#I wanted to check I was spelling it right; and the fact some shitty fashion thing is the first result and the wiki for the movie is second..

[medicinemane]

You know, a greeble ray would be good for being a villain and doing body horror. It would basically result in some Akira type nonsense

[rae-gar-targaryen]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary. 

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage. 

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy. 

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere. 

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear. 

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand. 

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you. 

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went. 

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself. 

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name. 

Adler hated you for it. 

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.” 

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them. 

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it. 

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised. 

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you. 

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade. 

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong. 

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground. 

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you. 

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance. 

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you. 

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly." 

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose. 

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head. 

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted. 

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised. 

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut. 

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry. 

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast. 

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game. 

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear. 

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils. 

Drag them down with their own fear. 

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit? 

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration. 

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the  alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied. 

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl. 

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away! 

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?” 

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.  “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.” 

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture. 

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter. 

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.” 

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred. 

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man. 

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant.  Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival. 

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap. 

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor. 

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself. 

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.” 

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious. 

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?” 

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were. 

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.” 

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway. 

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.” 

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.” 

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?” 

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out. 

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him. 

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!” 

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor. 

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions. 

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully. 

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring. 

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom. 

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw. 

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness. 

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley. 

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade. 

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed. 

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you. 

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain. 

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation. 

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind. 

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly. 

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying. 

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance. 

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here. 

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street. 

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing. 

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop. 

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure. 

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago. 

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.” 

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage. 

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage. 

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing. 

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago. 

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront. 

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours. 

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes. 

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.” 

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter. 

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs. 

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego. 

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.” 

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head. 

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you. 

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out. 

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful. 

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now. 

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it-- 

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth. 

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form. 

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.” 

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.” 

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit. 

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him. 

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form. 

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you. 

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him. 

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego. 

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain. 

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged. 

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.” 

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau. 

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow. 

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.” 

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin. 

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded. 

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused. 

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow. 

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is." 

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--" 

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming. 

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you...  pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered. 

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none. 

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze. 

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours. 

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. 

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere…  washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne. 

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body. 

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long. 

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed. 

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage. 

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple. 

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed. 

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze. 

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him. 

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured. 

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most. 

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness. 

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own. 

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room. 

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent. 

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression. 

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off. 

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this. 

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening. 

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you. 

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips. 

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts. 

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.” 

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you. 

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release. 

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high. 

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment. 

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room. 

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce. 

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself. 

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out. 

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.  

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?” 

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn. 

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. 

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope." 

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey. 

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach. 

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair. 

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do …  No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.” 

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin. 

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight. 

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness. 

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you. 

Ouch. 

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles. 

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood. 

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar. 

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?” 

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek. 

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat. 

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.” 

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid. 

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down. 

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed. 

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee. 

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition. 

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand. 

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.” 

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed. 

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.” 

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand. 

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.” 

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation. 

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion." 

Diego smiled at you. 

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.” 

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand. 

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys. 

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?” 

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...” 

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.” 

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk. 

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another. 

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.” 

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable. 

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions. 

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours. 

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ " 

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter. 

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!” 

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met. 

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve …  run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin. 

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink. 

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves? 

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard. 

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled. 

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own. 

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly." 

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one. 

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief. 

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably. 

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst​ 

[purplesurveys]

825

All About the Letter E

Please List! (at least one)

Animals I Like: Elephants! And emus, mostly because of the Emu War I had watched a video about recently.

Foods I Like: Eggs. All kinds of them. I also like Eggs Benedict, empanadas, eggplants, eclairs, escargot, and I loooove eel. 

I Know Someone Who’s (jobs): Editor, editorial assistant, editor-in-chief - surprise surprise, I’m a journalism student haha.

I Wouldn’t Mind Visiting: Egypt and Ethiopia. I also want to go back to El Nido in Palawan.

Sometimes I Feel: Excited, enthusiastic, but mostly embarassed.

Music I Listen To: Ed Sheeran, Eraserheads, Ella Fitzgerald.

Movies I’ve Seen: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Eraserhead, Emperor’s New Groove, Evil Dead, The Exorcist, Ex Machina (the first ten minutes of it anyway), Eyes Wide Shut.

Names I Like: Emilia, Emma, Elliott, Ezra, Eden, Elizabeth.

And now, onto the random questions!

Do you believe in equality? Of course. Reeeally big on it too.

Early to bed or early to rise? Mmm, neither honestly. I sleep way too late to the point of it being unhealthy, which means I don’t get up particularly early either.

Are you early or late for appointments? I get to the venue early, then show up exactly on time.

Have you ever had an ear infection? I have not. I imagine that would majorly suck though.

Do you go see an eye doctor? This implies that I do it regularly, so no. I did have to visit one when I still could because my left eye would feel like there was something stuck inside of it and it hurt to blink. The eye drops prescribed to me didn’t really help and would only provide short-term relief, but I never got to go back and have my eye re-checked cause we were under lockdown by then. Occasionally I’d still get spells of being irritated.

How many earrings do you wear? None. I ruined my left ear piercing years ago so I’ve had to stick with clip-ons, but I haven’t worn any in a while because I’ve lost most of them, because I’m terrible at being organized with such tiny things lol.

Do you care about the environment? How do you help the Earth? Yes, I reduce and recycle whenever I can; I’m very particular about segregating my trash; I save on paper by always folding a page in half if I have to fill it up; and as icky as it is I always pick up trash at public places when I see it – I’ve since had Gabie pick up the habit too. How often do you exercise? Do you go to a gym or do it on your own? The only exercise I get is going on short strolls with Kimi. I do it for leisure, not for workout-y purposes. I did have a rigorous PE class last sem where we’d have to do like 50 pushups, 30 pullups, five-minute planks, lifting 80-lb barbells, etc every meeting and it was honestly a lot of fun; but I was never able to maintain the exercises we did once the class ended.

What are your favorite things to eat? Unhealthy things like cheeseburgers and corndogs, ~fancier desserts~ like macarons and eclairs, savory food like ramen and curry, and seafood. My tastes are all over the place, lmao.

Do you know anyone who is pure evil? I know shitty people, but ‘pure evil’ is pushing it.

Do you get along with everyone? Not always because I can be quite vocal and that doesn’t sit well with some people; and it’s usually easy to tell if I don’t like someone even if I act civil. I always try my best to be friendly though.

Do you have a certain routine that you go through every day? Yes. I need my routines otherwise my anxiety will absolutely blow up. Spontaneity is fine with me but not when it comes to this.

Have you ever felt like you’ve lost everything? Yup.

Is there anywhere you’d like to explore? The rest of the world. For the most part, there’s no place I’d say no to going.

Elevators or escalators? Escalators because at least it’s in an open area, and if it breaks down I can just go up or down as if it were stairs.

What do you do in the evening? Dinner, play with Kimi and now Cooper, and I usually take my surveys by evening. Sometimes I’ll make a cup of coffee too.

Have you ever been evaluated for anything before? Yes, both as part of a group and just me, individually.

What’s the worst you’ve ever done on an exam? I got the lowest possible grade that my old school offered once or twice. In college, I once got something like a 40/100 in an economics class HAHAHAH

Are you easily exhausted? No, as long as the weather cooperates. If it were hot and humid I’d be a lot more sluggish.

Do you like visiting exhibits? Depends on the subject. < Same. I wouldn’t go to an exhibit that would get too technical on engineering, for one.

Have you ever felt exiled? I’ve felt that in my home many times.

Have you ever felt like everybody was talking about you? Yeah, but I don’t feel like opening up that can of worms right now since it’s a complicated story lol.

Have you ever entered through an exit sign or exited through an enter sign? I’m sure I have.

How have humans evolved over time? In a lot of ways. We’ve lost some tiny body parts, changed our mindsets on stuff like slavery, changed up our fashion sense, removed and added words from/onto our vocabulary, developed our cuisines, etc. I highly recommend Bill Wurtz’s ‘history of the entire world, i guess’ video haha.

Would you ever consider eloping? No. Not to sound ignorant, but I genuinely mostly don’t know what that entails since it’s not really a part of our culture. One thing’s for sure though, I wanna get married with a bunch of people watching.

If you could erase one mistake from your past, what would it be? I wouldn’t call it a mistake because it was who I am at the time...but I hate the fact that my college experience is forever stained with how much I sulked during my freshman year.

When’s the last time you’ve used email? How about sending something through the mail in an actual envelope? For email, it was like a week ago when I had to reply to a company emailing our org to endorse their internship opportunities. I don’t think I ever sent anything to anyone through mail...? I’ve written handwritten letters, but I personally gave them to the person it was meant for.

Do you dye eggs at Easter time? Nah we only did that once.

Is the glass half empty or half full? Depends on the situation, for me.

Have you ever had elbow macaroni before? Sure! My favorite recipe is Mama Lou’s truffle mac and cheese. Soooooo savory and so, so unfairly good.

Have you ever fractured or dislocated your elbow? Never. That sounds awful. I’ve seen arm wrestling matches go wrong and those were bad enough. Do you know how long an era or an eon is? An era is dependent on events, isn’t it? Like the hippie era, the grunge era, etc. My understanding is that they are socially defined and therefore don’t have a set time period. I believe an eon is an very long but unspecified amount of time. I’m trying to remember this without Googling, so I could be wrong, but those are my interpretations of the words. < There ya go. It’s a little too late in the night for me to be up for defining either in my own words haha.

Do you chew the Extra brand of gum? I don’t think so. I don’t think we have that here.

When was the last time someone showed empathy towards you? Few weeks ago when I was horribly sick and dad willingly took care of me, gave me sponge baths, and listened to every single one of my requests.

Did you have an Elf on the Shelf growing up? No. I’m not sure I know what that is.

Is your bedtime closer to eight or eleven? Eight...AM. :(((

Would you go around the world in eighty days? Nah I’d want to stop in too many places. You can’t see a country in a day. < True. While I was very much in love with my cruise vacation, it also meant that I just had an afternoon to explore as much as I can of South Korea and Japan. And I wish I had more time in both places.

Did you turn eighteen in high school, or afterwards? Shortly afterwards. My graduation was in March, I turned 18 by April.

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

[kiddoryder]

Sick Blitz

Blitz and Sophie belong to @lolli-momo1908.

 Enjoy! And happy birthday!!

It was morning and Charlie was awake knocking on her patients’ doors. Charlie - “Come on guys! Time to wake up! Breakfast! *she went to Blitz and Sophie’s room* Blitz! Sophie! Breakfast!”

 Sophie - *happily wakes up* “Yaaayyy! Breakfast!”

 Sophie got up, got dressed, and began running forth to Charlie happily to get some breakfast. Blitz however, groaned a bit as he slowly got out of bed. His hair was a bit messy, with shadows under his eyes, and even reddish blush across his face.

 Blitz - “Yeah, yeah.... I'll be right over. *covered mouth  with arm as he coughed a bit*

 Angel was walking by the hallway and saw Blitz still in bed and his pajamas. Angel - “Hey Blitz come on it’s time for- *noticed him* Blitz are you okay?”

 Hearing Angel, Charlie, Sophie and Vaggie saw that Blitz wasn't looking well.

 Charlie - *concerned* “Yeah... You don't look so good.”                                                                        

Blitz - *trying to hide his illness* “Don't worry, I-I'm fine. It's just a little cough. Just head downstairs and I'll meet you guys there.”                                                                                                         Sophie - “Okay, big brother.”

 Soon they all headed downstairs to go to dining hall. Then at the dining hall. Charlie was setting up the plates and cups and Sophie was helping her out. Vaggie was getting out the food and saw Angel was sitting on the table looking at his phone and his feet on the table much her to dismay.

 Vaggie - *annoyed* “Angel get your feet off the table!”

 Angel - “Hey is it my fault I got these *rubs his legs* gorgeous sexy legs?”

 Vaggie - *annoyed and pissed* “They are about to be bloody and broken legs if you don’t get your feet off the table now!”

 Angel - *annoyed “Alright! Alright!”

 Angel put his feet down on the floor and everybody was still setting up the table for breakfast. Vaggie - “So any plans today Charlie or visitors?” Charlie - “The only visitor we are having is Sonya.”

 Sophie - “Oh, goodie! She and Liz are joining us for breakfast!” *smiling as she clapped her hands*

 Blitz - *weakly* “Great......*felt nose twitching as if ready to sneeze* Ah.... A-Ah... *covered himself with wings quickly* ACHOO!”

 Vaggie - *worried* “Whoa Blitz! That was some sneeze. Are you sure you’re okay?” Angel - concerned* “Yeah you look like shit.”

 Blitz unravels his wings a bit while still having reddish blush across face. He saw that his friends and sister look worried about him. However, he’s trying to cover up about having an illness.

 Blitz - “I'm fine! It must've been an allergy or something.”                                                                                                              

Charlie - “I don't know.... It looks more than an allergy to me. Blitz's let's check your temperature. *took out a thermometer*                                                                                                           

Blitz - *sniffles and coughed a bit* “Charlie, I told you. I'm perfectly fi- Mph!?”

 Blitz felt thermometer shoved into his mouth a bit as he saw it doing it work on checking his temperature. Then the thermometer beeps and Charlie took it out to check it. Her eyes widen in worried. Charlie - *surprised* “Oh my god it’s 103.9! You have a fever!”

 Vaggie & Angel looked over at thermometer a bit surprised as Charlie is.

 Vaggie and Angel - *surprised* “What?! Ohh, shit!”                                                                                             

Sophie - *looking up at him a bit concerned*                                       

“Blitzy, are you sick?                                                         

 Blitz looking down at his sister. He knew that deep down, he couldn’t lie to his baby sister. So Blitz knelt down to her height level and said:

 Blitz - *sighs* “Yeah.... Sorry for not telling you and everyone else, kiddo.”

 Charlie - “Come on Blitz we better get you back to bed.” Vaggie - “Why didn’t you tell us?” Angel - *pissed* “Yeah I mean you would get mad at me when I try to hide my pain or sickness.” *crosses his arms*

 Blitz - “Alright, I'm sorry. *sniff* I just couldn't stand the fact that I couldn't protect you guys, if you were ever gotten into any trouble, while I'm sick. I always help you guys, whenever you need me, and I couldn't let you all down.”                                                                                                                              

Charlie - “Well today, you need us to take care of you. Now, march up to bed, young man.”

 Charlie ushering him upstairs and head to his bedroom. Blitz moans because he hates being sick, but knew he had to get better for the sake of his baby sister.

 ()()()()()()()

 Blitz was now lying on his bed resting to get over his fever. Charlie and the others were watching at the doorway worried about their friend.

 Charlie - “Okay guys we got a new plan: We all need take of Blitz while he’s sick with a fever.” Angel - *smirks* “Oh! I see, so each of us get to be his nurses?” Charlie - *confused* “Uh I guess when you put it like that.” Vaggie - “So we take turns taking care of him?”

 Sophie - “I wanna help my brother too!” *raised up her hand cutely*

 Charlie - *chuckles and pets her head* “Okay Sophie you can help too. But remember something too: We can’t be near him for too long cause one of us can end up getting sick.”

 Sophie - *nodding* “Okay.”                                                                           

Vaggie - “In that case, everyone, put on your medical mask and rubber gloves.”

 Vaggie held out a box full of medical masks and rubber gloves for protection from Blitz's cold. Charlie and Sophie grabbed them, and Charlie put hers on. Angel however, had a displeased look on his face.

 Angel - “ Ugh seriously? I have to wear that. It’s so tacky! Then again, I am taking fashion choices from Vaggie.”

 Vaggie - *glaring at him a bit* “I don't know if I should feel insulted or take that comment as a compliment.”                                                                                         

Charlie began to notice that Sophie had a little trouble placing on her gloves as she tried to put on her medical mask.

 Charlie - “Here let me help.” She knelt down Sophie’s height level and fix her medical mask. Sophie was now all fixed up and protective of getting her Brother’s cold. Charlie - *looking up to Angel* “Angel you have to wear these. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

 Angel - *sighed a bit as he rolled his eyes a bit* Nah. I don't because that would end up shitty for me. *looked at the mask and gloves as he smirked a bit* Besides, I think I know a perfect outfit for me to wear, just to make these tacky things less tacky.”

 Angel took the glove and mask and went to his room closing the door. The girls just rolled their eyes knowing Angel will do something that would make Blitz blush. Then Charlie began to take out her phone to text Sonya.

 Charlie - “Speaking of these, I gotta make sure Sonya wears them too. I don’t want her to get sick too.”

 Vaggie - “Good call, and we better let her know, when she gets here for a visit.”

 ()()()()()()()()

 Then a little while later,  Blitz was awake in bed but still feeling ill. Then he heard a knock on the door. The door opened, and it was Angel dress as a sexy nurse. He smiles sexually Blitz but was hard to tell due to wearing the mask.   Angel - *first arms on chest, second pair on his hips* “Never fear Blitzy-Que, nurse Angel is here!”

 Blitz - *eyes widen while blushing* “Ohh, my........ *he began to cover his face with hands to try and hide his massive blush* Ugghh! Angel, why do you do that?!”

 Angel - *walks over to him* “To help make you better. Beside I’m wearing this for a reason: I’m being your nurse *smiles* and I wanna help you feel better.”

 Blitz - *looking at her a bit oddly before sighing a bit* “Alright, fine. But just don't do anything too sexual, okay?”

 Angel - “Oh trust me I won’t. *felt his head hot* Jesus Christ your head is hot! I could an egg on it! I’ll get you an ice pack.”

 Blitz - “Yeah, please do.”

 Blitz watched as Angel headed off to go get ice pack from the freezer. Then Angel came back and gently put it on Blitz’s forehead. Angel - “I hope that feels better. I used to do it for my sister whenever she gets sick.”

 Blitz - “You have? *smiles a bit as he chuckled a little* You must've been a great brother to your sis, huh?”

 Angel - *smiles softly and fondly* Oh I was the best. Better than my brother and Pops. Sure they love her, but I was the best brother she ever has. Why you think she looks to me?”

 Blitz - *laughs* Good point. *smirking as he soon sighed a bit relaxed at coolness from ice pack* Ohh, yeah.... That ice pack really does the ticket.”

 Angel - “Plus I also watched you doing it lots to time either to me or Sophie when we get sick.”

 Blitz - *surprised* “Really?”

 Angel - “Yeah I mean, I’m pretty much a fast learner. I can remember how many times you took care of us.”

 Blitz - *touched* “Wow. Thanks.”

 Angel - *smiles* “No prob. Well, if you ever need anything you know what to do call Nurse Angel!” Angel left the room to have Blitz’s rest. Then half an hour later, there was another knock on the door. The door open and it was Sonya wearing a mask, rubber gloves, and holding her spell book along with her bookbag. Sonya - “Hi Blitz. How you are feeling?”

 Blitz - “Well, my throat still hurts a bit from coughing so much, but other than that.... I'm hanging in there.” *coughs*

 Sonya - “To make you feel better Liz made these.” She opened her book bag to reveal some origami paper cranes. She began to put the paper cranes on the floor in a circle.

 Blitz - “Wow. They look really nice.” Sonya - “Here's the best part *opened her book* flyia bindera!” The paper cranes began to glow and fly around doing a little flying show for Blitz. He was amazed and impressed of seeing this. It’s kind of reminds him of entertaining Sophie whenever she feels sick, sad or hurt. It was nice that somebody was doing it for him for a change.

 Blitz - *amazed* “Wow.... That's really amazing, both you and Liz.”

 Sonya - *smiling* “Thanks. I have been learning. Also as a gift, Liz said that she won’t come out today to go on turf wars with Angel and Cherri.” Liz nodded as if it was saying it’s true. Once Liz heard that Blitz was sick, she decided to give him a break of not getting in a turf war. As much fun it in getting into them with Cherri and Angel, she didn’t want cause Blitz’s any stress. Especially since he’s not feeling well since sometimes, he would have to come to their rescue if it gets too rowdy.

 Blitz - *smirks at Sonya and Liz in shadow form* “Heh, sounds like a perfect gift to me. Thanks.”

 Sonya - “No problem. I think Sophie got something for you too.”

 Blitz - “She does?”

 Blitz sat up a little bit, and saw his sister coming over with mask and gloves on. Sophie came with hands behind her back.

Sophie -  “Hi, big bro. I made you a get-well gift.”

 Sonya - “Show Blitz what you made Sophie.”

Sophie - “Okay!”

 Sophie took out her gift. Her gift was a cute hand-drawing picture of her brother all muscular. The drawing had Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Sonya, and herself; cheering. It even said, "Get well, Blitzy!" above the drawings.

 Sophie - “Ta-daa!”                                                                                                                                               The drawing made Blitz smile. He always loves it when Sophie does cute drawings as gifts. They would always put a smile on his face.

 Blitz - “Wow!  *sniff* Sophie, it looks really awesome. Thanks a lot, sis.”                                                                                                                                                                                    This made Sophie smiles under the mask as she giggled happily. Then Sonya gently took Sophie’s hand and said:                                                                                                                 

Sophie - “Come on Sophie, we should let Blitz rest for a while.” Sonya grabbed Sophie’s hand and they left the room. Then they went downstairs and saw Charlie was going through the phone book. Sonya - *curiously* “What are you doing Cousin Charlie?” Charlie - “Looking for a doctor.” Angel - *puzzled* “Why? Blitz don’t need a doctor he has us! And me as his sexy nurse.” *smirks*

 Vaggie - *rolled her eyes with arms crossed* “And I bet you've knocked him out with a massive blush or a nosebleed, when he saw you like this.”

 Angel - *shrugs*Well he did blush a lot when he saw me in this outfit. Who can blame him *does poses* After all, I’m the living meaning of “ irresistible beauty.”” *smirks*

 Vaggie - “Ugh!” *rolled her eyes as if not amused*                                                                                                                   

Charlie did the same thing and kept looking through phone book. She kept on looking until she soon finds a perfect doctor's phone number.

 Charlie - “Ah! There it is. I found the perfect doctor: Dr. Duke. He helps with fevers and other illness.” Sonya - *suspicious* “Huh. That’s weird. Something about that’s guy name sound so familiar...”

 Sophie - “Can the doctor help make my brother feel all better?”

 Charlie - “Of course Sophie I mean he is a doctor after all.”

 Vaggie - *doubtful* “I don't know about that guy, though.... Maybe we should do a test run before we consider him an official doctor for Blitz.”

 Angel - “Okay ya want me to get my guns?” Charlie - *shocked* “What?! No! We just ask him some questions and see if he really does his jobs.”

 Vaggie - *glaring at him* “Exactly! So, don't go bringing out some weapons like an idiot, you dumbass!”

 Angel - *scoff* “Whatever I’m still being Blitzy’s nurse.”

 ()()()()()()()()() Then a little while later, there was a knock on the door. Charlie opened it and there was Dr Duke. He was a light brown demon wearing a top hat, glasses, stethoscope, a long white shirt, black pants and dress shoes. With him a child demon whose red dog like demon and wearing a raccoon fur hat and black shirt. Dr. Duke - “Hello: Dr. Duke is in; this is my assistant Bono.”

 Bono - *waving to Charlie and group* “Hello.”                                                                                                                         

Sophie - “Hello.” *waving to them*

 Charlie - “It’s so good to see you doctor. I’m Charlie: The Princess of Hell and owner of the Happy Hotel.” Dr. Duke - “I know. I saw it on the news station. Anyway where is the patient?”

 Vaggie - “Blitz is upstairs in his room.” *points to upstairs with her thumb*

 Angel - “And please be gentle with him. He’s my special man.”

 Bono - “Don't you worry, he's in good hands.”

 Bono began walked off with Dr. Duke to go check up on Blitz as their patient. Then he walked in and saw Blitz who was looking sick and tired. Blitz slowly move his head to see the doctor in his room.   Dr. Duke - “Hello there my patient my name is Dr. Duke. This is my assistant Bono.”

 Bono - “Pleasure to meet you.”                                                                                       

Blitz - “Um, yeah. Same to you too, doc…”

 Blitz sneezes and covered mouth as he kept his sneeze from spreading about. Then he saw Dr. Duke coming over and checked his fever by placing had on his forehead. The doctor shook his head and did a tsk tsk noise.

 Dr. Duke - “Oh my you are burning up with fever! Nothing but a little surgery can’t fix. Bono, give me the numbing needle.” Bono - “Yes Doctor.” Dr Duke ripped blanket off the Blitz. This make Blitz a little scared and confused at the same time. Dr. Duke - “This will help with the surgery.” Those words made Blitz’s eyes widen as he scooted back to the wall frame of his bed. There was no way this doctor would perform surgery on him over something common like a cold.

 Blitz - *scared* “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! WHAT?! Dude, are you sure you know what you're doing?!”                                                                                     

Dr Duke - *deadpan* “Of course I’m a Doctor after all.” Bono - *handing him the needle* “Here you go Doctor.” Dr. Duke - “Thank you Bono. Now then.” Dr. Duke began to stick the needle on Blitz’s arm. Blitz began to stay still but still awake. This made Blitz seeing himself stood still entirely scared. He even struggled to move his limbs, but no prevail.

 Blitz - *confused and nervous*Hey! W-W-What kind of a sick joke is this?!” *sneezed*

 Dr Duke - “It’s to help you. Bono kill the lights and put the surgery lights.” Bono - *nodding* “Yes Sir.” Bono turn off the light and put a lamp with rainbow lights on like a disco ball. Then Dr. Duke put his hands-on Blitz’s stomach. Blitz was start get even more scared and nervous. Dr. Duke - “Here where it lies. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Dr. Duke’s hands began to glow light blue and it went inside Blitz’s stomach. This freaked out about but instead of blood coming out, it was water. Blitz was confusing on what was going on and luckily for him, he didn’t feel no pain. Then after a struggle, Dr. Duke pulled out a big long fish out of Blitz’s stomach. Dr. Duke - “Here’s the source of your problems.” Blitz *staring at it oddly and confused* “-“..........Is that a fish?”                                                                                               

Bono - “Yep. That was your illness. I simply transform it into a fish so it can be easy for me to get it out of you.” Dr. Duke - “You will be better in no time.”

 Blitz - *staring at them confused and odd* “Are you sure about THAT after that stunt you've pulled off?!”

 Dr. Duke - “Of course. I am a doctor after all. Come on along Bono.” Dr Duke and Bono began to soak downstairs. Bono was holding the fish in a bowl. Dr. Duke - “Your patient will be fine in a few hours. *hands Charlie a bill* Here’s the bill.” He handed Charlie the bill. Charlie’s eyes widen in shock: Charlie - *shocked* “600 dollars?!” Dr. Duke - “Well of course I mean it doesn’t come cheap you know” Charlie - *sighs* “I guess that’s true *handed him the money* Here you go.” Dr. Duke - *takes the money* “Thank you. Have a good day. Dr. Duke and Bono left the hotel. Charlie was shocked and a little upset that she had to give away a lot of money. But then again, she did it only so that her friend can feel better. However, Vaggie was watching by the window. seeing them go and had a suspicious look on face

 Sophie - “Hooray!  My brother's gonna be all better!” *jumping up and down happily*                                                                                                      

Vaggie - *doubtful* “I still don't like those guys for some reason....”

 Angel - *scoff* “Oh please you don’t like anybody. You don’t even like the mailman.”

 Vaggie *glaring over at him with arms crossed* - “And what's your excuse, pretty boy?”                                                                                                                          

Charlie - “Guys, all it matters now is that the doc has taken good care of Blitz. And he said  he'll be better in a few hours.”

 Sonya - “That’s good.”

 ()()()()()()()() But then an hour later, Blitz was turning in bed and sweating. He even pulled the blanket over his head. For some reason, he felt like his head was spinning and was feeling like if he was in a dream but was actually away and trying to sleep. Then he heard voices: “Quick! Put him on the stretcher!” “Oh he’s beat up pretty bad!” “Give me the oxygen mask!” Blitz - *shocked* “No..... No, no, no!”

 Quickly recognized those voices, Blitz sits up from bed as he was sweating. Then his eyes widen big with concerned and horror  look on face.

 Blitz - “Angel!”                                                                                                               

Blitz saw “Angel” on the stretcher badly hurt and unconscious. Blitz remembered this was just like the time Angel was kidnapped by Ryan and was badly beaten. The doctors were quickly trying to help the injured unconscious Angel and one of them put his head on Angel’s chest. He had a horrified look on his face. Doctor - “Quick! We need the oxygen mask! He’s not breathing right!”

 Blitz - *shocked* “No, no, no, Angel!” *quickly got up as he ran forth towards "Angel"* Don't you dare die on me, you stupid bastard! Please! You just can't die.”

 Doctor - *angry and puts the oxygen mask on Angel* “Oh please it's your fault he’s like this!”

 Blitz - *confused* “W-What?” Doctor 2 - “You’re the boyfriend! You’re supposed to protect him, but you failed.”

 Blitz - “What?! No, I...! That's not true!”

 Doctor - “You were supposed to protect him, but you couldn’t even do that right!”

 Doctor 2 - “What kind of boyfriend are you?! Your lover is hurt because of you!” Doctor 3 - “We are taking him to the surgery room! After that, you are never seeing him again!”

 Blitz - “No! NO!”

 Blitz began fly fast as the doctors was wheeling Angel away in the stretcher. The faster the doctors went; the faster Blitz flew. Then all of a sudden, Blitz began to notice that he's flying through the dark void as if everything disappeared.

 Blitz - “No, this can't be real! Angel! ANGEL!”                                                                                        Outside of his hallucination, Blitz flew straight out of the room as he was flying around the hotel just as Charlie and the others spotted him a moment ago. This made the others shock and confused on why Blitz is out of bed flying around.                                                                       

Vaggie - *surprised* “What the hell!?”

 Sonya - “What is Blitz doing out of bed? Charlie - “I don’t know but we gotta catch him! He could hurt himself”

 As Charlie and her friends ran forth to help Blitz out, Angel used his strong legs to jump up high due to the fact that he's a jumping spider. Angel managed to grab Blitz down and they both landed on the couches.  Then,  Vaggie came over and helped Angel hold Blitz down.                                                                             

Blitz. *struggling to be free* “Hey! Get off of me! I gotta help Angel before he dies!”

 Charlie - *confused* “What are you talking about? Angel - “Blitz. I’m not dead I’m alive!”

 Vaggie - “Yeah, snap out of it, Blitz!”                                                                                 

Blitz - “Let me go, I'm running out of time!”                                                                                   Sophie - *worried and concerned* “What's wrong with Blitzy?... I thought he's getting better, like the doctor said.”

 Charlie - “I don’t know maybe it’s the side effect! We better take him back to bed.” Angel and Vaggie put the struggling Blitz back to bed when it looks like he starting to calm down. Then later on, in bed, Blitz was panting a bit and he heard some  giggling. He looked up and saw Sophie sitting on a stand giggling. But for strange reason, he saw Sonya on a unicycle juggling and wearing clown suit. Even Liz had her own body who was also on a unicycle juggling and had zombie makeup.

 Blitz - “Huh? *rubbing his eyes for a moment before looking again* Sonya, why are you in a clown suit, riding a unicycle? And how did you managed to let Liz have her own body?”

 Liz - “Eh. I got bored so we split up. Get it?” They both began to laugh. They kept riding their bicycles and juggling. Then Blitz saw that he was in a circus with Charlie as the ringleader, Vaggie doing the tightrope, and Angel was doing trapezes. This was starting to freak out Blitz. He even saw Sophie wearing clown makeup and suit.

 Blitz - “Okay why is this happening?!” Sonya - “We are getting ready! And I see you are too!” Confused Blitz looked down and saw that he was now wearing a clown suit.

 Blitz - *confused and shocked* “What the fuck?!”                                                                         

Outside of the hallucination, Blitz was looking at himself weirdly as it showed Charlie and the others were so confused of what he was talking about or what he was doing. They wanted to check up on him to see if he was feeling any better, but then see Blitz talking to himself again.                                                                                                

Vaggie - *confused* “Uhh...... What was Blitz talking about the clown suit?”                                                                                              

Charlie - “I don't know, but something's definitely wrong with him.”

 Sonya - “Yeah I mean he talked me and Liz having separate bodies? I mean doesn’t he know that I’m a Gemini. Or what happened the last time Liz and I got split up?”

 Angel - “I've never thought I'd say this, but I think poor Blitzy-Que's cracked.”

 Vaggie - “Well whatever wrong with him, we gotta fix it!” Sonya - *realized something* “Wait! What if we get my mom to help? She’s a witch doctor.”

 Charlie. - *happy* “Good idea, baby cous! She can help Blitz out with this... mental problem he's going through right now.”                                                                                      

Blitz - *shocked* “Why am I in a clown suit?! All I know is I will not take part of it!”

 Blitz stood up and was about to take off his "clown suit". However his clown suit was actually his pajamas. He unbuttons his pajamas shirt but was about to take off his pants.                                                                                            

Charlie & others - *shocked* “AAAHHH!”

  Their eyes widen while blushing a bit as they held Blitz down to keep him from taking off of his clothes. This made Blitz began to struggle again. Sophie was getting worried about her brother since it looked like he was getting worse and not better.

 Angel - “Wait! Are you sure we wanna do this? Cause Heh, *smiling sexuality* I don’t mind seeing him without his “clown suit”.” Vaggie - *annoyed* “Now it’s. It the time to be in your fantasy sexual world Angel!”

 Charlie - “Sonya, take Sophie elsewhere and call your mom over here quickly!”

 Sonya - “Got it! Come on Sophie!” Sonya grabbed Sophie’s hands and began to call her mother. Then Charlie was still holding Blitz, along with the others. They kept restraining Blitz as she was blushing a bit embarrassed since it wasn’t like Blitz to act crazy. It was also hard to restraint him due to his strength.

Charlie - *struggling* “I-I think we gotta tie him down!”

 Blitz - *struggling* “Hey, you clown bitches! Let go of me and at least, let me have my dignity!”                                                                                          

Vaggie - *shocked and annoyed* “Did he just called us "Clown Bitches"?!

 Angel - “Well can ya blame him? I mean you do sort of dress and put make up like a clown.”

 Vaggie - *glaring angrily at him with her eye blazed in flames* “Shut up, you a**hole!”                                                                                                     

Charlie - “Guys, you keep restraining Blitz while I go get some rope! It’s the only way to keep him down.”

 Charlie dashed off to go grab some rope to tie Blitz up. Vaggie and Angel keep on trying to calm Blitz down and keep him restraint. Blitz was having his eyes closed and was still struggling to break free.

 Angel - “Come on Blitz! You need to calm down!!” Then Blitz opened his eyes and see that it was nighttime and was somewhere in a desert. The moon was shining too, and Blitz was all alone. This made Blitz a little scared since he was all by himself. It’s rare that he’s all by himself because he usually has Sophie with him. But this time, Sophie wasn’t even there.

 Blitz - “Hello! Is anybody there? Sophie? Charlie? Anybody?” “Hey Blitz’s! The surgery went great!” Blitz quickly recognize the voice that he loves yet get annoyed every time. It was Angel Dust’s voice. He turned around, and for some strange reason, he saw Angel now as a bunny.”

 Blitz - *confused* “What the.... Angel? Why are you a bunny?”

 Bunny Angel - *sad* “Aw what’s wrong Blitzy Que? Don’t you find me adorable”?

 Blitz - “Umm.... well... *looked away while hiding blush a bit* “I guess you’re kind of are. Just don't tell anyone I said that, okay?”

 Bunny Angel - *happy again* “Aw thank you! Now give me some sugar lover boy!” *began to kiss him*

 Outside of Blitz's hallucination, Blitz was actually kissing Angel himself. Much to his surprise yet pleasure, Angel began to kiss him back. This made Vaggie blushing all over of seeing Blitz and Angel kissing as her eye twitched a bit while completely speechless.

 Vaggie - *shocked*”........SONYA! Is your mom here yet?!”

 Sonya - *yelling* “SHE WILL BE HERE IN FIVE MINUTES!” Charlie - *got the rope* “Okay I got the rope and- *sees Blitz and Angel kissing. She was blushing and was shocked* OH MY GOD!” Vaggie - “Tie him up quick!!”

 And so, without any hesitation, Charlie broke up between Blitz and Angel as she began wrapping him around with a rope before tying him up. This made Blitz not only calmed down but was now blushing all over while painting a bit for some air after the kiss was over.

 Blitz - *amazed* “Wow....”                                                                                                                     

Charlie soon signed a bit tired from tying Blitz up for a while. While she hated that she had to tie up Blitz, she felt like she had no choice.

 Angel - *pouting* “Aw...Can’t I at least have five more minutes?”

 Charlie Vaggie - *leaned over to Angel a bit* “NO!”

 Charlie - “We better go downstairs to wait for Aunt Zella.”

 Vaggie - *worried* “Are you sure it’s okay to leave Blitz here by himself?”

 Charlie - “Of course. He’s tied up. There’s nothing he can do but wait until my aunt comes over to fix him up.”

 As they left the room, Blitz began to pant and hallucination again. This time, he saw himself underwater but however, he had no problem breathing. Confused, he looked around and saw that dozens of fishes were swimming around him, and he saw Doctor Duke in shadow form staring and smirking at him. Blitz’s eyes widen in fear and he said:

 Blitz - *panting and freaking out* “This guy...He put a curse on me!!”

 Full of anger, Blitz use of his strength to break through the ropes. He was finally freed, and his eyes flowed in anger and no longer cared about his illness. He flew out the window to go find Doctor Duke.

 ()()()()()()()()()                                                                                   

Charlie was waiting for her aunt to come over. Angel was sitting on the couch comforting Sophie so she wouldn’t feel worried for her brother. He was feeling worried too and wanted to beat the crap out the doctor for making Blitz worst. Just then, Charlie and her group just heard a door knock as Charlie and Sonya ran over and opened the door to see who it was, revealing to be Sonya's mother, Zella.

 Sonya - “Oh Mom you came!” Zella - “Namaste, how you are you all today?”

 Charlie - *nervously* “Well, Aunt Zella.... Not so good at the moment.”                                                                                                   

Sophie - *worried* “Zella, you gotta help my big brother! He's sick and now he's gotten worse!”

 Sophie grabbed her arm and cutely tugged her over towards Blitz out of worry. But when Sophie opened the door, to everyone shocked: Blitz wasn’t there and there only the rope that was broken on the bed. And the window was wide opened. Angel - *shocked* “Blitz is gone!!” Vaggie - “What do you mean, he's gone?!”

                                                  Charlie - *concerned and scared* “Ohh, no, no, no! Where could he be?! *placed hands on head with panicked look on face* He's too mentally unstable to go anywhere!”

 Zella - “Excuse me?” Sonya - “He's been messed up ever since we called the Doctor.” Zella - “Doctor?” Charlie - “Yeah. Dr. Duke.” Zella - *surprised and disgusted* “Oh no not him!” Sonya. - *confused* “What do you mean Mom?” Zella - “Dr. Duke is nothing more than a fluke.”

 Charlie & others - *surprised and confused* “What?”                                                     

Sophie - “What does "Fluke" mean?”

 Zella - “It’s means a lie. He claims to be a doctor with a plan, but he’s nothing more than a con man. His doctor facts are nothing more than just magic acts. Duke is a magic man who addicted to making gambling bets, he pretends to be a doctor to pay off his debts.”

 Vaggie - “Ha! I knew there's something off about that "doctor"!”

 Charlie - *angry* “I can't believe I gave him 600 dollars for nothing!!”

 Sophie - “Would the fake doctor magic ruin my brother forever?”

 Zella - “Don’t worry my dear, it’s only temporary. Then his mind will be clear. But I got a feeling your friend might be. Please follow me.”

 ()()()()()()()() They follow Zella saw Duke’s building, but the door was broken. Confused, they went inside and saw Bono hiding under a table in fear with tears in his eyes. Charlie gently kneeled down and asked him: Charlie - “Bono! Where’s Duke?” Bono fearfully pointed to the door to the garden and they all saw Blitz beating up Dr. Duke. Dr. Duke - *in pain and fear* “No! Please stop!”

 Blitz - *angry* “You fucking cursed me with your mumbo jumbo shit! Now, you're gonna pay!”

 Blitz was glaring angrily at him with eyes glowing red as he threw Dr. Duke across the room. This cause Duke to crashed onto his outside desk, that knocked down the lamp and few books in process.

 Dr. Duke - *scared* “I-I don’t know what you are talking about!”

 Blitz - *glaring as he marched over to him* “Don't you dare lie to me, you fucked up faker!”

 Blitz grabbed his shirt collar to lift him up, reeled back his right fist that started glowing as if ready to beat the more crap out of him. This made Duke more afraid since nobody ever beat him up. Not even the people he conned out of would come over and bear him.

 Blitz - *angry* “Now, undo the curse or so help me...!”

 Charlie - *worried and concerned* “BLITZ STOP!!” Blitz turned around and saw his friends and sister looking shocked and worried about him. This time, Blitz could actually see them normally. There was no weirdness or anything else. Charlie - “Please don’t do this!”

 Blitz - *confused* “Guys? What are you all doing here?”                                                                                                          Sophie - *scared* Don't hurt that fake doctor anymore, Blitzy!”

 Sophie was looking at him with tears filled up in eyes. It scared her when her brother acts all angry and going too far. Especially when he is sick.                                                                                                             

Vaggie - “As much as I want you to continue for what he did to you but trust me. He's not worth it.”

 Angel - “Yeah! Why waste your time beating the shit out of a nobody?”

 Blitz - “But he put a curse on me!”

 Charlie - “It wasn’t a curse! It just a magic trick he did that made you see weird things.” Sonya - “Let just go home. My mom can help you since she’s a real doctor.”

 Blitz was looking at the group and they all had pleading and worried looks on their face. What hit him the most was Sophie’s because it’s the last thing he wanted his sister to see: Him as a monster. He also felt like the sickness was coming back to him and was weakening him. Then, Blitz made his red glowing eyes reverted back to blue eyes as he looked over at Duke with glare, then dropped him on the floor.

 Blitz - *threatening* “If I ever see you again next time, you're dead-meat. Got it?”

 Duke fearfully nodded and ran off. Blitz soon turned around and walked over to his friends and sister to leave. He began to cough again.

 Charlie - *concerned* “Come on Blitz we should get you home to bed. I bet all that beating must of drain the energy out of you.”

 Blitz - “I guess so... *covered his mouth with arm the moment his nose twitched a bit and sneezes* “Ugghh...... I think I've got a major headache going on…” *placed hand on head*                                                                                                          

Vaggie - “Don't worry, buddy. Once we get you home, you'll have a nice cup of tea that'll help your headache.”

 Zella - “Oh yes. I have the perfect tea leaves for to help since I got it from a special tree.” Angel - “Here let me help you Blitzy-Que.” Then much to Blitz’s surprised, Angel picked up Blitz and carried him in his arms.

 Blitz - *surprised and blushing* “H-Huh?!”

 Angel - “Hey you always do this for me whenever I get hurt or sick. I’m just simply returning the favor.”

 Charlie -  *smiling as she giggled a bit* “He does have a point. And besides, I actually find it very cute.”                                                                                              

Blitz *crossed his arms while his blush is still on face and sighed* - “Fine, let's just go home already. I wanna get better right now.”                                                                                                                      And so, Charlie and all of her friends headed off back to the hotel for them to place Blitz back into his bed for him to get himself better with Zella's help for she is indeed a witch doctor, the real doctor. Blitz was just happy that he was semi back to normal because the hallucinations not only making him see weird things, but his deep regrets and desires. He knew everybody have them, but he felt like his was something he not ready to face yet. But he knows someday that he will.

 ()()()()()()()()()

 In Blitz’s room Sonya and Zella was making the tea to help Blitz with his fever. Blitz was sitting up in bed looking doubtful. He watched as Sonya and Zella was making the tea using some spells and leaves. Sonya - “Don’t worry Blitz, my mom is one of the best doctors in Hell!” Zella - “Yes, it is true. I have the cure to cure illness like a cold. I even wrote it in books so it can be sold”

 Blitz - *doubtful* “Right.... And are you sure whatever you're gonna do is not gonna make me see so many crazy and weird things I've been seeing lately.”

 Blitz looked  at Zella a bit suspicious as if being cautious after what happened to him with Dr. Duke earlier ago. He didn’t want to go through that again and make everybody worried about him.

 Zella - *chuckles* “Of course Blitz, there no need to fritz. I mean after all; I actually helped your parents on learning these kinds of spells so they can know how to keep their kids well.”

 Those words made Blitz’s eyes widen. He remembers how Zella and his mother Josephine was really good friends. Zella was the one who helped Josephine work on her magic and even helped his father Arthur with his science. Besides, Zella was the type that can be trusted so this made Blitz ease up.

 Blitz - “....Alright, if you say so.”

 The tea was now hot and ready, and Zella handed him the cup. The tea was green yet his was sparkling like glitter. Blitz picked up a cup of tea and started taking a sip.

 Sonya - “So How you like it?”

 Blitz - *lowered down his cup as he looked at Sonya* “It actually tastes pretty good. And... my headache's starting to go away.”

 Zella - “See? I told you this tea will make you feel better in a breeze.” Sonya - “However Mom always told me: use these spells only if things get crazy. Don’t use it just to be being lazy.”

 Blitz - “That's very true on that one. *Sighs and lays head down on pillow* I just can't believe I've fell for Duke's magic tricks as part of his con.”

 “Don’t feel bad Blitz” They all turned and saw Charlie at the doorway. She was rubbing her arm and looking guilty. Then she walked inside and said: Charlie - “It was my fault. I mean I just wanted you to get better and I was afraid that Aunt Zella was too busy and didn’t want to bother her. But all I did was made you worst.”

 Blitz - “Charlie, we all make mistakes and don't worry about it. All's forgiven. That bastard, however, I won't forgive.”

 Sonya - “Yeah I mean he tricked us all. But at least we got the money back.” Zella - “And you know my dear niece you can always give me a call. It will be no trouble at all.”

 Vaggie - “Yeah, whether she's busy or not, you can always call your aunt for straight-up emergencies or so.” *placed hand on her girlfriend's shoulder with smile*

 Charlie - *smiles* “Thanks Vaggie.” Angel came inside holding Sophie’s hand and Angel was even wearing his sexy nurses’ outfit. This made Blitz’s eyes widen as his face turned red with blush before covering his face with hands. Angel - “How’s my Blitzy-Que?”

 Blitz - “Ohh, come on!”                                                                                            

Sophie - *giggling as she watched Angel walking over to Blitz* “Blitzy's doing much better, thanks to Zella's help

 Vaggie - “Yeah I mean whatever Duke did just made you nuts.” Sonya - “Yeah I mean you thought me, and Liz split up and riding a unicycle and wearing clown suits.”

 Blitz - *looking at Sonya a bit confused* “I thought of that?”                                                                                           

Charlie - “Yeah, and you actually kissed Angel, when you thought "Bunny Angel" kissed you.”                                                                                                                  

Blitz - *eyes widen as his face turned tomato red while blushing all over* “Are you freaking serious?!”

 Angel - “Yep! I have to admit *smirks and smile at him* You’re an amazing kisser Blitz.”

 Blitz - *covering his face in embarrassment. “Ugghhhh.......”                                                                                      

Angel and the others had their laughing moments with Blitz. Then a little bit later, he began resting a little bit more. Then later on, it seemed he looked much better now that his cold and fever were completely gone.

 Charlie - *felt his forehead* “Hmm your head is cool down. *take his temperature and looks at it* It’s 98.5. Your fever is gone!”

 Blitz -  *sighed in relief*  “Thank god it's finally over.”

 Vaggie - “Yeah I’m glad he’s all better.” Angel - “Actually I think he’s hallucinating again *he takes Blitz’s hand and put it on Angel’s fluffy chest and pretend to be shock* Oh my Blitzy! *wave his finger at him* You naughty naughty boy! *laugh*” Blitz - *eyes widen with blush all over before he glared at him* UGH! You filthy bastard! *punched Angel on the face, that made him comically fell down on floor*

 Vaggie - *smirking* “Yep I can tell that he’s all better now.”

 Sophie - “Yaaayyyy! My brother's okay now!”

 She flew  over to Blitz and gave him a hug. She was happy that her brother was all better.                                                                                                                                      Blitz - *chuckled and smiling as he hugged his sister softly* “That's right, kiddo. No more sneezes or coughs.”

 Zella - “Yes I can see that my work here is done. Come along Sonya, we should be gone.” Sonya - “Okay I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

 Charlie - “See ya, baby cous. And bye, Aunt Zella.”

 Charlie smiles as she waved to her relatives with others waving to them as she watched them go. Happy that not only her baby cousin and aunt visited but helped her out with one of their friends. She was happy to have family members like them.

 Angel - *gets up and rubs his cheek* “Did ya really had to hit me with your fist?”

 Blitz - *glaring at him* “When you've pulled off that kinda stunt, yes.”

 Angel - “Well *smile softly* I’m glad you are feeling okay Blitz. I was worried about you when that Duke guy made you go loco.”

 Blitz - *looking at him before he smiled softly a bit* “Heh... Yeah. I appreciate your concern for me. You and everyone else.”                                                                                                                         

Vaggie - “Hey, no problem. It's what friends do.” *smirking a she gives him thumbs up*

 Charlie - “And we care about you and Sophie. We know we would do anything for you guys.”

 Blitz - *smiles at his friends* “Just as I would do the same for every one of you. You guys are like family to me and Sophie and we'll never forget it.”                                                                                    When Angel sat on the bed next to his lover, Blitz kissed his sister on the head as Sophie snuggled her brother fondly as his cold was finally gone and he's all better now. Blitz was happy that not only his fever went away in just one day, but he finally got something he haven’t had in 4 years: a family only it was bigger and better than ever.

 Hope you like it!

[sevdrag]

dreamwidth update: (part 1)

I dreamt the end of the world last night. The webpapers all said it was common to dream about the end of the world now, but I'd never had one before. In usual dream fashion it didn't make any sense: I was in "Japan", for whatever reason, even though I've never been to Japan, in a strange tall building half-business-office and half-dormitory in that way dreams do where it makes perfect sense to leave your meeting and go down a floor to take a nap. There were people I knew - I know - but I didn't recognize any of them out of the dream. I was coming from some work meeting and for some reason tucking in a roomful of young boys going to bed - and it all happened. The nukes came down, crashing out of the sky, and even though none of them were even close to us, we could all still see the pillars of fire, the tidal wave of smoke, the scent of ashes... And of course in the dream nothing rose up, and there was no Shattering: and we all felt something dark and hot and burning roll over us in waves. I guess that's how my dream-self was imitating radiation; not like we knew what it felt like. The children screamed, and I was running back through the building and screaming, my skin scorched like a sunburn, and when I got to my dorm room all of my friends were already black and burnt, scarred corpses tipped over or leaning against each other. The thing is, you wake up from a dream like that and instantly know it isn't true. Your brain is already running through the litany of logic that you need: seven years ago mankind did in fact try to destroy itself, its homes, its planet, by launching nearly every nuclear warhead in existence in a round robin of angry men; but the earth decided it was sick of this shit - our shit - and stepped in. First the world froze time, trapping all of us in this weird viscoelastic stasis where our minds were aware but everything around us had been stopped. Then our planet took a deep breath, which we all heard and felt - and then it shattered what must have been a barrier between its - its power - and us. No one knew the earth had been protecting us from her magic for so long, although the scientists say it makes sense in retrospect, considering the times magic has leaked through a crack and broken the known laws of physics. But that layer shattered like so much glass - the Shattering - and the power that rushed through vaporized every single explosive that had been fired, and all that hadn't, and just wiped from existence every known warhead and weapon that could damage her. Then the earth - well, we still don't really know how or why, but the prevailing theory is that our planet needed to tell us something (tell us off, in my opinion; humanity is a gigantic gaping asshole) and it used the history it had: the power coalesced into archetypes of worship, ancient and modern, anything the earth thought mankind might revere and follow. It created the Incarnate, the avatars, the graced: gods and goddesses, angels and devils, from all creeds and all times. Those chosen became vessels for whatever archetypical power had chosen them, and thus began the only way the planet had for us to communicate with her: the best way she had to create protectors that could speak with her voice. So now, even through apparently everyone had dreams about the end of the world, it hadn't really ended at all - shifted, irrevocably, the complacency with which humanity had lived shattered as well, but not the end. In seven years, I had never dreamed about it. I'd had my share of stupid dreams, sure, but my subconscious had been happy to leave well enough alone - until last night. I sat up slowly, because even though my brain was doing a great job reciting the facts, I still had this odd feeling in the pit of my belly: almost nauseous, like a physical sense of doom. People said you were supposed to pay attention to your dreams now, with magic out and about, but whatever this had been I didn't really want to pay attention to it. Coffee would help. I wrenched myself out of the covers and into the kitchen. I was halfway through the mug and a game on my mobile when it rang. Unknown number, huh. I almost ignored it, but it looked somewhat familiar and that nagged at me. (I haven't memorized a phone number other than my own since I was a small child, so what?) Plus I was still feeling residual existential dread over my dream, and I was mad because I was out of bagels. So I picked it up. "H'lo?" "Mor," Arston said breathlessly, "I need you to - you need to come over, okay?" "Arston?" I asked, even though I recognized his voice, and from there remembered I hadn't added his new number to my phone. "Did something happen? Is May okay?" Arston was May's roommate; May was my best friend, had been for almost our entire lives, and had been fighting off a major flu for a while. "It's May," he said, and my heart dropped - I heard him swallow, and then he continued in an incredibly small voice: "I think she's becoming Manifest?" "Manifest?" I squeaked, suddenly feeling vertigo. "Incarnate?" "I - I don't know, Mor, can you please just get over here?" He took in a deep breath, and then exhaled. "She said your name, asked for you." Shit. Incarnate or not, May would be asking for me, because no one else in her shitty family was going to be any help with any of this. "Yeah, Arston, I'll be there as fast as I can..." "Good." He hung up. I realized I was shivering. The foreboding feeling of my dream had mixed with my panic over my friend and created a weirdly toxic adrenaline cocktail. I needed to get to their house - driving would take twenty minutes, biking about the same. If I could calm myself down, I could transport. My magic wasn't that old - it showed up about five or six years ago, right after the Shattering, but it had taken until about two years ago for it to have solidified enough for me to make use of it. I sat down the coffee mug, checked on the cats' bowls - they would be fine, and took a deep breath. Clasped my hands before me, fingers extended along opposite wrists. Set my intention in my mind. Called up the magic, carefully, focusing only on the spell, trying to shove everything else off into the corners where it could wait. Then I pulled my hands apart, and before I could doubt myself, pushed myself head-first into the glimmering opening the movement had created. comments Comment? http://ift.tt/2ufgvjk

[punkrockgenasiashton]

random, contradicting, but my opinions about last night’s Critical Role: 

- I still am totally of the mind that Vax made the right decision to try to halt Raishan’s ritual with Thordak’s body in Ep 79. We all saw how strong yet weak she was in her diseased form. Diseased or not she’s still a ridiculously strong spell caster, but the soul curse seems to have an impact on her strength and HP, which is why even injured and sorta spell depleted VM was able to push her to the brink in Thordak’s lair. Even if she was just trying to get the cure for her Soul Curse,(which I still think is total bullshit, she definitely wants something else) preventing that was worth the risk, especially with (in Vax’s mind) his allies “10 seconds behind.”

- That said, Scanlan was totally right to call him out for his rash actions. Vax and Vex (and later Keyleth) where undermanned to go into that fight without all their allies present. Scanlan was not there to see that Raishan was attempting to mess with Thordak’s corpse/soul and has every right to be upset that Vax’s actions essentially led Scanlan’s death, Vex’s death, and the near death of many other party members. 

- That said though, Scanlan went about it in totally the wrong way. Yes that was a conversation that had to happen, and yes the sooner it happened the better. But to call Vax out in front of everybody like that with such vitriol as misdirection to get everybody away from the fact that he had just passed out from using drugs is...sorta gross. Like, we know Scanlan can be a deceptive and manipulative mother fucker, but up until this point it’s mostly been for laughs or to help VM in some fashion. This time he’s manipulating and deceiving his friends by making one feel like shit and trying to get the rest to be mad  at that one friend to hide his own bad decisions. 

- Before last night I’ve never had issues with Scanlan’s use of Modify Memory. To my knowledge he’s only cast it 4 times now. 1. To give Percy a false memory of the Feywild so that Vex would be able to retain her title. The memory he planted was funny and played for laughs, but at the end of the day, it was him trying a new spell in a relatively harmless fashion while also helping a friend. 2. To have Tooma forget that VM (and every essential NPC of their campaign) are hiding out at Whitestone and changing it to Emon after slipping and revealing that information. Again, covering his own mistake, but covering a mistake that could’ve cost the lives of 1,000s and covering it in a way that could’ve resulted in Vorugal attacking Emon. 3. Kima. Now this one is the most morally gray for me. One the one hand, Kima is an absolute ally and seemingly good person. On the other, they agreed with Raishan to not tell ANYBODY that Raishan is in Whitestone under threat of anybody told (and possibly the city) being destroyed if Raishan was to find out. So I think trying to erase Kima’s knowledge of a Conclave member in Whitestone was...understandable. Not right, not wrong, but understandable. Kima’s reaction was also completely understandable and appropriate. 4. Jarret last night. Much like my last point (forever ago...shit this got long), this is Scanlan manipulating a friend and ally. Not just manipulating them, but literally changing their mind for his own personal gain. Not just that, but changing Jarret’s mind to make him do something he’s clearly uncomfortable doing. Like attempting to guilt Vax as misdirection to hide his bad decisions that’s just all sorts of fuckign gross. 

- If Vax’s letter was about what I think it was about (Vax and Scanlan’s discussion about finding happiness vs dwelling on the shittiness of a situation) Scanlan’s ripping it up at the end of the episode is all sorts of sad. Like, don’t get me wrong, a lot of Scanlan’s actions last night were reprehensible. But I also think they speak of a breaking (or broken) man. Whether he ripped it up because he feels betrayed/mistreated by Vax after Vax’s actions led to his death or because he doesn’t believe what he said to Vax during that initial conversation...Scanlan’s hurting right now and he’s desperate to not be anymore and he’s acting on that desperation in a way that is unacceptable and will lead to somebody getting hurt if he doesn’t stop or if somebody doesn’t help him. 

- That brings me to the saddest thing I pulled from last night’s episode...Scanlan’s a really good liar. He’s also very good at hiding his emotions. Hell, I feel like he’s been in this downward spiral since they found Tiberius body (same episode where he had to cast modify memory on Tooma and right before the Fusaka incidents of Marquet) and the only time anybody has noticed it (at least in character) is when he and Vex had that quick little “I’ve had an off city” conversation when Laura rolled really well on an insight check and Sam rolled poorly on a deception. Other than that, outside of metagaming or Jarret going to another member of VM to explain to them that he and Scanlan have come to this agreement where Jarret gets Scanlan a continuous supply of Suude (thanks to the modify memory spell) unless they get really lucky and Sam rolls a 1 on a future deception check to hide it from him, getting Scanlan that help may not happen in time, his behavior may cost them well before they notice it. 

-  As much as it is a risk, Long Resting was the right decision. Yes, Raishan will get her spells back, but we all remember the Umbersyl fight, Dragons can regain most of their HP over a short rest. Letting a Dragon short rest and attacking them with very limited offensive spells and next to no healing spells is dangerous. With their new flying carpet, capable of carrying Grog apparently, their heaviest melee guy can now get into close combat even if Raishan gets airborne, plus the whole Dancing Sword, so I’m very excited for this showdown.

- Few other small things: Allura in battle you guys (if anybody is still reading). I’m so excited. Allura pounding the Sand Keg like it’s nothing and then slowly slipping into drunkeness while the much larger Ker goes straight to unintelligibility was fantastic. I think Matt missed out on a potentially Gals Being Pal(adin)s scene by not having Kima run and hug tackle Allura “on screen” (we all know it happened “off screen”) Laura Bailey is an improv goddess. The whole bathhouse scene was just phenomenal. I laughed so hard. Same with the Deck of Many Things and Travis/Grog. Oh man, that was so good. He got so lucky it was The Key and not like...The Void or The Idiot or The Fool  Finally: Ker really grew on me this episode. I started last night with a (since deleted) post where I said “if I have to hear ‘ya knooow’ one more time when somebody asks Ker/Patrick a direct gameplay/rp question I may scream” but as the game went on and Patrick got more comfortable getting involved in the actual narrative of the game instead of just essentially being an NPC with a player attached to it I immediately changed my opinion of him. More narratively engaged Ker in the future please and thank you. 

[drunkcomicbookrants]

COMIC BOOKS AS METAPHORS FOR ISSUES FACED BY THE DISENFRANCHISED

People say that comic books are an escape, and I think that’s mostly true: we see a hero punching a bad guy in the face, and we’re like YEAH, I wanna punch bad guys in the face!!!

But I think comic books do something on a... different level than that.

Sure, we think it’s fucking awesome when Spider-Mans punches the Lizard in its face (snout? wtf is a lizard nose). but the reason we think it’s awesome is because WE HAVE ALSO BEEN DISAPPOINTED BY OUR IDOLS in the same way that Peter Parker is disappointed by Curt Connors (you fuckin nerds I am too lazy to google the spelling).

Like sure Spider-Mans swinging through the air is fuckin sweet, but you know why we identify with him? BNECAUSE THE THOUGHT BUBBLES ARE HIM WORRIED ABOUT HAVING A CRUSH ON A GIRL THAT GOES TO HIS SCHOOL

And it’s not, like, a THICK metaphor, but a metaphor nonetheless: here’s this kid DEALING WITH RESPONSIBILITY and pressure and expectations and SHIT WE ALL DEALT WITH IN HIGH SCHOOOL, and it’s all magnified or amplified or whatever, but it RINGS TRUE in a way that FEELS FAMILIAR, 

And we like comic books for lots of reasons, but THIS IS ONE OF THOSE REASONS. The struggles of the people we’re reading about ARE THE STRUGGLES WE GO THROUGH on a dialy basis, like on a fucking boring banal pathetic daly basis (the redhead in my class doesn’t like me), but fuckin MADE TO SEEM OKAY AND EVEN COOL and like THERE ARE OTHERS LIKE YOU and fuckin, isn’t that fucking awesome

Before it gets away from me: ENTER MODERN COMICS

HULK

Enter Jennifer Walters, a woman who just had some shit happen to her. There is death and violence and her life is like a fucked up slightly shittier version than what it’s supposed to be. You know what I mean? Like do you ever feel like your life is ALMOST correct, if it weren’t for these FEW HUGE SIGNIFICANT BUT POTENTIALLY AVOIDABLE THINGS, but now it’s just shitty and fuckin, less colorful and less meaningful than it’s supposed to be? Like maybe let’s just stay in bed and watch netflix all day and not think too much about it?

THAT IS EXACTLY HOW JENNIFER WALTERS FEELS

And like, sorry I’m lazy and don’t feel like hooking up my scanner so this is a blurry cell phone picture, but THIS IS MY FAVORITE SCENE OF ANY HULK COMIC I’VE READ IN MY ENTIRE LIFE:

THIS IS JENNIFER WALTERS IN HER OWN APARTMENT FINDING A MIRROR THAT UNTIL RIGHT NOW SHE HAS BEEN TALL ENOUGH TO SEE INTO BECAUSE SHE HAS BEEN SHE-HULK GIANT GREEN STRONG POWERFUL SUPER POWERED AND TODAY SHE IS NOT THAT SO SHE IS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING TO STAND ON SO SHE CAN WORK TOWARDS FUNCTIONING LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING

like holy fuck you have felt that way haven’t you

And this comic keeps on going with this, uhhh METAPHORICAL EVERYDAY STRIFE

like this comic is called HULK and has a green superhero on the cover, but it spends the first half of the book on LEAVING YOUR OWN APARTMENT on a day that you don’t feel like it, and fuckin, THE STRUGGLE IS REAL in a non-obnoxious way, like the whole point is that YOU read this and you IDENTIFY with this, not because like sweet punching bad guys is aweseom, but because you SEE YOURSELF in this IN THE SAME WAY THAT I SAW MYSELF IN SPIDER-MANS WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN

AND ISN’T THAT FUCKING AWESOME AND BEATUFIUL AND ALL THE GOOD THINGS

back to the book, fuckin, of course it doesn’t stop there, because does your day stop at leaving the fucking house? IT SURE DON’T

OH GREAT SOME ASSHOLES HAVE SOME OPINIONS ON YOUR PHYSICAL APPEARANCE AND YOU HAVE TO BE POLITE ABOUT IT

this post is already longer than I wanted it to be and I’m not even to the first like thing I wanted to say: this book (which is HULK #1 by MARIKO TAMAKI and NICO LEON and just released liek two weeks ago, go to your local comic shop and pick up a copy right now) does this whole SUPERHERO PROBLEMS AS METAPHORS FOR OUR PROBLEMS in such a new and fucking different word for refreshing way.

Like, we know how Bruce Banner gets angry and turns into the Hulk and is powerful and fights and is a superhero and stuff, right. And Jennifer Walters has basically those same powers. But because some shit went down (you don’t have to know about that shit before picking up this first issue), she no longer feels that way, she uhhhhh spoiler alert has PTSD (because fucking in a super powererd world, LOTSA PEOPLE WOULD JUST LIKE LOTSA PEOPLE DO IN REAL LIFE)

So now instead of getting angry and turning into the Hulk, TURNING INTO THE HULK FEELS LIKE A PANIC ATTACK

And I’m not trying to be an asshole. I don’t have an anxiety disorder, but I’ve heard it described. And this book describes it in exactly the same way. So I can’t help but think that people who are going through anxiety stuff would read this book and feel similar feelings to what I felt when I watched Spider-Mans in 8th grade.

And like, if you’ve read this far, then maybe you’ve felt that way. And I drunkenly urge you to zoom into these blurry pictures and read these words. And if they seem familiar, then maybe go out to your local comic shop and pick this issue up, or check it out on comixology or whatever internet thing the kids are using these days

ENTER HAWKEYE

I didn’t intend for this post to be all about Hulk. Because a bunch of books are doing similar things. Hawkeye is one of them.

Hawkeye is Kate Bishop who is out in the world trying to make it and SPOILER ALERT PEOPLE ARE CREEPS

Again, I hope you read those words, but basically this is Kate Bishop (who is a superhero sorta) apprehending a boy who has been stalking a girl and she asks why, and his answer is that he loves her. AND YOU HAVE PROBABLY HEARD OR HAD SIMILIAR CONVERSATIONS HAVEN’T YOU

And then, the conversation continues and it turns out that the boy says he feels like it wasn’t even him, and again, fuckin, you’ve had similar conversations

And in true comic book fashion it goes up to twelve and shit turns ridiculous, but at its core these conflicts and conversations and worries and whatevers ARE THINGS FROM YOUR REAL FUCKING LIFE

AND THEN SHE GETS OUT SOME ARROWS AND IT FEELS AWESOME

BUT THE REASON IT FEELS AWEOMSE IS BECAUSE WE HAVE SO MUCH INVESTED IN THE FUCKIN METAPHOR OF IT ALL RIGHT

(not to mention that the action in this book captures the Fraction/Aja Hawkeye in such a perfect way but that’s neither here nor there)

btw this is Hawkeye by Kelly Thompson (@1979semifinalist) and Leonardo Romero (@leonardoromero11) and Jordi Bellaire and it’s currently on issue 2, pick it (and its first issue) up while you’re getting the Hulk issue

None of this is new. This goes back to the first comic book, probably before that. Superman is an alien in a new world trying to make the best of a bad situation, written by a bunch of jews right before WW2. Read into that however you want, but the point is that comic books have been doing this for a long time.

But in the last few years, that, uh, idea has spread beyond the typical “I’m a white dude who’s awkward around girls and high school is hard” metaphor. And I’m saying that as a white dude who is awkward around girls, and yes high school was hard, and yes comic book characters “helped me through” that shit. But like, Captain Marvel is a woman taking (pick a better word) a man’s job and wondering about WHAT THAT MEANS FOR HER IDENTITY and what other people think. Kamala Khan’s original most powerful superpower was to BECOME WHITE AND HIDE HER BROWN-NESS FROM HER FRIENDS, and I dunno man, I’m not great at metaphorical thinking or whatever, but it doesn’t take a ton of abstract thought to go from that to a real life Pakistani Jersey girl feeling like she doesn’t fit in, identifying with that when she reads it.

IN THE EXACT SAME WAY THAT I FELT ABOUT SPIDER-MANS WHEN I WAS DISENFRANCHISED

and maybe this is why the manbabies with their belly buttons popping out of their sci-fi logo tshirts take such offense to this. This is THEIR METAPHOR, you know what I mean? They (we?? oh god...) grew up identifying with these characters, this universe, and not to get too weird about it, a lot of the weirdness we felt was because girls thought we weren’t cool... which sounds (and is) pathetic, but I dunno, do you want to point a magnifying glass at your teenage insecurities and how you dealt with them?

Anyway, fast forward fifteen years and now this universe is filling up with metaphors that we don’t immediately identify with, in fact these metaphors are geared more towards the girls who didn’t pay attention to us in high school (who our metaphors were about?!), and I dunno, I don’t agree with it and don’t identify with it, but I UNDERDAND IT A LITTLE BETTER if that makes any sense?

The point is, comic books act as a metaphor for shit we deal with on a daily basis, and even (especially?) if you don’t think comic books are for you, CHANCES ARE THEY PROBABLY ARE so go check em out. 

And if you’re feeling pushed out of your metaphor by these newcomers, I dunno man, maybe go up to them (make sure your belly button isn’t sticking out first) and say (in a non-creepy and expecting nothing way) “hey, you like comics? me too! let’s be friends!”

[naomi-l-tiessen-blog]

Tips on Planning out your Novel

Hellllloooooooo everybody ~

Happy Thursday Blogday!

If you’re in the same boat as me, the writing world is completely foreign territory. Every single day you are presented with a brand-new challenge, and like a puzzle, you need to figure out how to solve it. But you’ve made this far, and there is no fucking way you are backing down, right? You’re involved now, committed. You’ve joined the writing cult, and are in much too deep to back out now.

But here’s the thing: you don’t know the first thing about being a writer…or writing a story.

Hooray, me neither!

Don’t worry, from one newbie to another, I’ve got you covered. Don’t be afraid…the writing cult can smell fear….

So, you want to write a novel, but don’t know where to begin? I’ve got your back! In today’s blog, I’ll cover 5 essential points on planning your novel up to the writing phase.

So, without further ado, here are 5 tips on planning your novel and getting you started on the path to success:

1) The Brainstorming. This is generally the most exciting part of the writing experience itself, where the birth of magnificent ideas take place. They can come to you in dreams, while reading or watching TV, or randomly when you are, say, taking a bath and day dreaming about mermaids (may or may not be speaking from experience). This is, needless to say, the most vital part of the novel-writing process. Because, let’s face it, without an idea, there’d be no story, right? So, say you come up with an idea that you know, deep in your bones and heart of hearts, needs to be written by you and you alone. So, now what? Well, things to consider: 1) does the idea have substance? Can it carry the weight of an entire story, or would it be stretched thin from beginning to end with the threat of developing holes and breaking? And 2) are you going to be just as passionate about this idea in 2 months’ time? 6 months’ time? A year? Now I know that’s sort of a trick question, and unless you are a psychic, you aren’t really going to know the answer to that question. But sometimes it’s good to write down an idea, and then put it away, out of sight, out of mind. Allow the initial excitement to die down a bit, the glamour, the glare from your rose-tinted glasses. If, after a week or two, this idea is still as captivating as the day you thought it up, then you might have a story on your hands! 

Once you are able to answer these questions, the fun begins! Keep a notebook handy, and start jotting down your thought dumps. Scenes that keep playing in your head nonstop, lines of dialogue, characters and their aesthetics. Create a name bank, pay attention to street names for inspiration (that’s how I got my MC’s last name), and unless your story takes place on Earth, maybe start daydreaming up things you might want to include in your new world (ie: language, terrain, wildlife, inhabitants, main food staples, etc). Write down things you’d like to have happen in your story. It could be anything…a coffee date, playing Marco Polo quietly at a bookstore, singing horribly at karaoke (ah, just learnt that I can’t, in fact, spell karaoke without spell check saving my ass), or a romantic picnic that ends in disaster when a rogue rain cloud unleashes its inner Poseidon and drenches everything. Some of these ideas you might be able to incorporate, some of them you might not, but it’s always safe to keep of list of ideas handy to give texture to your story. By the end of this, you should have a pretty good idea of the gist of your story. Having said that, never STOP brainstorming; it’s ok to come up with ideas for the beginning of your story, even as you write the end. I mean, it’s a bit difficult, and you might need to revise the shit out of your manuscript, but hey, that’s what drafts (and drafts, and drafts) are for!  

2) The Researching. Maybe not as fun as the brainstorming part, but important. At this stage, you are diving deeper than just ideas. What sort of story are you telling? What genre is it going to fall under? If you don’t know much about that genre, learn about it. Read and watch movies that fall under the same category, and take notes (if anyone judges you for watching hours upon hours of Doctor Who, just declare it in the name of science. And if that fails, just tell them Scarlette made you). If your novel isn’t taking place on Earth, hit up tutorials on world building and stage setting. Dive into workshops about dialogue, chapter structures, and making believable characters. You know the bare bones of your story at this point. With that in mind, can you describe it in a single sentence? Can you explain it, start to finish, on a single page? These exercises help train your mind into getting the meat and potatoes of your story, the nitty-gritty. What is so important, so prioritizing, that you simply HAVE to mention it vs. what is, meh, maybe not that heavy duty, and can sit on the sidelines. It’ll help produce plot points, subplots, potential climaxes, and maybe even the mythical theme (le gasp!). Doing these sorts of exercises well help give your story shape, and point you in a solid direction.    

3) The Creating. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been creating this entire time. But this is sort of a different level of creating. In this part of the planning, you should no longer be picking ideas out of thin air. Your ideas should be taking structure…you should have a general idea of what your characters look like, what your world looks like, and the direction your plot is going. This “creating” process is dedicated to further solidifying those features. Your characters should have names, a vivid description, and profile pages full of their likes and dislikes, fashion sense (or lack thereof), fears, goals, where they start in the story vs. where they end up, etc. This is where the internet is your friend. Find pictures that best resemble your characters, and keep them around for inspiration. But try not to be creepy about it. Trust me, a lot of weird shit comes up when you type in things like, “7-year-old girl with blond hair and green eyes,” blah blah blah. Don’t want the cops paying you a visit! 

You should be creating character profiles for your main characters (protagonists and antagonists), and at LEAST half-assed ones for your side characters. Side-note: create a cheat sheet for your character descriptions and names close by just in case. You don’t want Sir Maxwell McFeelya’s hair color to change from shoulder length, greasy dirty blond, to a crew cut with a totally-there bald spot in the middle of his more-pepper-than-salt hair. Talk about awkward. Or if your Sue-Ellen McAlister in chapter 2 suddenly becomes Virginia Davies in chapter 10. Oops. Once again, may or may not be speaking from experience here. During this stage, your new world should be really taking shape. Once again, don’t be afraid to use pictures as references and inspiration. You should know the main ins and outs of your world, such as language, professions, climate, terrain, food staples, religion, etc. There are some great templates explaining things you need to consider when creating a world from scratch...seriously, a ton. At this time, you should also be thickening up your plot, figuring out the main points, subplots, and climaxes. If you know the beginning, middle, and end, but don’t know how to piece them together, that’s ok. That’s what the next step is for.  

4) The Outlining. This is on the list?? Shocker. Ok, before you pantsers get all up in my face about this, I stand firm in my belief that this stage is freaking CRUCIAL to the planning and writing process. To begin writing without an outline, you are more than likely going to end up with plot holes, inconsistencies, and a hell of a lot of frustration. Granted, there are a lot of people that don’t outline, and that works just fine for them. I am not one of those people, and therefore outlining is on my list. Plus, I kind of sort of love outlining. This is the point of the process where we have all (or at least most) our ducks, and now we are going to get them in a row. It’s time to organize your story, getting it in order. THIS is where you need to figure out how to glue the beginning, middle, and end together. 

Think of outlining as a puzzle: you have all the pieces, and now you need to figure out where they all go. Don’t force the pieces into spots where they don’t belong, because you will end up with bent edges and something that is bumpy and doesn’t flow well. If a certain piece doesn’t fit anywhere, it might be for a different puzzle; take it out, and keep working. If you can’t find all the pieces, that’s ok too, just keep working, and when you’ve used up all your pieces, go back and focus on the holes. Maybe the piece is under the couch with the rest of your cat’s toy hoard. Or, much more likely, the piece hasn’t been discovered yet, because you haven’t thought it up. That’s totally fine. It’s also fine to push forward despite having holes in your outline (as long as they are nothing too major, of course). Often, I find that while I’m writing, solutions to those holes come to me at random. It’s sort of like your fur baby suddenly wanting cuddles the fucking second you stop pleading for their attention. Keep in mind that this part of the planning will take some time. Seriously, it can take weeks, and that is a-ok; it’s not a race. Just make sure that you don’t lose your passion during this time, because if you lose it now, then your story might be hooped. And on that happy note, we move on!

5) The Writing. Ah, yes, the stage where we actually do the thing. No more dancing around the subject, no more planning, no more outlining (yet, anyways). At last, you are ready, young Padawan. So, the first most important thing here to keep in mind is to write first, edit later. Seriously, that’s it. Don’t stress yourself silly about how shitty it sounds (newsflash, it probably does sound shitty), because if you let this fear consume you, your story will never leave your brain. Just get it all out of your noggin. Convert brain vomit into word vomit. Some people like to edit after every couple chapters, and if that works for you, then go for it. But don’t be picky, because if you get really down and dirty with the editing now when you don’t have the entire image in front of you, you might remove or change things that 1) don’t need it, or 2) are actually super freaking important. And while some don’t agree with me (HOW DARE YOU…just kidding *not really*), I highly recommend trying to write in chronological order to save yourself the misery of discovering holes and time inconsistencies and having to re-write a shit ton. Not fun.

And there you have it! Easy peasy right? Well, easy in theory, anyways. Lord knows that this is actually a shit ton of work. But with these tips in your tool kit, you are now one (or 5) steps closer to destroying the pipe dream of being an author, and actually becoming one! Hooray you!

With that said, I post new blogs every Thursday, and if there is anything you’d like me to discuss, feel free to message me on here, or tweet me  @ScarletteStone

Until next time,

Happy Writing!