#HELENA [THE SELF-DESTRUCT BUTTON]

[nottinghillhq]

welcome to notting hill a, rachael and amal we’re super excited to have you here, you’ve got twenty-four hours to send in your accounts!

DEMET OZDEMIR. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of BEJEWELED by TAYLOR SWIFT, well, it describes ALARA CANN to a tee! the thirty, and MODEL was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more rigid or more POISED instead? anyway, they remind me of designer bags filled with cosmetics, leather bond monthly planner, calendar with filled dates, wrinkle free white button down shirts maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST ]  ALEX FITZALAN. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of PRETTY BOY by joji, well, it describes ADAM DAVEN to a tee! the twenty six, and TRUST FUND BABY/WEED DEALER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more immature or more FREE SPIRITED instead? anyway, they remind me of blank checks, expensive watches, crumbled bills in luxury wallets, messy bed head maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST]  MELISSA BARRERA. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of POISON AND WINE by the civil wars, well, it describes ALBA HERNANDEZ  to a tee! the twenty nine, and TATTOO ARTIST was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more immature or more FREE SPIRITED instead? anyway, they remind me of the smell of fresh tattoo ink, messy ponytails, the feel of a leather jacket on bare skin, scattered hidden freckles, the burn of warm whiskey maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ A / SHE/HER / 29 / CST ] 

SOPHIA BUSH. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of northern attitude by noah kahan, well, it describes CHASE YOUNG to a tee! the forty year old, and owner of come clay with us was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more overprotective or more comforting instead? anyway, they remind me of family photo albums displayed proudly on a shelf, aprons splattered with clay, incense burning to calm the nerves, and a fierce motherly instinct, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL] *chase is nathan young’s ex wife

ADRIA ARJONA. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of my mother told me by nati dredd, well, it describes HELENA ESTRADA to a tee! the thirty year old, and owner of something borrowed bridal boutique was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more self-destructive or more appreciative instead? anyway, they remind me of magazines fanned out on tables, wedding dresses displayed in a store front, orchestral music playing softly over a speaker, and the smell of fresh cut flowers, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL]

NICOLE MAINES. SHE + THEY / have you ever heard of move along by the all-american rejects, well, it describes ODETTE ‘ODIE’ GARDNER to a tee! the twenty-five year old, and receptionist at kian zhang hair was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she / they are more uncommunicative or more quirky instead? anyway, they remind me of old books with notes in the margins, legs folded up and under them in any chair they’re sat in, glasses that refuse to stay on their nose, and stifled giggles after making a dumb joke, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [RACHAEL]

SAMANTHA LOGAN. SHE + HER / have you ever heard of LOVE DROUGHT by beyonce , well, it describes VIVIEN GREEN to a tee! the twenty six year old, BAND MEMBER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more directionless or more CREATIVE instead? anyway, they remind me of driving fast, blasting music late at night, neon signs, shattered phone screen, and snapping photos at any given time, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ AMAL / SHE + HER / PST / 28 / N/A ] 

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

THREE MONTHS. That’s how long Delilah had been able to hold out. But the truth was -- No matter how hard Delilah tried. No matter how hard DYLAN tried. There was just no escape from the crushing HOLE in her chest or the fulfilling DREAMS in her head. She’d NEEDED to see her. And when Helena invited her over in a midst a rather THANKLESS November. Well... She wasn’t used to Nevada. She couldn’t tell if it was the extra few degrees of HEAT. The extra thousand feet of ELEVATION. Or just how DRY the desert was. But she felt SICK TO HER STOMACH. (That might also have been her ANXIETY or her JEALOUSY.) But here she was. Dylan in tow -- Of course. She did wonder how Helena was HOLDING UP these days. Whether she’d managed to adopt her baby daugher. That was the GOOD SIDE of Delilah. But her Dark Side? Well that was asking different questions ENTIRELY. Like... Did she MISS HER? She could hope. Her entire coping mechanism BANKED ON IT.

Meanwhie in their rather DINKY apartment. (Seraphina insisted on rationing out the money they’d made pawning her jewellery.) The once-rich-heiress, now identified as a RUNAWAY-IN-LOVE. Was to say the least -- Freaking PARANOID. She’d come to view Delilah in LESS FAVORABLE TERMS ever since the ultimatum. Who the FUCK makes her sibling choose between her DAUGHTER and her SISTER? (Okay so it was between being with Sera in Vegas, and cutting Sera in Texas. And she’d be a HYPOCRITE to spite Delilah cause of that -- BUT STILL.) “Really hope your sister is expecting takeout. She doesn’t really think either of us can COOK -- Right?” She asked to the redhead who was biting at her nails. “Helena...” She wanted so badly to calm the sociopath down. But they both knew that there was no SHADE OF GREY in Delilah’s stained-black life. Either she was here to RUIN THEM. Or she was here to RUIN HELENA. Even if the LITTLE PSYCHO hadn’t realized it yet...

                                                                                    KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

[pop-culturereference]

Never Touch Him Again

Summary: Barbara finds out what Tarantula did to Dick. She takes justice into her own hands.

I originally wrote this for Dickbabs week but didn’t quite finish it. Also, not really shippy at all. The prompt was “touch.”

Word Count: like 3,000 ish

Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Catalina Flores

Pairings: Gen

“Don’t…touch me…”

Babs slammed the pause button and shoved herself away from her desk. Her skin flashed hot and cold until she was shaking and she felt like she was going to throw up. She lashed out and hit her books off the desk. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but it was futile. It was times like these she desperately wished her legs worked; she needed to get up, to pace, to kick something until it was broken beyond repair and her foot was bleeding.

Instead, she yanked her hair up and wheeled over to the punching bag in the corner, where she picked up her escrima sticks and started mercilessly beating the shit out of it. If the punching bag were a person, it would have been dead, the muscles and skin pounded to bloody oatmeal sticking to splintered bones. When the back of her shirt was soaked with sweat, she threw the escrima down in a corner and reluctantly forced herself back to the video. She owed it to Dick to find out the truth.

She’d already found the truth that Bruce wanted: Dick hadn’t killed Blockbuster. He’d been there, and he’d watched it happen, but he hadn’t been the one to kill him. 

She hadn’t been surprised when Bruce came to her. “I need your help; I think Dick may have killed someone,” he’d said. Babs had been horrified, but not surprised. Dick had been very, very… off…  for a while. As soon as Bruce had brought it up to her, she knew that whatever she found would explain Dick’s behavior.

And it was explaining more than she’d expected. Right now, she only needed to watch far enough in the tape to see if Tarantula listened to Dick and left him alone, or if she didn’t and raped him. Babs considered Dick’s recent self-destructive spiral, and her heart sank. She was pretty sure she already knew. After steeling herself with a few deep breaths, Babs watched the next few seconds of the video, then turned it off. Her heart sank down to her stomach and sat there stewing, making her nauseous. Tears burned her eyes and left hot tracks down her cheeks. How selfish, she chided herself. Dick is the one who has the right to cry, not you.

Babs started putting herself back together, piece by piece. She did it, as she always had, with a plan of action. Her eyes still burned as her mind whirred. She had everything on Tarantula, and nothing on Catalina Flores

She had a recording of Tarantula shooting a man in the head. The man was universally hated. Tarantula was wearing a mask.

She also had security footage of Tarantula attacking and trying to kill her while she was at dinner with Dick. Again, she was wearing a mask.

She had evidence of Tarantula bribing police officers. No one cared—not in Gotham, and certainly not in Blüdhaven. 

She had footage of Tarantula raping Dick. Again, she was wearing a mask. If she were ever put on trial, Nightwing couldn’t very well show up to testify. Plus, she had connections. It wasn’t going to work.

Clearly, Babs would have to take things into her own hands.

She didn’t tell Dick what she knew. She didn’t tell Bruce, either. She didn’t tell Helena and Dinah. She could do this herself. She’d beaten Tarantula once before, and this time, Oracle would be the one catching Tarantula unprepared, and on her turf.

The plan was to do this the Bat Way: Lure Tarantula to Gotham, get her to commit a crime here, and let Commissioner Gordon handle the rest.

Babs knew just the crime: attempted murder. Of the commissioner’s daughter, no less. Babs allowed herself a grim smile. She had her work cut out for her.

—————————————————

The next time she went to see Dick, she wasn’t sure how to act. She worried that she was overcompensating by goofing off because she didn’t want to seem too serious, and she also worried about overcompensating with coldness or rudeness to avoid pitying him. She honestly wasn’t sure what he was up to recently; their conversations were concise and infrequent. She figured she had the best chance of cornering him into talking in the Batcave. She asked Bruce when Dick would be there and then used a software security update as an excuse to be there when he arrived.

“Nightwing!” She called, grinning nervously.  “Long time, no see! Get your butt down here!”

It was no longer “get your cute butt down here,” for which she allowed herself a gust of sadness.

He didn’t swing over using the bars around the cave. Instead, he click-clacked down the stairs and over the walkway to her, his leg brace altering his gait just enough that Babs probably couldn’t recognize him any longer by his walk alone.

He gave her a bow with a hand-twirl. “At your service, oh great Oracle.” 

Now that,  at least, was normal. While the theatrics didn’t have as much heart as usual, they hadn’t disappeared. 

Babs had thought over her next words and planned them out to the letter. “I’ll get straight to the point. I miss you, Dick.” He was wearing the Nightwing mask, so she studied the rest of his face for a reaction. All he did was tighten his lips to not give anything away. This close, she could also see that he looked deflated, like one day he’d just decided to shrink half a size, but only his skin had gotten the memo; It was stretched taut, making him look hollow and angular.

He waited for her to continue.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact as much. That’s on me. And…I miss my best friend.” She tilted a sad smile at him. “Can I take you out to dinner this week?”

He just stood there blankly, like she’d caught him off guard and now he didn’t know which expression to paste on next. Babs ached at how worn down he looked, and subtle anger squeezed her heart. Dick didn’t deserve this. She sighed. “That’s okay if you don’t-“

“No, no, that’d be great. I… miss you too, Babs.” He still looked diluted, like not all of him was there, but now he was smiling. 

“Great, I know this really good place a few blocks from my place. Big yellow M on the front, you might have seen it before. Called McDonald’s.”

It was a pretty low quality joke, but Dick let out a huff of laughter anyway. 

“I’m kidding,” she said. “This weekend?”

Everything she’d said was genuine, so she refused to acknowledge any guilt she felt over her ulterior motive.

————————————

Tarantula’s night of crime had taken some careful planning.

First, she’d had to stick surveillance on her to get some manipulation material.

Then, she’d had to find a place to rent with a good insurance policy. She’d also faked documentation for the past few months, just to be safe.

Then, she’d gathered evidence of Tarantula’s crimes in Blüdhaven and planted a file on her in the GCPD’s system.

After finishing the paper setup, she’d enlisted Batgirl as her eyes, ears, and knight in shining armor. Cass had installed the camera system in Babs’s new decoy apartment. Cass had also been the one to deliver the blackmail letters.

Now, all she had to do was go to dinner with Dick then come home to the new apartment and wait for Flores to come try to kill her.

Dick picked her up. He would also give her a ride back. It wouldn’t do for Flores to try to kill her before she got back to her heavily-monitored-and-filmed apartment. Babs had planned everything out to the last letter so she could focus on dinner with Dick, but she still needed a moment to steer her head out of Oracle mode and into friendship mode. While Dick helped her into the car, she methodically threw out any thought of her impending attempted murder.

Dick wasn’t very talkative so far; he didn’t even question her new address, but Babs explained anyway. If her explanation was a little embarrassing, hopefully it would only serve to show Dick her candor and openness with him.

“I’m only here for a week or so. I punched a whole in the wall with my escrima last week, and when they came to fix it, they found a rat infestation. I can’t be there while they’re fumigating.”

Dick maneuvered the car into the left lane, then shot her a glance, clearly disgusted. “Rats? That’s horrible!” He exaggerated a shudder. Babs had another explanation planned for when he asked why she wasn’t staying with her dad or even Bruce, but he didn’t seem to question it. Her heart squeezed; Dick was still dazed and not quite right. She’d already planned to be the one carrying the conversation, though, dinner would be fine.

“Believe me, I know that better than you do at this point. First hand experience.”

“Seriously, that is so disgusting.”

It was Dick, so she couldn’t help but mess with him at least a little. “Yeah,” she said. “They came scurrying out of the wall all together. They were this big,” she said, leaning to show him her hands measuring about the distance of her forearm. “Their noses left little greasy prints on my wallpaper. I thought I could handle it, until one night I reached to untangle the computer chords and I grabbed one of their tails.” She added an authentic shudder. 

Dick gaped and made a gagging sound. Well, not the best expression, but at least he was a little more animated. “You’re kidding! Babs, yuck! Please tell me you’re joking!”

“Kidding!” she said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Dick! I hightailed it out of there the moment I heard the word ‘rat’. I’m not going within a mile of there until every last one is exterminated.”

“Thank goodness. You had me seriously worried for your health and sanity for a bit there.”

“Aw, you do care!” she crooned. It was so easy for Babs to slip back into their old rapport, but the conversation died there. She had to remember that they’d broken up and also that Dick was very traumatized and probably wouldn’t be his old self for a while. She felt a sudden, sweeping melancholy as she realized that things might never go back to the way they were. It wasn’t fair to feel upset right now, she knew that. So instead, she pursed her lips grimly and reminded herself that at least Tarantula would be arrested later that night.

They made a nice little scene walking into the restaurant, Babs in her wheelchair and Dick in his click-clacking leg brace. No less than 4 employees and 3 non-employees offered to help them. Dick just glared, expression blank and flat, while Babs politely reassured them that they could manage. She did not roll her eyes even once.

It was a nice restaurant. The food was good, and the service was good. The conversation was not that good, but Babs hadn’t really been expecting otherwise. Nostalgia stung her the whole night, like lemon juice on a forgotten paper cut. 

She tried to diffuse the awkwardness between them with casual insults, a Barbara Gordon specialty. Dick reacted slowly and gave his chuckles and smiles a little late, but when they left and were once again seated in his parked car, he sighed and apologized.

“I’m sorry Babs, I’ll drop you off. Thanks for dinner.”

Babs locked eyes with him fiercely and fought not to show her anger at Flores. “Don’t apologize. Don’t you ever apologize. I can tell you’re going through some stuff right now. It’s not your fault, okay? Dick? Look at me. It is not your fault. I’m here as your friend, don’t think you owe me anything. I care about you. I-” don’t back down, Babs— “I love you. I’m not going to push you into telling me anything, but just know that I’m here for you, okay?”

Dick wasn’t looking at her, but the passing headlights of the highway reflected bright in his teary eyes. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I… appreciate that more than you know.” He blinked hard, and drove her back to the makeshift apartment. By the time they got there, he was able to give her a normal, dry-eyed goodbye, and offer his help for her rat situation. Babs squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile before waving a goodbye. 

The next part made her feel like an idiot, but it was necessary. As soon as Dick was out of earshot, she scooted closer to a potted plant that she knew was bugged and murmured sweet nothings in a low voice. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the laugh that bubbled up, then made some lip smacking sounds and moaned a little. It wasn’t a very high quality bug, so it wouldn’t be strange that it only recorded her voice because she was supposedly closer. Breathlessly, she said, “you naughty boy, you know I have to work on my thesis tonight. Tomorrow.” She followed up with one more smack for good measure, then left her apartment and closed the door.

The moment the bug was out of earshot, she had Cass on the comms.

“Bait taken?” Babs asked her.

“Yes.” Babs was having a hard time not giggling. That was probably the stupidest, most embarrassing thing she’d ever done.

“Estimated time frame?”

“One hour.” The gravity of the situation settled on her, and there were no more giggles. 

“Thank you. Oracle out.”

Babs let herself back in, and, once again, she wanted to pace. Just as well that she couldn’t, she didn’t want to tip Tarantula off that she was expecting her. Instead, she changed into pajamas and erased the last 10 minutes of footage from her security cameras.

The dinner with Dick had gone okay from an interpersonal perspective, and from a make-flores-want-to-kill-me perspective, it had gone even better. It was pretty obvious from the dinner where Tarantula attacked her that she was jealous of Babs’s relationship with Dick. It should be just the little extra nudge that would get Flores over here to deal with her personally. The day before, Babs had delivered blackmail letters via Batgirl. Dearest Catalina, she’d written. It’s obvious that you’ve got half of Blüdhaven in your pocket, but I know for fact that the other half is in the pocket of Roland Desmond’s only surviving relative. She’d be very interested to know about this. Here, she’d taped a disk with footage of her shooting Blockbuster in the head. If you want my copy destroyed, get in touch. Much love, Barbara Gordon.

This was not Oracle style. When Oracle wanted to blackmail someone, they had no way to trace her, and she usually only did it to get criminals to up their paranoia and sabotage themselves. This time, Babs wanted Flores to track her down. She wanted to look like an easy target. Really, the only thing that "Dearest Catalina” could do now was kill her. It would be too much of a risk for a commissioner’s daughter to have that knowledge, even if the disk were destroyed. Sure, Flores would feel bad about it, but she’d know it was necessary. But, that wasn’t enough for Babs, so she made Flores angry. Batgirl had tailed Flores from Bludhaven yesterday and watched her plant a bug in Babs’s newly-placed potted plant, and the day before, Babs stood right next to it and gushed about her date with Dick. Flores would show no remorse, no hesitation. 100% premeditated murder. Batgirl was ahead of Flores now, and would be waiting for Babs’s signal to jump in and help her out. 

Now, all she had to do was wait. 

.

.

.

15 minutes, and she decided that waiting was the worst part.

.

15 more, and she was so glad she didn’t actually have a rat problem.

.

She hoped Dick was doing okay.

.

Fifteen more minutes, and Cass buzzed in to tell her Tarantula came armed with a knife and zipties but no gun. Good. Tarantula was going to get personal, maybe even tie her up and blabber even more condemning evidence. She got ready and pretended to be asleep. Ten minutes later, her window creaked open. She sighed softly and shifted in under her covers, keeping her eyes closed even though her heart was pounding. She struggled feebly when Tarantula grabbed her wrists and tied them together, feigning disorientation. She held off until she was already tied to struggle with her full strength.

“What do you want! Who are-” Babs was cut off with a slap to the face. Ouch. She tried to wipe blood off her face with her shoulder, but only succeeded in smearing it. It dried there, making her skin feel dry and crackly.

Flores sighed. “You know, I have nothing against you! I would have just let you be!”

“Is this about Dick?” 

“We could have made this quick and easy, but you just had to keep causing problems!”

“Oh, good. So this is just boy drama. Not about you shooting Blockbuster. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill you, alright,” Tarantula snarled. 

Babs sneered. “I’d like to see you try.”

Tarantula punched her in the gut. She kicked, hard. One landed in her gut again, but most on her lower torso and upper legs. Hah. All of her spinal nerves down her legs were non-functional. Silver lining.

Babs squirmed but didn’t fight back. She needed to lull Tarantula into thinking she posed no threat.

Finally, Tarantula pulled out the knife. “I hate you. I thought I didn’t want to do this, but for you, I really don’t mind.”

Babs held still until Tarantula grabbed her by the hair to bare her throat. By this point, she was done pretending. She sliced through the zip tie and swung her fist directly into Tarantula’s nose. She grabbed Tarantula’s broken nose in her right hand and twisted, getting a scream. As her hands went to her face, Babs grabbed them and twisted again, breaking wrists and fingers. She kept one of Tarantula’s hands, squeezing it so the bones crunched slightly. She squeezed tighter, feeling Tarantula’s metacarpal bones grinding together, then screamed directly into her ear, rupturing her eardrum and signaling Batgirl. 

Babs leaned to Tarantula’s other ear and hissed, “This? This was nothing. Never. Touch him. Again.”

[ckret2]

Okay, I’m too exhausted to finish this chapter tonight, so this is all I’m getting out today. The first 2.5 scenes of the last chapter of “Basilisk in the Grass” out of what’s a planned 9 scenes. I’m gonna go ahead and post it just so that I get SOMETHING up today for Pentious Week, even though it doesn’t reach the part that answers the prompt lol. The rest of the fic (including the part where Sir Pentious fucking dies) will be finished tomorrow!!

###

Sir Pentious looked down from the airship at the burnt up clearing below.

He and Helena had always maintained two homes. Old habits from England; he'd been too used to the Graces' separate townhouse and country house. His little house in Maine, near the coast and surrounded by trees, was unknown to anyone in the world but the Grace family and a handful of former servants that Sir Pentious had preemptively executed to ensure they never worked out who their former employer was.

He had long ago concluded that if Helena was ever going to try to contact him again, it would be either at their old home in Philadelphia or at this lonely country house. A couple of times a year, he visited this house alone and on foot to search the dusty rooms for any notes that might have been left for him.

When he'd visited a couple of weeks ago, he'd found the house populated by a posse of men waiting with guns and handcuffs.

"So that's that," Chess said, looking down at the pile of burnt lumber. "Now we know."

Sir Pentious nodded grimly. "Now we know." He'd feared for years that Helena might go to law enforcement with her knowledge of Sir Pentious. Sure, there was a slim chance that he'd been followed on a prior visit to the house, or maybe the man who'd sold them the land nearly twenty years ago had suddenly and miraculously realized that the face of the man who'd bought it was the same one he'd seen in the papers... But Sir Pentious was sure that wasn't it. He was sure it was Helena.

And if she wanted to see him stopped so badly that was telling his secrets...

Helena was the only person in the world who knew Sir Pentious's most carefully kept secret. If she ever told that one, it would be over. Many of his lowest laborers were kept in place out of fear, but for many more the narrow-minded resignation of "it's not so bad for me" was all that was keeping them in place. And those who worked for him more directly and held real power in his organization—greedy businessmen, decorated military officers, crooked politicians, sadistic mass murderers, competent middle-managing bandits, wives poached from the powerful—they rallied around him out of a mix of personal ambition and respect. Despite its democratic ideals, America was a true child of the British Empire: full of power-hungry bigots eager to steal from the rest of the world.

There would always be people here willing to follow a megalomaniacal man with his own war machines.

War machines or not, fewer would follow an insane crossdressing woman. That would be what they'd see. It wouldn't completely destroy his empire—not immediately—but it would disgust many into leaving and undermine his authority with a vast majority of the rest. Maybe it could even help rally international furor against him, he didn't know.

How far was Helena willing to go to stop him?

Chess asked, "She wasn't there, was she?"

"No. I made sure." After he'd lured the posse into chasing him into the woods and picked them off one by one (never bring a gunfight to a gunsmith), he'd dragged their bodies back to the house, searched it top to bottom, and called out a warning in every room—and only then had he burned the house to the ground.

Chess nodded. "About ready to give up on them?" He tapped a finger on the ruby brooch pinned to Sir Pentious's ascot. A few months after Helena's disappearance, he'd started wearing her jewelry: her brooch in the center of his chest, her wedding ring beneath his glove, her earrings in his newly-pierced ears.

Sir Pentious slapped Chess's hand away as if the ruby Chess was prodding was a big red self-destruct button. "That's one of the few things I don't have power over," he snapped. Someday he might give up, but he didn't think he could ever move on. Maybe someday he'd love someone else enough to want a life with them, sure, it was possible; but he was never going to love them the same way he would always love Helena.

Chess stepped away from . "Well," he said. "If that ever changes, you know where I am."

As Chess walked away, Sir Pentious wondered what if he'd really meant that the way Sir Pentious thought he had.

There were multiple families of minor British nobility and vaguely wealthy landowners who went by the name "Grace." Most such families could trace their surname back to France, where the surname meant the same thing in French that it does in English.

Tracing Basil Grace's pedigree back, though, one would find that his surname was purely British. A few generations back, the family's surname was instead written "in Grace"—a common enough preposition at the time, back when surnames were place names instead of family names and you'd frequently find people named "in—" or "of—" before the name of the town they hailed from. And so, at one point, it seemed, the family must have come from a place named "Grace."

Or some variation on the word. A few generations before that, their name had used another way to spell Grace in Middle English, "in Gras," before the spelling was standardized.

Except, in this case, it had been standardized the wrong way, because in Middle English gras was a shared way to spell two very different words. Keep following the family tree back, and in Old English the ancestors of what would become the Grace family used "in Græs," and græs does not mean grace. Far enough back, locals of the area were referred to as living "in þæm græse."

Translated directly into modern English, it did not mean "Grace." It meant "in the grass." A reference to the rolling meadow along one side of what was now the Grace estate.

It was also a perfectly fitting name for a man who was indeed turning out to be a snake in the grass.

###

Sir Pentious beamed at the fearful, glowering men filling the rows of desks on front of him. "Gentlemen of the state legislature!" he said, holding out his arms grandly. The young Burmese python draped around his shoulders shifted to keep its balance. "I'm so honored you made time to meet with me on such short notice." Not that they'd had much choice in the matter. Sir Pentious had simply waltzed into the room, and then his gun-wielding followers had filled all the exits.

"What do you think you're doing here?!" A representative in the front row of seats demanded, lunging to his feet.

Ten guns trained on him. He sat back down.

"I'm here to negotiate, of course!" Sir Pentious paced in front of the representatives' seats, enjoying how the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor echoed in the deathly silent chamber. "I assume you called this secret midnight meeting to discuss the hostage situation I've presented you with? It's not like you're going to get all your little ones back without my participation."

"You're a sick bastard," another of the representatives called from the back of the room—but he had the sense to stay in his seat. "This is beyond the most depraved acts of war! What kind of a man kidnaps thousands of children as a negotiation tactic?!"

"A craven coward, I'm sure," Sir Pentious said, offering a hand to help support his python as it stretched curiously toward one of the representatives. "But a very well-organized one."

A third representative roared, "You'll burn in hell for this!" and pounded on his desk. The thunderous pound set off someone's itchy trigger finger; a bullet hit the representative in the chest. His suit and flaked off in black ashes and greenish vapor rose out of his chest as the chemical compound in the bullet splashed out into his flesh. As the men nearest the dead representative gasped in horror and bolted out of their seats to get away from the corpse, Sir Pentious raised a hand to signal his followers to hold their fire

Wryly, Sir Pentious said, "And when I get there, if the devil's got any common sense, he'll offer me a seat at his court." He laughed wryly. "So about those children?"

[kingscountycomics]

Twentysix. 6. 'Thirdeye x 3rd-I' (pt. a)

I'm vertically expanding my third eye into the core of the Earth. A lance of imperceptible light, withdrawn from the downward center of everything, now raised upright in a horizontal challenge. Two million unicorns, all parading around daily with varying degrees of stellar self projecting from their frontal lobe. My own spike shooting forth, clearing a path, and drawing onlookers who can't see, but feel my presence.

I'm at the 8th Street subway station over by Astor. On the other side I spot several innocents milling about, on their way home from dinner, drinks, dancing. I suspiciously try to subdue my soul long enough to slip by, escape out on to the streets above where I'll have room to maneuver.

Trains speed along the four rows of tracks between me and the others, and just as the trains pass they make their move. I can't see it from the other side but I know the scene. Eyes glaze over as brainwashing triggers seep into their ears from the headphones of their iWorlds.

The young girl is first across, bounding and leaping between the pillars. She drives her knee towards my face. I slip under as she smashes the tiles, and I make a dash for the stairs. From the corner of my eye I see McAllister has commanded a dozen more civilian assassins with his gadget.

I skid to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Behind me a slew of flying and leaping attackers. On the top step, a Thai warrior in sandals waits patiently for my first move.

Maybe leaving New Jersey before my powers returned wasn't such a good idea. I should have known it wouldn't be this easy to sneak back into New York City.

As I'm typing this, I suddenly feel my consciousness being sucked through a straw. I warble into being at a bar out in Brooklyn. I glance at my watch and will see that I've been brought through time and space. Only one girl would teleport me to Williamsburg on a Saturday Night...

Megan Strange.

She pops over my shoulder as I think her name. I should have guessed. "It's not time for you in the story yet darlin'..."

"Oh phooey." She waves her hand and schrunches her nose, her pink highlights accenting her freckles. With a snap of her fingers and a smirk she sends me back to finish my story. Her story.

Out in New Jersey I had put my fractured mind back together, my body long since healed. Mentally resurected, I found myself wandering the outskirts of New York City, afraid of what lie in store for me across the Hudson.

My powers were all but gone and I was trying to get them back but it seemed they were temporarily blocked. At least I hoped it was temporary.

I went online so I could speak with other superpowered folks to get a better idea of what was behind all this. Taia Nihilation, the explosive jailbait anarchist who carved a path of destruction through Philadelphia, mentioned something about papaya extract. It worked to a degree but I was still not nearly strong enough to sneak back into my city. A few others from the tri-state area gave me some hints. But impatience got the best of me and within a few months I was trying to sneak back in.

I contacted Eve Impossible, knowing that she would be my best bet for slipping in unnoticed. I had my best disguise on as I went to meet up with her on the Manhattan side of the Holland Tunnel. I hit Canal, made a right, and headed up the stairs to the club.

It was lowkey and still as I searched the room. Odds are she would find me way before I spotted her. Unsure and feeling nervous, I had a beer or two before the dance floor exploded to life. The music was infectiously upbeat and I bounced right into it. I was letting go and celebrated living through the severe beating I received a few months back, just a few stories above this exact location in fact. Ms. Mercury had made it clear I was not welcome here.

But I wasn't thinking of her as I danced. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself. And that's when Eve appeared before me. We were suddenly moving and grooving and getting down. Our mad passion to dance was spreading to all those around us as the night swung wildly on.

A few hours later we hit the streets as she led me into the empty outside. She doesn't say much and encourages me to do the same. Eve stops in front of an all black sports car as the passenger side door pops open.

"Get in. I'll contact you when I can."

I silently and obediently followed her instructions and plopped myself into the seat. The door shut of its own accord and I watched Eve, her blonde hair whipping behind her as she walked coldly away. I turned to the driver who was just as intimidatingly quiet.

I tried to strike up conversation as I was escorted back through the tunnel, but this man in black would have none of it. He was stone so I gave up and enjoyed the ride. But I felt defeated. I would have to rely on Eve Impossible from this point on.

Knowing our history I was surprised she got back to me as soon as she did. She gave me another place to meet up. I was headed out the door when Daisy Hurricane landed before me. I had ran from her a few weeks earlier as she fought me to love her.

I expected a fight that, despite being a bit stronger than before, I would instantly lose. But instead she wanted to say goodbye.

"I just want to make sure you're safe and that you're good. Use this if there's any trouble." And with that she handed me a red sword. It looked old but felt like a true weapon.

I hugged her tight and we both knew that we'd never see each other again. Tears welled up as the sound of helicopter blades suddenly rose up all around us. Daisy tossed me to safety as the bullets from the attack helicopter started ripping everything to shreds. She had caught a slug or two but felt nothing. Instead she channelled her anxiety, frustration, and broken heart on the attackers above.

Whirling into the air she knocked the copter about, whipping the winds about her. Landing gently on its side she drove her fists through the armor. She waves me off and continues to pound the artillery into scrap. I race off down the block, blood red blade in hand. My powers were pulsating in bursts, surging me forward with each pounce. SUVs screech around the corner, each with mercenaries firing automatic weapons. I grip the sheath and draw the blade.

Leaping and soaring over the hoods of the skidding trucks, I drive the sword slicing through the steel. The cars all flip and crash as I land and roar down the street. The train is blasting its engines as it pounds down the track. I pounce off a lightpost and snag a handhold, tossing myself onto the roof. We're speeding past Main Street as I see the calvary arrive in black, driving off in the wrong direction.

Just a few miles out of NYC I feel a presence behind me. I'm about to glance behind when I smell Strawberries and misfortune. "Megan, not yet. I haven't even made it back into New York yet."

"Can't you hurry it up? I want to go dancing..." I can hear her pout.

"Give me a few paragraphs sweetness."

Back on the tracks the trains bursts into Penn Station. I leap down and wrap the sword in a garbage bag. Suspicious as heck, I make my way to Union Square. Just a few minutes til the meet with Eve. Better hustle.

I'm running all the things I learned from the others I communicated with. Mary Mega's meditational mantra, Dr. Dementia's prescription of pleasure, and Minnie Soda's delicate drunken dance. They used their own magick to enhance and empower themselves. I needed to find my trigger.

Eve was late. Or I was. I shook my watch and looked up and down the block again. Empty. I started getting nervous. The people were what made this city safe. An omnipresent third party; witness and observer.

A petite blone turned the corner. She had her head down, under a hood, but her golden locks hung unevenly from beneath. She felt magical and friendly, even on these dark, foreboding streets.

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything, her fingers shot out, and pressed against my lips. Her subtle twinkling eyes rose up from under the hood, locking onto mine. The moon lit up her serious smile as it transformed into a devilish smirk.

I was sent soaring straight up into the air, hit by some unseen force. She floated up next to me and grabbed me by the collar. She whizzed me around and hurled me into the side of a building a block down. I hit it hard, but grabbed hold of a ledge and hung there gathering my senses.

She zoomed towards me beating her pixie wings furiously. Her fists extended she was intent on finishing me off. I pounce off the side of the building and glide towards a flag pole. I wind up just missing it as I get a shoulder block in the back from the toughest fairy I've ever met.

We're zooming towards the pavement as I roll with the hit, flipping myself onto her back. Clumsily, I jump off as I steer her into the sidewalk. I land and start to run. My muscles start to come alive with kinetic intensity. By the time I reach the corner I'm skipping blocks at a time.

I whipped back around and slid back through Union Square. Crouched and ready for a fight I survey the scene. Eve Impossible is standing alone outside the subway station, her trenchcoat buttoned up and tied tight. The wind is gently churning through the scene.

"What's this about Eve? A double cross? You work for McAllister now too?"

"I'm sorry Charles. But I work on my own. This was a favor for a friend."

The entire area lights up in a golden flash. I'm temporarily blinded but I feel a presence. An oh-so familiar presence.

"Helena...?" I muttered weakly.

My vision came back in waves and Ms. Mercury shimmered to life before me. She was a golden goddess. Pure sensual pulsar sheen radiating all around her body.

Ms. Mercury called out, "Luna!"

The ferocious pixie came and landed on one side of me. She was scowling at me and ready to pounce at Mercury's command.

A fluttering of pigeons signaled the arrival of Raptor who appeared behind me. The four of them had me surrounded at each point. Even though I felt the thrust within me, ready to burst, I would never be able to take on all four. I wouldn't even be able to survive one hit from Ms. Mercury.

Suddenly a winter chill swept through, snowflakes raging down from every direction. The weather malfunctioned and I was sitting in the eye of the storm. A faint brimstone smell was carried away by the winds and replaced with the smell of fruit. Hmm...strawberries?

A female shape materialized beside me and I nearly threw myself off the cube in surprise. I figured she was one more of Mercury's assassins, so I prepared myself for a fight. Instead, this pink streaked, raven haired beauty stood over me armed with only a charming smile.

"Hey cutie. I just thought you could use some rescuing. Wanna come back to my place?"

I did a sweep of the snowy scene and saw that the ladies were about to make their move. I glanced up at my saving grace and nodded frantically.

My stomach lurched and I found myself suddenly sitting on a couch in a living room. The strawberry girl had her legs draped over me. Somehow we were dressed in pajamas and were watching tv.

She looked over at me and said, "Hey sweetness." Her smile was wide and as genuine as they come.

"Where am I?"

"At my apartment in Brooklyn, silly."

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

Sera couldn’t stop fucking SHAKING. What the fuck was this? Well it was fucking OBVIOUS. It was yet another spiteful attempt at trying to make Sera JEALOUS. And it was fucking WORKING. She clicked off the video -- heart CLENCHING in her chest. And maybe there was a little bit of FURY there. But she tried her damnedest to TEMPER THAT before she finally replied. Downright GRATEFUL for the filter of text message. And that Helena couldn’t see the PAIN written across her features.

SERA: You really think I’m going to watch this whole fucking thing? SERA: It’s already deleted. SERA: You’re gonna need to try a little harder to get under my skin. ~~LIAR!!~~ SERA: Does Alex even know you sent that to me?

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

Disgusted gag served as answer. Delilah had never – WOULD NEVER – look at another girl like that even if she could. Was barely able to even handle the concept of looking at the WOMAN SHE LOVED in such a heretical, unbidden and blasphemous way. (Though granted that woman WAS her own SISTER which undoubtedly COMPLICATED things.) Beyond the irrefutable and inescapable fact that Helena LeBlanc – Again: Her own FLESH & BLOOD – was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Delilah held no opinion or eye for the REST of the world around her. “’m not sexy. An’ neither is she.” APATHETIC POSTULATION after many seconds of stunned deliberation. “An’ there ain’t a promise in the world,” (Save maybe Helena NEVER seeing the bitch again.) “That could get me ta compliment her in any way, shape or form. Let alone on bein’ GOOD LOOKIN’.” Words carried a sense of CERTAINTY about them. A determination that had slowly been chipped from Delilah’s rotting frame in most recent of years. Literally a crisis of FAITH. “That said. She’s an easy slut without the FAMILIAL STRINGS an’ BIBLICAL BAGGAGE. With far more experience an’ greater freedom in showin’ off that WHORISH body a’ hers.” Black eyes flickered up. The apathy had LONG DRAINED throughout Delilah’s analysis. And all that remained was pure, unbridled HOSTILITY. (And jealousy.) “Does’at answer yer question?”

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx

To call Seraphina CONFLICTED would be the understatement of the year. Hell of the entire last DECADE. And oh what a fucking decade it had been. Married off to a narcissistic dick. Just to see her brother choose a scarlet lettered bimbo from the trailer park to be the love of HIS LIFE. And then to catch feelings (gross) for that bimbo’s blood stained red flag of a sister. And now after years of on and off bonding and burgeoning sexuality that she’d had to cap for her brother’s sake... She’d been asked to identify the MESS OF FLESH AND BONE some SICK & TWISTED PSYCHOPATH had left of him. Suffice to say, her heart had been thoroughly shattered. Yeah you could sure as shit bet Sera had buried those years with Helena down DEEP. In a mad attempt to combat the GUILT of being in love with her brother’s potential mutilator. She’d also becoming intensely obsessed with proving that both members of that FREAKISH SISTER ACT perpetrated the crime. Sleeping meds had become her only chance of sleeping at all. “You know...” Words spoken to capture Helena’s attention. “I don’t even know why I’m SURPRISED. Guess I just figured you’d keep your head down all things considered...” Any resonance of familiarity her tone had once gained was GONE. “Hope you realize I’m gonna make your life a living hell until you finally get sent there.” Brain silenced the part that HOPED it was wrong. Prayed to a God it was having a hard time believing in right now. That Helena was innocent. And that Hell was the LAST PLACE she’d end up.

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

Throat went SO VERY FUCKING DRY when chestnut eyes landed upon the WORST plus-one she could ever FEAR. In a way she supposed she should’ve LOVED IT. It was JUST LIKE HER. In fact whether Helena knew it or not, it was the very act that FIRST DREW SERA’S ATTENTION. But now Sera herself was the one in Helena’s CROSSHAIRS. Redheaded sociopath wasn’t supposed to BE HERE. Father would ACTUALLY KILL HER. At the very least he’d beat her BLACK & BLUE and keep her under HOUSE ARREST until her CUTS & BRUISES finished healing. And he’d NEVER allow her to hold her own private little slumber parties EVER AGAIN. “H--” Swallow... “Hey, Helena! How are you? I...” Chestnut eyes went as HARD as anxiety allowed. “I wasn’t aware you’d be coming...” She hadn’t yet so much as GREETED Sophia. HER ACTUAL GUEST.

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​​

“Helena? Helena?!” There were three things that Seraphina did NOT fuck with. Dirt. Minorities. And haunted houses. And yet somehow Helena had gotten her standing in at least THREE fields. Had loosened her stance on minorities. (Miraculously -- Considering all the ways Alex only made her HATE THEM MORE.) And now here they fucking were. And of course, Helena had ducked out nigh-on IMMEDIATELY. Slipping into the dark. And hopefully NOT dying. (God she hoped Helena wasn’t dead...) “HELENA!?” Careful steps echoed through the halls only covered by the mechanical rumblings of various TRAPS & TRICKS. Each one drawing out a little JUMP. Making her evermore SKITTERY. And slowing her progress to a CRAWL. She hoped to God she could find Helena-- “ROOGLEGAHRAH!” The scream that penetrated the halls in that one moment was SURE to pierce the hides of even the most steely of house-goers. But none would jump out of their flesh anywhere near as much as Seraphina just had. And as for Helena...

                                                                                                        --THWACK!!

Seraphina hadn’t even REGISTERED it was Helena until it was too late. Hand clapped against cheek with all her greatest might. And the pang of guilt, and stream of APOLOGIES -- Albeit coated in ways they could SHARE the blame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you! And it was dark! And you jumped out and scared me! And I just...” No way her hand wasn’t going to LEAVE A MARK.

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​​

Seraphina actually laughed. “Think?” Question was rhetorical – DERISIVE. “I fucking KNOW that I can.” She shook her head before bringing herself to a pause. Brow furrowing as she reviewed the question with greater sensitivity than her initial burst of EGOMANIA. After several seconds she took a deep breath and spoke once again. “Look… I won’t say that Delilah DOESN’T love Helena. She clearly does. Head over heels for her.” Another delay. And the scales in her mind as she weighed her words might well have been VISIBLE. “But do I think Delilah loves Helena the RIGHT WAY or anywhere NEAR the level and intensity that I love Helena?” SCOFF. “Of course I don’t. Do you know what I did that night I compared Helena to her father. And she had that breakdown? I CHANGED.” Heavy emphasis on those final two words. “Not completely. Not intrinsically. But I saw the GREATEST mistake of my life. And the depths of the pain my actions caused. And I vowed to NEVER make Helena feel like that again.” One more catch. One more weigh-in. One more decision...

“And yeah, I can’t SPEAK for Helena and how I’ve made HER feel in the years since then. But I’d like to think that I’ve SUCCEEDED…” It was then that Seraphina’s face began to twist. Harsh sinking of canine into gums. BLOOD blossoming from the puncture. The tiniest – SADDEST – shake of her head. And an aversion of chestnut eyes. “And…” SWALLOW. Golden nail came up, scratching lightly at her temple and tapping restlessly against her skull before Seraphina worked up the COURAGE to commit to her bottom line. “And honestly, from where I stand… I don’t believe she can say the same…” Another bite at already bloody gums. “In fact…” SIGH – Pained and sorrowful. Eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not entirely sure she’s ever hurt Helena WORSE than she is right now…” Thin shoulders managed a HOPELESS & DEFEATED shrug. There would always be a part of Seraphina that CARED for Helena’s relationship with Delilah. She’d be lying if she HADN’T just depressed herself in tearing down her love rival. Because her Owner frankly deserved a BETTER ENDING than that. And while Seraphina could HOPE FOR THE BEST and SUPPORT HER LOVER. When it came down to her opinion right here, right now...

                                    “Right now I find it hard to believe that Delilah                                                                            could EVER love Helena MORE than I do...”

[xcharmedxheirsx]

( OG CREDIT )

@xhelenaxleblancx

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

Was it wrong for her to be SMILING? Cause she was fucking SMILING. So wide in fact it made the Cheshire cat look like it was frowning. “Look. First thing’s first...” Cause, try as she might, she DID have a conscience. “I hate what happened between Hel and Dee. I DO wish Delilah could just be happy for her sister and that life didn’t have to ERUPT every time Dee sees me with her...” Quite frankly it just wasn’t fair for the younger sister to play victim and make NO ATTEMPT to change. At that point she was just wallowing. And dragging Helena down with her. “Second of all...” Pause for dramatic effect. But the excited squeals and aforementioned super big grin were kind of GIVEAWAYS. “I’m kind of fucking ecstatic!” Energy was unleashed in a wave of joy. RADIATING from the once-heiress. She was even clapping. “Like, have you ever wanted something so badly you couldn’t even dare wish for it IN YOUR DREAMS because you know you’re just gonna get your hopes up and then DIE CRYING when it inevitably doesn’t happen?” Another pause. This time for added emphasis. “THAT’S how it feels to be the one exception between her and Dee.” And even though it was a TEMPORARY victory. (Yes, it was a VICTORY in her eyes. And her ego was revelling in the nourishment.) She was still going to HOPE. Still gonna be GRATEFUL. And re-temper and beat down her expectations. Because what were the ODDS of that ever happening again? “Where is she even? I need to thank her and check if she’s alright...”

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx​

There was a pause at that question. Seraphina’s brow DENTING in thought. It didn’t take long to figure out her answer. “I DO...” And in all honesty she couldn’t even say such a bond was UNHEALTHY in her eyes. It was just... RAW EMOTION. To an intensity that NO ONE could understand unless you PERSONALLY FEEL IT. She had grown up living on NOTHING. Relying on NOTHING. And she SHUDDERED at the thought. “Kind of insane, isn’t it?” Lips were twisted up. Feelings UNTELLABLE and she looked away. “I used to be so PREPARED to live a NOTHING life.” Words weren’t being careful chosen. They were just SPILLING FORTH -- UNFILTERED AND DANGEROUS.

“I used to FEAR Helena fixating on me. Growing obsessed with me. Because if she DID, she might just have made me HAPPY...” Bite at her lip and an EXHALE through flared nostrils. She shook her head. “She might just have made me HAPPY and that might just have been TOO MUCH to give up. For...” Canine sunk DEEP. Puncturing her lip cleanly. Drawing BLOOD. Taste of iron was GROUNDING. “For HIM...” And oh even just THAT. How even just THAT had changed. Benjamin... She once ADORED him... Despite not really having any memories of him. He was just... Her older brother. And the whole family spoke SO HIGHLY OF HIM. And she had always wanted that. HAD... (She didn’t anymore...) Now she despised him. And that wasn’t even doing a DISSERVICE to his memory. Because her memories of him were FALSE. She had never TRULY known him.

“Now I sit here and you ask me all these questions...” She shuffled -- NERVOUSLY. Eyes scanned the room for ALCOHOL. No such luck. “I don’t know why you EXPECT ME to know the answers. And I’m surprised that I DO.” Lick of dry lips and she gave a HARSH SWALLOW of the lump in her throat. “You ask me that. And I think about Delilah. And I think about Helena. And I GET IT. I...” Another swallow. “I ENVY IT...” Heavy sigh. “Because I’m scared to lose Helena, too...” Voice had turned SAD by now. Lips once TWISTED had now fallen toward the ground. “And I just...”

                                                                                          “Hope she feels the same way...”

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@xhelenaxleblancx | Continued from X.

Tears SWIRLED in chestnut eyes. Voice had escaped her. BETRAYED HER. She had been trying to... She had NO FUCKING IDEA what she’d been trying to do... Ever since Helena had broken up with Alex the two had been fighting MORE & MORE about Artie. And Seraphina had just... NEEDED HER TO KNOW. Redhead’s reaction was HEARTBREAKING to say the least. And the worst part of it all? She wasn’t even sure WHY. Why the FUCK was Helena pulling back? Be mad that she was STILL INVOLVED with another human. SURE. Think that it’s TOO SOON & BE SCARED OF COMMITMENT. She’d understand that. But MY GOD did Helena’s words feel more DAMNING than that. “Look, I know I was a little bit fucking LATE to the GROWN UP TABLE. But I’m hardly some fucking SCHOOLGIRL falling for the guy that PICKED UP HER PEN.” She fired right on back. Trying to ignore the PAIN in her heart as she watched Helena SHRIVEL INTO ANXIETY. The color drain. The fingers through her hair. POOR GIRL COULDN’T EVEN LOOK AT HER. Was she supposed to feel GRATEFUL? That she’d finally found something SHE could do that Helena COULDN’T. Was the greatest fucking TRAGEDY of them all. “ So what the fuck IS THIS then, huh? What do you call this? Who the FUCK do you trust to TREAT ME better than this? Better than YOU?!” Words were tainted with a sense of OFFENDED FURY. How could she possibly-- “NO ONE!”

                                                                             “THAT’S. FUCKING. WHO.”

[xcharmedxheirsx]

@ Sera, what's your biggest fantasy you have in detail?

@xhelenaxleblancx​

“Hmm…” In all the questions fielded to her over the years why was THIS the only one she deemed WORTHY of answering seriously? “I think it would be in SHATTERING public perception in as big a way as possible…” She’d always hated those MASQUERADES they all had to PLAY. Would be nice to just be HERSELF and show the world and not give a FUCK when it all came crashing down. Yeah. THAT would be good. “Maybe being taken for a walk, naked, along the Hollywood Walk of Fame.” Click of her tongue. “Actually makes it kinda DEPRESSING that my husband doesn’t have a star there yet. I could set my life aflame all in one fell swoop when I’m taken by SOMEONE ELSE.” --HELENA... “Bare flesh burning against the SEARING CALIFORNIA CONCRETE...”