter in TGS when Gawyn is wishing he could see the stars. I mean I’m certain it’s not actually intentional because it’s a spurious connection at best, but it’s just a kind of sweet-sad note of similarity between two brothers who haven’t seen each other since they both got lost trying to find their way, and are still trying and wishing, just for a moment, for the stars for guidance.

They’re not actually stars, just pinpricks in the tent, but that’s beside the point.

What’s not beside the point is the inventory of Galad’s wounds because honestly, it’s as if everything from then he did dance, all his grace turned in an instant to fluid death onwards has been a targeted attack on me as a person by going down a list of all the things I like to see in a character and going ‘do you like him now? What about now? What about now?’ and I’m mad about it.

Galad did not fear death or pain. He had made the right choices. It was unfortunate that he’d needed to leave the Questioners in charge; they were controlled by the Seanchan. However, there had been no other option, not after he’d walked into Asunawa’s hands.

I’m not sure why I find it so fitting that Galad’s experience at Asunawa’s hands is not unlike Morgase’s in the end, but something about it just works for me. There’s a whole set of connections here that this bookends, between the two of them and their fall from and rise to power, and choices, and Valda and Asunawa and the Seanchan, and for whatever reason it feels satisfying to have this coming to an end much like it began. Though Galad is spared Morgase’s…………… choice. But I suppose there’s almost an irony here in him avenging Morgase in one way but then sharing her fate in another.

Or maybe it’s just back to the classic ‘I like fictional characters in pain’.

Soon the Questioners would come for him, and then the true price for saving his men would be exacted with their hooks and knives. He had been aware of that price when he’d made his decision. In a way, he had won, for he had manipulated the situation best.

STOP. TRYING. TO. MAKE. ME. LIKE. GALAD. DAMODRED.

I just. Damn it. This is such a good look! And yet it’s Galad!

Standing, beaten but unflinching, determined and himself, ready to face whatever they do to him. Well. That’s how Morgase began, too.

Oh hey it’s his friends! Which means probably no more torturing of Galad, which is kind of a shame (I’m sorry), but is also not entirely unexpected.

Oh wow Asunawa’s dead. Okay. Can’t say he’ll be missed, though it’s just a shame Morgase didn’t get to kill either him or Valda herself. Ah well, can’t have everything.

And it wasn’t Galad’s men who killed him, so now he has won the Questioners to him as well. Questions of Leadership indeed. I see what you did there.

It is an interesting contrast in this chapter, to watch Perrin constantly second-guessing or trying to deny his leadership, set against Galad just… accepting his.

I will give Galad this: he has won his leadership by being entirely and unrelentingly himself, and true to his convictions, and standing, despite everything thrown at him, despite the corruption around him, as a determined and unassailable symbol of what the Children of the Light should be. What they can be. He doesn’t try to steal power, doesn’t outright challenge their ways; he just leads quite literally by sheer force of example.

Galad nodded. “You accept me as Lord Captain Commander?”

But also, I just have to remind everyone that he’s buck-ass naked throughout this entire scene, and some juvenile part of me finds that absolutely hilarious.

“We were forced to kill a third of those who wore the red shepherd’s crook of the Hand of the Light.”

What a pity. No, really. I’m weeping. How sad. Terrible.

None of them asked whether he needed rest, though Trom did look worried.

Again! Characters beaten and exhausted and hiding their pain in order to just move forward is a whole Thing, and putting that on Galad and throwing it at me is just unfair.

Galad didn’t feel wise or strong enough to bear the title he did. But the Children had made their decision.

The Light would protect them for it.

(The fact that ‘Galad’ means ‘light’ in Sindarin is just an added bonus here, really).

But I like the way his thinking about this runs: he doesn’t feel wise or strong enough, but that’s not the part that matters. The part that matters is that they chose him. As Galad sees it, what makes a leader isn’t what the leader thinks of himself, but merely the fact that others choose to follow.

He is their leader now, and whether he wants to be or not, whether he feels up to it or not, is irrelevant. There’s an interesting question here around choices, and the lack thereof – that he has no choice, in a way, but to lead. Because whether or not he wants to, people have decided to follow him, and so by definition he is their leader now. And so the only thing to do, because it’s the right thing to do, is to lead them as well as he can.

Next (ToM ch 3) Previous (ToM ch 1)

#forever annoyed with Galad #but torture is a good look on him #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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twoflipstwotwists · 4 years

Link

After the postponement of the 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games, many of the gymnasts likely to make up the gold-medal-favorite U.S. women’s squad quickly signaled they planned to press ahead. The superstar of the team, Simone Biles, stayed quiet.

The 23-year-old Biles wrestled for nine days with what to say about the impact of a year-long delay on her plans to defend her Olympic crowns. Now, she almost has an answer.

“We’re just kind of playing it by ear,” she said in an interview with The Wall Street Journal on Wednesday. “I haven’t decided not to do it, but I haven’t really decided to do it.”

Biles said she can’t fully figure out her next move until she’s able to get back in the gym—she is currently sheltering in place at home—and see what it’s like then.

“I really have to listen to my body and my mind,” she said. She added that it would take a lot to be able to push on for longer, given everything she’d already put in, but that she was also reluctant to throw her work away.

Biles has been carrying an extraordinary load for years—often overlooked because of the apparent ease with which she’s defied the boundaries of her sport to come back and then take back-to-back world all-around titles again in 2018 and 2019.

And she had long made it clear to anyone who asked that she was absolutely ready to retire by August 2020. “It’s really in my mind, if I can keep going mentally, because I was already starting to check out,” she said Wednesday.

On top of everything else, she carried the additional burden of being the only self-identified victim of Larry Nassar’s abuse still competing in elite gymnastics, fielding questions and learning more about what had gone wrong at her sport’s governing body USA Gymnastics even as she was preparing to represent them by performing skills that could kill her if they go wrong.

“Mentally I don’t know if I can deal with USAG for another year,” Biles said. “It was hard enough to come back and deal with them again.”

She learned from a Wall Street Journal story last year that she was among the first three athletes who had been flagged to USA Gymnastics officials as being uncomfortable with Nassar, but that the federation did not follow up with her about it. New leaders at the organization have apologized to Biles, but she has continued to criticize them for what she says are other mis-steps.

Biles said that ultimately she had reached her conclusion alone, and without being influenced by anyone else. “Nobody can tell me what to do, I’m 23 years old,” she said.

Still, the hoped-for one-year delay to Tokyo carries higher financial stakes where Simone is concerned. There is a documentary crew trailing her. She is the leading face for some of her sponsors—who include Visa, Nike, gymnastics equipment manufacturer Spieth America and the World Champions Centre gym that her family operates—as well as for the broadcaster NBC, which without a Michael Phelps or a Usain Bolt, lacks household names for these Games.

“It’s your decision to make. You are in charge of this,” Janey Miller, Biles’s agent, said she told her, though she didn’t know how much it registered.

“She has an amazing ability to compartmentalize, but she’s also very aware of the big picture and the magnitude of what she’s taken on,” Miller said.

There’s also the post-Olympics tour that Biles announced last year, effectively seizing control of an event formerly run by USA Gymnastics. Biles said that whatever happened, she was still looking forward to doing that.

The tour will feature her friends, Olympic teammates as well as former collegiate gymnasts, with choreography by the former UCLA coach Val Kondos Field, who made her name by shaking up the rigid styles of elite gymnastics.

Now it will be delayed like the Olympics. Kondos Field said that while the tour didn’t need Biles to have competed at the Tokyo Games, it would certainly matter. Either way, the tour will now still take place just as it would have, a year later. Lee Marshall, the tour producer, said 40 new dates had already been rebooked for next year instead.

Biles had gone back and forth in her mind about what she was going to do about the Games, her coach Cecile Landi said, before texting and then FaceTiming with her Monday about the decision.

Last Tuesday, when the Olympics’ postponement was announced, a very small group of elite gymnasts was still training at the World Champions Centre gym.

Landi said she spoke briefly to everyone about the situation, and then followed up individually with Biles during her workout and stretching. Landi’s husband Laurent, another of Biles’s coaches, talked to her while she was on the uneven bars. Both were trying to make it a low-key chat.

“I told her not to make an emotional decision,” Cecile Landi said. She added: “You don’t have to speak up right away, you don’t have to tell us if you want to do it. You go home, you talk to your family, you talk to yourself… We understand if you want to be done, we understand if you don’t want to be done.”

Biles’s mind seemed to jump from signaling no way, to the idea that she’d put in too much work already to give up now, before swinging back.

By Thursday, the last day before the gymnasts were sent home, Biles was saying she was frustrated by what she was reading on Twitter, especially people suggesting that throwing away months of careful preparation, or readjusting to a new calendar, was no big deal.

“Your brain is wired for that time, and having it shut down, as much as we know why and there was no way we could have gone forward, it hurts,” Landi said.

Time outside of the gym will be painful too, Landi said. Gymnasts come back to sore wrists and shoulders as they go back on their hands after even a week’s break of walking on their feet. Her athletes will not be taking chances by tumbling in their backyards either, she said—even an ankle roll on the grass, she has told them, could add a six-week setback.

An extra year of intensive training is just an extra year of chances for injury in a sport where a two-second turn can change the course of your career. At the same time, she said, Biles has a broken toe that is currently “on and off,” which could benefit from resting.

“I can’t speak on her behalf, but knowing her, there’s no way this is the way she wants to finish her career. But at the same time, it’s a 16-month road from today,” said Landi.

#simone biles

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iwakurodai · 5 years

Text

Angel || Richie Tozier

hello! if this one isn’t good then you can leave me. I haven’t had a good streak with writing in so long. The ending is probably really bad but be gentle, I didn’t know how to continue this let alone end it so the ending seems a bit rushed/way too short! Anyways! I hope you enjoy this imagine to kick off my return to eggytozier

soulmate au where you feel the pain of your destined lover but dont get the wounds/bruises.

requested? nah, just had an idea

warnings? suicide, car wrecks, knives, cursing, death, dead parents, pain, blood, soulmates, bad endings, homophobic slur, and missing children

pairing? Richie Tozier x reader, and a bit of platonic!bill x reader

You met your soulmate when you were only five.

Walking into preschool--hand gripped so very tightly onto your parent’s finger--you stopped at the door way as they spoke to your new teacher. Looking around, your eyes watch the kids chasing each other and knocking stuff over. Your eyes met a small boy that was playing alone, pretending to make food at the play kitchen way across the room. You were about to leave your parents when the teacher kneeled in front of you, distracting you and you forgot about the boy as she introduced herself to you.

Farther along in the day, at recess, you were about to join the boy from before on the swing set until he jumped off and landed wrong. You felt nothing but searing pain in your ankle and you fell to the ground, sobbing, unaware of the boy screeching just a couple yards from you. You found out who he was when you both were carried to the nurses office by the teachers monitoring you.

His name was Taylor James. He was a little blonde boy who spoke a little too quiet and laughed a little too loud. He had a strong interest in cooking after growing up with a chef as a father. He had a stutter and a lisp but you didn’t see the problem.

You two were only five, but since that point of meeting, you two were inseparable.

As years went by, your parents and his became best friends. Taking mementos of you two to look back on when you got married. You two grew up together, not hiding a single thing. Well, it was hard to hide something when you both could feel something was wrong.

Taylor was as quiet as he was in preschool and he was just as sensitive. Which caused him to become an easy target for bullying. You despised the bullies. Every time you saw them you couldn’t help but shout insults and jokes, hoping that they would feel what they did to Taylor. You knew that it wasn’t right but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Taylor being happy.

But, you would never have been prepared for when the accident happened.

You were 10, only five years were spent with Taylor. He was on his way to your house for Easter. You were helping your mother color some eggs when you suddenly dropped to the floor, screaming as if you were being murdered. Tears came out of your eyes like a river, you were barely breathing. A screech coming out of your mouth whenever you could get it out until nothing would come out.

You felt as if your soul had been ripped in two, holding onto each other with thin strings. Your body was cold, freezing to the touch. Your nails digging into your arms but you didn’t feel a single thing. Your whole mind and body were numb, other than the feeling of your whole being, being put through a paper shredder.

It wasn’t until you were sitting against your mother chest, still sobbing, that your dad came home. He had tears in his eyes, his hands were shaking.

Your dad was coming home from buying some candy for you and Taylor when he saw a familiar car fly, headfirst, into a semi truck. He pulled over and ran to the scene, pulling out a phone and calling 911. He was telling the operator where he was when he was stopped cold at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. James, barely even recognizable. Your dad checked the back and was horrified to see little Taylor with a piece of shrapnel lodged into his chest.

Your dad fled, rushing to you as he realized what would happen. He had only read about soulmates dying, but never did he think he--or anyone he knew--would witness it himself. You didn’t feel a thing of the crash. Taylor died on impact. But the feeling of your other half being ripped from life had scarred you to the core.

You went silent, your mouth never opened other than to eat and drink. The trauma of losing someone so close to you had scraped your ability to find the use in talking. Your parents became scared, signing you up for a therapist.

You were only with that therapist for barely half a year before they decided that a change of scenery was better for your health. With that suggestion, you and your family packed up and left your hometown. Driving as far as the family’s minivan could take you.

Which was the small, secluded town of Derry, Maine.

You didn’t go to school until the next year, your parents making sure that all the teachers knew of your problem and wouldn’t force you to do anything.

You weren’t mad or sad or even happy that you had moved. You were just... surviving. You didn’t feel like you needed to feel anything, so you didn’t. In the short year of learning at Derry Middle School, you didn’t make any friends and only gained the attention of Greta Bowie. She took advantage of every time you were alone to bully you. She wanted to tip you over the edge and cause a breakdown. She had found out about your soulmate dying and was making up different scenarios of what could have happened.

“Your little soulmate killed himself because you’re such a fucking disgrace of a human he didn’t want to be with you, didn’t he?”

You pretended to not hear it.

You also gained the attention of a kid named Bill Denbrough. He had a stutter and it reminded you, almost too much, of Taylor. He tried his best to make you comfortable: helping you with work when you seemed to not understand, giving you tips about avoiding Greta and Henry Bowers (who you hadn’t met but made a note of staying away from), and even inviting you to hang out with his friends. You always denied, you didn’t wanna damper their fun.

Bill always shrugged, though, promising to make plans to hang out alone. You always gave him a small smile in response and a pat on the shoulder. You were scared of getting close to him.

It was only a month after meeting Bill that you felt something strange.

You were walking down the hallway, being called to the counselor’s office for your daily meeting, when you felt a strong sense of pain in your stomach. As if you’d been punched. You froze in the middle of the hallway, your mind racing with possibilities.

Taylor? No, you thought, he’s definitely dead. You saw his body in the morgue, in the open casket with his family. He was gone.

Was there a chance that you had gotten a new one? You hadn’t seen anything about gaining a new soulmate after the death of another, but it also wasn’t common to find yours at such a young age, like you.

You got knocked out of your thoughts--literally--when you felt a punch to your face. You dipped your head down, covering your left eye as you head starts to pound fiercely against your eye. Your vision started to blur with tears, a ringing in your ears. You clench your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take a breath and get to the counselor’s office before you started to investigate more.

You asked the counselor about having a new soulmate when you met with her again, of course by writing it down. She pulled out a dirty notebook and flipped a couple pages before reaching her desired spot.

She read to you that soulmates who lose their other half so suddenly and unexpectedly have a chance to gain a new one. It happens so rarely that there had been only two ever cases about it. The universe had a plan, they always planned ahead of time. The universe had a backup when they knew a soulmate was going to die unexpectedly. Meaning that in rare cases, people would be born without a soulmate until they were needed.

When she asked about the sudden curiosity, the bell rang. You ran out of the office and into the crowded halls, to the cafeteria--which you commonly avoided. But, today, you wanted to see Bill. You could see how much mysteries sparked the kid’s interest and you needed help.

You found him pretty easily, he was with his friends. You knew them from Bill pointing them out in the yearbook when he was showing you Henry Bowers. You barely knew their names but that was the least of your concerns. You scrambled in your backpack, finding a piece of paper and a pen. You scrawled the words “I need your help” on it before throwing the pen in your bag and striding up to Bill, confidently.

Ignoring his friends that were silenced with confusion, you shoved the paper in Bill’s face. He grabbed it carefully, reading it slowly.

“Damn Bill, since when did you know the hot new girl?” A kid with glasses exclaimed, smiling at your determined face. “Hi, hotstuff, I’m Richie Tozier, but you can call me your boyfriend!” Richie shoves his hand in your direction. You glance at his hand and then at his face, scrunching your brows together and tilting your head.

“C-c’mon, (Y/N), we-we can go to th-the libr-library,” Bill says, cutting off your introduction to Richie. “I’ll see you-you guys af-after school!” He exclaims, grabbing your wrist and leading you away from his friends.

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t we go?”

“What just happened?”

Bill ignores the three and you two make it out of the loud cafeteria and through the halls until you both finally get to the small school library.

“So, what di-did you need h-hel-help with?” Bill asks, sitting down on a chair. You sit next to him, opening your bag and scrambling for a random notebook. You find one and hurry, rushing out an explanation. When you finish, Bill slides towards him and scans it quickly, mouthing the words as he reads. He looks back to you once he finishes, he was shocked.

He’s never heard of the whole gaining new soulmates thing and he didn’t know what to do. But he wanted to help his friend. “Wh-What do you wa-want me to do? How can I-how c-can I help?” You smile in relief, reaching over and hugging him tightly.

Bill grins widely, hugging you back. It was only the start to a whole new adventure and he was excited to help you figure it out.

You back up from him, blushing in embarrassment before turning back to your notebook and writing something more.

‘Do you have any ideas? All I’ve got is asking around if there’s been a fight.’

Bill hums, racking his brain for ideas. Biting his lip, he looks over at you to see you tapping your pencil on the notebook. “M-Maybe we can my friends i-if they’ve heard of-of any fights re-recently? R-Richie surely knows, i-i-if not then we can ask the r-r-redhead, Beverly, from History c-class.” You nod, accepting the idea.

“Okay, I-I have to go. I’ll meet-meet up with you by the b-bike rack and w-we-we can b-brainst-storm more on the w-way home. Y-You live near the sy-synag-synagogue, right?” After seeing you nod, he smiles. “O-Okay, I’ll w-wa-walk you home. R-R-Remember, by the b-bike rack!” Bill says, leaving you to think to yourself.

I’m scared that if we don’t find my soulmate, I’ll lose them before I could get to know them. You thought to yourself, playing with your pencil. I don’t wanna know that they’re going through pain and I’m not doing anything to help.

But, you didn’t know you were going to have to halt the investigation because less than a month later, Bill’s little brother ended up missing.

You became close to Bill throughout his grieving. You related to him in a way. You both lost someone close to you, for you it might’ve been more painful in the sense of your soul ripping in two, but he lost his little brother. And he thought it was his own fault.

Bill came to you to vent about Georgie. He went through all the stages of grief in front of you. And you were there to help him through it all.

Being close to Bill also meant you became good friends with his. Stan Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie Tozier became a constant in your routine. They didn’t pressure you to speak but they made light hearted jokes about it. You weren’t ever offended, you laughed with them. Richie made the most jokes though. He couldn’t go an hour without shooting a flirty comment at you with a wink. You found it adorably annoying.

Eddie and you became close too. After a freakout with Eddie not trusting any other boys with his extra inhaler, you stepped up and held it for him. You keep it in your bag at all times and when you didn't have your bag, you had it tucked in your pocket. He had a respect for you for putting up with Richie and not managing to smack him. You always shook your head and chuckled at his disbelief.

Stan and you only became close after you found him crying with bruises up and down his arms. You helped him up and led him into your home, holding an ice pack to the worst of them all. Stan had been beaten by Henry Bowers and you caught him after he had ran far enough away to lose them. He gained the smallest crush on you after that, but you didn’t have know that.

You didn’t ever bring up the possibility of having another soulmate to the boys. You didn’t want to stress Bill with his search for Georgie and you didn’t want the other three to ask questions about your first. Though, Richie loved to pester you.

Richie loved to make jokes about being your soulmate, about how you never bring up soulmates because he was already in front of you. You always brushed it off and rolled your eyes at him. But, one day, the jokes seemed to be a reality.

You were walking home from your therapist appointment when you felt something hit the back of your head. You reached up and rubbed at it, groaning about how your soulmate must be in wrestling club with how much fighting he did. As you came across Mr. Keene’s pharmacy to pick up your prescription, you glance down the alleyway.

You almost didn’t catch it but you did a double take and saw Richie struggling against the brick wall as a platinum blonde boy holds him there.

“Let go of me, bleach bottle! I got shit to do!” Richie exclaims, groaning as he tries to pull away from the kid holding him down. You step closer, hiding behind the wall as you watch. You knew you should help, but something was stopping you.

“No, you don’t, trashmouth, not anymore.” You watch as a kid with a blonde mullet stalks towards Richie with something in his hand. “I’m gonna teach you to keep your mouth shut, faggot,” He snarls, clicking a button and showing off the glint of the knife. You gasp quietly, slipping away from the wall to try and stop him. You recognized the mullet from Bill pointing it out in the yearbook. Henry Bowers.

Richie, for once, was shocked silent. His eyes watching as the knife practically glared at him. He swallows thickly as Henry brings the knife close to his face. “You better be happy to welcome a new stamp, Buck Teeth,” Henry mutters, poking the tip of the knife into Richie’s cheek and dragging it slowly across his skin. Richie’s eyes screw shut, gritting his teeth to stop himself from yelling.

You gasp loudly, eyes widening as you spin to press your back to the brick wall. Your hand reaching to press against your cheek, feeling the knife dig into you but not showing any wound. Heat seemed to lick at your cheek, stinging and causing your eyes to water. Taking a couple deep breaths, you press a hand to your chest to calm your heart beat.

“What the fuck was that?” Henry whispers to Victor who shrugs. “Well go fucking check, dipshit!” Victor jumps, letting go to Richie, who falls to the ground. He didn’t dare to get up, knowing that if he did Henry would just find a way to injure him more brutally.

You tense, glancing around before rushing into the store you were hiding in front of. You watched at the bleach blonde looked everywhere before freezing and rushing back to the alleyway. You waited a couple seconds before leaving the store and glancing back where Richie was.

Richie was pushing himself up, holding his cheek with a frown on his face. Henry and the other one, nowhere to be seen. You deem it safe enough to bolt into the alleyway and to Richie who looked up with fright in his eyes before relaxing at the sight of you.

“Hey, dollface! What’s up?” He exclaims, smiling at you while still holding his cheek. He acted like nothing had happened. You stop in front of him and look at him incredulously. Blood was starting to drip from his fingers. “What? Oh, you mean this?” Richie asks, noting your shock. “It’s just a scratch, my dear, no need to worry!” You shake your head, grabbing Richie’s wrist and taking it from his face.

He sucks in a breath, not liking how the cold air felt in his new wound. He didn’t notice how you winced as well. “Yea, okay. Might need a band aid, maybe? Say, where you headed?” Richie asks, suddenly losing interest in the still burning wound. You roll your eyes, pulling him along with you to Keene’s to pick up some supplies.

“Do you think Mama (L/N) will freak about me bleeding out on your kitchen table?” You scoff at Richie’s words, dabbing a wet washcloth on his cheek to clean the blood from around the fresh band aid. “What? You don’t think so? You know your mom loves me, angel!” You freeze at the nickname.

It was new—different from the other pet names he’s given you. You roll your eyes, brushing it off as him just finding a magazine that mentioned it.

“You like that one? I made it up on my own!” Richie exclaims, smiling brightly at your reddening face. “Yea, cause you are like an angel. Maybe that’s why you don’t talk, cause if you do then none of us will be able to handle your beautiful voice and we’d all die because our heart burst from it!” Richie over exaggerates, springing up from the kitchen chair and laughing at your little jump. You chuckle a bit before turning around and cleaning up the mess you made.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Richie asks, suddenly quiet and serious. You raise an eyebrow, turning on your heel and tilting your head at him in question. “Have you found your soulmate yet?” He mumbles, shocking you.

You didn’t know if you should tell him. Yea, you were very happy you found your second soulmate but you didn’t know if you should tell him or let him figure it out himself.

“You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering. Because, I’m scared I don’t have one,” Richie confesses. You sit down next to him, slowly, growing confused. “That or my soulmate is extremely careful because the last time I felt pain from them was…” Richie stops to think. “Have I ever felt pain from them before?” You sigh, looking down and grinding your teeth.

You’ve been overly cautious about hurting yourself over things. You didn’t want to put your soulmate through something painful, it hurt you to see that you were the cause. But you needed to do something. You knew Richie was your soulmate, you just had to find the courage to show him.

“It’s whatever. I can deal with not having one! It’s not like I need one or something!” Richie laughs, pushing away his true feelings. He stands up, rubbing his hands over pants before starting towards the door. You start to panic, not wanting him to leave on a sad note. You rack your brain, filing through the things you could do to make him stay. But there was really only one choice as there was nothing around you to help you.. “I should probably go, I was supposed to meet Eddie at the park—“

“W-Wait.”

Richie freezes, a hand reaching towards the door. He spins on his heel slowly, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Did you just—“ He cuts himself off as you start to walk closer to him. You nod. Your voice was hoarse, as it hadn't been used in more than a year. And you stuttered, you weren’t exactly used to talking anymore.

“I—“

“Y-Your soulmate,” You confess, biting the inside of your cheek and watching him carefully. Richie’s face drops. He chuckles lowly, sounding betrayed.

“Don’t try, angel. I don’t want you to fake being my soulmate just to make me happy,” You roll your eyes as Richie looks up at you with sad eyes. “You deserve to be with your actual soul—“ As Richie talks, you lift your arm and grab a lump of your skin in between two fingers, and squeeze.

“Oh, fuc—“ Richie exclaims, jerking his arm to his chest quickly. He looks at you with confusion, his face screwed with disbelief.

“You’re—“ He didn’t have to finish his words as you nod in confirmation. Richie laughs, relief seeping through. “Shit,” He breathes, bringing you in for a tight hug. “You’re actually my soulmate. Holy fuck!” Richie rambles, a grin gracing his features.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. You got a second chance, you didn’t wanna screw it up. You decided to put off telling him about Taylor. Richie’s smiling face was way too precious to be put down by your past.

“Wait! I gotta tell Stan! He’s gonna shit himself!”

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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in support of Black Lives Matter, @mystifiedgal donated $30, and requested Tony Stark/Stephen Strange pre-slash. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

It’s a real busy month. The superfriends break out of supermax, with the help of a blond beefboy who flings frisbees at the security cameras and doesn’t care who sees his face; the UN goes ballistic and demands Tony help; Tony gets extremely, extremely drunk like he hasn’t in years and sends Ross a manip video of Tucker Maxx getting rawed by a donkey dressed as a colonel instead of responding; the superfriends crash back into America, and Natasha--traitor--lets them back in to the Avengers compound upstate; Tony, still drunk, decides to let them stay instead of incinerating the damn thing from space; Wanda gets kidnapped by a wizard; Tony and Steve have to go save her. Tony and Steve. No, Tony’s not bitter.

“I’m struggling to come up with a reason why I shouldn’t have my house nuke your house from orbit,” Tony says. Steve gives him a bitchy look. Yeah, what else is new. He lifts his chin, looks at the wizard through his green glasses. Everything’s better in green. “Anything? Mister Wizard?”

Said wizard gives him an unimpressed look. Tony doesn’t know why. His facial hair is even more ridiculous than Tony’s, and Tony cultivates this shit. “Strange.”

“Yes, you are,” Tony says, and Steve sighs and cuts his hand through the air before Tony can continue.

“Doctor,” he says, polite. Tony rolls his eyes. Wanda, in stasis halfway up to the skylight in this weird-ass mansion, pulsates in angry red, trapped in amber. “You have to understand that things were--different. The Avengers have no desire to go to war with the--Sanctum.”

“The Sanctum has no desire to go to war with the Avengers,” the wizard says--and, jesus, what is his name? Blue eyes, good hair, cape that seems to float in magic wind. Fancy Bastard isn’t something that should go on a birth certificate. “However, you are harboring a magic user who could cause extreme damage to the innocent people of this plane if left unchecked.”

Steve frowns. “Now, look--” he says, and the wizard’s eyebrow cocks and he waves a hand, and in the circle of amber that appears midair (how?) there’s a perfect 4k, 3D view of the deaths of innocents in Lagos, of the devastation of Johannesburg after the Hulk was enraged there, of a man with red light crawling up his neck and the terror filling his eyes before his neck snaps.

Above, Wanda’s silent fury goes quiet as the red dims. Steve looks constipated, which Tony can admit inside his own head actually means he looks grim and upset and heroic. The wizard looks between the two of them. “This is a problem. It would be wisest to transfer her to an alternate plane, or at least to have her abilities removed.”

“They’re part of her,” Steve says, immediately. Tony looks up. Hard to see, from down here, but he can see that Wanda’s eyes are closed, inside her amber prison, and her face--he looks away. “You can’t remove them without killing her.”

“Well,” the wizard says, and doesn’t look even remotely regretful--who is this guy?--and Steve’s shoulders square up in that muscular way that presages a truly stupid fucking fight that’s about to ensue, and Tony opens his mouth without a single iota of a plan and says, “Wait a minute,” and the wizard and Steve and Wanda all look at him, and oh, for fuck’s sake. That means--

Doctor Stephen Strange. Brilliant surgeon. Incredible asshole. Drama queen, and the worst kind of all because he pretends not to be. No one has that beard without wanting to cause drama. Tony would know. Unfortunately--Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, and Stephen Strange, super wizard, and Stephen Strange, taking over a wing of the compound, coming and going as he pleases in a whisk of amber light, and Stephen Strange, Tony’s lab companion for the foreseeable future.

He misses Bruce.

The compound isn’t comfy. The various wings are divided into factions. Steve and the superfriends, hiding out from the UN and all of the other dozens of countries that want to prosecute them, are on the east side where the sparring rooms are. Tony’s set up on the west side where the labs are, and he didn’t think to put a bedroom in the lab because he thought this place would be all kumbaya, superhero summer camp, and figured maybe they’d actually want to talk to each other when they were all here. More fool him. He sleeps on the couch in the lab most days, when he sleeps at all, and it means he’s got a great view every time there’s a swirling mind-bending circle of amber light and all of a sudden there’s a fucking wizard in his house, ready to work with Wanda on how not to accidentally kill thousands of people.

This morning, for example. Morning? Tony drags a hand over his face, smears drool and engine grease. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Strange says, and Tony mouths it back at him schoolyard style--what he assumes normal kids did in schoolyards--and Tony lets Friday speak the room into brightness, telling him the time and the weather and whether the world’s blown up, while he’s catnapped.

“How’s the scarlet terror?” Tony says, knuckling his eyes. Christ, this sucks. 69 degrees and he can’t even make a joke about it.

A pause. “Progressing,” Strange says. He’s still wearing that stupidass cosplay outfit. Cape and all.

Tony squints at him, slumped back on the couch. “You know, if you were a real wizard, you’d magic me up some coffee.”

Strange looks at him. He always looks stern. Like Tony’s failing some test. It’s tiring from the rest of the supercrew; it’s not better from some rando in a RenFaire uniform. Strange gestures, with his left hand, and unfurls the fist of his right at the lab table, which--abruptly becomes a coffee table, in that there’s a pot of steaming coffee and toast and what Tony thinks is--fucking lox?

“From that deli on 44th,” Strange says, matter-of-fact. “You know, when I’m not a sorcerer I’m a doctor. In my medical opinion, you could look less like shit.”

Tony staggers upright, fetches up against the table. His head gongs like a--like a fuckin’ gong. It’s too early for metaphor. He pours a cup of coffee and ignores that his hands are trembling. “In my layman opinion you can suck my dick,” he says, friendly, and Strange rolls his eyes but he--he smiles, too, and he--doesn’t look like nearly so much of a dickhead when he smiles. Cape or no. Tony holds the cup (finest porcelain, like Tony has drunk coffee at Buckingham Palace in less-nice china than this) and squints, brain still offline, and Strange shakes his head and says, “Good luck, Tony,” and whisks away to deal with their little magical terror, and leaves Tony to think of what the hell. Just--what the hell.

Turns out there’s a big difference between kinds of magic. And here was Tony, just thinking that physics were physics. “No, no,” Strange says, impatiently. “There is of course the physics of our plane, which follow their own laws. Then, naturally, there is the magic of Asgard, brought forth from Yggdrasil the world-tree and the belief therein, which is the sort that Loki and Odin may perform. Then there is the magic of the Infinity Stones, which perform their own miracles, and of course there is our problem with Miss Maximoff.”

He’s drawing a chart in the air with his hands as he talks, marked out in amber light. Tony says, “Friday, take that down,” and the house grabs the image of whatever magic Strange is doing and transmutes it into data, neatly transcribed in cells and manipulable forms for Tony to grab and hold and think about, and Tony grips Strange’s leatherette-and-cape shoulder and says, “Buddy, I could kiss you,” and Strange rolls his eyes but his cape swirls up and pats Tony on the hand in a brush of woolly affection, and Tony doesn’t really think about that because he’s locked into the possibilities and sees a lot of sleepless nights ahead, but that’s okay. He’s got time to think about it, later.

Strange won’t give up much info about the rest of his little magic crew. Numbers, attitudes, location. “I am the representative on Earth,” is all he’ll say, and--jeez-us, what a statement.

“I am the representative of the Avengers in Oneida County,” Tony says, in exactly the same tone, and then pauses, flicking armor designs from one ephemeral bin to another. “Shit. Am I? Maybe it’s Steve. Okay. I am the deposed representative of the Avengers in--”

“You’re the one I’m talking to,” Strange says. He’s still sitting in the antique armchair he magicked up for himself, sipping tea. Seriously. Like every single thing he does is for the hashtag-aesthetic. “Mr. Rogers is certainly impressive, but it’s you who has had every actionable idea on streamlining Ms. Maximoff’s abilities. Don’t undercut yourself.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, lowers his hands. “How dare you,” he says, lightly, even if his chest feels--some kind of way. “I have never, in my life, in my entire existence, undercut myself, and in fact I think I’m going to set the StarkTech legal team on you--Friday, call up Pepper, see if we can sue the entirety of the Sanctum Sanctorum and also magic itself, and throw David Bowie in there too--”

Yes, Mister Stark, Friday says from nowhere, lightly amused just like she should be--good girl--and Strange rolls his eyes. “Don’t bring Bowie into this,” he says, mild, and Tony grins and Friday cues up Fame without even needing to be asked.

“Oh, very good choice,” Strange says, looking up at the ceiling, and Tony waves the armor out of existence and says, “Okay, Mister Wizard--dinner, and we’re talking Bowie and we’re talking King Crimson and we’re talking Yes, and you’re putting in an opinion about those star-and-moon pants Page used to wear, let’s go--” and Strange says, “First, they’re incredible; second, only if we’re getting Thai,” and Tony--Tony could just--

A bad night. Tony lays on the couch in the lab and hugs a bottle of very good, very rare, very expensive scotch against his ribs, and doesn’t drink it, and wants to. Above he’s had Friday peel away the armor of the ceiling and the sky’s a patchwork quilt of stars. Enough sound baffling and he can’t hear whatever might be going on in the rest of the compound; if Steve and the others are training; if anyone’s even here, but him. It’s peaceful. It sucks.

A swirl of amber. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugs. “Sometimes you get sued by grieving parents for your technology being used in exactly the way you intended and you think, fuck, they sure have a point. And then you want a ham sandwich and no one will get you one. It’s tough.”

He thinks he maybe sounded more bitter than he needed to. He maybe should’ve tried harder. He watches a satellite track across the sky, feels his body. Even now, when he breathes deep, there’s still a twinge where the reactor should be. He wishes sometimes--but it’s stupid. The reactor didn’t make him him. It wasn’t any more accountability than any other pain could’ve been.

There’s a sinking sensation, by his feet. Strange, sitting on the couch. “I could get you a ham sandwich,” he says, quiet. “But I suspect it wouldn’t do the trick.”

“Clever man, Doctor,” Tony says, acid. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to be acid. He imagines--the armor--dissolving slowly, the facemask melting into a broken sizzle of empty gestures. He maybe should’ve had less to drink.

“We are making progress, Tony,” Strange says. “Every day. Time... isn’t always on our side. But we do what we can. That’s all there is. What we can.”

Tony stretches his legs out. His shins bump Strange’s back. He’s not wearing the whole ensemble--cape and leather and whatever the hell. He’s in a sweater, and jeans, and he looks like someone Tony can actually touch. Something that obeys the physics Tony understands. Something real.

He puts the bottle of scotch on the floor. “Maybe a ham sandwich wouldn’t hurt,” he says, finally.

Strange--Stephen--touches his knee, lightly. He smiles at Tony, in the dark. “Mustard?” he says. “I can do whatever you want.”

Tony breathes deep. Settles. He says, “And you better add a pickle, cheapskate,” and feels Stephen squeeze his knee, and feels--well. Some kind of way.

#fffb #mystifiedgal #tony stark/stephen strange #...ironwizard?#my writing

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