#... even though it would fuck him up psychologically and that's a whole can of worms -- but moreover:

[nyerusnova]

Going to toss in my two cents here real quick but I firmly believe: Batman cannot kill, and there cannot be exceptions to that rule, or else the entire ethos falls apart.

Like trust me, Bruce Wayne has personally contemplated killing people multiple times, and has come very close to it before. It is not that he doesn't ever want to kill, but he knows that the Batman cannot kill. Because if he does, then the hope of Gotham is lost, nevermind elsewhere at large. People will have no reason to believe in their heroes, when their heroes decide to play judge, jury, and executioner. Even if we (and diegetically, many characters) know that certain criminals/villains will never change their ways and only want to cause more harm, Batman especially cannot go that far.

Other heroes (most notably Wonder Woman) do fight for more "pragmatic" reasons, and thus will take a life when they deem necessary. But Batman is not one of them. What he's fighting for is not just harm reduction, it's to show people that goodness and justice can prevail. And you might not agree with that ideology, but that's still something important to exemplify -- both in-universe and out.

If he kills, then even ordinary people will have no reason to trust him. Batman goes from a symbol of hope to a yet another symbol of fear for the people of Gotham.

And no, the Joker of all people is not an exception -- he is in fact a major point/reason for the rule. Could maybe other people kill the Joker? Yeah, sure. Narratively boring in most cases, but it would take out the trash. However, of anyone in that universe, it absolutely cannot be Batman. Because that is exactly what the Joker wants: chaos! That's why him being taken out by other people isn't as interesting, because to him his own death is largely meaningless. What the Joker wants is to prove that anyone can be pushed to that edge, including someone as righteous as Batman. If Batman kills him, then the Joker has successfully destroyed the hope of Gotham. He wins. And that's not something Batman can ever take back or recover -- it's game over.

As for Jason: keep in mind that Jason has had chances to kill the Joker himself. But he hasn't, because he wants Bruce -- Batman -- to do it. It presents an interesting quandary, because with this, Jason isn't thinking about the big philosophical picture that Bruce is. (If you want a generous take on him, he is more "pragmatic" about harm reduction. Killing the Joker would save lives, and he wants Bruce to see that. A more realistic take is that it is selfish desire for vengeance as the main driving factor. I won't get into his characterization it now because it's a mess that deserves 10 posts on its own.) At the end of the day, what he really wants for his father to choose him, over his own ideals. And he's not even entirely wrong in wanting that. Fundamentally, that's what makes the conflict between them so interesting. Bruce cannot put his children or loved ones first; he is a hero first, and everything else second. That's the tragedy in being a hero. That bears it's own meta, imo.

In short, Batman's no-kill rule has persisted in comics for decades for a good reason.

I'm actually curious now to find out what the common consensus is so

[kabutoraiger]

watched 2 different recent shows starring one of my favorite cute jdrama ossans (mashima hidekazu) since they were both subbed by the same person and the links were right there and it was like well why not. so i might as well do a joint review of them too.

coincidentally they both also feature a FL who's potentially down to fuck that middle aged man which is often an added draw for me but in advance i'll just say that i would not recommend either of these shows on that front.

"halation love" is a pretty limp lowkey mystery/"psychological thriller" where it being a fairly low budget show is kinda what damns it the most bc it's like. the cast is so small that once we eliminate both of the FL's sort of love interests as suspects who else could it be other than Guy C? there's not really any other recurring characters?

the FL here is also this aggravatingly bland doe-eyed waif who blinks confusedly through the whole ordeal & does things like apologize (in a genuine manner) to the guy who just tazed her & tied her up. just a spark of personality in this girl would've gone such a long way.

and this is just petty but they consistently put her in some of the ugliest clothes i have ever seen in a drama.

overall: not really recommended. mashima-san gets all bloody at one point though and it's very nice <3

"shoumonai bokura no renaimon" is a bizarre slice of life about a ~40 y/o guy who's contacted by his one true love from college only to find that she's actually dead & the one who contacted him is her teen daughter who looks exactly like her.

slice of life doesn't always need a coherent thesis statement i guess but i was still really perplexed about the messaging of this one. the ML and his childhood friend who's carried a torch for him for 25 yrs get into a relationship then later break up bc even after agreeing to date he never seemed to think of her romantically, only saying yes to make her happy/bc it would be an "easy" logical relationship. her putting her foot down against this is painted as a good move.

and yet in the end both the main women get into relationships with other men that neither of them ever display romantic attraction towards, who have seemingly just "worn them down" through persistence (not in the creepy way, but still). and THIS is painted as sweet. like ?? ??? it's the same thing though....

it's just a very frustrating straight people show in general. the best moments in it are probably the bits of cross generational bonding, and i kept waiting for the shoe to drop and for the daughter character to finally realize that her feelings for this 40 y/o man are actually "wanting a dad". dad & daughter are what most of their interactions read as. like, extremely so. at one point she calls him to pick her up at the park bc she fell off the jungle gym. (this 17 y/o girl kinda being written like she's 10 is a whole other can of worms, but.)

you could really do something with that, like a contemplation on the way society trains us to prioritize the idea of romance so much that we sometimes can't register other types of affection.

but the revelation never comes. she continues insisting she's romantically into this guy until getting rejected years later as a college student.

overall: also not recommended. but mashima-san wears many knit sweaters in it and looks very adorable :3

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 6

Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Words : 4954

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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

You had attempted to rush off to your room, but you hardly made it back into the house before your knees gave out. It wasn’t even because your legs were tired. If that were the case, you would have gladly crawled just to get away from him. No, you fell because your head was spinning.

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath as the world spun around you. You curled up on your side and let the tears silently stream down your cheeks. You didn’t know how to make it stop because you didn’t even know what was happening. Were you having another panic attack? Was it a side effect of drowning? Was this what it felt like to break Cogernot’s quirk?

Regardless you did as Dabi taught you. You closed your eyes, you took as deep of breaths as you could manage, and you counted.

You heard him step into the house and you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he sat next to you. He made no attempts to touch you or say anything. Which was probably for the best because you could feel yourself on the verge of a mental break.

This was going to be the thing that pushed you over the edge. The whole time you’ve been here you’ve kept your shit together. In all fairness it was mostly due to Dabi’s strict routine. He didn’t give you time to wallow of feel sorry for yourself. From day one he focused on your recovery. But it wasn’t until now that you realized you never talked to him about what happened to you. It was almost as if he thought if the two of you didn’t talk about it, you would just somehow magically forget it ever happened. You bottled it up and pushed it away, but it was still there. Threatening to explode all over the progress you had made. Today just might be the day.

“I know you want nothing to do with me right now… but –“

Your eyes shot open to see him reaching a hand out to you. You smacked it away. ~Don’t touch~

Dabi visibly flinched. Why had you just signed at him? Had he not just broken you free of that shitty quirk? Had he failed? Was this all for nothing? He almost started to panic himself but then he remembered you HAD spoken. Even if your words dripped with hatred and your eyes cut him to the bone. You spoke… out loud…

He desperately wanted to pull you into his lap. To calm you down. To praise you and comfort you. But he knows he can’t. He’s lost that privilege. You don’t even need him anymore. You’re starting to walk just fine on your own now. You don’t need him… and he was the one who helped you get there.

The thought upset him more than it should have. He didn’t even want you here to begin with. How had you managed to crawl under his skin so much? You had wormed your way into his life and now every thought was consumed by you. Taking care of you, feeding you, making you strong again.

You slowly stood up and gave him one last glare before storming off to your room. Well in your head you stormed off, but in reality, it was more like a drunken wobble. You were still soaked to the bone and you were starting to shiver. You had made a puddle on the kitchen floor where you had been lying, and because that was just the kind of day you were having you slipped right through it.

Dabi was on his feet and hovering behind you. His hand gripped your elbow to steady you. You activated your quirk and let him feel the rage bubbling inside you. You wanted him to know how angry you were, how hurt and betrayed you felt. At first he gripped you tighter, but eventually your emotions overwhelmed him and he had to let go, just so he didn’t have to feel them anymore.

You ripped your arm away the second he dropped it and continued towards your room. You threw the door open and slammed it behind you. You slumped to the floor and did something you had needed to do for weeks now. You screamed. You let all of it out. Your anger, your fear, your heartache. You screamed until your throat was raw and your head pounded.

When you were done you took a deep breath, picked your head up, and let the numb wash over you. You stripped out of your wet clothes and hoped into a warm shower. The whole time the only thought in your head was ‘Why?’

The next few hours passed in a blur. You managed to get out of the shower and get into bed, but you couldn’t sleep. Your adrenaline was pumping. You couldn’t convince your body you were safe enough to sleep. It remained in fight or flight. You sat there in silence hugging the pillow to your chest.

It was so quiet that the creek of the floorboards outside you room made you jump. “Y/n… I know you’re mad at me… but you still need to eat something.” You heard him shuffle around a bit. “I’ll just leave it out here by the door. I’ll be in my room….”

You didn’t move from your spot on the bed until you heard his door close across the hall. Part of you knew that you needed to eat. But a larger part of you just… couldn’t. You didn’t understand. The food was right there, you just needed to open the door. But for some reason you just couldn’t make yourself do it. So instead you rolled over and pulled out your journal.

There was something ironic about you didn’t really need it anymore, yet now was the time you were most desperate to write in it. So you did. You poured your thoughts out page after page. Everything you wanted to say to Dabi, everything you wanted to say to Katsuki, to Izuku, to Todoroki and Kirishima. You started writing down memories of what had happened to you, in as much gory detail as you could remember. You wrote and you wrote and hours passed as you hunched over your notebook just looking for the right words to take the pain away. What would it take? What did you need to do to make yourself feel better?

It wasn’t until there was a soft knock on the door that you realized how deep into it you were. “Y/n… Be mad at me all you want, but don’t take it out on yourself. You need to eat something. Please. I made lunch. I’ll leave it here.” You heard the scraping of a plate being put on the floor outside your room.

How was that man capable of being such a monster, and yet so soft? He literally tried to kill you and now here he is worrying over you because you’re not hungry? Funny how dying tends to fuck with a person’s appetite.

You began to really think about Dabi. His motivation in all of this, what did he gain from helping you? Was he just doing his little brother a favor? Sometimes he treated you like his bratty little sister, and then there were nights like last night… You felt your face heat at the memory of you riding his thigh. It had felt so right at the time, but now it makes your stomach twist.

“Y/N! Can you at least say something, so I know that you’re fucking alive?”

The audacity of this fucking man. He wants to make sure you’re alive… after he almost killed you….

You picked up a cup that had been sitting on your nightstand and threw it at the door. It shattered on impact and it had felt to fucking good. There, that should be enough confirmation for him.

“GOD DAMNIT! ENOUGH Y/N! I’ve let you have your pity party. I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I don’t care if you want to throw a fucking tantrum. But you WILL eat something. This is getting fucking ridiculous.”

You picked up the lamp and threw that next. It was sturdier than the cup had been, so it wasn’t as satisfying but it got your point across none the less.

“Y/n… open the door please. We can talk about this.”

He had to have known your door wasn’t locked. It was one of the laws. It was one of your laws. Yet he made no attempt to open it. He remained on the other side with your uneaten food.

“Well if that’s how you want to be then fine. I guess I’ll just have to sit here and talk to the door then.” You heard him slide down the door as he sat down, leaning against it. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I realize how fucked up what I did was. I don’t want to make excuses, but I do want to explain. And I want to do it when you can look me in the eye, so you know I’m not lying.”

Again, he was met with radio silence. He sat there for a long time. Finally, after what felt like hours he stood up, “I guess I’ll go start dinner then…”

You looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see how late it was. Usually around this time you’d be finishing up with the pool, you cringed. Yeah safe to safe you won’t be getting back in, probably ever.

Dabi forced himself to leave your door, carrying your second uneaten meal of the day with him. He woke up his laptop and started up the video for today’s lesson for sign language. He watched it as he cooked, but he didn’t absorb anything. He was too focused on trying to find a way to fix this.

His hands kept clenching and unclenching. He knew what he needed to do. But it was going to suck. If it would get you to eat though then he didn’t care.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew you wouldn’t die from not eating for a day. He was more worried about the psychological part of it. When he got out of the league, he had started messing around this hot shrink. She had a real savior complex, but the one thing she got right about him was his need for control. After being abused for so long he had to have control over every situation. Which sometimes when he really felt helpless included his eating habits. When everything else felt out of control, at least he could control that. At least he could decide when and if he ate. He was nervous you were pulling the same shit. He didn’t want to see you waste away because you were desperate for something you could control.

He’d swallow his pride. He’d do this for you.

A knock on the door had you groaning.

“Hey dork. It’s me. Dabi called and said you weren’t feeling well. I made some spicy ramen with pork… You gonna let me in before it gets cold?”

You jumped to your feet and ran to the door. You cracked it open at first to make sure it really was Katsuki and that he was alone.

He smirked at you through the small gap, “Don’t worry he’s not with me, now let me in before I kick the door down.”

He opened it enough for Katsuki to enter and then quickly shut it again. He waited and followed you over to you bed and took a seat at the foot of it. “So, Scarface was a little vague on the details, but he said you were mad at him and refusing to eat.” He placed the warm bowl of ramen into your hands, “Want to talk about it?”

Your stomach started to rumble at the familiar smell of Katsuki’s cooking. You couldn’t deny yourself any longer. You took a huge bite and almost moaned at how good it tasted. You quickly took a few more bites before wiping you mouth on your sleeve and sighing. You needed to talk about it, but was Katsuki really the best option for that? The chances of him blowing up the house was pretty high.

You reached a hand out and put in on top of his and released a calming feeling. “Uh oh…must be bad you’re already trying to calm me down.”

You gave him a halfhearted smile, “Uh… well…” The sound of your own voice made your skin crawl. It sounded wrong, even though you were pretty sure that’s how it always sounded. It made you pause for a moment to collect yourself.

In that brief pause Katauki’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, “Wait a fuckin minute! You’re talking again? Since when? Holy shit!” You could feel his excitement bubbling up along with pride and admiration. It was sweet, and it gave you the boost you needed to keep going.

You played with a strand of your hair, “Since…. Now…. I guess.” You averted your eyes embarrassed, “Or well… since I… well I kind of drowned… briefly.” You looked back up and saw fire behind Katsuki’s eyes and anger was coming off of him in waves.

“And where was Dabi when this happened?”

You knew you were practically signing Dabi’s death certificate but telling Katsuki this, but you weren’t going to cover for him either. “He was there….”

Katsuki’s fist clenched, “Don’t tell me the bastard watched you almost die and didn’t help you.” You bit your lip. “Y/n… what are you not telling me?”

You put both hands on him now desperately trying to overwhelm him with calm emotions. “He was the one who held me under…”

His hands tore away from yours as they crackled with a very real threat of explosions. He stood and stomped towards your door, not even bothering to ask you to elaborate. You knew you needed to stop him, there was no scenario where this ended well for anyone. “Katsuki stop.” He ignored you as he reached for the door. “Katsuki… please.”

He froze with his hand hovering over the doorknob. His voice was dark and oddly low,“Y/n… there is nothing you could possibly say to me right now that would change my mind about killing the mother fucker.”

You couldn’t believe you were actually about to defend Dabi, but it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t at least tell Katsuki the whole story. “Even I told you he did so I could talk again?”

He turned to look at you and signed as he spoke, “I still don’t care! You were learning sign… you were communicating just fine.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “Why was him drowning you even fucking necessary?”

Katsuki was starting to take that familiar condescending tone with you and you honestly were not in the mood for it. He had done this a million times growing up. He’d make up his mind about something and make you feel dumb until you agreed with him. “Look I’m not saying that what he did was right. I’m not saying I’m not furious with him. Me not speaking was because of some guys quirk.” You stood and made your way over to Katsuki and began pushing him away from the door. “Dabi knew the guy and said if my brain thought I was dying it would somehow reverse the quirks affects.”

He stopped walking and it was like pushing against a brick wall. “You could have fucking died y/n!”

“Do you think I DON’T KNOW THAT?” You pushed on him again, “Do you think I’ve just been sitting here all day twiddling my thumbs? Today has been fucking awful! I don’t need you to talk sense into me. I don’t need you to kick the shit out of Dabi. What I need if for you to just sit down with me, and just- just let me be. I don’t know!” You gave him one final hard shove which lead to him sitting back at the end of your bed.

His eyes were a mixture of sadness and hurt. “I’m not trying to make this harder on you, I promise. But he put your life at risk and that’s not just something I can just be okay with.” His hands reached up and cupped your cheeks and brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized was there. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I would kind of prefer you to stay alive… you aren’t allowed to die before me. Especially at the hands of some ugly sociopath.”

You leaned into his touch, “Please, for me. Just let it go for now. Let this be between me and Dabi. Be mad all you want, believe me I’m pissed, but you don’t need to get involved. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

He pulled you towards him and moved one hand to cradle the back of your head and pulled you into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Only because you said please. But I hope you know this means I’m coming to check on you more often now.” His fingers carded through your hair. “Actually… if you’re not comfortable here anymore… You could always come stay with me.”

“I thought that was too dangerous, what with heroes and villains alike apparently looking for me.”

He chuckled, “I’d love to see someone try. They’d have to go through me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t always be around… you have a job to do. An important one.”

He gave a sad sigh as his grip on you loosened enough for you to pull back and look at him, “Yeah… I do.” There were a few tense moments when your eyes connected, and you could see the way his eyes drifted to your lips as he licked his own. Ever so slightly he started leaning in closer to you.

Your breath hitched in your chest, as your brain went a mile a minute. Sure, you always had a feeling things might end up this way between you and Katsuki. There was a time when you went to bed every night fantasizing about the moment he would finally break down and admit he liked you. You had known him since you were children and there was always this feeling that if ever given the opportunity the two of you would end up together. But, for some reason it felt… off.

You leaned your forehead against his. “I don’t think right now is the best time for this.” You watched his eyes close as he tried to school his emotions. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because believe me I’ve thought about it. But right now, my life is in shambles. It’s not your job to fix me. That’s my job. And I need you to let me do it. Okay? I need you to let me do this on my own.”

He groaned but nodded as he pulled his head away from yours. “I don’t like it, but I get that I have to respect it.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your thigh. “I don’t want you to have to do this alone. I’ve always… Fuck.” His cheeks tinted the lightest shade of red. “I can’t stand to watch you struggle. It sucks knowing you’re out here stuck with him, dealing with so much shit that you should never have to deal with.” He hung his head low, “I just wish I could fight your demons for you. I wish I could lock you away and keep you safe from all the evil of this world.”

You pulled his chin up to make him look at you. “Katsuki you have always been there for me. There hasn’t been many problems in my life that I haven’t solved leaning on you for help.” You saw a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “But this isn’t something you can punch away. It isn’t something you can yell at until it stops hurting. I have to do this on my own.”

Tension was thick in the air. You knew there was so much he wanted to say. You could tell he was ready to fight you on this. But he surprised you by nodding and untangling himself from you. “I need to get going. I have a lot of work to do.” You could see the subtle sting of rejection in his eyes but he quickly covered it with his trademark smirk. “You say you don’t want my help but I’m going to anyway. I’ll help by locking up every single shithead that anything to do with your kidnapping.” He stood up and gave you one more, quick hug. “And that’s a fucking promise.”

You followed him as he left your room, intent on walking him to the door. You wanted to make sure he actually left instead of picking a fight with Dabi. But luck never had been on your side. You exited the main hallway and Dabi was sitting in his normal recliner. He looked up eyes cold as they landed on Katsuki, much softer when they found yours. You tried to give Katsuki a push in the direction of the door, but he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Oi! When I gave you the fucking list of things to do to help her with her period, I don’t remember drowning her being on it!”

Dabi’s eyes returned to Katsuki’s agitated one and for a while you thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Did you get her to eat something?”

“Don’t avoid the subject. You’re fucking lucky she begged me not to hurt you. Otherwise your ass would be dead.”

You something like surprise flash in Dabi’s expression. “Bold of you to assume that I am the lucky one here. It seems to me she was just trying to protect her little pet Pomeranian from getting hurt.” He grinned at the way Katsuki’s hands popped in anger. “But thank you for getting her to eat. She had me worried.”Bakugo lunged at him but you quickly stepped in the way and put a hand on his chest. You looked him in the eyes shaking your head and have him a shove towards the door.

Dabi could feel his stomach sink at the fact that the only words he had heard you say was “fuck you” He knew you had been in your room chatting away with man boobs and it stressed him out. Even now you refused to speak in his presence, and it killed him. He was the reason you could speak again and yet you refused to speak to him. That idiot Bakugo had nothing to do with it and yet gets to reap the benefit of Dabi’s sacrifice.

Dabi’s blood began to boil. He knew Bakugo would never in a hundred years have the balls to do what he did. He wouldn’t have the nerve to go through with it. Dabi did what he did for you, even if you refused to see it that way. Does he hate that he had to do it? Yes. Is he sorry, of course. But does he regret it… not really.

He watched as you pushed until Bakugo was successfully out of the house. As soon as the door was closed you turned and started to run back towards your room “OH NO YOU DON’T!”

He stood up and chased after you. “We are talking about this weather you want to or not. You can’t hide from me forever. You can’t mope around all day, not eating and expect me to just let that go. Law number seven we eat three full meals a day!” He got to your door just in time for you to slam it in his face. He had been so patient with you today. Not once had he forced himself into your room even the door was unlocked. He respected the fact you needed space. However, when he reached down and noticed that you had locked the door, he didn’t feel so bad about what he was about to do.

“Law number six! No locked doors!” His pressed his palm flat against the wooden door and burned straight through it. He burned a hole big enough for him to reach his hand through and unlock it from the inside.

He carefully avoided all of the broken glass on the ground from earlier. And stomped over to where you were trying to ignore him. You went through your dresser, picking out what you planned to wear to bed. You took a step towards the bathroom, but he stepped in your way.

“Y/n. Can we please talk about this?” You tried to step around him, but he just moved to block you again. “FINE! We don’t have to talk about it, but you will listen to what I have to say!”

You crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and avoided making eye contact with him.

“I know what I did sucked. But I HAD to DO IT!” His voice was steadily getting louder. “You had to think you were dying. What did you want me to do? Hold your hand, tell you everything was going to be fine, and then pretend to drown you? It wouldn’t have worked!” He leaned over you and grabbed your chin forcing you took look at him. “I knew you’d be mad. I knew it might fuck up all the progress we’ve made. But I did it anyway! I did it for you!”

You slapped his hand away. “You DID IT FOR ME!? YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!”

There it was. Your voice. It hit him like a truck and it was enough to spur him on. “Yes for you! So you could talk again! So you could start to take back what those fuckers took from you! I decided you liking me wasn’t as important as you being able to talk again. Go ahead and hate me, but I need you to understand why I did it! What I was willing to sacrifice!”

Your eyes bore into his and it honestly almost sent shivers down his spine. “I understand just fine! You see me as this sad little broken girl. You thought I was so broken that you were willing to risk my life to fix me. Let that sink in Dabi… you gambled with MY life. What the hell were you sacrificing?”

“YOU!” His voice dripped with emotion. “I was sacrificing any chance I had with you so that one day I could watch you take back your life and get revenge on the people who hurt you.” He ran a hand through his white hair. “I would literally burn every single one of those monsters and piss on their ashes if I thought it’d help. But I know it wouldn’t! That’s a privilege that only belongs to you and I’d do anything to be able to watch you do it. Because I know you’re not broken! You’re a badass who doesn’t need anyone’s help. You are one strong bitch!”

There was pain in his eyes “I didn’t gamble with your life y/n, because I was so sure I wouldn’t let anything happen to you I was so sure nothing would go wrong.” He reached a hand out to touch your cheek, and surprisingly you let him. “Go ahead and activate your quirk. Feel what I feel. Feel what it was like to think I killed you. Feel what it was like to think that I am the monster everyone thinks I am…”

You activated your quirk and was hit so hard with anguish that you practically choked. He was grieving, even now, and somewhere buried under all his pain was something else entirely. But you weren’t ready to address that. “I hate what I did to you, but I don’t regret it, because it worked. It made you stronger. And in this fucked up world, only the strong make it out alive. So yes, Y/n… I did it for you.”

You felt you heart pounding in your chest. This was either the most fucked up or romantic thing you had ever heard, and you couldn’t figure out which one it was. Your hand came up to his that was still on your cheek. For a while you just stood there. Absorbing each other’s presence, then out of nowhere his lips cashed to yours.

Some animalistic instinct took over as you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He leaned over cupping your ass in hands and picking you up until your legs wrapped around his waist.

His lips pulled away from yours to start kissing down your neck nipping at your ear before returning to your lips. You squealed when his hand lightly slapped at your ass.

He made his way to the bathroom and sat your ass on the counter, his hands sliding up your thighs as he pulled back to look at you. “Law number thirteen?”

Part of you wanted to say no. You were still furious with him, but all your brain could think about was the orgasm you had just from riding his thigh. Your body was aching to be touched and from the look he was giving you, he was aching to touch you.

You slid your hand under his shirt and so lightly he almost didn’t hear it you muttered, “please.”

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe @unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry @dabislittlemouse @aimee1602 @pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44

[first-and-last-neocount]

*cracks knuckles*

Alright. 

You can all thank @theobscurepotato for bringing this to my attention, they sent me a screenshot of this description and even the furious keysmashing I sent them in reply did not assuage my burning wrath, so now I’m making a Thing of it and doing a proper dissection. 

What the shit is this. 

The rest of my vitriol will be under the cut, so I don’t completely nuke everyone’s dash with six miles of Coldfire ranting. 

Every line. Every line of this is wrong. I’m going through this in order, because otherwise I wouldn’t even know where to begin. 

“A priest tasked with helping other humans tap into the planet’s stores of magic.” Even if you’re trying to categorize this with other fantasy books and make it sound more familiar to non-fans, the fae is explicitly not magic. The text directly addresses the fact that magic is controllable and predictable, and that the colonists wouldn’t be nearly so fucked if they could actually control the fae, which is a natural force that reacts to the subconscious instead of conscious influence. If you’re looking for a traditional magic system and not hostile alien weirdness, the Coldfire Trilogy is NOT the series for you, this is giving people the wrong impression right off the bat. 

“He’s soon sidetracked, however, when his lover falls victim to a brutal attack.” This is slightly less glaring of a fallacy, but I would argue that Damien’s not getting sidetracked at all, because the text heavily implies that demon-hunting comes before teaching in the priorities of the Knights of the Flame. Their order is first and foremost tasked with eliminating hostile faeborn, and the teaching gig is something of a secondary concern - they haven’t even been doing it in the west, the program that Damien’s running is something of an experiment and the Patriarch treats the whole idea with poorly-hidden disgust. Damien himself makes the point, when he’s talking to the Patriarch about the expedition to the Canopy, that he’s duty-bound to hunt down these demons now that he knows about them - he found out about them sooner and is more personally incensed because someone he cares for was targeted, but it’s very clearly within the proper scope of his service to the Church, and that’s why the Patriarch sanctions the mission and gives him the Fire. It’s not like he drops all his duties and goes rampaging off to take revenge for Ciani. 

“She once could see the magic in the world, but now that her abilities have been taken away from her, she begins to lose her will to live.” This. This is pissing me off the most. I got the impression during my FFN lurker days that Ciani is... not exactly a universally loved character in the fandom... but I don’t think you have to be a huge fan of her personally to recognize that this is just completely wrong. The way this is written makes it sound like she’s some damsel in distress who has to languish on her fainting couch while her knight (hah) in shining armor goes off to save her, and that’s just - that’s not even close. She’s a badass. She’s tough and independent and goddamn fierce, and the fact that she even survives what the Dark Ones did is a testament to that. Even though she’s been viciously assaulted and essentially undergone the psychological equivalent of having a limb violently amputated, she goes on the quest with the rest of them, she refuses to stay in Jaggonath where it’s safe and is out there risking her neck right alongside the others. ‘Lose her will to live’ implies that she’s given up. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. She fights tooth and nail to get back what she’s lost, she even apprentices to the Hunter to try and relearn some of her abilities from scratch, do NOT try to tell me that those are the actions of a woman who’s given up on life. She’s not perfect, and of course she has some moments where she falters - her entire world’s been upended and she’s lost a fundamental part of her existence, it would be horrendously unrealistic for her not to struggle with that, but like hell has she lost her will to do anything. 

At this point I guess I should be glad that they correctly identified that this is the first book of the series and got the spelling of the name right. 

I think theobscurepotato raised the best point, though, that this description is so wildly off-base that anyone who thinks this sounds appealing will probably not even like the actual book. This sounds like some horribly cliche romance novel. Which, don’t get me wrong, those have a place in the world - but that’s not what this series is. This series is part fantasy part sci fi, with a dash of horror thrown in for good measure, and it’s about taking those familiar comforting fantasy tropes and going “Yeah, but what if we looked at it realistically and it turned out to be horrible”. This summary implies that this is the kind of series where the main hero goes off on a heroic quest to save the woman he loves, he succeeds without too much trouble, and they live happily ever after. This is actually the kind of series where a group of people set out on a quest for wildly disparate reasons, most of them suffer horribly along the way, and the main hero gets his ass dumped by his girlfriend so that she can devote her life to science. And that’s not even touching what happens in the later two books, which hoo boy, that’s a whole other can of worms. 

TL:DR; theobscurepotato said this description gave them hives, I feel like it gave me a stroke, and I am seriously questioning the sanity of the person who wrote it. Maybe let people who’ve actually read the book write the description next time, instead of someone who skim-read the Wiki article and went ‘yeah, this is probably close enough’. 

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Whumptober 13: Breathe in Breathe Out

Choking

Did someone say hurt the monkey boy? What? No? Oh, too late :)

Summary: MK is captured by the Spider Queen.

Trigger Warnings: spiders, dehumanization, pet whump, choking and strangulation, panic attacks, physical and psychological torture, near death experiences, mild self harm

3596 words

MK curled in on himself, trying to block out the cold.

Fuck, it was so cold.

And… damp?

What was going on? He didn’t remember what had happened, or how he’d gotten here. He’d only woken up just now, tied up in the dark. His eyes had yet to adjust.

He shivered, jerking at the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. They didn’t budge.

It was definitely very bad that he couldn’t remember what had happened. He was pretty sure he remembered saving Pigsy and Tang from — ick — spiders (or like, a spider demon lady or whatever). Same difference. He shuddered. He absolutely hated spiders.

But on the bright side, they’d all gotten out of there, no problem!

Er… actually, considering that was the last thing he could remember, he wasn’t so sure if that was true. Where was he?

“Hello?” he called, cringing when his voice echoed loudly through the… wherever he was. Well, if anyone was here, they could definitely hear him.

Hopefully it was just Red Son or something. That guy was a loser, he’d be easy to defeat. Plus, MK had no doubt that his team was working on getting him out of here right this very moment. 

Oh fuck, he hoped Pigsy wasn’t pissed at him for missing work again.

In his defense, this wasn’t his fault! Pigsy would probably understand. And if he didn’t, well, he had everyone else to vouch for him. Probably.

“Is anyone here?” he asked, the only response being his own voice echoing back at him.

Ugh, apparently he was alone down here — wait. He could hear something. Footsteps? No, it sounded different than that. Kind of like…

“Hush up now, little monkey.”

He looked around wildly, frustrated that he still couldn’t see anything. The sight of truth that the staff gave him would really come in handy right about now. Come to think of it, where was his staff? 

The voice, which was previously kind of far away probably, was suddenly very, very close. “Can’t have you screaming, now can we?”

Oh fuck, he was just now remembering where he recognized this voice from. Oh no, was he back in the nightmare hole? Oh no, were there still all the creepy crawly spiders everywhere? Nope nope nope, he was absolutely not thinking about that right now. Ew… The absolute last thing he wanted in life was to be in a place that was absolutely crawling with… those.

“Untie me!” he said, struggling fiercely. Wait, if this was the Spider Queen and her nightmare hole, then… 

Nope nope nope nope, he was suddenly very thankful that he couldn’t see much of anything. If he couldn’t see, then he couldn’t confirm whether or not he was actually tied with — ick — spiderwebs. He wanted to cry just thinking about it.

Why couldn’t she just use some good old fashioned rope? There was nothing wrong with rope! He would even be fine with chains, even if they pinched his skin! Just… anything but spiderwebs.

The Spider Queen laughed, the sound reverberating through the cave. MK really could do without this stupid echo. “Untie you? Oh, honey, where would be the fun in that?”

Well, that wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for. He wasn’t surprised, but still, it would have been nice if maybe for once—

“See, I was planning on eating you,” she said.

Eating him? Oh shit, oh shit, he’d forgotten about that in the midst of his earlier battle. Oh god, he didn’t want to be eaten! He was too young to die!

“You don’t need to eat me!” MK said hastily. “I mean, I bet I’d taste terrible! I would be totally disgusting! You don’t need a teenage boy who eats nothing but noodles! If you’re gonna eat somebody, at least eat someone who’s healthy!”

“I said was,” the Spider Queen said, cutting off his rambling. “But I’ve changed my mind.”

“You… have?” Oh, thank god. Being eaten sounded like one of the worst possible ways to go. He’d rather die. …Okay, that wasn’t a good comparison. Still, the point remained. He had officially found one thing worse than spiders. Being fucking eaten.

But spiders were still a very close second.

“Course I have,” she said. MK’s eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and he could now just make out her wicked smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to be so much more useful than just a light snack.”

MK shuddered at the idea. Thank god she’d changed her mind. Wait… why had she changed her mind? And worse, what exactly was she planning to use him for? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

“I think the obvious solution here is to just let me go,” MK said, laughing nervously. “I mean, why keep me around if you’re not gonna eat me, right? And as we’ve already established, you’re definitely not doing that. Please don’t change your mind again.” He really needed to stop talking before he changed her mind for her.

She laughed again, but said nothing. MK, as best he could, squirmed uncomfortably in the following silence. He hated not being able to move his hands.

The Spider Queen hummed, observing MK carefully. She took his face in her cold hands, turning it side to side.

MK jerked his head free of her grip, glaring at her. “Unhand me!” he said, hoping he sounded confident and not, you know, completely terrified.

“I think we need a rundown on how this is going to work,” the Spider Queen said, standing up to her full height again. MK gulped, looking up at her in terror. Don’t focus on the spider thing don’t focus on the spider thing don’t focus on the spider thing.

He was fine. This was fine. It was all totally and completely fine. Everything was good!

“It would just be so much easier for the both of us if you would cooperate,” she continued, “You think you can be obedient, little monkey?”

MK wrinkled his nose at the wording she’d chosen. Obedient? Hell no! “I told you before,” he said, “I am a monkey man!” with that, he attempted to break free of his bindings heroically so he could then pummel her.

Which, theoretically, would have been great. If it had worked. Instead, he was stuck struggling in the ropes, wriggling around on the ground like a worm.

Well. This was going great.

“You are adorable,” the Spider Queen said, amused. “Yes, I think I can make this work quite nicely.”

MK was too busy looking and feeling like a fool to really pay attention to that. He could worry about it later, it was fine. For now, he needed to break out of this.

She looked down at him, and MK only struggled harder, if only to shake away the discomfort of being watched like that.

“You really are a little monkey,” she chuckled after a moment.

“Stop calling me that,” MK grumbled. He could feel it, he was almost free! Maybe, if he just kept stalling, he could take her by surprise.

She reached down, hoisting him back up so he was sitting upright again.

“Hey!” he cried, more offended than anything. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get a good look at my new pet.”

Oh, okay — come again now? What had she just called him? Oh god, and the way she’d said it — he wanted to vomit. He was pretty sure he could actually feel a bit of bile rising in his throat.

MK laughed uncomfortably. “Your new what now?” he squeaked. Dammit, that was supposed to come out sounding… well, definitely not sounding like he was a scared little baby. Which, he definitely wasn’t.

“Powerful little monkeys like yourself don’t need to be out leveling cities,” Spider Queen said, casual. MK waited for her to continue explaining, but she didn’t. Okay, that didn’t clear up his concern at all. In fact, it probably only elevated it.

“Okay, first off, I know the whole “Monkie Kid” title thing can be confusing, but I’m definitely a human. Like, completely a human. Not an actual monkey.” Plus, he hadn’t been out leveling cities, he’d been out stopping people like DBK from leveling cities.

All he got in response was a smug, “We’ll see about that.”

With that, she undid his headband, his hair awkwardly flopping into his face in its absence.

“Hey! Do you know how long it takes to get my hair to look good—?” he was forced to cut off as the headband was retied, rather tightly, around his neck. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice becoming slightly raspy as his airway was getting cut off. “What are you — no — st-stop!” He gasped, and though his hands were tied behind him, he still tried to lift them so he could clutch at his neck desperately. He made no progress, and the band only tightened. He couldn’t take in enough breath to do more than make the tiniest of sounds.

The Spider Queen didn’t relent, pulling it so tight and cutting off MK’s air so quick that suddenly his vision was swimming with black specks and his head was going fuzzy like TV static.

He struggled to the best of his ability, using the last of his energy to get her to stop. Still, it wasn’t enough, and his eyes slipped shut. The world was darkness, a galaxy of nonexistent stars.

Finally, mercifully, just as he was sure he was going to die, it came to a halt.

He fell forward, unable to catch himself with his hands tied as they were, but grateful for the ability to breathe all the same.

He took in gulp after gulp of air, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. For a minute there he’d been so sure that it would be his last. 

And then the Spider Queen said something that MK couldn’t even attempt to comprehend, and suddenly the feeling was back.

His neck was being absolutely crushed — but she wasn’t touching him anymore. How… why… stop…

Just like the first time, it went away right as all hope seemed lost. This time, the feeling didn’t come back, and MK was able to frantically take in as much air as his lungs allowed.

“What…” MK panted when he could finally breathe again, “What did you do?”

“Well, every pet needs a collar,” was all she responded with.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, “I already said, I’m… I’m…” oh man, he was way too lightheaded to be arguing right now. For a moment, he could only focus on taking breath after breath.

“Now,” she said, plucking at his hair and standing upright again. “I’ll take that, and…” she dropped it into a cauldron which definitely hadn’t been there before. Had it been? He couldn’t remember. Was he losing his mind? “You, my adorable little monkey, are going to help me reclaim my empire.”

And then, as if the lack of oxygen in his brain wasn’t bad enough, he was suddenly just… really… so fucking exhausted. The kind of exhausted that he could barely even find it in himself to move. The kind of exhausted that seeped into his bones and wouldn’t let go.

He slumped over on the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer.

He couldn’t just fall asleep… not here, not now. He didn’t even know how she was doing it, or what she was going to do to him if he did lose consciousness. He forced his eyes wide open, but they were fluttering shut anyway, against his will.

“Well, isn’t that just perfect?” the Spider Queen asked, likely rhetorically. If MK had the energy to think of a good response, he would definitely be doing that right now. He’d be all… uh… god, he was so tired. He could probably sleep for like, a thousand years.

He zoned out on whatever monologue she was giving. He couldn’t fight this exhaustion any longer. He just wanted to sleep…

He yawned faintly, drifting off and allowing himself to give in to the cold clutches of sleep. He couldn’t resist it, anyway.

The world faded away around him.

———

MK woke up what he presumed was a short time later, still completely out of it, but at least with enough energy to think. 

He was alone. Thank goodness.

Alright, he had to get out of here. First he had to somehow get untied, and then he had to find his staff, and then he had to find a way out of here. That seemed simple enough. That was totally simple enough! He could handle this.

Carefully, he sat up, doing his best not to make any noise.

He had to get this perfect. Just the memories from earlier had him feeling nauseous, and he had a feeling that if he didn’t get out of here before the Spider Queen came back, there would be more where that had come from. He wasn’t exactly eager to experience that.

Hmm, maybe if he could find something sharp to cut the ropes — yes, he knew they were webs, but the very horror of that idea was too much to comprehend. It was easier to just think of them as regular old ropes. He really didn’t need to be sending himself into a panic attack right now.

He looked around for… he didn’t know, a pointy rock or something? Anything remotely sharp would do. Probably.

It took a minute, but he finally managed to get to his feet. He stumbled, biting back a shriek as he immediately tripped forward. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t make an effort to catch himself.

His face collided with the floor. Hard.

The sound echoed throughout the cave. Oh shit, now not only was he in immense pain, but he definitely had a limited time frame to get away. 

He scrambled to his feet again, leaning against the wall to steady himself before he took off in a staggering run. Forget the getting untied part, first he just had to get away.

He was actually making progress! He had been right, it was all completely working out. He’d be back home and cozy in bed before he could say noodles.

Don’t look back, don’t look back, just keep running.

Oh man, he could actually see light! Light meant freedom! He moved towards it, panting with effort and exhaustion. Almost there. He was almost there. He could take a nice long nap as soon as he got out.

He was so close.

And then he was choking again.

He fell to his knees, gasping for breath as the band — he absolutely was not calling it a collar, because it was just his headband — tightened around his neck. 

Stop stop stop stop! 

His lungs were already burning, and his neck was going to bruise, he was sure of it. 

It hurt so bad, he just wanted it to stop, oh god.

“There you are,” the Spider Queen said, her voice barely registering in MK’s fuzzy brain. He just wanted it to stop. Nothing else mattered.

He was vaguely aware of his body being plucked off the ground.

“Can’t have you running off like that, little monkey. Lucky you, I have a delightful punishment picked out.”

MK, for all his fighting, could do nothing to stop her.

The band stopped squeezing the life out of him, thank goodness, but he had a sick feeling that whatever was going to come next would be just as bad (or worse).

He was all but thrown into a dark, disgusting cell. Full of… full of… nope nope nope too many spiderwebs, way too many spiderwebs.

“You’re going to stay in this dark, nice little cell — full of spiders, by the way — until you learn how to respect your queen. I’ll be back in the morning, little monkey. Let’s hope you’ve learned your lesson by then.”

With that, the cell door shut and locked, and MK was left alone. On the bright side, he finally managed to free his hands from their bindings. On the downside, he was alone. In a scary nightmare cell full of horrors.

Full of spiders.

His entire body jerked in a shiver. 

He could hear scuttling — no doubt one of the horrifying little beasts themselves. Oh god, how many were there? He could barely see, he certainly couldn’t make out any insects.

What if they were everywhere? Was every inch of the place crawling with them? There were so many webs, too many webs, too many spiders, oh god.

He was struggling to breathe once again, practically hyperventilating as tears filled his eyes. The crushing panic of the situation was slamming into him.

He wanted to go home. He would take anything over this. He would take being thrown across a goddamn volcano over this.

Something scurried across his leg.

A quiet sob left his throat. He was sitting there, completely frozen, unable to do so much as flick the spider away. God, he was so pathetic.

He could swear more spiders were crawling on him, now. His skin was burning. They were everywhere. He couldn’t breathe. 

His fingers twitched, but he couldn’t make himself move.

Tears were streaming from his eyes and his skin was so itchy and he couldn’t handle this, he really couldn’t handle this.

His face was growing numb from how hard he was crying. 

He didn’t even realize that he was finally moving, barely registering the pain from how hard he was scratching at his skin. Even when he realized how bad it did hurt, he couldn’t stop, scratching his arms, his hands, his legs, everything he could. 

It was starting to burn.

The scratching got more frantic. He couldn’t stop until the spiders were gone. With the lack of light in the cell, he had no way of knowing when that would be, so he just continued to scratch and continued to cry.

The panic turned the world into a haze. He stared blankly ahead, unseeing, doing nothing but scratching at his skin. Tears continued to pour from his eyes.

He was so pathetic. He was so pathetic. He was so pathetic. 

He couldn’t even handle some stupid little baby spiders. He was supposed to be the brave protector of the city, the successor to the great Monkey King, and he couldn’t even handle spiders. 

He sniffled. If Monkey King had known how pathetic he was, he’d never have chosen him.

And now look at him. Stuck in an eternal nightmare hole — which really did seem to be eternal, as wherever he was being kept wasn’t somewhere he’d seen while they’d been rescuing Tang and Pigsy — having lost the staff.

Oh god. He’d lost the staff. He really was worthless.

He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless, so stupid. The scratching increased, and he hissed at the feeling. He wasn’t cut out to be Monkie Kid. Monkey King had made a mistake, choosing him. It had all just been one big mistake.

He sobbed. Maybe he deserved to rot down here with the spiders. At least here he couldn’t fuck anything up for anyone.

His sobs turned to high pitched cries. He couldn’t handle this.

He cried for a long time, until there were no tears left to cry. Still, the panic didn’t go away. They were all over the cell, even if he couldn’t see them. His skin was still burning from how hard he’d been scratching.

His earlier exhaustion was hitting him again, full force. But he couldn’t sleep, not now. Not when he was surrounded by them.

He sniffled, pressing his arms close to his body and covering his face. As long as they didn’t get on his face or under his clothes or on his skin or anywhere near him it would all be okay. It would all be fine. 

But it wasn’t fine. He was so far from fine.

He wondered briefly if Mei would laugh at him for panicking so badly. They were just spiders. Most of them couldn’t even hurt him. Unless they were big, or poisonous, or… 

He hugged his knees to his chest. Mei would think he was being so stupid.

Blearily, he opened his eyes, surveying the cell nervously. He couldn’t see any spiders. That didn’t mean there weren’t any there. It only made it all the more nerve-wracking. 

His eyes landed on the faint shadow of a spider. It was huge. Absolutely massive, actually. He scrambled back towards the edge of his cell.

No no no no no no!

Breathe, just take deep breaths, it wasn’t going to come any closer, it probably didn’t have any interest in him, just stop please get away he wanted to go home.

It didn’t move for a moment. Maybe it would leave. Maybe it would leave! That sounded pretty likely, right? It could totally leave!

Instead, out of nowhere, it scurried way too close for comfort.

MK shoved himself back against the wall of his cell, clawing at the door behind him.

“Let me out!” he shrieked, his voice strained. He received no response other than the spider getting ever closer. He had nowhere left to run. It was too close.

Whatever he’d thought he would go through as the Monkie Kid, all the horrible torture and the kidnappings and the near death experiences he’d dreamed up…

This was worse. This was so much worse.

[fernsandsunflowers]

Your knowledge of Harry Potter is like a rotten apple with worms in it!

Expressive! thanks for voicing your opinion.

I really hope this is in regard to the Snape post (x) I made years and years ago and has resurfaced recently and not JKR is a terf and can fuck off this planet please and thank you posts I’ve reblogged. 

If it’s about Snape, I’ve seen most of the comments, I haven’t taken the time to read it all but general opinion seems to be two-sided there are those who agree whole-heartedly with my post, and those who do not. Most in the do not agree category has pointed out that heroism is not a competition. This is absolutely right, the story itself should have taught me that long ago, like when little Neville stood up to the trio in book 1. I apologize, sincerely, for comparing their acts of bravery. They both did amazing things and I hope, if it ever comes down to it, god forbid, I find in myself the same strength and bravery. The post itself was poorly worded. My goal was to ask that we show the same love and respect to Lupin as we do for Snape. That clearly didn’t come across, instead I got carried away and had written a post that ended up elevating Lupin’s acts of bravery while putting down Snape’s. Regardless of their background they both did heroic things and in the end gave their lives to save others. These acts of bravery deserve to be honoured and respected.

However, I stand by my statement that Lupin is the better man. I have seen a lot of comments that admit to Snape’s wrongs but use the excuse of unprocessed childhood trauma and mental illness. I will not accept this ‘white man’ excuse.  I will admit, again, here that Sirius, James and Remus were wrong to have bullied Snape. Sirius, in fact, was still a bit of a dick after he returned from Azkaban. But why can we excuse Snape’s faults as the product of childhood and later life trauma but not Sirius’? Why do you continue to condemn Sirius for his bullying while at Hogwarts but make up excuses for Snape’s reprehensible behaviour towards his students?

Yes there were no systems in place for Snape to process his trauma (he did have one positive influence, Lily, but this was clearly not enough), that is a grievous institutional error. This exists in our world and is something that needs to be rectified immediately, in every country. There were no systems in place for Harry, Neville, Remus, Sirius and Regulus to process theirs either. In Regulus’ case he didn’t have the benefit of a positive environment too. But your argument is that everyone processes differently. My argument is that, Snape’s trauma doesn’t negate his negative actions in the same way that Voldemort’s trauma doesn’t negate his. If you are excusing Snape for being complicit in the murder of so many muggles and muggleborns because he was abused as a child and grew up in poverty, then you must also excuse Voldemort for murdering people based on his trauma from growing up in a shit-hole orphanage, in poverty and being hated and rejected by his father. I genuinely don’t know if Snape has killed anyone before Dumbledore, I vaguely remember a scene in the Prince’s Tale chapter where Dumbledore says something along the lines, you must have done it before? and Snape implying that he has not. I don’t have my book with me or I would check. It does not matter, aiding and abetting is still a crime. Why do we say ACAB? Complicit is still guilty.

I have no patience or place in my heart for anyone that chooses to join the side of racists and fascists, knowing full well what it meant. That’s what he did. You cannot deny that Snape was extremely capable of critical thought and was intelligent enough to see plainly what Voldemort rising to power meant to his supposed love. Or to thousands of innocent people. But he joined anyway, for power. Do you think I will be forgiven by my friends, or even you all, if I actively supported Trump, or ISIS, or an example from my own country (Sri Lanka), the extremist ‘Buddhist’ organisation called BBS that stands against Tamil and Muslim people (I put Buddhist in quotation marks as people who believe these ideologies are no longer Buddhist), or even my own father in his anti-muslim stance? He had Lily, who he loved, yet still joined an organisation that was murdering her people and posed a fatal threat to her as well. I do not have patience for that and I will not be shamed for it. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for willingly joining the wizard equivalent of Nazi’s and Neo-Nazi’s then fine, that’s your prerogative. I have chosen to forgive James, Sirius and Remus for bullying Snape when they were kids. That’s my prerogative. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for bullying children under his care to the point of terror and psychological trauma, because he himself had experienced trauma, I guess that’s your right as well (though I admit it infuriates me). 

Also because I’m on a roll now, I will not stand to be asked to care about and include Peter Pettigrew in anything related to the Marauders. I understand that he was a part of the Marauders and I understand he was afraid for his life. Amongst the countless things I don’t have patience for, is disloyalty. The fidelius charm cannot be forced out of you, or bewitched, or tortured out. It must be shared willingly. Peter was already working for Voldemort since before he was made secret keeper. The Order knew there was a spy in their midst. Systematic racism within the wizarding world led them to believe that Remus was the Spy. Sirius was probably the first to believe it. Peter obviously felt some regret over it, but eventually divulged the information to Voldemort the first chance he got. I cannot and will not forgive that. If Peter was really a good person and was afraid for his life or for the life of his parents, or whatever, he would not have run back and actively looked for and revived Voldemort after he was ousted. He could have just left the country and hidden somewhere else where he would probably not have been recognised. He had an ounce of regret over James’ death that led to his own death, but in the theme of this post, it doesn’t negate his crimes. 

To better help you understand why I am against Snape but support several others who have done wrong in their lives here’s an example. Someone who joined the Death Eaters willingly that I do forgive is Regulus Black. I believe he didn’t know any better, he grew up in a household where the only voices and opinions he heard was that of his racist af parents who applauded Voldemort. The impact of this influence is reflected in the way that Kreacher responds to muggleborns and their allies. This is an intelligent species to whom blood status of wizards should not matter. In the same way that countries colonized by Europeans that should not have anything against black communities are racist towards them. Because all they’ve heard about Black People comes from our colonizers - also, the power of representation comes up here, after gaining independence, the racist concepts that European colonization left against ourselves, other poc’s and black people were reaffirmed by the negative stereotypes presented in white media, which unfortunately is broadcast worldwide. But that’s a whole other can of worms. Kreacher is later taught, and experiences differently. He begins to show respect to Hermione and fights against Voldemort - the man his masters supported so thoroughly. I forgive Kreacher too for the part he played in Sirius’ death, here is someone who’s trauma and upbringing really does excuse their actions. He comes to understand that he made a mistake, learns and changes. Regulus wanted to make his parents proud, they supported Voldemort. Sirius, I don’t believe, helped Regulus understand any differently and rebuffed and berated him for parroting their parents views (this is never the right thing to do), thereby pushing him away.

We of course also know that Regulus had a kind and understanding nature, this shows in the way he treated Kreacher. He joined the Death Eaters when he left Hogwarts thinking he was doing the right thing. And immediately realised his parents had been wrong to support Voldemort, he tried to leave and couldn’t. In the end he actively tried to bring down Voldemort and his movement. As soon as he gained some substantial information on Voldemort he acted, giving his life to do so. Snape remained with the Death Eaters even as they killed countless muggles and muggleborns. He reported to Voldemort the prophecy he heard - if Regulus had been in Snape’s place here what do you think he would have done? reported to Voldemort? No, he would have kept it to himself, or taken the opportunity even to tell Dumbledore he would like to join their side. Snape, on the other hand, would have seen to it that Voldemort succeeded in ending this threat if it weren’t for one thing: Lily. This is NOT a redeeming quality. 

Do you understand what it is I’m trying to explain? I’m not as eloquent as most of you here, so I’m sorry if I’m botching this up. Snape’s childhood should not have stopped him from seeing what Voldemort was doing. It should have been enough that he had Lily, a ‘mudblood’, to show him that Voldemort targeting muggleborn’s and muggles was wrong. Regulus had no one he loved who was a muggleborn. Neither did Kreacher. Sirius didn’t either but learned before he met Lily or any muggleborns that Voldemort’s and his parents views were wrong. So did so many others. Shit, even a lot of you must have been taught racism and unlearned it later when you were exposed to the truth. I know I had to as a child. Harry Potter played a key role in my own unlearning. Snape, knowing all this, joined Voldemort. That is why I do not support or forgive him. He continued to stay in Voldemort’s employ, rising in rank to the point of being accepted into Voldemort’s inner circle and being granted the Dark Mark. May be he was uncomfortable, but this did not stop him from following orders and committing crimes against humanity. He only stopped when the one muggleborn he thought was actually OK was being hunted by Voldemort. 

Some of you have said in the comments that Snape was working against Voldemort since before the prophecy and threat on Lily. Where do you get this idea? Please tell me I genuinely want to know how you know this. Because in the Half Blood Prince, Trelawney’s drunken rant let’s Harry know that it was Snape who had heard the prophecy and told Voldemort about it. When confronted, Dumbledore tells Harry,

 ‘Professor Snape made a terrible mistake, he was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy, naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know, he had no possibly way of knowing which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew. That they were your mother and father.’ 

- HBP, Chapter 25: the Seer Overheard. 

Harry goes on to laugh at this statement referring to Snape’s hate of his father. Dumbledore responds to this with, 

‘you have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realised how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. 

It’s pretty easy to read between the lines here. Snape only turned from Voldemort’s side when he realised that Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy to mean Lily and James’ son, meaning Voldemort now posed an undeniably direct threat to Lily herself. If I can go a little further here, I believe Dumbledore’s empathy towards Snape stems from the part he himself played in helping Grindelwald’s plans for world domination and his own attempts to reconcile with his guilt over the matter. For me, this choosing to turn only when Lily was threatened does not redeem him because he either did not understand or care for the damage he was inflicting to others. If he had not been in love with Lily, he would have just let it happen and continued supporting Voldemort, how is that right? ‘It is the thought that counts’, this thought doesn’t sit right with me. 

He never tried to redeem himself for joining Voldemort, only the part he played in Lily’s death. In my eyes he acted out of guilt, he was sorry for Lily’s death but not for joining a side that murdered thousands of innocent lives. He later chastised anyone who used the word Mudblood in his (private) presence but I interpret this as a reaction to the word reminding him of his and Lily’s fallout. I don’t believe it had anything to do with him actually understanding the damage behind its use. In death, he may have felt he redeemed himself, and Harry apparently felt the same. Washing his hands of Lily’s blood may have been enough for him, Dumbledore, Harry and you but it is not for me. His actions in later life did not, in my opinion, redeem him from willingly joining Voldemort and bullying children. 

I apologize for comparing Lupin’s and Snape’s acts of bravery that was unreasonable. Snape’s actions certainly led to the downfall of Voldemort he acted heroically, but for me, he did not redeem himself entirely. It’s as simple as that. I respect that some of you believe he did. That’s fine. But please don’t gloss over the fact that he did work for Voldemort of his own free will, any negative influence he had that led him to believe that muggles and muggleborns deserved to be killed, dominated and enslaved (which is what Voldemort stood for) should have been countered by knowing Lily.

I love the complex character that he is, but I do not agree with his actions in early life, or the motivation behind his actions in later life. And that’s allowed so please stop breathing down my neck. 

If this was about JKR being a terf, then maybe this will help: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/trevor-support-center/a-guide-to-being-an-ally-to-transgender-and-nonbinary-youth/ 

Sorry this was meant to be short but I am physically incapable of keeping things short. This is also the last post I will ever make with regard to my feelings on Snape because well, I’ve been doing it for years and I don’t really care anymore. You do you. 

[prider-parker-imaginations]

ℕ𝕠 𝔼𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤

Title: No Escaping the Ghosts

Characters: Quentin Beck + Male!Stark!Reader (also a little bit of Peter Parker x Male!Stark!Reader, which can be read as platonic or romantic)

Warnings: language, grief, violence, angst, general nightmarishness, bastard man being a bastard man, implied PTSD, past trauma, manipulation, basically psychological torture, Endgame spoilers, Far From Home spoilers

Prompt: Midnight Thoughts by Set It Off (also elements of Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Lorde if you squint)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Another submission for @locke-writes​ Intro to 2020 Challenge and sequel to ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕋𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥

An extended illusion would never have worked on Peter. The kid’s instincts were too sharp. The best Beck could have hoped for with Peter was keeping him under long enough to shake him up. Accomplish what needed to get done quickly before he posed too big of a threat. But you? With you, Beck could savour the unravelling. He could take his time breaking you apart piece by piece for what your father had done to him. And then, when he was finished, he could kill you.

A slow grin curled Quentin’s lips as he strode over to the chair you were chained to. “You know, I wasn’t planning on doing this to you at first. I was going to give you a clean death or at least something close to one. The world would have wept for your loss, or at least for mine when I was forced to kill you. I would have held you in my arms as you died and sworn revenge on the people who’d turned you into a monster, vowed to keep going in honour of you and your father, yadda yadda yadda, the tragic hero. Peter would be heartbroken, but that would be fine, I’d be there for him to lean on. He’s a good kid, though I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” The man’s expression darkened, “Too bad he got too nosy. Now I’m going to have to kill both of you.”

The chains holding your wrists behind your back rattled as you yanked against them. A snarl curled your lips, “If you touch him-”

“You know, as much as your tough-guy act might impress Fury, I’m really not that intimidated by a kid with daddy issues.”

“You should be.” Heat rushed down your arms, the metal turning to putty against your flesh. You grabbed hold of the solid end and whipped it over your head towards Beck, red-hot sparks flying from the links. But instead of hitting him, searing hot metal passed right through him and crashed against the concrete with a clang. Beck smirked and disappeared, the world going dark around you. You whipped around, heart pounding.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” his voice echoed from all around you. “And here I was hoping you’d be civilized about the whole thing. Guess you can’t expect much from a Stark, can you?”

“Show yourself, Beck!” you shouted, still turning in the dark as you struggled to orient yourself. Even the chair you had been bound to had disappeared, the half-molten chain gone from your hands like nothing more than smoke.

He materialized out of the black, EDITH perched on his nose, “Miss me already?” Before you could even take one step in his direction, he was gone again, appearing this time a few feet to your right.

“Those don’t belong to you,” you snapped, rage boiling in your chest as he continued to shift from one place to another, always just out of your reach. 

“Last I checked, they don’t belong to you either. Does that hurt? Knowing your dad cared more about some kid he scraped out of Queens than he did his actual son? Then again, he did scrape you out of the gutter too, didn’t he?”

“You don’t get to talk about my dad!” This time when you lunged for the illusion, your world shifted dizzyingly. You stumbled, breath catching in your throat as you recognized your new surroundings.

“Fine. Then let’s talk about you.”

You could already feel your hands starting to shake, your body betraying you as you faced the room plucked from your nightmares and midnight thoughts. This was classified. How did he know this room? And if he knew this, how much more did he know? The fire in your veins had turned to ice in an instant.

Beck’s voice seemed to emanate from the very concrete that made up the small cell, “You remember this place, don’t you?”

The anger in your words was undermined by the tremour beneath them. “Fuck you.”

“What’s it like for a little boy to get turned into a monster?”

“Shut up.” Your fists were clenched so hard it hurt, smoke curling up from between your fingers.

“Which came first, rewriting your brain or your DNA?” His voice was insidious, taunting you from every direction.

“Shut up!” You threw your arms out at the concrete walls, heat pouring from your palms. The last time you’d been in this cell, you’d been a frightened kid surrounded by monsters. You weren’t that boy anymore. You didn’t have to be afraid anymore. But even as the concrete turned molten and you pushed your way through, your world shifted again and you were strapped down, machinery hovering around your head. 

“They turned you into a weapon. And that’s all you’ll ever be. You were Hydra’s attack dog and now you’re Fury’s. Some things never change.”

You thrashed against the restraints as the paddles of the machine lowered towards your skull, every muscle tensing in panic. “This isn’t real,” you spat, half trying to convince yourself as ghosts from your past tried to drag you somewhere you wouldn’t be able to escape. They had tried to make you forget, but your body remembered this place and it was afraid.

“How do you know? You’ve had so many people walking around inside your head, how do you know anything anymore? For all you know, you’re still some sad little kid hitting his head against a wall in a room where the light won’t find you. For all you know, you never left. No one knows where you are and no one’s coming to save you. You’re alone, and you’ll always be alone.”

“You’re lying.”

“Do you even remember your life before they stole it from you? Do you even remember your own mother? Or how he killed her?”

Your rage overwhelmed your fear. You jerked against your restraints, the metal biting into your wrists and ankles, unable to move your head. “Shut up!” you screamed. You could feel the heat pooling in your hands but the cuffs held fast, pinning you in place, keeping you helpless, keeping you a little boy stuck in a memory you wanted nothing more than to forget.

“You had to know. It was all in the files. Or did you know and just pretend it wasn’t true? Were you there when he killed her? Did she scream? Do you even remember the sound of her voice?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

His words burrowed into your ears like worms, relentless and poisonous. “Did you think he rescued you because he cared about you? Or did he do it because of his guilt? Because he was the one who condemned you to becoming a human weapon. Because he was the one that destroyed any chance you ever had at a normal life. Because he murdered your grandparents just like he murdered your mom. If he really cared about you, where is he now? Why isn’t he saving you this time?”

You ground your teeth in frustration, trying to calm the shaking in your hands. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Killing’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?” Reality shifted again so you were on your knees in the dark, a single gravestone looming before you. Your breath caught in your throat. “Too bad it didn’t help Tony though, did it? Maybe if you’d been good enough, he’d still be alive.”

The heat turned back to ice, frost crackling across your fingertips. The shaking was back, your heart pounding against your chest as you scrambled away from the name carved into the stone.

“Then again, you’ve never been good enough, have you? Never smart enough, never strong enough. Your own father didn’t even want you to be part of his legacy. You’re a menace to everything he ever created. Why would he ever want you? You’re a danger to everyone you’ve ever cared about. You know it, and Tony knew it. Maybe if you’d died instead of him, your life would finally be worth something.”

You lifted your hands to cover your ears, squeezing your eyes shut, but his voice just kept coming, always taunting, a constant noise in your head mirroring the pulse in your veins. Tears froze on your cheeks beneath your fingers.

Beck crouched over you, one hand coming to rest on the back of your head. The contact would have been almost fatherly if you weren’t stuck in a nightmare of his own design. Then his grip tightened, wrenching your head back, forcing you to look at him. “You’re just a broken little kid who thinks he can fill his daddy’s shoes. But the only thing you inherited from him was his arrogance. But how does it feel? Knowing you’re always just a few words away from being turned into a machine? Knowing anyone with the right words could trap you inside your own mind and use you to destroy everything you love? Knowing you’re just a tool someone created in a lab?”

The sound that tore from your throat was half a scream and half a sob as you threw yourself at Beck. Your hands came up to his face, smoke and heat pouring from your palms. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to make him suffer. But when he cried out in pain, it wasn’t Beck anymore. You jerked back, bile rising in your throat as you saw Peter’s face marred by burns in the shape of your hands where his suit had melted away.

But then another Peter was next to you, grabbing your arm, “Come on, we’ve gotta go!” 

Another Peter grabbed your other arm, “He’s not real, don’t listen to him!”

A mob of Peters descended on you out of the darkness, pulling at you, begging you to listen to them, blocking out any light with red and blue and grasping hands. You struggled to break free, panic filling your lungs. It was too much. You shut your eyes and a shout tore from your mouth. Heat exploded out from your body and the pressure disappeared. When you opened your eyes, a single Peter stood before you in an empty warehouse, his suit torn and smoking in places. Half-melted chunks of drone lay scattered across the concrete.

Peter said your name and moved towards you but you held out your hands, heat still pulsing through your palms even as your own clothes smoldered. He stopped, pulling off his mask, “It’s okay, it’s me.”

You shook your head, sweat and tears steaming faintly as they leaked down your cheeks. Your voice shook. “You can’t trick me.”

Peter took another step closer, his expression turning pleading, “Please, let me help you. You’re safe, I swear.”

“You’re not real.”

“Beck’s gone, you broke the illusion,” Peter insisted, gesturing with one arm towards the shattered drones.

Still you didn’t lower your hands, “No, tell me something only Peter would know!” Inside, your mind was screaming. Not him. Please not him. Please don’t make me hurt him again. Your arms shook. Were you nervous or were you insane?

He blinked, face going blank for a moment, “Y-your dad left you a message. On EDITH. He-he wanted you to take care of Morgan.”

Slowly, your hands fell to your sides as your legs folded beneath you. Peter caught you before you hit the floor, “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he soothed, “Beck’s gone. You’re safe.”

A shudder passed through your body as the heat leached out of you. “He’s in my head, Pete. He knows everything. I can’t shut him out.”

Peter’s hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. Blood smeared under his nose and across his cheek and his eyes were red and wet. “He can’t hurt you anymore. We’ll figure this out.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard, the tears coming faster even as he tried to brush them away. “He lied to us, Pete. He lied about everything.”

“I know, I know, we’ll figure it out, we’ll-”

Peter’s words were cut off but the crack of a gunshot. Your eyes widened as the boy slumped against you, blood already spilling out onto your hands. “No, no, no, Peter, please, no,” the words spilled out in a panic as you struggled to hold him upright. His head lolled, his eyes fixing on your face as blood dribbled past his lips. The look of shock in his eyes, of confusion and pain was enough to shatter your heart a thousand times over. Your voice cracked, “Stay with me, please, Peter, no-”

Your name fell from his lips, a quiet gasp among the blood and tears. He gripped fistfuls of your smoldering shirt, pulling you down to your knees. 

You could see Beck standing just past him, clipping the gun back to his belt. “I’m sorry. He forced my hand.”

Your pulse was a roar in your ears. Cold radiated from your body in waves as Peter stilled in your arms. The blood that pooled beneath him crackled faintly as a web of frost spread around you, covering the scorch marks from before. Your whole body shook as you stood, face twisting. Your breath clouded as it fell from lips trembling with rage. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you.”

A slow smirk stole across Beck’s face. “That’s the spirit.” Then he snapped his fingers and the world turned black.

[homestuckcontroversyin2020]

My Opinions on The Epilogues

So I expect that this isn’t going to go over too well, whether it be because I get absolutely zero attention on this post, or for the fact that I’m literally typing up what is probably a hate post that’ll spark up some, “Oh fuck you.” comments. Either way, I don’t really care about the possible hate to be garnered or anything. I’m here to state my opinion on this, and opinions can’t kill anyone when you’re as weak at arguing as I myself am. Now, this isn’t a fucking logical article, I’m not taking time with comprehensive research and making sure I fact check every little detail because that would involve reading Homestuck for and eighth time and re-reading the Epilogues so I have the biggest refresher in the world. I’m not doing that, so take my sub-par rambles.

Preface over, let’s get into the meat.

My original thought when I heard that the Epilogues came out was initially an eye roll big enough to be like when Hulk smashed Loki in the ground. An arch of, “What the fuck, Hussie.” In other words? I didn’t want to read them. I spent the first few days in agony, complaining about how Homestuck was probably just becoming a money grab, and hearing from other people about the content that  came out.

It.. wasn’t as bad as I expected when I jumped into it. People made a bigger deal about them than I thought was even insanely possible. Let me get this out of the way. I don’t hate the Epilogues. Do I think they were poorly done? Yes. Do I think that the writing was subpar? Absolutely. Do I think that fourteen year olds in their bedroom typing away at shitty fanfiction or roleplaying smut on MxRP/MSPARP have a better grasp on the characterization of each individual character than the people who took over and wrote the Epilogues? 10000%. Still, I thought they were a clever addition to alternate timelines. I had heard from a source they were meant to be a satirical take on fanfiction, and was a mocking poke at the Homestuck community... until Beyond Canon came out.

So here we are now with an 18 year old who’s spent their time on this planet obsessing over Homestuck since before they could read cuss words without feeling embarrassed telling you about how they’re pissed off with some small things that are of no value.

I’m an Alpha Kid Stan(TM) so everything that happened to my sweet babies has made me want to blow my brains out over the walls. Let’s go down the line.

Jane, sweetheart? Who hurt you? Now, I’ll be honest, I rushed through the Epilogues in my, ‘fuck I don’t want to read this but I feel like I need to in order to satiate my burning curiosity.’ mode. Jane’s whole... situation seems really fucked up to me. The color of her text in the EPs is another thing that pissed me off beyond belief, and I’m not sure why. The consistency between comic and canon was draining on my nerves. Jane, in Homestuck, is a whiny teen, but in no way do I look at her and see racist Hitler. Also, what the fuck was up with the clown thing? Why did she have an obsession with fucking Jake? Sure, she was into him before, but wasn’t part of her character arch getting over the buck toothed bangaroo? I thought so. I also thought that Jane was, you know, just a normal girl living her best life. She sure complained, but who doesn’t?? The Jane we’re given in the Epilogues seems to lack the internal dilemmas that the dear, sweet Crocker we’ve grown fond of does. There’s barely a hit of self hate, she doesn’t blow up, and sure we could possibly count this to her being older, but, what? She didn’t seem to be pissed off about the entire existence of trolls in Homestuck. Sure, her time with them was minimal and she didn’t really get all the shit through, but she fought side by side with Kanaya, even. I just don’t see it at all.

Jake. Oh boy. This is a big one. In either case, Jake’s whole thing really bothers me. He doesn’t seem like Jake. He seems like a watered down version of himself that doesn’t even make fucking sense? He’s an aloof dork, but he’s not horrendously stupid, there’s no reason to make him an alcoholic, and why the fuck is he an attention seeking slut? Yes, yes. We could blame this all on Dirk but really, what were the authors thinking? They had complete control over what happens in this and they turn Jake into something he’s not. He had other drives and passions than living out his life as the sexy action movie woman we all need in our lives. Jake’s smart to his own degree, stubborn, and kind of a flirt! He’s not insanely oblivious, either. For instance, I recall a specific moment where he insinuates that Jane was having a wet dream about him in Homestuck. I’m not going to find the quote, but I know it’s there. Jake spent time working on the robot rabbit for John with Jade and outright refused help from some outside sources. Jake is smart! He’s got an extensive vocabulary! He’s just a nerd, and he’s more than an uwu gay boy for Mr. Triangles.

Roxy, oh no. This is where I expect to get the most heat. Roxy is a beloved character. The light of my life and the best of the kids, in my opinion. (I’m an avid Dirk Stan, but Roxy has won my heart truly and thoroughly.) I don’t like the whole trans/non-binary thing. Not because I’m transphobic or anything, because I’m absolutely not. It’s because it feels like it just doesn’t fit with her as a character?? Roxy grew up in isolation in a place without humans, you really think she’s going to have an outright conceptualized view on gender roles and norms? Basic fucking psychology would tell you otherwise. This is something that her brain would have trained her to do based on a societal view. I may not have paid a huge ass amount of attention in psychology, but gender is a thing that’s completely up in the air and taught to us. Roxy didn’t have that. You could argue and say that her house has something of the sort that’d lead her to feel that way, or perhaps she’s learned this all off the internet, but her clothes scream femme and she had to make them herself, is all I’m saying. Again, whatever, go off, make Roxy trans. It’s not a huge deal, but that isn’t the only problem I have. Roxy as a character seems to have just lost her spark. There’s little outright love and enjoyment and adoration for her friends that there is in Homestuck. She’s not your hype go get them loving girl. Again, maybe you could blame this on the fact that they’re all older, but getting older isn’t going to drastically impede your previous personality and make you an entirely different person. They essentially turned Roxy into a watered down version of Dave, but trans. It’s like they couldn’t make Dave trans so they just made a new Dave. It’s annoying to me, and that’s my biggest problem. I love Roxy. I don’t care for Epilogue Roxy. If they had done it right, if they had used specific things from Homestuck, if Homestuck itself keyed in on this or ANYTHING, fine. But Roxy was old enough to question her identity, most people do around 16, and she could have had the opportunity to start representing this already. I mean, who was stopping her? Then the baby stuff. Huh? What? Why? Doesn’t make sense, pass. Her bffsy, brother, and person that cared about her most off and yeets himself from the top of the nearest belltower and all she can think about is copulating with John??? Alright, fam.

Onto Dirk. Y’know what? I don’t have many huge problems with Dirk. I found his personality in Meat really funny, I found the death in Candy absolutely soul crushing. Dirk is a good character. I don’t think they did his personality well, but I don’t think they did any of the characters well. Maybe John. Maybe. Dirk really just sounded like a child who wasn’t getting what he wanted, and it was amusing to say the least. He sounded horrible from the way people talked about him before I read it, but I really just found his overzealous ego entertaining. I found the fact that they made him still totally desperate for Jake kind of annoying though. Dirk broke of their relationship. Dirk was the one who took a moment to realize it wasn’t healthy for either of them, and getting what you want isn’t good. Taking over the narrative and making your ex nearly jizz himself in public is hilarious and all, but also, what??

Alright. Alphas. Let’s move onto Betas.

I skipped a lot of it, not going to lie. Rather than breaking it down for each character like I did with the Alphas, I’m just going to ramble and see where the wind takes. me.

I don’t ship Davekat. I don’t see it working in a romantic aspect. I see them being bros, and it felt really forced in both sides of the story. The homoerotic tension could maybe be smelled for a mile away, but lets not forget something very important. Dave has shown interest in women. Dave was interested in Terezi, he called Roxy and Jane hot, he totally fucking jizzed his jeans for Jade. The fact that so many characters in the Epilogues were exclaiming that Dave was gay, and Dave himself leaning towards the sentiment, didn’t seem to really match up. Dave’s not just pretending to like chicks either, he’s definitely interested in them to the point of being genuinely flustered and embarrassed (I.E The Hot Mom conversation.) So, I don’t really enjoy that. I think the economy shit is cute, his alternate counterpart seemed to have a good hand for business according to the spiel that was made about him, I liked it.

Rose? Didn’t pay a lot of attention to her. The drug abuse shit really pissed me off. Rose in general really pissed me off in the Epilogues. 

John is a can of worms. His characterization was done well, but I guess I just don’t see the point in the two timeline deals. Also, why did he have sex with Terezi? Why was he so much of a baby when the rest of the people around him apparently seemed to mature? Who knows. I sure as hell don’t.

And... then there’s Jade. Poor, sweet Jade. She’s been done dirty almost as much as Jake has, if not worse. She has a dick for one. Yikes. She’s extremely sexually driven, which isn’t something I can see for canon Jade who just wants to hang out and vibe. She’s also so fucking insistent with the “uwu lets date Dave and Karkat” shit that it drives me up a fucking wall. Jade, you should know better! You dated an alternate version of Dave! You dated the OG motherfucker fresh timeline bitch who lost everyone, and sure he was depressed, but I think if I remember correctly you know about all of this???? Hmmmmm!!!! Big questions. It almost leads one to believe she’d know better than to enter into a relationship like this with Dave since it could be emotionally unfulfilling. :))))

Anyways, this entire thing is a can of fucking worms and I don’t suspect I’m going to use this account often aside from shitposting, so have this one uneducated article and if you made it through it and agree, disagree, or what have you, don’t be an ass in the replies? I get it, I’m opinionated and should probably shut my mouth, but it’s the internet and I don’t really care at this point.

[lavenderboneswrites]

Heart Over Ice

***Please read the tags*** ***Trigger Warning***

Available on AO3

Chapter Summary: Shizuo deals with debilitating side-effects and has a violent altercation with Izaya.

Tags: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Murder, Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, drug induced paralysis, Medical Procedures, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Discussion of Rape, Discussion of sexual assault, Discussion of Death, discussion of trauma, Triggers, discussion of triggers, Panic Attacks, explicit descriptions of panic attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, aka Shizuo typical violence, Protective Heiwajima Shizuo, Shizuo-centric, Binge Drinking, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Kishitani Shinra/Celty Sturluson, minor original characters, Minor Character Death, Eventual Smut, eventual consensual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Pre-Relationship, First Aid, Mentions of Yakuza, Drug Dealing, Drugs, Thoughts of Self-harm, Self-Harm, Torture, Disassociation

Chapter 2 - Over Time

Shizuo couldn’t sleep.

A month had passed since that horrible day at Izaya’s. One long month of restless days and sleepless nights. Of shaking anxiety and fraying nerves. Shizuo’s rage so out of control he almost didn’t recognise the person in the mirror anymore.

Shizuo had stayed until Celty had arrived, his own breath almost in time with the steady squeezing of the ventilator in his hand. The thing keeping Izaya alive.

Him. Shizuo.

He was keeping the flea alive. Breathing for him.

It was so fucked up.

Shinra of course had been much more instrumental than Shizuo, who really was just doing what he was told with numb kind of acceptance.

The doctor had texted Celty, requesting various medical equipment and even his portable bed he used for patients. For anyone else it would’ve been a difficult task by themselves but Celty was the best courier in the city, not to mention a supernatural being. Those shadows really did come in handy.

Shinra had also made a shady as fuck call asking for ‘clean-up’. Shizuo didn’t even want to know what that mean… though he could take a guess. Instead he had felt himself zone out, almost to the point he felt completely disconnected from reality. It was only when Celty had folded her hands over his own that Shizuo even realised that she had arrived.

Which was strange, because Shizuo was sure that only minutes had passed but it would’ve taken at least an hour for Celty to make gather everything and make her way to Ikebukuro. He had lost all concept of time it seemed. Not to mention he hadn’t even noticed Shinra’s noisy blubbering when his ‘love’ had arrived.

Shinra had quickly directed Celty to set up the bed and ventilator in one of Izaya’s spare rooms downstairs. The stairs and the giant king bed in the flea’s room making his own bedroom impossible, unless they felt like sawing his mattress in half. Shizuo wasn’t opposed, how the fuck had he even got that monstrous thing through the door? Materialistic bastard.

Celty had created a black stretcher for the flea, and they moved him slowly, Shizuo walking along automatically as he continued to squeeze the pump that was delivering air to the flea’s lungs. Once in the bed, Shinra had allowed Shizuo to finally step away, free to go, and no reason to keep hanging around.

In the lobby of Izaya’s apartment, Shizuo had passed men dressed in black suits and he got the feeling they were Shinra’s ‘clean-up’ crew. Were they Yakuza? Shizuo really didn’t want to know. It wasn’t his business anymore. He was pissed off he had even gotten involved in the flea’s mess in the first place.

But what else should he have done? Just leave?

Shizuo knew he was a hypocrite, knew he had spouted threats about killing the flea a million times. But he couldn’t just stand by as something like that happened, even to his greatest enemy.

If he hadn’t come to Shinjuku, if he hadn’t kicked down the flea’s door, Izaya would mostly likely be dead. And Shizuo had quickly discovered that he was incapable of letting that happen. Which really opened a whole can of worms that he would really rather not deal with.

Like ever.

Shizuo had all but collapsed into his bed when he had gotten home. He had been so ready to be done with that shitty day forever. Done with the fear and the anger and the adrenalin crash that had sunk weary down into his bones.

That hadn’t happened.

He’d spent the night sleepless, tossing and turning as his mind refused to shut off.

Every time he had closed his eyes he was staring into dead ones, Izaya’s head jerking with each disgusting rut. The wet patch on his jeans bloomed like a dark scar against Shizuo’s heart. Burned into the back of his eyelids, like he’d been staring at a light too long and then closed his eyes, the white afterimage blinding.

Shizuo had spent the next day feeling tired and crabby, even more easily irritated than usual. Something the deadbeats at work did not appreciate too much.

He had thought it would end there. One bad day and sleepless night and then he would be able to push the flea from his mind and forget.

It would’ve been easier to do if goddamn Shinra hadn’t kept texting him.

The doctor updated him of Izaya’s progress every day, and despite being counterproductive to Shizuo goal of just forgetting, he couldn’t help feel relieved.

Desperate to hear any word of the flea … Shizuo thought it was a joke on a near cosmic level.

It was 72 hours and one toxicology screen before Shinra would even think about taking Izaya off assisted breathing, or so he had told Shizuo. Almost a week later and the flea was awake and according to Shinra ‘his usual, insufferable-self’. Apparently Izaya did not make a good patient … who would’ve fucken guessed.

Shizuo did not reply to the texts other than an arbitrary thumbs up or ‘k’, nothing that would indicate he was grateful to Shinra for keeping him in the loop.

Izaya was healed and it was over. Everything should be back to normal.

It wasn’t.

It had gotten worse.

As the weeks passed by Shizuo’s mood turned wetched, and the rare sleep he did manage to get was plagued with nightmares. If it wasn’t bad enough every time he closed and saw that dead eyed stare and jerking head, now his goddamn subconscious was torturing him with the memories from that day.

It was mostly disconnected nonsense, snapshots of violence and of Izaya. Worse were the feelings of panic and helplessness that came with the nightmares, to the point Shizuo was waking up drenched in sweat and frozen tears, unable to stop shaking. It was impossible to get back to sleep after particularly vivid ones, Shizuo fingers trembling as he tried to light up a cigarette in bed.

Shizuo had thought maybe if he could just see Izaya, see his slimly self-satisfied little smirk and the way his eyes would light up with mischief and deceit that maybe some part of his fucked up mind would be appeased.

But to do that he would have to either ask Shinra for a photo- which no gross, or call the flea himself.

No. No way would Shizuo do that.

Grossgrossgrossgross.

As if dreaming about the flea wasn’t bad enough, Shizuo wasn’t about to make it worse.

Though, there was always the option of just going to Shinjuku to see the flea. Which considering how well it had worked out last time … yeah that was a hard pass from Shizuo.

Seriously, leave it to the flea to finally stop popping up around Ikebukuro the one-time Shizuo wants him to.

Still, Shizuo was starting to feel the effects of his insomnia really grind him down. He was smoking more, almost a pack a day, and he was also beginning to lose weight. It wasn’t his fault, he just didn’t feel like eating. Nothing seemed appetising anymore, no matter how many bakeries Tom and Vorona took him to, or sweets Celty would bring him.

His friends had definitely noticed his worsening frame of mind too. No doubt the even more violent and unpredictable mood swings combined with his rough appearance spoke volumes. His roots were starting to show, the contrast against the bleach almost seemed as dark as the black bags that had taken up permanent residency under his eyes.

Tom and Vorona had both tried to talk to him, but if there was anything Shizuo wanted least it was talking about it. He wouldn’t even know where to begin, not sure what his damn problem was in the first place. Celty was a little harder to that with, seeing how she knew some of what had gone down, so he’d had taken to avoiding her as much as possible.

Shizuo skin was starting to feel itchy.

He thought maybe if he just scratched deep enough, he could reach into his very soul and tear out the memories. Tear out the fear. After one particularly terrifying nightmare, Shizuo had wondered if maybe he took a drill to his head he could bore it all out.

They were random passing thoughts of self-harm, and Shizuo immediately regretted even thinking such a thing … but shame and self-loathing only went so far. It didn’t stop them.

Shizuo found himself more aware of certain things, especially at work. The debtors they tracked down, sometimes they would throw a look at Vorona that reminded him of that day, of that man.

Vile and sickening and enraging.

Others would say seemingly innocent comments, but for some reason they made Shizuo skin crawl.  He felt hypervigilant. Afraid at every door he would kick down and what he might found on the other side.

Just walking on the street was becoming nerve racking, every accidental brush up against his person making him want to rip his skin off.

His temper had gotten a hundred times worse. Fear, anxiety, and lack of sleep like lighter fluid for his rage. He felt so much more out of control, so more violent. It was a miracle he hadn’t killed anyone. Hell, maybe he had.

Shizuo might be a murderer.

Shinra had not mentioned the attacker again, which while incredibly grateful for, kept niggling at the back of Shizuo’s mind. Shinra had sedated him, so he obviously was still alive at that point, but for how long? Shizuo had crushed his nose into his fucking skull, not to mention the hit he had delivered to the man’s temple. Was he dead? Did it matter?

It shouldn’t, the man fucking deserved it … but that would mean that Shizuo had killed someone.

Just something else fun to think about at night when he couldn’t sleep.

Now if only Shizuo could get Izaya’s stupid lifeless eyes out of his goddamn head.

He gave up on sleeping.

It was 2am and Shizuo found himself wandering aimlessly around Ikebukuro. He had smoked several cigarettes already, the box of American Spirits Blue feeling dangerously light. He would have to get more. Maybe he should get some food at the convenience store as well … as unappealing as that sounded. He should probably eat something today, or tomorrow, what time was it again?

Shizuo was just thinking of heading to the nearest family mart when he caught a glimpse of tan fur slipping around the corner.

His heart leapt, his mind conjuring up that stupid image of the flea’s head flopping limply again and again.

Fuck, not now.

Like a bloodhound, Shizuo shot after his prey, running to the same corner he had seen him disappear behind.

Shizuo found himself in a side street, flashing lights and the thumping of club music in the air. The entrance to an underground club was roped off, a few patrons lining up along the side of the building.

He spotted the flea last in line. H was facing away from Shizuo, only the back of his head visible as his face was turned down to look at his phone, fingers flying as he texted. Shizuo felt the usual rage at the sight of his most hated enemy, quickly searching for an available vending machine, but there was an underlying anxiety that over-rode his usual instincts.  

I just need to see for myself, and then everything will be fine.

Shizuo was about to take a step forward when another man stepped out of the club.

“Oi Nakura,” a plain looking man called out to Izaya, who quickly looked up from his phone. Shizuo wanted to break something, that man’s face appearing over the new arrival.

It wasn’t him, his hair was slightly lighter and his eyes were a murky green; but still Shizuo wanted to killkillkill-

“Good Evening, Junichi-san,” Izaya’s voice was light and cordial, and fucking fake as shit. Shizuo wanted to punch him back to Shinjuku, but he found himself more curious than angry right now.

Just what are you up to flea?

Shizuo watched as the man said something unintelligible to the bouncer, and then Izaya was skipping the line with a twirl of that ugly as shit coat and disappearing into the club.

Well fuck.

Shizuo barrelled forward, stomping straight past the rope and to the front door.

“Hey, get in line buddy-,” the bouncer’s voice cut off at the murderous look on Shizuo’s face. No doubt recognising the infamous beast of Ikebukuro and his bartender outfit.

Shizuo gave an agitated huff, shouldering his way through the door.

Where the fuck did that little cretin go?

The music was pounding, some autotuned-repetitive shit that made Shizuo’s head hurt; not helped by the flickering of strobe lights. Goddammit Shizuo hated places like this.

Izaya and that creep were nowhere to be seen. Shizuo’s height allowed him a good view over the crowd gyrating on the dance floor. He couldn’t catch sight of that tacky fur coat among the horde, but it was slightly difficult when all the bodies seem to merge together they were packed in that tightly. Shizuo quickly scanned the bar, no sign there either.

Slippery fucken flea.

Shizuo was about to give up and call it a night when he caught the sound of laughter. It was faint over the music, but there was no mistaking the flea’s self-satisfied little chuckle. Shizuo had heard the stupid thing enough time in his life, too many times to count.

It was coming from behind him and off to the side, the entrance to the bathrooms. With the same single-mindedness he always chased the flea with, Shizuo followed the sound.

He stopped at the door of the men’s bathroom, and was just about to lift his leg and kick it in when memories came flooding back to him.

Him kicking down a door.

The flea’s lifeless eyes staring out at him.

His head jerking.

Shizuo wanted to scream, wanted to put his hands to his head and dig his nails in.

Rip it out, just get rid of it.

Instead he stood frozen, just like he had that day, the murmurings on conversation coming from the other side of the door.

He’s in there. Just go in and a punch him. Then you can go home and sleep.

Shizuo just wanted to look into the flea’s eyes and see life in them. He didn’t need anything else. So why wouldn’t his body move?

He isn’t moving Shinra, why isn’t he moving?  

Just breathe.

“What the hell!?”

Shizuo was ripped from the flashback violently, the sounds of a struggle exploding into his mind like a firecracker. Without a further thought he barged through the bathroom door.

“Shizu-chan?”

Izaya sounded honestly surprised to see the blonde standing in the threshold like rampaging beast. He was leaning against the closed stalls, foot crossed over his ankle as he held his phone in his hand, casual as ever. It was a far cry from the man who crawling across the tiled floor.

“I thought I locked that door,” Izaya muttered, the space between his eyes creasing only slightly at Shizuo’s interruption.

You’re alive, you’re alive! Thank fuck I could kiss you shitty flea.

“What the fuck flea!?” Shizuo bellowed automatically.

Izaya’s expressed morphed into wry amusement, oaky eyes alight with mischief.

Shizuo knew he was the world’s biggest hypocrite right now but he didn’t care. Seeing Izaya’s eyes light up was like the feeling of whiskey warming his chest on a cold winter’s night.

“You l-lying snake.”

Izaya sighed and rolled his eyes at the man on the ground. He reached an arm out, trying grab onto Izaya’s shoe and received a kick for his troubles.

“Nothing personal Junichi-san, it’s just business.”

Shizuo’s mind was still trying to catch up with what the fuck was happening. Why did every time he burst into a room with the flea some kind of messed up shit was going on? At least this time was better than the last.

“F-fuck you.”

The man’s movements and speech were slowing, like his muscles were deliberately shutting down. Just what in the-

-I can only theorise, but I think he’s been drugged.  

“Shizu-chan, please close the door.”

Shizuo growled, kicking the door shut with his foot and facing Izaya down with fury etched into every part of his being. Sure he was ecstatic the flea was actually alive and in front of him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be the shit out of him. Didn’t erase almost a decade of rage and hate and instinct.

“I meant from the other side,” Izaya added.

“Fuck you!”

Shizuo wanted to punch the smug smile off his ugly face.

“Eloquent as ever beast, but I’m too busy to play with you right now,” Izaya merely sounded slightly inconvenienced. Well boo-fucking-hoo, Izaya’s very existence inconvenienced Shizuo’s life 24-fucking-7 these days.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m working.”

“And that involves drugging people?” Izaya was an informant, surely attacking people in random club bathrooms wasn’t part of the job description, or maybe it was … Shizuo really had no idea what being an informant really entailed. Being a piece of shit apparently.

Izaya shrugged, like he couldn’t care either way. “You should know better than to deal in Awakusu-kai territory … medical grade narcotics catch a fair price, ne, Junichi-san?”

Junichi-san seemed unable to answer, body lying with his face pressed down onto the dirty bathroom floor. He couldn’t move let alone talk.

“Alas, no matter how good a side hustle, actions have consequences … seems the Yakuza aren’t too happy with you, Junichi-san,” Izaya spoke to him like he was speaking to a particularly misbehaving child.

You’re such a condescending dick.

The flea’s phone dinged, and his face lit up. “Look,” he showed the screen down at Junichi, not that he could even move his neck to look up, “Shiki-san is going to come meet you personally, isn’t that nice?”

This was fucked up. Shizuo didn’t know if Junichi had anything to do with what happened to Izaya or not, but he had a feeling it did. The way Junichi now lay motionless was far too telling.

Is this some twisted form of revenge, flea? Why are you going after this guy and not the guy who assaulted you?

Is it because you no longer can?

Shizuo’s skin itched at the implications of that thought.

Feeling thoroughly pissed off and anxious, Shizuo grabbed Izaya by the front of his coat and dragged him from the bathroom.

“Shizu-chan I can’t just leave.”

Izaya didn’t pull out any of his knives though so Shizuo continued on his way out of that infernal club. The Yakuza were on their way, so Izaya said, they could deal with the guy on the bathroom floor.

Shizuo dragged Izaya and his sardonic little smirk outside and a few streets away from the club before he shoved the flea up against a random alley wall.

“What the fuck are you doing!?”

Izaya grunted as his back hit the bricks, eyes opening with what seemed like amusement at the rough handling. Just what the hell went on in that messed up mind of his?

“I thought we’d been over this Shizu-chan, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Fuck the flea, and his flea bullshit.

“Why the fuck are you still doing dangerous shit like this?” The words were a surprise to both Izaya and himself. He was beyond pissed, but at the same time he just didn’t understand why.

Why are you so goddamn reckless?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Izaya responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is my job Shizu-chan, we can’t all be paid to beat up thugs for a living.”

“No, you just drug them.”

“Heh, touché.”

“You’re such a prick, do you even care!?” Shizuo shouted it, slamming a hand next to Izaya’s head hard enough to cause a crack in the brickwork. Izaya merely raised his eyebrows in what Shizuo could only describe as condescending disbelief. Like Shizuo was particularly ugly, misbehaving dog.  “You almost died!”

Silence met Shizuo’s deafening explosion, and then…

“Pfft…”

Izaya was laughing.

The flea threw his head back, laughing like what Shizuo had said was the funniest thing in he’d ever fucking heard.

Shizuo felt his eye twitch, he should trample the little insect to dust.

“Hah, oh this is t-too good,” Izaya held his sides, no seeming to care at fingers next to his head digging into concrete like it was pudding, or the arm across his chest that could easily crush him. Shizuo would like to see the flea try and breathe once he did that.

He feels a small puff air against his cheek, so small and short and weak.

“This is about that?” Izaya finally lands a lazy and hooded gaze back onto Shizuo, not seeming to notice the inner turmoil he is in. “What? Were you scared, Shizu-chan?”

Oh he noticed it alright, saw it and aimed straight for it. Izaya’s mocking laughter rings in his ears and Shizuo feels like his back in that apartment struggling to breathe all over again.

“Don’t worry Shizu-chan,” Shizuo flinches, Izaya reaching out and stroking his cheek with two fingers as his voice turns to an almost loving whisper. “You’re the only one I’d let kill me.”

Shizuo can see it in his head. His body crushing the flea’s underneath his, grunting, rutting. Can smell the flea’s scent at his neck, so much stronger than normal. Can feel his skin against his lips, can almost taste him on his tongue.

Shizuo can feel his chest giving way under his arms, can feel as his breathing stops.

And Izaya’s eyes are lifeless. And his head is still jerking in time with Shizuo’s movements.

Shizuo recoils from Izaya violently. He’s reaching out blindly, black spots in his vision. His hands hit the wall, fingers clenching into rough brick strong enough to crumble as he bends over and vomits.

“Ew.”

Shizuo can’t breathe through the retching, can’t stop the tears that spring to his eyes. His throat burns, nothing in his stomach to expel besides acid. It tries to escape through his nose, snot mixed with sick stinging his sinuses as he chokes.

Can’t breath.

“Shizu-chan … Shizu-chan.”

Izaya is calling to him, but his voice sounds so far off.

Shizuo’s body heaves and shakes, descending into little tremors as he tries to get himself under control. Tries to just breathe.

“Fuck!” It’s the first thing that he can say, and it’s forced out of him by a harsh kick to the ribs.

He drops to his knees, trying to curl in but Izaya’s is kicking him again, pushing him over onto his back. “Kicking you is like kicking a brick wall, Shizu-chan.” Izaya complains childishly, but it doesn’t match the wild vicious look in his eyes. He slams his foot down on Shizuo’s chest and pushed down with all his might.

“You want to know the worse thing about that day?” Izaya spat down, his voice tight with abhorrence and disgust.

Shizuo can only look up at his murderous expression, can only think ‘thank fuck’ at the way Izaya’s eyes shine.

I’ll take you like this any day flea.

“What?” Shizuo grunted, hand coming to wrap around the flea’s ankle as if to snap it like a twig. Though the threat is weak in his mind. The worst thing about that day? Shizuo knew what it was for him, several things actually, it really just depended what his mind decided to conjure up and torture him with.

At least Izaya was finally talking about it. Shizuo didn’t know how much more of the bullshit he could take.

Shizuo should also know to not count his chickens before they had hatched. Should know that the flea was a conniving, manipulative, malicious little bastard who couldn’t speak the truth even if it broke into his house and tried to kill him.

“The worse thing,” Izaya’s features were ugly and twisted, revulsion carved into every crevice, “was watching a monster cry over me.”

Shizuo felt like Izaya had kicked the very breath from his lungs.

“It was disgusting to see. All that kept me going was the thought of running you through with my knife, over and over again.” The floodgates had opened, Izaya had started talking he couldn’t stop.

“Tch!” Izaya spat at him -actually spat at him- a glob of saliva landing on the ground somewhere next to his face. Shizuo felt maybe he should be losing it at that, should be going on a hatred fuelled rampage, or at least try and beat the shit out of the one above him … but all he could feel was shock at the absolute rage on the flea’s face.

Shizuo didn’t think he had ever seen Izaya truly angry before, eyes a stormy sea of hatred.

“I should kill you right here, but you’re so fucking pathetic even I would feel bad about it.”

Shizuo could only focus the way Izaya voice trembled, the way it hurt.

Flea.

“What did you want me to do?” Shizuo’s mouth moved without much thought, and he hates the way his voice croaks out of him. “Just leave you to die?”

“Yes!” Izaya yelled, as if it was the most simple thing in the world and Shizuo just wouldn’t get it. “Or at least try and finish the job, you incompetent beast.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to watch someone fucking die, even an asshole like you.”

“Stop it!” Izaya all but screamed it at him. “Stop fucking crying!”

Shizuo wasn’t even aware he was, though it made sense with the way his body was shaking and the way that day kept fucking flashing in his head. What he was aware of was the knife Izaya had pulled out and shoved up under his eye.

“If you don’t fucking stop crying I’m going to cut out your eyes beast.”

Izaya looked almost deranged and Shizuo could only bark out a laugh.

Maybe if you cut them out I won’t have to fucking see anymore.

“Tch,” Izaya pulled away from him, sounding thoroughly disgusted. “You’re not even worth my time like this.”

“F-fuck you too, Izaya.” Shizuo spat his name out between gritted teeth, pissed as fuck and feeling completely done with this bullshit.

“Next time,” Izaya snapped, walking away from Shizuo, hopefully he would walk out of Shizuo’s life for good, “come at me like you want to kill me, beast.”

Shizuo felt like lighting up a cigarette right then and there, lying in a dirty alley in what was probably half of his own vomit with the rest soaking into his collar.

He certainly proved Izaya was alive and kicking. Too bad the flea was still batshit fucking insane. Shizuo had had enough of this, he was sick of it. Tired of the fear, the rage, the fucking afterimages that wouldn’t stop haunting him. He just wanted to sleep.

He closed his eyes, Izaya’s head jerking in time with aggressive thrusts.

[romantic-reveries]

Finally and conpletely finished with men.

How can someone, in good conscience, know how you’ve been hurt, and know how fragile you are, and not have the decency to handle you with care?

I mean, fuck, I accidentally hurt someone and feel the need to apologize profusely.

I started talking to this one after I’d decided I didn’t want love in the same way anymore. No more dating apps, no more watching romantic movies and wishing I had that, no more pining. I was going to focus on myself and feeling complete without... well, any of the things I truly want. And I still am. This doesn’t stop that. But it was cruel and unnecessary.

But I get lonely, sometimes. I don’t have much of anyone at all. Only my grandma, and a whole bunch of surface level internet friendships. So I use chat apps just to shoot the shit sometimes when I want company, and hope I’ll have a decent conversation for a short while. There’s no expectation, something about it is freeing—I don’t want anything from them, don’t expect anything to happen, and that’s okay. And that’s where I met him.

It was innocuous enough. It always is. He was cute and sweet. It’s always nice to have someone to talk to, to flirt with, and it doesn’t have to be serious. That’s ideal for me. Except, then he went and made it more. He liked me so much—more than he’d ever liked anyone, he told me—he wanted to be with me, he even wanted the label even though I fought him on it initially because I didn’t see the point and I didn’t want that extra reason to be hurt if or when he disappeared, but he insisted he wasn’t going to. He seemed surprised at my hesitance, but was respectful of it, and just kept reassuring me he was going to be around and show me I could trust him. He knew about how I’d been catfished, and how things have never gone well for me in this department.

He wasn’t my ideal man. He was younger than me, he was cute but I wasn’t wildly attracted to him at first. But he seemed genuinely kind, and sweet. I had no reason to doubt him. I knew he wasn’t catfishing me, at least. He was so KEEN. Said he wanted to “lock me down.” Wanted to be mine. He’d had a long distance relationship before, that had lasted six months, and only ended because she got back with her ex, but he hadn’t even liked her as much as me. I told him he deserved better, because I’m a mess right now; needy and insecure and more depressed than I’ve ever been. He told me he hated that I felt that and it hurt his heart. He constantly stressed that it wasn’t about sex, and if I ever wanted to stop, we could. I told him I worried that’s all it was about for him, and he insisted it wasn’t.

I could feel him losing interest, and I was worried about it, because I’d started to trust his assurances, and like, if the excitement was already wearing off that soon for him, then we needed to call it. When I talked to him about it, I’d started to, then chickened out because I was embarrassed, and he’d gently pried it out of me. I asked if things had changed for him, and he said he’d just backed off a little because he felt like he dove in too fast and didn’t wanna freak me out. He said he always wanted me to feel like I could talk to him, and I loved how maturely he dealt with it and seemed to WELCOME open communication.

Just to wake up after three weeks and he’d blocked me, out of the blue. Nothing had happened. No reason why. Even after telling him it was okay if he DID change his mind, and I’d want him to tell me, and he insisted he cared about me enough that he would.

I just cannot even fathom how this guy I thought was nice was more of an asshole than most other people I’ve met. At least Tinder Boy and Catfish Girl both had like... psychological issues. Not that that made it okay, but still. This one was just a fucker and a liar.

I’m so tired of empty words from people who insistently worm their way in and then ruin me.

[nadziejastar]

If both Lea and Isa went through mind control programming how did Axel turn out so well adjusted?

Axel Is A Fucked Up Guy

Ansem the Wise: Xehanort. Foolish apprentice of a foolish man. You have surpassed nothing—only proved how little we both know. We may profess to know the heart, but its essence is beyond our reach.

If you’re asking how a person could be subjected to mind control and still be a good person, and not a total psychopath…well…that’s kind of the mystery of the human condition, no? Polish psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski was caught in World War II and endured harsh incarceration in German prison system and later, he and his wife were imprisoned again in Stalin-controlled Poland. He said he could find no theory of psychology that could adequately explain both the lowest and most depraved behavior he saw, as well as the most heroic and highest acts he had witnessed in the war. He dedicated his life to the study of personality development.

Axel: We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still “are.” But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You’re off the hook.

Vexen: No… Please don’t! I don’t want to—

Axel: Goodbye.

But I would actually argue that Axel was NOT well-adjusted, even though a lot of people might have interpreted him to be that way. Not at all. To me, KH3 is the only game that tried to make him seem well-adjusted and “normal”. A cool ice cream bro who breaks the fourth wall. Which I hated. And even then, there’s still plenty of signs that he’s not really recovered from his past.

It seems like a lot of people took Roxas and Xion’s understanding of Axel—a happy-go-lucky big brother—at face value. But it was clear that they didn’t know him at all. He had a very tragic life. He used to be a normal, happy kid and became a lonely, cynical, bitter assassin. He absolutely despised the organization. You could tell that he took great pleasure when he eliminated Vexen. It had nothing to do with some phantom girl he wasn’t sure existed. He said he had “no one to be”.It was very personal. 

Sora: None of that matters! Just put Riku back!

Vexen: Just put him back? The Riku you speak of…has but one fate, to sink into the darkness—and you will share that fate, Sora! If you continue to seek the girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you’ll lose your heart…and end up becoming Marluxia’s pawn!

Personally, I think Axel especially enjoyed killing Vexen when Sora began pleading with him to change Riku back. That would hit really close to home, and must have been a HUGE trigger for him. Whether he was planning to already or not, that was when Vexen needed to die. I also think it’s why he took such a liking to Sora. 

It was Sora’s devotion to Riku that stood out the most to Axel in Castle Oblivion. Even more than his connection to Roxas.Right after Sora and Riku had a fight, Axel has a scene with Naminé.

Axel: Heh heh… I know exactly how you feel. Don’t get your hopes up. Nobodies can’t be somebodies. But think, Naminé. I’m sure there’s SOMETHING you could do…

This is Axel’s quote from the original Chain of Memories.

Axel: Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart. But don’t waste your time. We Nobodies can never hope to be somebodies.

And this is his quote from Re:Chain of Memories. He’s a LOT colder to her. And I don’t think it was because he had no heart. I think he was so cold to her because he had begun to develop a heart. Naminé’s the wedge that’s driving two close childhood friends apart. It hit WAY too close to home for Axel. And he truly hated her for it. He was dead serious when he said he had absolutely NO sympathy for her.

Riku: Hmph. Too bad, Sora. You can fight me all you want, but I still won’t remember a thing.

Sora: C'mon, Riku… Let’s quit fighting—let’s go help Naminé.

Riku: Together—right. So like you… …Sora—you’re always trying to worm your way into my heart!

Sora: Hold on! When did I ever do that?

Riku: Hmph, you forgot that, too? You never cared. It never mattered to you!

Sora: You won’t push me away.

He knew how the Riku Replica felt, thinking his friend didn’t care about him. And he knows only too well how Sora felt, trying to “worm his way” into his friend’s heart, only to be coldly rejected. And everything about it disgusted him. Sora is a lot like Lea. It made him remember what it was like to have such a strong bond, and how traumatized he was when he lost it. But Sora refused to take no for an answer. Just like him. But of course, that wasn’t really Riku anyways. Axel knew that. Sora’s friendship will be okay. But Axel’s won’t.

Axel: Is that your shield? Won’t do you any good, I’m afraid.

Axel wanted to save Sora. But he couldn’t have cared less if he killed Naminé. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. If anything, he would have been more than happy to do it. He knew she was an innocent young girl who was just an unwilling pawn of the Organization. He didn’t care. It’s so messed up if you think about it. He’d murder a terrified little girl—and he’d do it with a smile on his face. That’s how much he hated anyone who would cause a rift between childhood friends. That’s how devastated he was after the loss of Isa. He has extreme, deep-seated hatred inside of him.

Axel didn’t waste a second grabbing his chakrams. But his body was reluctant somehow.

I don’t want to disappear… But still, it wouldn’t be so bad if I did. Not here.

Axel let out a deep breath and leaped into the air as flames erupted around them.

“…Pathetic!” The Claymore moved to block Axel’s strike, while Saïx himself didn’t even twitch.

This is a pretty overwhelming disadvantage, Axel thought. Well, I knew that before we started fighting. I can’t win against Saïx with my own strength.

Still, he refused to hesitate. He had to force this path open. He wanted…to find hope—the hope that Sora and Riku had.

Saïx gave him a cruel grin. “You will lose everything!” And then the Claymore pierced Axel’s chest.

In my opinion, Axel changed because of Sora and Riku. When he came back from Castle Oblivion, his relationship with Saïx became very strained. Those two reminded him of what he used to have, and it’s unbearable to him that he no longer has it. At the end of KH2, while fighting Saïx, he said that he wanted the hope that Sora and Riku had. He wished that Saïx was just a fake replica the whole time, and that none of the awful things he said were true. The real version had actually gone away to protect him, but he’d show up later, and they could go back to being friends. Hmmm.

Sora: What are you— What ARE you people?!

Axel: Hm… Don’t know. I wonder about that myself.

When Axel saw the way Sora reacted when he killed Vexen, it made him feel ashamed. He realized that “normal” people are horrified by his actions, even when he is acting on their behalf. Sora was furious with Vexen, but even he was appalled by what Axel did.

Sora: After I finish you, he’s next!

Axel: Hmph. Now, Sora. We’ve got more in common than you might think. I’d really rather not fight you… But I can’t dishonor the Organization, now, can I?

Axel: You’re better than I thought you’d be. It was worth saving you after all.

Axel identifies with Sora, but Sora sees him as a monster. Maybe he was relatively well-adjusted compared to some of his fellow Organization members, at least in the morality department. But his “happy-go-lucky big brother” persona was mostly just a facade to cover up a very dysfunctional and wounded person. That was the mask he was comfortable showing outwardly. But it was not his true self.

Day 74: Xion’s Face

Honestly, I never got why Roxas was so crazy about Xion. I know they both joined up around the same time, and they’re both rookies, but how do you get so close to somebody who hides their face all the time? Well, I saw it today. All of a sudden, No. XIV up and takes off…her hood. Xion is a girl, and she looks just like Naminé.

It’s why he acted so strangely when he saw Xion’s face for the first time. He’s looking into the face of the little girl he was willing to murder, who is now asking to be his friend. It freaked him the fuck out. And it made him feel like total shit.

Roxas: When I saw her lying there… I couldn’t stop thinking that she’ll never wake up.

Axel: She will.

Roxas: Saïx called her “broken.”

Axel: Hmm… Well, if it cheers you up, I’m probably a lot more broken than her.

Underneath the mask, was a really fucked up guy who had a LOT of issues. And he KNEW it.

Axel stretched his neck and munched on his ice cream. “You know, I don’t mind disappearing.”

Naminé’s breath caught.

Riku stared at him.

“Roxas is gone. When we bring Kairi here, Naminé will be gone, too. So, same for me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather, and then punctuated his comment with another bite of sea-salt ice cream.

“We don’t disappear… We’re only reborn,” Naminé murmured, perhaps to herself.

“I’m not like you and Roxas,” Axel said flatly. His hand holding the ice pop stick paused in midair.

“But—but you…” She looked down, clenching her fists.

“It’s because I don’t have a heart,” Axel went on. “I don’t want to disappear, but I’m not upset or sad about it.”

Why was he so convinced that he’s not like Roxas and Naminé? Because he’s not innocent anymore. He’s not going to get a next life because he doesn’t think he deserves one. In his mind, he’s not a good person. He’s done bad things. And he’s poisoned by hatred. I think that’s exactly why he clung to Roxas and Xion so much in the first place, aside from sheer loneliness.

They made him remember who he was before he became so fucked up. But he’d never, EVER tell them some of the things he’s done, or what he’s truly capable of. They’d be horrified and he knows it. He’s always eating ice cream during stressful moments in the novel. Even when he’s literally dying. The shittier he feels, the more he eats. The ice cream is comforting to him because it’s something he used to do in the past with Isa. It reminds him of better days. It’s almost like an addiction. Sea-salt ice cream is viewed as this cute, happy thing. But the reason it is so significant to Axel is because he’s in unbearable pain.

Kairi: So, you gonna try yours on?

Lea: Uh…I dunno. Maybe later.

Kairi: But you always wear the same thing.

Lea: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember.

Even in KH3, he won’t take off his old clothes and always stares off into the distance. In my opinion, this has nothing to do with Roxas or Xion. It’s because he’s got baggage. Serious unresolved baggage, connected to his time in the Organization XIII cult. I cannot describe how much I despise the way KH3 downplayed this, and made it seem like his only problem in life was not having Roxas around to hang out with. It felt SO out-of-character to me. Of course he’d want to see Roxas again (who is actually Ventus, IMO). But his entire life doesn’t and shouldn’t revolve around that. He had a life before Roxas and that deserved attention. Isa was the root cause of Lea’s pain.

Axel’s title in the series translates into English as “Flurry of Dancing Flames,” but this doesn’t quite capture the meaning of the original Japanese. The English title implies that Axel himself is fire, but the literal parsing of the Japanese phrase is more like “dancing fire’s wind.”

I think that Axel’s title is about Isa. “Tandava” or dance of destruction, is a divine dance performed by the Hindu god Shiva, where he is infamously depicted surrounded by a circle of flames. It symbolizes the cycles of creation and destruction. Sati grew up devoted to Shiva and spurned the advances of rich kings to the point where she left for a forest to escape the constant proposals. Eventually Shiva consented to make her his bride, and, elated, Sati went to share the news with her father.

Axel: Nothing lasts forever, man. Least of all for a bunch of Nobodies. But you know, we’ll still have each other…even if things change and we can’t do this anymore.

Roxas: Yeah?

Axel: As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?

Roxas: Ha ha, wow, Axel. That sounded ridiculous.

Axel: What? I thought it was pretty deep.

However, upon her father’s expression of his disapproval of her marriage, she immolated herself, praying to one day be reborn as a daughter to a father she could respect. Angered and grief-stricken after learning of Sati’s death, Shiva performed a terrible Tandava. The more Shiva danced, the more destruction arose. Out of grief and sorrow, Shiva carried Sati’s body and roamed around the universe with it, reminiscing of their moments as a couple. It sounds a lot like Axel to me. His relationship with Saïx is akin to carrying a corpse around. Isa’s even got the giant scar on his forehead which literally means “death”.

Eventually, Sati was reborn as Parvati. This time, she was born the daughter of a father whom she could respect; a father who appreciated Shiva ardently. Naturally, she grew up to be a beautiful woman and over time, she grew to love Shiva with her whole heart. Eventually, they married. The two are literally inseparable, as they have a form where they are fused together as one. Their fused form is another symbol of duality. It’s basically the Hindu version of the Red King and White Queen of alchemy.

Another reason I think Axel’s title was about Isa? Well, because that’s what his Mystery Gear weapon was about, too. The Jade Emperor wanted to test the virtue of the hare and his friends. They all gave him food. But the hare had no food except the grass growing in the forest. So he told the Jade Emperor to build a fire, and when the fire was burning, he said “I have nothing to give you to eat but myself!” Then, the hare threw himself into the fire.

Of course, the Jade Emperor caused the fire to go instantly cold so that the hare was not burned, and then revealed his true form. And then he painted the hare’s likeness on the face of the moon for all to see, so that his virtue would be remembered throughout the ages. The rabbit was unharmed and lived happily ever after. In some versions, he actually is taken to the moon and becomes immortal. But the rabbit hasn’t gotten to the moon yet. He doesn’t know that the Isa he remembers is still alive.

Xemnas: There hangs the heart of all hearts–Kingdom Hearts–shining down on us at last. See the countless hearts that have gathered? Hearts full of rage…hate…sadness…and bliss. There, in the sky, hangs the promise of a new world.

In addition to his own abuse, Axel is fucked up because of Isa. He’s angry at what they did to him, and he’s devastated over losing him. He was an emotional wreck, filled with rage, hate, and sadness. His entire arc was building up suspense for the “bliss” part…and then they did a bait-and-switch.

[xfpornbattle]

Siren

Category: AU

explicit | 2k wds | pre-XF, msr, horror | cw: violence

Summary: Mulder is haunted by something worse than his memories. Will Scully believe someone she’s just met?

—

Rhode Island

October, 1988

The moon lights blue the cold sand, but the belly of the ocean knows only the dark. Starfish climb toward its breathless call, this thing that moves along the sea floor, but they cannot reach it before it sweeps out of reach, cannot heed its silent compulsions to join it: to come. Rocks on the beach feel its approach, its slow stride, its primordial gait, each footfall dragging with it the whole history of the earth’s briny depths. The thing’s endless, feracious proliferation takes singular form as it ascends toward the shore. Its kelp-string hair becomes black and smooth; the rotting corpses of two prickly anglerfish settle below its head to form the clever mockery of breasts; a dead shark’s toothy grin splits to form the folds of its malignant, deceitful vagina. When it is nearly whole, it breaks the surface as woman, appearing and disappearing as waves move over its head. It drags itself with even steps onto the cold beach. And it wants. She wants.

He feels her landing like the ache of an approaching migraine. It pulls at his nervous system, thrums the fibrous chords of his thighs and groin. He smells the fishgut and brine of her sex from his position on the pier. She’s there in the distance. He sees her. He knows what she means to do. He cannot stop himself from stepping off the pier, from falling the ten or so feet into the wet sand where she (it) waits. 

And then he wakes.

Fox Mulder sits up in the small twin bed of his childhood vacations (he cannot force himself into the double where his parents once slept). He is covered in sweat, despite the October chill, and his erection aches against his abdomen—it hurts him with terrible need and a worse sense of shame, a horror that the dream has brought it against his will. This is the fourth evening of the nightmare, and it is only getting worse. The shark teeth… he shudders, forces himself out of bed and into the shower where he jacks off for relief and hates himself just a little.

He will run, he thinks. When the sun lightens the eastern horizon, he will run the beach and get this nightmare out of his head, get himself back together. It’s why he’s here, after all, in this place of childhood discomfort.

Some monsters live in the ocean, some on land. Some worm their way into the head and won’t let go. Monte Propps is behind bars now, but his wrenching grip on Mulder’s brain cannot be put away so easily. Two weeks mandatory leave for psychological recovery: so here he is.

The morning dawns gray and foggy and cold. His feet slap against the hard-packed sand while he tries to outrun his thoughts. To outrun the sight of a child flayed, its organs displayed like some bloodstained, eldritch alphabet—all but the heart, which is missing (consumed). He pushes these thoughts back. He runs. He pounds the sand. He seeps into, is swallowed by, the gray. I will dissolve, he thinks. I will dissolve into the fog and I will leave Propps behind. I will heal as I have been told to do.

But his attention is caught, snagged, ripped away from the colorless beach, by something… red. Hair. A woman’s hair. She is reading, taking notes on the beach. At dawn. In October.

He slows. He stops in front of her.

-

She has three weeks before her licensing exam, before she can begin her final two years of med school and she cannot fuck this up. The sea, she thinks. She needs the sea to calm her, to settle her mind so she can study, so she can do this right, so she can prove them all wrong.

Dana Scully rents a cottage on the other side of the country in a town called Quonochontaug that promises sea and silence and solitude. She reads. She writes. She listens to the ancient tides that groan and crash against the land.

She has spotted him before, this haunted man who runs every day and who barely looks up to notice the world around him. Once, in the grocery store, she watched him buy a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and sunflower seeds. Yesterday she saw him at the sea-edge at dusk, staring at the dark place where the water met the sky—not even a line, but a blueblack smudge: the marriage of unfathomable depths and impossible cosmic distance.

There is some kind of magnetism that draws him to her now. She feels it and sees it working on him at once. He stands before her, curious.

“Hi,” he says.

“I’ve seen you,” she says.

-

At a small diner she watches him pick at his eggs and toast while she swallows ravenously her omelette. His eyes—she can’t get over the depth of them, the darkness that shades them, the hoods that droop over them from some hidden anguish and lack of sleep. She feels him like the moon in her blood, but she has no explanation. It is a wild thing. She wants him to take her into the bathroom and fuck her stupid against the ugly tile. She blushes. She shakes her head. What is wrong with her?

“My father doesn’t respect me any more.”

“My sister was abducted from our home when I was twelve.”

They vomit out secrets into the ramshackle diner like a dam has broken somewhere. Neither can stop. She tells him about medical school. He tells her about the FBI. She tells him (blushing) how her mother found condoms in her dresser and how her father wouldn’t look her in the eye for a month. He tells her about Propps, even the goriest details, the worst things, and she doesn’t even flinch. He tells her everything except one. He doesn’t tell her about the dreams.

He pays and she thanks him, pulling her toggle-button sweater tight against her waist as they walk into the mid-morning breeze. The fog has cleared but the clouds still hang low. Dried leaves skitter across the parking lot.

“Look for me tomorrow,” she says.

He will.

-

This time when he wakes from the nightmare, he is standing at the open back door of the summerhouse, staring at the dunes. His feet are wet. He is wearing jeans with damp bottoms that he knows he didn’t go to sleep in.

He still hears it, in his head: some sound he cannot name. It’s like a word he can’t remember, a melody he can’t quite grasp. It is like a fishhook, tugging at his cerebellum. A word bubbles to the surface, a whispered word, what it thinks he wants. He hears a whispered Samantha, and goes queasy at the conflation of this monstrous thing and his little sister. The thought… He feels it rising. He coughs. He vomits onto the back porch and then drags himself inside. He locks the door and leans against it. What is happening to him?

When he sees Dan Scully next, the bright spot of light in this strange dark time, she is wearing khaki pants and a denim jacket, sitting on a beach chair. She has only one book with her this time. He slows to stop in front of her and she smiles at him.

“Hi,” he says.

“You look terrible,” she replies, brow furrowing with concern. “Come inside.”

She makes him tea and toast in her University of Maryland t-shirt, and thinks how stupid she must be to invite this strange man into her cottage where she sleeps alone.

“Dana,” he says to her while he tries to eat. “You love the sea.”

“I do,” she says, nodding but concerned, not sure where he’s headed.

“But it’s full of monsters,” he tells her. His eyes look so sad that she can’t help but reach out a hand to touch him. She wraps her fingers around his forearm and searches his broken face.

“Tell me,” she says.

-

He’s scared her away, he thinks. The thing will come for him again tonight, and he’s frightened away the only good thing he knew. She’d listened, though. She’d listened with sad eyes and hugged him and told him she’d look for him tomorrow. She’d said, “I need to think.” Think, not study. He would never see her again.

He drinks coffee at midnight, afraid of what sleep will bring. He turns on the TV, but the local stations go to static at one. He finds a black-and-white movie on UHF: Dementia 13.

It is not enough. He dozes. The thing comes back.

Its face mimics beauty, as do its naked breasts, its long legs. Its toes drag long lines in the sand with each step toward the pier. Black hair smooth down its back, it smiles at him with too-dark eyes and teeth that don’t belong in a human mouth. “You want me,” it whispers, and he tries to say no. He grips the railing, feels splinters in his hand. “You do.”

Behind her there’s a strange writhing on the beach. Fish, he sees. Fish and crabs and eels and ammonites long extinct and strange sharp-toothed and tumorous looking beasts, wriggling and scrambling from the water to their deaths at the feet of this treacherous being.

He recoils, squeezes the railing until his fingers burn. And yet he is drawn toward her, feels the compulsion in his spine, in his toes. He wants to wake up. He wants to…

He can’t.

He feels the compulsion pulling him under, pulling his hands free, stomping out his volition with every terrible beat of the creature’s heart.

-

Dana wakes suddenly as if startled. Not by a dream, but by something equally elusive. The cottage is silent, but she knows… She senses something wrong, and she’s learned not to ignore her instincts. Mulder, she thinks. His dreams. His nightmares. Danger, she thinks.

She pulls on boots and a jacket over her pajamas and rushes out into the dunes.

The water is black and the clouds have returned to block the moon—it is almost completely dark on the beach. Cold, too. She should have brought a flashlight.

“Mulder!” She calls, realizing that she doesn’t know exactly which house is his. She knows only the direction from which he passes in the morning.

She runs. She runs and runs, cursing the sand that sinks under her and makes it harder. “Mulder!” She yells again.

It’s stupid, she thinks. It’s stupid that she’s running in the dark along a pitch-black beach, looking for a man she hardly knows, screaming into the void on a completely irrational hunch. There is nothing rational left in her, though. There is only this impulse.

After what feels like half a mile, she stops short. The moon has broken free of the clouds and lights the beach silver. She sees him: he’s in the water.

“Mulder!” She screams, but he doesn’t hear. He is walking into the ocean. It is at his waist. The waves crash against him but he hardly notices. He just walks, one slow step after another. She crashes into the water after him, screaming his name.

When she’s close enough to see his face, it is pure horror: aguish, resistance, desperation. “Mulder!” She yells again. She grabs his shoulders, squeezes. But he won’t, can’t, snap out of it. The water is knocking her back, knocking her away from him, but she grips firm, uses the leverage of the next wave to hurl herself upward so she can throw her lips against his.

The water pushes, pushes at her, but she’s wrapped her arms around her neck to hold tight, and she’s kissing him awake. Finally, he stops his steady march forward as the water pushes against her back and his chest—so high now. She feels something shift, feels his balance break and he topples backward with the next wave. He shakes his head. He looks at her.

“Dana?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she says, and they drag each other back onto the cold sand where they hold each other tight.

—

[likesplatterpaint]

May Blog a Day: 9

9. Tell us about your parents.  In what ways are you exactly like them? In what ways are you the opposite? OOOOOOF. BUCKLE IN KIDS.

I was also raised by a stepdad, but we’re not going to get into that this round. That’s just as complicated and I just don’t...wanna.

SO

Mom- Could be both a kind saint and raze you to the ground. She had high expectations for me, academically and in terms of being an amazing person who brought light to the world. She had a beautiful singing voice and loved music. She had an infectious faith in God and brutal determination to survive. She was very sick most of the time, and complications from Cystic Fibrosis led to transplant, which led to diabetes and kidney failure and a whole host of other health issues. I grew up knowing my mom would die sooner rather than later. She wasn’t supposed to live past 21 (she lived to almost 50). She wasn’t supposed to have me. Here I am.

She loved life though.Beyond all she loved her animals, and working with them. She was a master cook. She inspired leagues of people in our community. She had a very hard life, and did the best she could with it and me Her sense of humor kept her alive along with her grit. She loved butterflies, the color yellow, and silly voices. She loved me. 

She also had BPD. At the end, she was desperately trying to keep me in her box. She loved me, but she emotionally and verbally abused the shit out of me- the kinds of insidious gaslighting, guilt-tripping, and manipulation that had pushed nearly everyone else away from her but me. She was constantly telling me I was too heavy to be loved. She could go from singing my praises in one breath, to screaming at me why I wouldn’t do more for my poor sick mother.

We had a very rocky relationship at the end of her life, but I’m proud to say I did what I could to keep the peace. Keep her comfortable. Try to make her happy. And she died knowing her daughter loved her and she was going home to Jesus. That’s what matters.

I am immensely like her in her positive traits- goofy voices, silly mannerisms, a whirlwind in the kitchen. I am driven as fuck. I am a light. I even look just like she did, at least in her younger years (and about 100lbs heavier- not saying much, considering the CF usually kept her around 98 lbs). I have her beautiful red/auburn/strawberry blond heair. My sense of humor was shaped by hers. I learned never to take myself too seriously, and that laughing about hospital grilled cheese and NG tubes. I learned you never underestimate God. You rely on him fully, and after the pain he will restore you sevenfold.

I miss her, writing this. She would have made my life here so fraught, but she would have been so excited and proud.

AND NOW ON TO LITERAL FLORIDA MAN.

Dad is a terrifying mountain of a man made of big feelings, adrenaline seeking, a desire to serve, and trauma. He and mom are bother Leos, so it’s no wonder they didn’t work out- vain, attention seeking, sometimes narcissistic on both of their ends. They met at a hopsital where she worked as a nurse, and Dad as a paramedic. He grew up with next to nothing- after his mother died unexpectedly when he was 8, his alcoholic father abandoned him. Dad lived in a barn in Kentucky on his own until his Auggie- an aunt, or uncle, not sure which, took him in. Needless to say, Dad had his own demons. Enlisted in the US Airforce at 17, served a bit in Vietnam (?????), and was supposed to be a K9 handler? Which I didn’t know until? Last year? They stuck him on a base without dogs, though. So he eventually ended up a fire medic.

By and large, my father spent most of my childhood absent when he left my mom for a worm of a woman. He was a workaholic from my perspective, and had his priorities way out of fucking wack. He worked for the SWAT team, Tampa PD, Tampa Fire (eventually becoming the chief of the district), did two tours in Iraq, and one in Desert Storm, and even more things I probably don’t know about. The man legit has a war trophy of a ceramic fish from the wall of Sadam Hussein’s pleasure palace. Uhm. 

That said, now that he’s been to therapy and put himself to work at being a real father...holy shit? I love him? So much? His enthusiasm is unparalleled (only perhaps by mine, or my mother’s). HE loves to talk feelings, trauma, psychology. He understands people on a visceral level and can make friends with anyone. He laughs just like me. We walk just like each other- head down, determined as fuck to get where we’re going. He jumps in with both feet. He never hesitates to laugh or make a joke, and I live for the sound of his laugh these days. He has a downright spiritual connection with wolves and dogs, perhaps a little self made, but still interesting nonetheless. He can be stone hard and terrifying (there is some murkiness between how he and my mother treated each other- threats of abuse and arguments I was too young to remember, emotionally abusive bullshit he and the snake would pull when I would visit younger...)- but I’m happy to know him as he is now. 

He would do anything for me. And I cannot tell you how good it feels to have a parent that I can trust, finally.

I am my father’s verbose daughter. I am made of passion, wild-eyed enthusiam, and a fuse that is long but an anger that is silent and terrifying. I am wildly creative and a leader. I am flooded with ADD just like him (i suspect he may be bipolar, as well). I am alive and I love it.

Now that I’ve written them out, my parents were terrifyingly similar, and it’s no wonder they didn’t work out. They both struggled with mental health to the point of suicide attempts (One with medication, one that had his uh. Swat buddies called on him). Neither had great relationships with their fathers. Both adored their mothers. Both were unfalteringly loyal people determined to do some good in this world. Both could be immensely selfish. Both had??? fascinations with the marine? Dad scubas. Mom water skiied. Both, at separate points in their lives, became obsessed with training dogs. Both survived some serious shit.

Both of them loved/love me with every fiber of their being and made me into the person I love being today.

And I’m glad I’ve finally gotten to a point where I can acknowledge that and love them both for who they are, and love myself.

[jinterlude]

Two Faced (Ch.4)

↳ gif header is made by © @softjeon. Please don’t try and steal it and make it your own.

➵ Pairing(s): Gang!Jungkook x Female!OC & Gang!Mark Lee x Female!OC x Gang!Seokjin

➵ Genre(s):  College!AU, Mafia/Gang!AU, Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Love Triangle & Slight-Fluff

➵ Warning(s): None for this chapter

➵ Words: 4.4K

➵ Co-writer: @softjeon​

➵ Summary: Two girls. Two gangs. One craved absolute control over the city of Seoul. While, the other simply craved sleep and good grades. Now, what do these two ladies have in common? Simple. They have nothing in common—or so they think. Everyone knows the saying, “never judge a book by its cover”, so maybe there is something more to these two than meets the eye…especially when one of them is suddenly thrown into the underground life. Loyalties will be tested. Romance will blossom. Yup. Sounds like an average college day…

« Previously | Next Time »

Chapter 4 - So My Roomie is a Gang Leader

A few days later, Sumin still had yet to crack the mystery that was Sowon. Whenever they attended classes, meaning Sumin dragged her roommate along because she had grown tired of Sowon’s professor looking at her like they had no idea what she was talking about, Sowon behaved like the first time they had meant. Yet when they were back home, the lazy roommate turned into this confident, almost cold-hearted person.

Seriously, Sumin practically experienced whiplash from the many times that Sowon had abruptly changed personas. However, the innocent little lady refused to give up until she uncovered the truth about Sowon and her mysterious group of boys.

To this day, Sumin doesn’t know what they do, how they met Sowon, or even why the sudden silence whenever she came into the room?

So many questions yet so little time—especially now since Sowon was currently shoving every single style of dress at her, demanding that she’d try them on.

“Wait, try this dress on!” yelled Sowon as she threw yet another short and tight dress over the dressing room door.

Sumin groaned loudly. Sowon didn’t quite understand Sumin’s reasoning for disliking the whole “going to the club”. Though, deep down. Sumin knew that Sowon could care less about what she disliked—well—for the most part.

“Sowon! I think this dress is shorter than the last one you chucked at me…!” Sumin whined; her eyes widened as she took in her reflection. All she saw was legs, legs, and more legs. Oh, she couldn’t forget the semi-exposure of her cleavage too…

Sumin chuckled, secretly finding Sumin’s discomfort a bit amusing. The secretive gang leader knew what she was doing. She was never oblivious to Sumin’s body type, especially, when she noticed that this petite girl had some curves to her. How did she noticed? It’s simple, really. Sowon had noticed when Sumin was being trained by Seokjin. Honestly, after that day, Sowon questioned why her innocent little roomie never wore anything tight. Like, a nicely fitted blouse, or even a cocktail type of dress that accentuated her best features.

If Sumin thought Sowon was a mystery, then Sumin would be like a cold-case for Sowon.

Two girls with their own hidden secrets.

Sounds like a fun game…

Hours had passed, and the two girls finally left the clothing store with two shopping bags in each arm.

“I still think you should’ve gotten that cute black dress. I think you would’ve looked cute in that lace.” commented Sowon, pouting cutely.

Sumin grimaced, “Weren’t you the one that told me that the dress looked like something a mom would wear, though?” She pointed out, giving her roomie a knowing look.

Sowon laughed, “I was using reverse-psychology on you. Honestly, I wanted you to get that dress since it represents your personality quite well.”

Sumin tilted her head slightly; confusion slowly appeared on her face.

“How so?” She asked.

Sowon simply hummed in response as she thought about how she could explain it without unknowingly offending her sunshine.

“Just trust me, okay?” Sowon winked at her roommate playfully and lead her back to her car. Sumin still had no idea what this all was about and she seriously had no idea why she was playing along. Maybe she liked the rush of it all a little too much already.

When they parked in front of Sowon’s mansion again, Sumin just followed the leader as always.

“You will have some last minute training with Jin in a bit.” Sowon announced as she  turned and walked a little backwards until they were in her room that she normally shared with Jungkook but when Sumin stayed over—it was theirs. It was always put her in a rather good mood whenever she thought about how that even occurred.

Apparently, Sumin had pulled her aside one night, telling her that she won’t stay in a random room nor will sleep with any of the boys. Sowon sat down at the edge of her bed as she eyed the slightly nervous Sumin, who still had no idea what it was all about. Biting her lip, Sowon contemplated for a while. She needed to let Sumin in. Either way it would get quite dangerous for her. Sumin must have an idea already on who she really was, but still—the innocent girl stayed quiet and in a weird way, she trusted Sowon.

Now standing in their shared bedroom, Sumin groaned, throwing her head back. After what seemed like an eternity of shopping, the last thing the tired girl wanted to do was train with Seokjin. Even more so, when she didn’t have a clear explanation as to why she had to train in the first place. When she originally asked Sowon why she had to train, the older woman would simply say,

“Because, I can easily break you with my hugs, and I don’t want to accidentally kill you one day.”

Sighing loudly, Sumin flopped on her bed, well Jungkook’s, and stared blankly at the ceiling while Sowon eyed her with this amusing gleam in her eye. She knew that Sumin could be lazy but, at the same time, she displayed more advanced athletic skills when she felt like that.

Too bad that those moments were rare. Like, Sowon showing up to her classes rare.

“Okay, come on, you book worm,” Sowon walked up to Sumin and grabbed her wrists, “You don’t want Jinnie to wait for you forever, right?” She questioned as she roughly yanked Sumin up, earning a tiny yelp from her roomie.

Sumin whined again, but soon submitted to Sowon. If she didn’t do it now, she knew that Sowon would resort to more drastic methods, and the last time that happened, Sumin ended up on Seokjin’s lap, wearing nothing but her sleeping shirt.

Yeah...she firmly believed that she accidentally turned him on…

Sowon smiled brightly before tossing Sumin her workout gear. She then pushed the girl into the bathroom and said to meet her in the training room.

As she walked out, this interesting idea began to formulate in her devious mind. This scheming like smirk slowly graced her beautiful face the more the idea solidified.

“I think I should pay Yoongi a visit…” She thought sweetly as the sounds the of her heels echoed throughout the empty corridor.

Now, standing in the middle of the training room, Sumin tightened her ponytail. She couldn’t quite understand why Seokjin told her to put her hair up, but she simply shrugged it off and did as she was told. Once her hair was secured enough, she moved on to stretching out her muscles, though, she did it half-assed.

Seokjin shook his head softly, chuckling at how his princess wasn’t taking this training seriously. Maybe she would once her life was on the line.

Then, it hit him. That’s what he’d do to get her to exert all of her strength.

“Okay, princess,” He began, walking to the center and standing in front of Sumin, “I need you to punch me.” He instructed as he got into a fighting stance.

Sumin froze; her doe-like eyes widened. Was he messing with her? He had to be since their previous training sessions only required her throwing knives at a target or knowing how to prep a gun.

Now, he wanted her to punch him.

Nope. Not going to happen.

“What?! I’m not going to punch you!” She practically shrieked, not wanting to harm the pretty boy for doing absolutely nothing to her.

Seokjin gave her look, “You need to be able to defend yourself, especially when you can’t get to your gun or even a simple knife.” He explained, taking step forward towards Sumin, who then took a step back.

Her heart raced against her chest. Her breathing became sporadic. There’s the whole defending herself thing again. Since day one, he had always told her that the reason for learning about weaponry, concocting the perfect escape route, etc. was because she needed to learn how to defend herself from anything and everything.

What was going on?

“Defend myself from what?!” yelled Sumin, finally fed up with being kept in the dark.

“From enemies,” A sudden voice behind Sumin said, when an arm already wrapped around her neck and quickly brought her to the ground. Sumin was completely knocked off her balance.

Sowon laughed, when Sumin tried to threw her hands at her, flapping them like birds. But somehow Sumin grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed Sowon down, making the older woman squeal a little, before she quickly caught her wrist and brought it up Sumin’s head. “What the fuck, Sowon!” Sumin shouted, and the boys around cheered as the two girls were rolling around, fighting each other off. It didn’t take long for Sowon to have the upper hand again, pinning both hands up over Sumin’s head, while she was sitting comfortably on Sumin’s waist.

“Now, sunshine,” Sowon said a little out of breath, “Do you ever heard something about ‘Bangtan’?”

Sumin squirmed underneath Sowon. A faint blush crept on her face, not because that she was aroused or anything, but because that this was the most skin-on-skin contact that she ever experienced and—she hated it. She wanted Sowon to get off her right now. While, with the other person, Sowon refused to weaken her grip until Sumin answered her.

“You know...you can keep squirming all you want, but I’m not getting up until you answer…” She declared, chuckling softly at Sumin’s failed attempts of freeing herself.

With a final spurt of strength, Sumin flopped back down and finally answered Sowon but shaking her head as the word, “no”, escaped her tired lips.

“Oh, really?” Sowon said and let go of Sumin’s wrists and sat herself up a little more, “That’s honestly…disappointing. But what did I expect?”

The leader got up from Sumin’s body and held out a hand for her to grab to pull her up. Not even caring about dusting off her clothes, Sumin stared at Sowon, demanding answers. Her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Okay, so…,” Sowon finally started and turned towards her boys, “Did you hear about the new drug that has been going around campus for a while now?” She licked her lips with a knowing smile when Sumin nodded frantically. She had heard about it and seen it. It was designed to make the students more efficient and awake but also left them on a very ‘high’ and mentally fucked up state afterwards. “Well, hi…that was me,” Sowon threw her hair back and proudly turned around before she introduced herself once again, but this time it was accurate, “Hi, I’m Sowon, leader of ‘Bangtan’. I own a drug and weaponry business and basically every club you know…is mine. This is the world I live in… and you’re in it now.”

Sumin stood there in silence, practically like a zombie since her soul pretty much left her body. Her brain went into overdrive as it tried its hardest to process the information that she had learned.

Then, her mouth formed a tiny “O”. Tiny whispers spewed from her lips as she repeated every other word that she had heard come out of Sowon’s lips.

“So...you are a gang leader that owns clubs, deals in drugs and weaponry, and more than likely does other illegal stuff…” Sumin trailed on, while Sowon and the rest of Bangtan nod their head. “That doesn’t mean you can neglect your studies since you have seven other people to handle that stuff for you.” She added.

The second she said, this giant wave of confusion crashed onto Bangtan. Okay. That wasn’t the reaction they were looking for.

“You’re not going to run to the cops and rat us out?” Seokjin questioned; his words dripped with caution.

Sumin simply shook her head.

This caused even more confusion with the gang.

“Why not?” Jungkook asked, finding a bit too weird that this outsider wasn’t running to the police.

“Well, by the looks on your face, that is something that you’d expect. Besides, I’m pretty positive that one of you guys would’ve shot me dead before I could even make it to the front door.” She kindly explained, displaying her intelligence to them. A quiet click of a gun was heard, when everyone stared at Yoongi for a second.

“What? I mean…that’s what I’m supposed to do right?” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and secured his gun back in his holster.

Sowon stared at Sumin, blinking a few times, as now it was her turn to wrap her mind around Sumin’s words. She knew that Sumin was quite smart, but she didn’t know that she could be street smart given her naive nature. Her innocent little sunshine had yet to cease in impressing her.

Now, after seeing Sumin’s street smarts, her plan on luring out NCT’s leader would officially be foolproof…

“Good!” Sowon clapped in her hands, happy that her plan was working out, but before she could turn around, Sumin held her back.

“But now…what do I have to do with all of this?” She asked, raising her eyebrow as she looked up at the gang leader.

“Oh, right,” Sowon chuckled and cupped Sumin’s cheek sweetly, “You my dear are my bait. I need someone that they don’t expect, someone innocent as you. You won’t get hurt, trust me.” Sumin furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to speak but the leader was interrupting her already, explaining every important information she needed to know and leaving out a few little details. “It’s easy,” She nodded, “We go in, you find out what the leader looks like and I can finally take them down. Then you can go back to your boring life and I can finally stop pretending to be a student.”

Sowon smiled at Sumin, though inside, she couldn’t help but be nervous as well. It wasn’t like she was going after any gang. NCT was a force to be reckoned with, or else Sowon wouldn’t have to hide to keep safe. They made it clear before—they wanted her. Dead or Alive. They truly did not care. And sometimes, if no one was around, Sowon couldn’t help but feel it. The fear. The anxiety. With great power comes great responsibility. And ‘Bangtan’ was her family. She needed them all to be safe. And now that Sumin was in the picture, Sowon had one more person to look out for.

Straightening her shoulders, Sowon hugged Sumin, kissing the top of her hair before she simply turned without saying a word.

Jungkook’s eyes followed her retreating body, before he looked back at Sumin. He knew she wouldn’t ever forgive herself if something happened to her. As much as the leader wouldn’t admit it, Jungkook knew how much Sumin already meant to her. She wouldn’t survive another life taken away from her.

“Wait...did she just say that I was being used as bait?!” shrieked Sumin once Sowon left the room.

The rest of the fellas shielded their precious ears as they nodded their heads. Did they truly believe that Sumin would be safe luring this invisible man out?

Probably not.

Would they let something happen to her?

Never.

“Just trust us, princess,” Seokjin began, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, “While, we do appear cold and can easily murder someone without exerting too much effort, we are one big family, and we never let our family get hurt. Okay?” He reassured the nervous woman, smiling softly.

Sumin sighed, still unsure if he meant what he said; however, if it meant that she would be allowed to go back to her academics and having a sense of normalcy, then…

“Okay. I’ll do it. When do I have to this baiting thing?” She asked, trying to keep her voice nice and calm but ultimately failed when it wavered near the end.

Seokjin turned to Jungkook, who knew everything and anything that Sowon planned. One of the many perks of dating the leader.

“This Saturday.” Jungkook answered shortly.

Sumin faked a laugh, “Great…”

Before she knew it, Saturday arrived quickly. From receiving more hand-to-hand combat training to going over brief notes of NCT, Sumin didn’t realize that it had indeed become Saturday. It finally registered when Sowon pushed her into the bathroom, shoved a navy-blue cocktail dress, and matching heels.

“Oh! Leave your hair down!” The pushy leader suggested as she fixed the positioning of her wig. Instead of her natural dark locks, she now dawned this hazel brown color that slowly faded into this purple ombre.

After what seemed like hours, Sumin emerged from the bathroom. Her hair cascaded down the sides of her face like a waterfall. Her makeup highlighted her best facial features while the navy-blue dress clung nicely against her body. On her feet were these black heels that paired nicely.

Sowon couldn’t help but do this wolf whistle at the girl. Damn, Sumin cleaned up nicely. She still appeared to be this innocent lady yet now looked to have ulterior motives.

The gang leader’s eyes did a quick glance over. Sumin looked great but something was missing. Then, she suddenly snapped her fingers and rushed to the dresser. Her hands grasped one of her many jewelry boxes and opened it. She then pulled out this nice diamond and sapphire bracelet and walked back to Sumin.

“Wear this.” She instructed nicely, even though she pretty much clasped it around Sumin’s wrist.

Sumin eyed the extravagant bracelet and asked her why she needed to wear this. To which Sowon answered,

“Not only does this complete your look, but it also has a hidden tracker and microphone just in case NCT’s leader decides to be a creeper and kidnap you.”

Sumin chuckled nervously as her eyes flickered to the bracelet again. Great, she hadn’t even thought about the possibility of being kidnapped until Sowon put that image in her head. Sowon noted the sudden nervous emotion within Sumin and patted the girl on head; a weird yet sweet attempt on calming the girl.

“No matter what...you will be protected by either myself or one of the guys.” Sowon reassured before pulling her into a warm, comforting hug.

Sumin stood there, at first, but soon returned the hug. It was a simple action yet it meant so much the younger girl. She never had any friends, so it truly got lonely sometimes.

But ever since Sowon came into her life, it had been one interesting adventure. And to think...the journey was only just beginning...

“You ready to turn on some hormonal boys, minus Yoongi and Jimin, of course.” Sumin heard Sowon say in a teasing voice. Of course Sowon, the never tiring seductress, wanted to torture the fellas.

Sumin simply rolled her eyes but displayed an amused grin on her face. Sowon was definitely rubbing off on her.

Exiting the room, the girls sauntered their way towards the staircase. The way their body spoke was if they were saying that they were ready to take on whoever and whatever that came at them.

As they neared the staircase, it was eerily quiet. Nothing but the sounds of their heels hitting the marble stairs were heard as they descended down the steps. Everyone was busy with getting themselves ready. Putting their guns into their holsters. That was until each fella heard this clinking sound. Each of their heads snapped towards the stairwell. Some of their jaws dropped as they couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the girls’ beauty. No one dared to say too much, though Seokjin’s eyes were fixated on Sumin’s body for a little too long. Damn…she looked good.

Sowon was walking over to Jungkook right away, letting him take her in his embrace as they both turned away from the group a little more.

“You good?” Jungkook asked sweetly, pushing a strand of Sowon’s fake hair behind her ear, as she nodded. “Sure,” She smiled a bit too nervous for Jungkook’s liking.

“She will do fine.” He reassured her.

“I know, I’m just…,” Sowon sighed. She hated how easily Jungkook could read her. Her eyes flickered over to Sumin and the leader flashed her a confident smile and a wink, before she wrapped her arms around Jungkook’s neck.

“Stay close,” The leader whispered, placing a soft kiss right below his pulse point, making him shiver. “As soon as we got everything we need to know,” She cupped Jungkook’s cheek, her lips only inches away from his, “I want her to be out of there. Unharmed.”

Jungkook sighed softly as a tiny grin appeared on his handsome face.

“On Seokjin’s honor, I’m damn sure that she’ll remain unharmed while on this mission.” He stated quietly before closing the gap between their lips, indulging in the sweetest and most addicting kisses that Sowon always offered him.

While with Sumin, she couldn’t help but watch the couple engage the most passionate kiss ever. Part of her, silently wished that she too could experience that strong sense of intimacy—that feeling of being loved. Yet, with the other half, she was completely content with being by herself—right?

“Alright, my sweet sunshine! Time to get the show on the road!” shouted Sowon, pulling Sumin out of her contradicting thoughts.

Sumin simply smiled in response as Seokjin walked up to her and stood by her side. He gently placed a hand on her bare shoulder, ignoring the jolts of electricity that surged through his veins.

“Everything will be fine,” He paused, taking the moment to courageously place a sweet kiss on her temple, “Hoseok and I will be watching you from a nearby booth, and Taehyung will mimic your movements from a distance,” He then turned her towards him; their eyes locked on each other, “No matter what, I will make sure nothing harms you.” He declared, pulling her into a hug.

Sumin stood there, allowing the man to hug her. She slightly lifted her arms to return the hug but soon dropped them when Seokjin released her from his warm embrace. This warm, almost loving, smile appeared on his face as Seokjin observed the faint blush invade Sumin’s already rosy cheeks.

“Thanks…” She mumbled; her eyes remained glued on the tile floor as she messed with the bracelet that Sowon gave her.

Seokjin found her shy exterior quite adorable as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, escorting her to the cars.

“Took you guys long enough…!” Sowon shouted as she watched the two finally exit the luxurious house.

Sumin rolled her eyes as she, slowly but surely, made her way to Sowon and the rest of Bangtan, minus Seokjin. He trailed right behind her with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants.

Sowon eyed her cute little sunshine with an interesting gleam in her eyes as she hooked their arms together.

“Remember, the plan is to lure NCT’s leader out and then gain some useful knowledge that we can use against him. Okay?” The confident yet secretly scared gang leader reminded Sumin.

Sumin simply gave her a thumbs up before entering the vehicle.

Sowon nodded to herself with this confident smirk written all over her face. This plan was going to work.

She just knew it…

The ride to the club was fairly quiet. The only words spoken were only to see if Namjoon’s equipment worked. Sowon’s eyes were fixated on the road, her hand firmly placed in Jungkook’s who was staring out of the window. Sumin watched the two of them for a while, wondering about them. How they had met, if Jungkook had always been around or if it was one of those fairly odd love stories. She giggled, imagining Sowon being romantic and before she noticed, they arrived a few streets away from their destination.

“C’mon, sunshine,” Sowon held out her hand for Sumin to take, leaving the boys behind as they drove off again. Swinging their hands back and forth, Sowon was humming quietly, acting like they weren’t on a mission but in fact on their way to party. Rubbing her hands over Sumin’s arms, she kept the younger warm as they stood in the line to get inside.

“Normally I use my god given tools to get in quick, but we can’t get any extra attention tonight,” The leader mumbled and fixed a lock of Sumin’s hair.

Sumin only nodded, understanding her friend’s decision to keep a low profile. However, the almost frozen woman wished the line went a little bit faster. Also, there was no breeze. If there wasn’t a breeze, then tonight would’ve been perfect for her. After all, she did prefer the cold over the heat.

“I wonder why the line isn’t moving...the club couldn’t be a capacity already…” Sowon mumbled, hoping that Sumin didn’t hear her as she did.

Unfortunately, she did. Sumin looked at the leader and flashed a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, Sowon,” She began, “Besides, don’t you want a lot of people here tonight?” She asked, not knowing that a certain group of people had been listening. The joys of having advanced technology installed all over the establishment.

In a dark room, hidden from the eyes of the many clubbers, there sat an unknown figure; the person’s eyes remained fixated on Sumin’s face.

“I know that look, Mark… and no you can’t keep her.” joked a man with silver-hair.

The young man, with raven dark locks, simply smirked. He could waste his breathe on entertaining his right-hand man, but he decided that his words were better suited for that unknown gorgeous woman that entered the camera’s line of sight.

The black-haired man stood up, grabbing his leather jacket from the now vacant seat. He quickly put it on, covering his white dress shirt, and walked over to the door.

Using two fingers, he gestured for his men to follow him out.

A boy with reddish-orange hair stared at his leader with nothing but confusion. Mark never left their special room without a good reason. Intel had shown that no enemy gang members were dumb enough to show up tonight, so why the sudden appearance?

“You know...if you want her, Mark, we can go fetch her for you. No reason for you to expose yourself to the people out there.” said the confused boy.

Mark stopped in his tracks. He then glanced over his shoulder, revealing this practically devilish smirk, and said,

“I know that, Haechan, but I believe that my future girlfriend deserves my presence, don’t you think?”

A/N: And there you have it guys! NCT is officially in the house! (N-City, We Gotta Go Get Them)! What do you guys think of their appearance? Do you like seeing Mark as the leader of the gang instead of TY- Track himself? lol Let us know! 

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/and an ask in mine or Jey’s inbox! We love hearing your thoughts!

- Kim

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #46

UPDATE 46: Nothing Good Ever Happens to Him

Last time Flechette had gone to her first patrolling since she arrived to Brockton Bay to be a temporary member of the Wards. She had intended to bond with Shadow Stalker, wanting to have a friend of her same age and gender. You can guess how that went, given Shadow Stalker’s vigilantism tendencies. At least she managed to connect with Parian, so it’s not all bad. Let’s continue with the next chapter!

“Welcome to Parahumans 103: Theories and Patterns.  I see we have a packed auditorium, and according to the enrollment list, we have no less than three hundred students taking the TV course.  A bump up from the last two trimesters, so I must be doing something right.”

Oh, nice. Looks like this chapter may have some explanations regarding parahumans. That’s always nice. Given that most Wards and some PRT members are here, I suppose there’s some credibility regarding the accuracy of this course, unless they all came here to watch if this guy knows what he’s talking about – unlikely. You don’t need all Wards to be here for that.

Although...some of the Wards aren’t paying attention. Hm. Maybe being here is something they can’t avoid, maybe it’s mandatory?

Only thirteen people present, altogether.

...well! This must be a hella tiny auditorium! They’re lucky three hundred students are taking the TV course, although I’d bet only around 75% are taking it with some seriousness. This is a college class, it seems.

“For this class, I want you to think.  Parahumans. People with powers.  They’ve been around for nearly thirty years.  Where did they come from?  Why are they here?  It’s common knowledge that parahumans are ordinary individuals who gained abilities.  It is too easy, however, to assume that this is the sum total of our knowledge.  I want you to think further on the subject. For example, why does virtually every parahuman ability have some application in confrontation and combat? Is this the nature of humans, to turn any progress to violent ends, be it science or superpower?  Or is it by design, an individual’s hand at work?

Huh. Well, I’m not completely sure every single parahuman ability is meant to be used in confrontation and combat, but yeah, everyone knows a trait humans have is that we can get really creative when we want to be. It’d be no problem for a parahuman to think of a way to use their ability during a strife. The amount of parahumans who don’t want to use them for any kind of confrontation seems to be rather low, at least I judge that by the number of known rogues so far, compared to the amount of heroes and villains there are.

I suppose there’s a possibility it is by design, that something in the parahumans’ brains change at the moment they obtain their abilities, something that makes them be predisposed to fighting and combat. It’s already known trigger events and gaining skills can affect a person’s brain and behavior. It’s possible it happens to everyone and nobody has realized it yet.

Miss Militia’s...vision from when she gained her own skill is a bit puzzling, though, now that this guy mentions it could be an individual’s hand at work. Wasn’t the colossal being breaking down, wasn’t it dying? Hard for it to be controlling anything when it’s dead. I can’t rule out the possibility parahumans are influenced in some way, though. That is, if such vision wasn’t something kind of metaphorical. It could have been Miss Militia’s mind coping with the newly gained power.

With the destructive potential of these abilities, why do so very few individuals perish in the chaotic and unpredictable emergence of their talents?

Instinctual knowledge on how to use the powers, perhaps? Studying what went wrong in those few individuals who died at their awakening may be a good idea.

Wow, it seems this chapter will be filled with a lot of worldbuilding. A good time as any to learn and try to see if my understanding of the powers here is accurate enough.

Throughout the course, we’re going to be looking at correlations and patterns, both in relation to trigger events and other things.  For example, how does the nature of the trigger event shape the power? A study by Garth and Rogers suggests that psychological stress leads to a higher prevalence of mentally driven powers. Tinkers, thinkers, masters, shakers. The more physical violence that is involved, the higher the bias towards physically driven powers.

It’s true that trigger events seem to be related in some way to the powers, but in some cases not directly – not that I can say much about this stuff, I only know a total of two awakenings: Taylor’s and Brian’s. Taylor’s was filled with a lot of anguish and desperation, she felt the insects not in the locker but in a considerable ratio. I’m not sure how what happened to her is related to the bugs, but...yeah, it could be said there was a link between her awakening and her power, even if it is a very tenuous link. Brian’s awakening doesn’t seem to have much in relation to his power, but I should point I don’t know the exact circumstances of the moment he triggered. Maybe it was dark. Maybe he had wanted to blend with the shadows to stay out of that man’s sight and attack stealthily. All I know about Brian’s awakening is the broad details. Maybe if I ever see another trigger event described here in Worm, I can have a better idea of the correlation, or maybe it’ll be answered here in this chapter, anyway.

Yeah, it seems families have an easier time awakening to powers, most likely without the need for triggers. There’s something rather curious about the fact powers can be passed to future generations or siblings, it suggests some sort of genetic predisposition, which is...unlikely, I think.

Turns out none of the Wards are interested in this in the slightest. As I thought, they’re not here because they want to be! This is Piggot wanting to give them an education. Does she think knowing the details about how their power works will help them? Maybe it will, but...yeah, given the current state of the city, it’s unlikely they’ll have much use for this stuff. I sympathize with Clockblocker here.

Hell, it was on videotape, a recording of last year’s lectures.  Why couldn’t they watch it in their off hours?  It was just a fucked up set of priorities enforced on them from the people in charge.

Oh, it wasn’t a live class? I suppose that explains why the teacher’s words didn’t fit the, you know, the fact there were only thirteen people here. I’m pretty sure most Wards wouldn’t watch this, not even in their off hours.

More women than men have powers, for example, and there are more powers in undeveloped countries than there are in industrialized ones

Hm. More chances for powers to awaken in those undeveloped countries, I suppose. A harder life gives you tougher situations to battle, and when you’re losing, you get that boost through a power. It’s not like parahumans are rare, though. Don’t get me wrong, I know that in a city like Brockton Bay, which surely has dozens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people (or even more than that), the number of parahumans isn’t going to go over a hundred or two hundred. Parahumans are rare. But these few parahumans are very known, the effects of their presence is felt by everybody. Undeveloped countries must be quite...difficult to live in, if more awakenings than usual happen in those places.

Witch burnings in Uganda, most likely because people feared parahumans and their weird abilities. Oh joy.

“Another pattern we will be exploring is the apparent effect of multiple trigger events occurring in the same time and place.  There is a very strong correlation between coinciding trigger events and individuals displaying three or more powers rather than one or two predominant ones.”

It took me a few times to understand this paragraph. So…those capes that have several powers…it may be because more than one cape awakened at the same time than them. I wonder…if that happens, then all capes that awaken at the same time in the same area would all have more than one power? It’s unlikely they’d have the same ability, but would they both have lots of powers?

Unlike the other teachings so far, this does have some immediate practical use, Kid Win asks Flechette if she knows about other parahumans awakening at the same time than hers. There was a villain…but it’s not confirmed if that has anything to do with Flechette. Still, it’s worth thinking. Weld has no patience for people talking during class, and tells them to shut up and pay attention – in kinder yet blunter terms than these. Yeah, Weld’s not endearing himself to the rest yet. It’s a shame, I know he has good intentions, but it’s going to be hard to lead the team if nobody likes him.

Scion is a deviation to the norm – I’d think so, being the first parahuman ever. The Endbringers are deviation to the norm – I’d think so too, I mean, they weren’t ever human, according to Tattletale. Nilbog may or may not be a deviation to the norm – who the heck is Nilbog? The last deviation mentioned are the Case 53, the one with the tattoos. Weld is one of them and Clockblocker knows it. I wonder if anyone in the Wards will ask him about how he got powers? It could give us readers some information about this clearly abnormal situation.

Weeks five and six, assuming we’re on schedule, we’ll pull all earlier material together and discuss the beginnings of the parahuman phenomenon.  Not for the individual, as with trigger events, but as a whole.  Where do capes come from?  There is the patient zero theory, typically working under the assumption that Scion is the source of these abilities.  This, however, raises questions about where Scion came from.  The theory is corroborated by the case of Andrew Hawke, who came into contact with Scion on the very first sighting of the hero, only to manifest powers of his own… but there are others who manifested powers without ever coming into contact with Scion or entering a location where Scion had visited.”

“There’s the viral theory, supposing some advanced virus, though it is flimsy at best in justifications, with no identified culprits, method of transmission or explanation as to how it provides the actual powers.  The genetics theory is popular, but has been thoroughly debunked.

Okay, this is a lot of information. Let’s see what theory I think it more likely…genetics is off the table. While it’s true families have powers and those powers are similar to each other, this wouldn’t explain how people awaken to powers. The theory about Scion being the source of these abilities…unless he was floating around Taylor’s school when she had her trigger event, that sounds unlikely. Viral theory…that may be it. If I remember biology correctly, viruses modify the host’s DNA in the cells it invades, and multiplies to continue invading the body. I think there’d be some logic in that theory. The problem I see is that they’d have to determine where the virus came from, and that’s going to be hella tough. Then again, nothing is easy when it’s about doing science.

The Parahuman Theory Power Hour is interrupted when Clockblocker receives an urgent message. He should go see his father in the hospital. Dang…did his father get injured recently, during the Leviathan incident or during the riots happening right now? This isn’t going to help Clockblocker feel any better about having to sit around listening to year-old classes.

At some point, Clockblocker’s father got sick with an infection, and he’s now dying. He won’t last long. That’s why Clockblocker has to go to the hospital right now. I suppose it’s not impossible the infection happened because of the attack or because what’s going on now. He doesn’t leave immediately, first he asks Glory Girl to have a word with him outside.

“New Wave may be disbanding.  My mom suggested that if I wanted to keep being a hero, I should consider joining the Wards.  So I’m here, checking things out.  Your leader and director okayed it.”

Oh. Dang, the two deaths this family suffered really hit them hard…is Panacea going to join the Wards too? Maybe. I don’t think Lady Photon will stop being a hero, maybe Laserdream will…hm. I never thought someone would stop being a hero after the attack. Glory Girl isn’t sure if she’ll join or if she’ll be like a vigilante. The portraits in the lobby don’t help leave behind the pain and sorrow, that’s for sure. It’d be tough to walk through there, with Gallant’s portrait watching you.

The reason why Clockblocker wanted to talk with her is because he wants to ask Glory Girl if Panacea could heal his father. He has leukemia, he has an infection because he got injured during the Leviathan attack…I feel bad for him and Clockblocker, that’s really awful. I hope Panacea does heal this guy’s father. Glory Girl won’t promise anything, but…maybe it’ll happen!

Weld and Vista exit the room to let Clockblocker know they paused the video for when they return – a tacit ‘permission granted’ for Clockblocker to leave. He doesn’t want to tell the rest about what’s going on with his father, he doesn’t want to make anyone else worry.

“I’ll trust you have reason for this,” Weld smiled slightly, showing a row of white metal teeth, “But don’t take too long.  You’re on patrol at two this afternoon, and that doesn’t allow us much leeway for delays if we want to finish watching.”

Oh my god. I know Weld has the best intentions, and I know he’s not aware of what’s happening with Clockblocker’s father, but he really has an uncanny skill to say the wrong stuff at the wrong time. Are we sure that’s not his secondary power or something? I’m amazed Clockblocker managed to not say anything besides ‘alright’ until Weld returned inside.

At least Vista is willing to give him a chance, and defends him when Clockblocker comments what it’s he doesn’t like about Weld – that Weld is asking them to work as hard as he’s working, which is no mean feat. Something about this all makes Clockblocker snidely ask Vista if she’s channeling Gallant—oh my goodness, this whole team is falling apart. Brockton Bay may be falling into pieces right now, and so are the Wards! There goes Vista, running away, and this didn’t earn any brownie points with Glory Girl, either. At least she kind of forgives him.

“But you’d better go after that girl and apologize.  Because the way I heard it from Kid Win, you were the one who told everyone else to be extra nice to her, because she was taking it hard.  You convinced Shadow Stalker to play nice, and from what Kid Win said before class started, that was a pretty big deal. Maybe I’m wrong, I don’t know your team like you do, but I’d guess that if you don’t fix this, your team won’t forgive you for a long time.”

Well, yeah, they hardly will forgive him, even with the stuff about his father. ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ is not a good leadership style – even if Clockblocker is not the leader. Spurred by Glory Girl, he hurries down the hall to look for Vista.

No wonder Vista was hit so hard by Gallant’s death. She had a crush on him. Even though she knew she had no chances with him, she still liked being with him. That’s rough…it seems it wasn’t a secret, and Gallant never had anything bad to say about Vista. He never had anything bad to say about anyone. Well, no, he had bad things to say like any normal teenager when he was forced to do stuff that was a huge hassle.

But what Clockblocker wants to make Vista see, is that Gallant enjoyed spending time with him and with her, using as an example how he smiled or replied ‘great’ when he was assigned to patrolling with Clockblocker or her. Ah, that’s a rather nice detail. Good show-don’t-tell, even if it was a secondhand account from another character.

Clockblocker has so much frustration inside it’s a wonder he hasn’t tried to punch Weld.

I was, am, angry.  At the pointlessness of what happened, what’s still happening out there. I get frustrated and angry when I’m here, because I feel like I should be out on the streets.  I get pissed off when I’m out on patrol because I feel like I should be with my family… but when I’m with my family, I feel frustrated and helpless because I can’t do anything there…

There are very few emotions worse than knowing there’s nothing you can’t do about something you’d like to change. Asking Panacea for help must have been his very last resort option, and it’s not guaranteed she’ll do anything. Heck, he hasn’t even talked to her face to face.

At least this sincere heart-to-heart is helping Vista cheer up a little, so I’d say he is forgiven. The team’s weakened bonds will last for a while longer. With some luck they’ll all get a break, the civilians will stop rioting, and everyone will be able to mourn properly.

…

…it’s only going to get worse, isn’t it? Since the first chapter, everything in Brockton Bay keeps escalating. It’s hard to imagine something more brutal or deadly than an Endbringer attack, and there are like twenty arcs left. What else do you have in your box of frightening surprises, Mr. Wildbow?

“…I was taking it out on the new guy, when he probably doesn’t deserve it.”

In all fairness, the new guy isn’t getting A+ in sensitivity.

“I miss the old Dennis.  The guy who picked a sorta rude codename and announced himself in front of the news so Piggy and the other people in charge couldn’t really make him change it. Because it was funny.  Because he liked pushing the limits and because he saw this all as something fun.  The new Dennis is so angry.  Now I guess I get why.”

“Aren’t you? Angry?  At everything that’s going on?  At the unfairness of what happened?”

She shook her head, which amounted to rubbing her head against his shoulder. “Yeah.  But you can’t let it consume you.  If you really don’t like Weld, you don’t have to force yourself to get along with him.  But don’t stay like this.  Don’t stay angry.”

Wow…are we sure Vista is just thirteen years old? She’s being rather mature right now, and generally I’d say she has good control over her emotions. This is a very mature kid. I’m starting to be fond of her.

I know she’s a secondary character and therefore I don’t think she’s going to make lots of appearances in the main story, but here I do this, as a token of appreciation. What a good kid. Chances are she’s the only Ward that’ll have a meter.

Say, since I gave her one, I better give Armsmaster one too. I meant to do it before but I forgot.

Sure, I despise him, but as a character I’m rather interested in what he’s doing and where it’ll go. I wonder how his “retirement” is going? In the Birdcage? Is he really there? Anyway, yeah, I’m interested in him.

The poignant emotional moments are over when they go to return to the classroom. There’s trouble. Wards away!

Alright, this goes beyond ‘trouble’. I’ll spare you the description. All you have to know, is that it’s not a pretty scene. It’s rather brutal, three mutilated bodies in three different ways. That kind of hints to three different attackers, doesn’t it? Because the MOs are so different. It’s also said there are another two crime scenes like this one. As if the riots and the destruction of the city hadn’t been enough trouble. I knew things were going to get worse! Knowing this story is full of people with powers, I suppose there are three superpowered murderers on the loose.

The Travelers are here. It’s unlikely they’re the ones who did all this, but since they’re, you know, villains and therefore are untrustworthy, Weld tries to get them to come, because they’re suspects anyway.

“Let us go. Whatever happened here, it deserves your full attention.  You should be trying to find and capture the real criminals.  This guy here was still alive when we arrived.”  Trickster pointed at the man with the chain limbs.

I wonder if he said anything. Well, even if he did, it’s unlikely the Travelers will be cooperative, what with Weld’s request of turning themselves in. Not wanting to be imprisoned, a fight ensues.

Until now I had only seen Tricker’s power as a way to help, I hadn’t seen it during a fight. While Ballistic keeps Weld on the defensive through continuous assaults with thrown objects – some of which may get stuck on Weld, if he throws something metallic – and Genesis is the close combat fighter of the team, Trickster gives support by swapping people around and causing confusion. Clockblocker is taken away before he can freeze anyone, Kid Win’s shot is countered by swapping him with Trickster himself…it’s going to be difficult to get a good grip on this guy, with all these teleportation hijinks.

Sundancer’s sun is also rather effective at keeping people away, nobody wants to be close to a superheated orb, and it can also set nearby wood on fire.

To try to counter Trickster, several of the Wards charge at once towards him, so if Clockblocker is swapped with anyone he won’t be taken too far away. Vista’s space-warping skill also helps get there faster. Hm. Shadow Stalker is still away, isn’t she? Clockblocker could be swapped with her, or Trickster could swap himself with one of the Wards. Catching him is going to be rather difficult.

Weld ducked one of Ballistic’s attacks, then charged for the orb, striking it out of the air with one fist.  The blow dispersed it enough that Sundancer couldn’t draw it back together, and a wave of hot air washed over everyone present.

Weld, for his part, staggered back, his hand glowing white-hot.  He flexed his glowing hand, and it moved slowly, stiffly.  Even as far down as his elbow, the metal of his arm was an orange-red.

How fortunate it wasn’t hot enough to melt! Still, that’s going to stay hot for a while. Good thinking, Weld, if a tad risky. Sundancer is much easier to deal with than Trickster, he keeps getting Clockblocker in situations where he could freeze one of his teammates. My mind is blank regarding ideas about how to capture him.

There’s not much progress, soon the Wards are in the center and the Travelers are to the sides. Easy enough position to attack, if they wanted. Escaping, though, that’s going to be difficult, at least for two of the Travelers. Guess the fight won’t be over yet.

Genesis exhales lots of a vapor that seems to be created specifically to make them have a hard time breathing. Even a trace of it makes Clockblocker cough.

So, that’s what a changer nine brings to the table.  Different forms, each with their own powers.

You got that wrong, pal. If I remember correctly, this here is a projection, the real Genesis is not present here during the fight. She’s somewhere else, most likely nearby. In that case, can she be defined as a changer nine? Maybe, yeah, but it’s possible another classification is needed. Then again, it’s possible the Wards and the Protectorate aren’t aware of how Genesis’ power works!

At least it seems that one way for Clockblocker and Weld to get along is to fight villains. Thank goodness! You know what they say, fire-forged friendships are forever. Who knows if they’ll reach such level.

He realized what it was, this calm.  Whatever else it was, this fight was a refuge from that feeling that had plagued him since the fight with Leviathan ended.  The feeling that he was always in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, in the face of a city in crisis and a dying father.  This, right here, was where he was needed.

This is what I’m here for.

Hm. I’d chalk it up to the adrenaline, but if Clockblocker is feeling better and can take his mind off the lots of problems his life has, then it’s good. Good luck, guys.

So first it was Weld, then it was Flechette, then it was Clockblocker...I suppose Vista, Shadow Stalker and Kid Win are still yet to come. I wonder which one will be the next? Guess that’ll be for next time!

Next update: in six updates

[gothfoxx]

At first Lila is loving it because Marinette was just bluffing, she had to be trying to reverse psychology the situation, right?

Then she starts to have a full schedule of people hanging on her and making go places with them. But it’s fine cause she just drops a ‘I volunteered for something sorry’ and they let her go. But soon they want to help, they want to meet the people she works with. And it’s harder to mange. It’s okay though she says they had to have parent permission slips beforehand so sorry not this time. Success!

Then they volunteer her for things without asking her first. And she can’t get out of it cause they asked if she had plans for later. So she ends up elbow deep in trash sorting out the recyclables. A few days later Nino asks her to help with a set design since she consulted on a real movie before! And it takes the whole day and she’s tired of hearing him chatter about dumb sci-fi flicks. Then Alya is mad at her because there is a new fox hero, why does it matter! ‘Oh the old fox wasn’t available or to far to find I guess’ she says but then the same fox is seen again, and again,and ugh

Eventually she can’t get time for herself to laugh at these idiots because she’s jumping through hoops to make them stay...wait shouldn’t they be the ones jumping for her? When did change, where did she lose her place on top? “But Marinette would have done it for us” they moan when she says she’s busy, “Mari would have gone with me” Alya sighs when plans fall apart. “Dudette wouldn’t complain “ Nino accuses.

“Well I’m not Marinette! You all are worse than I am! I lied! I lied because I wanted you all to do my bidding but you guys don’t even try to worm stuff out of people, you DEMAND it! No wonder Marinette didn’t care when I threatened to take you all! How long did you all treat her like this!? You’re all sick and cruel and now I wish I’d made friends with her so I could have stolen her from all you jerks! All you ever do is take take take! Well guess what I don’t have anything left to give so leave me alone you assholes!” She shouted seething with contemp, a burning glare aimed at the whole class before stopping on Alya, “you call yourself a bestie? What kind of bestie lies about babysitting so she can go on more dates? I know you give me half of the money for it your mom leaves but that was AFTER I asked, did you do that for her too? Did you ever pay her back for anything she did for you or did you just expect her to do it cause you are ‘bbfs’?!” Then she stepped closer to Adrien pointing an accusatory finger at the blonde, “You knew this whole time I was lying, that I was pushing Mari out and you just let it happen, you let me walk over all these idiots and isolate her! I don’t even know why. What I do know is after a threatened her she was fine but you talk to her and she clams up. What the fuck did you say that broke her when I couldn’t!? That’s just messed up, you are her friend!” She stepped back and address them all “you were her friends, but I guess it’s true what they say. Who need enemies with friends like this!”

With a last hair flip Lila stormed out of the room bitter and angry but somehow feeling lighter than she has in months.

Can we just have an a salt fic of Lila threatening Mari but Mari shrugs it off.

"I'm very tired of them. You can have them if you want. They're very annoying."

Please? Just...a tired Mari who Lila leaves alone?