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callboxkat · 3 years ago

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Banished (part 1)

Prompt: Banished

Author’s note: Mappy MerMay! (edit: I see the typo and I choose to keep it)

Summary: Janus has been banished from his pod for crimes that he did not commit. However, this merman’s bad luck is far from over. A mer is not meant to live on their own in the open ocean, and as one would expect, things do not go well. Enter: Florida Man.

Chapter Warnings: false accusations, past imprisonment, banishment, treating someone as an outcast, censored swearing, crying, death mentions

Word count: 2415

Banished Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

Ao3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

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“Janus, third child of Mariana and Glycon, you are hereby banished from this pod, and from all pods who condemn the nature of your crimes.”

Janus had known it was coming, but nevertheless, the merman felt the verdict stab through him like a harpoon. The water around him suddenly felt 10 degrees colder, and the walls of the chamber seemed to loom ever closer, suffocating him.

Banished.

Murmurs rippled through the small crowd. Scales shimmered as the gathered mers, most already hanging on the edges of the chamber, tried to distance themselves further from the outcast. From him.

“You will have until sunset to leave the reef. Should you be found within our territory after the sun sinks below the horizon, the penalty is death.”

Janus simply stared at the merwoman before him, holding herself tall in front of the ornate coral design upon the wall of the chamber, her face stony. Her verdict was final, and Janus knew it. It didn’t matter that he was innocent. Officially, he was a criminal. An outcast. Banished. Trying to fight her decision would only further tarnish his image, and most likely that of the family and friends he left behind.

A part of him didn’t care about that. But the part that did held his tongue.

Janus’s eyes shifted toward the back of the chamber, where he could see most of his family huddled together. His mother was crying, being held by his father. His siblings looked stunned. A part of Janus wanted to call out, to tell them to do something, even though he knew that there was nothing any of them could do to save him. He wasn’t sure they even believed him, that he had not committed these crimes. While they never told him so, their notably few visits while he was in prison spoke volumes.

His eyes slid back to the judge, and he dipped his head in bitter acceptance. His fists tightened, and the long, metal chain attacked to one of his arms clinked softly. It was there both to keep him trapped and to prevent him to use his electric abilities, as if he would ever do something so loathsome and barbaric, even if his family hadn’t been in the room.

The judge raised her hands, and the chamber began to empty. A couple of Janus’s siblings glanced back at him as they left, but mostly, the mers who had come for the show avoided looking at him now. They would not want to be associated with an outcast. He understood, even if anger gathered in his chest. Even his parents refused to look in his direction, and the glances his siblings spared him were brief.

Finally, when all who remained were Janus, the judge, and the guards, two off them swam to his sides and unlocked the chain from Janus’s wrist, one keeping a clawed hand at the back of Janus’s neck as a warning. The cuff was replaced with another, lighter, but permanent one. This one was etched with sharp symbols. Janus closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as it was locked in place, a permanent hindrance to how much of his electricity he could use without harming himself, a solemn marker of his fate, and a warning to all others of his crimes. He would never be taken into another pod, not with that on his wrist. Not unless he could somehow get somewhere far enough away that they might not know what it meant.

At last, the guards let him go. He was allowed to leave. To prepare for his departure, and to say goodbye.

Janus opened his eyes and looked up at the judge, who remained at her post, watching him. He knew that he was supposed to thank her for her mercy, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He figured that the “Go f*ck yourself” he actually wanted to say would do him and his family no favors, so he compromised and simply turned and swam from the room.

His life was over, in every way that mattered.

Outside, the bustling atmosphere of the reef seemed in sharp contrast to the somber mood within the chamber. Fish and other sea creatures weaved between glimmering mers. Cheerful gossip could be heard, as well as mers arguing over prices at colorful stalls, or calling out greetings to each other. Some kids seemed to be trying to see who could get the most pebbles to sail between the fork in a tall spire of coral.

It had been some time since Janus had been “free” this way, which only made the difference feel all the more staggering. To be suddenly thrust back into this normal part of life, even if only for the few hours they allowed him to prepare for his banishment, was… unsettling.

However, the atmosphere wasn’t quite the same as it had once been. None of the mers came close to him, Janus noted, choosing instead to take a longer path to avoid him, even as they acted as if nothing was wrong. As if it were a coincidence that they wanted to swim on the other side of the path. There had always been some nervousness that many mers tended to have around those with abilities like electricity or poison. But this was a whole level or two beyond that.

They knew. Of course they did. He was sure that everybody had been told of his “crimes”. The metal cuff on his wrist burned like a brand, but he refused to rub it, or to hide it with his other hand.

He swam away. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, but soon enough, he found himself at his destination

Of course. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere else.

It wasn’t his home that he found himself approaching, slowing his pace as it came into sight. Most of his family had said their good byes before his sentencing. Instead, he found himself at the home of his best friend: Roman.

Roman hadn’t been at Janus’s sentencing, but it seemed that the merman had somehow known he would come, and had been waiting for him. He was pacing, swimming back and forth between the two large, algae and sea star covered stones that marked the entrance to his property.

As Janus approached, Roman froze, and turned sharply towards him. His face was almost as red as the striping on his gorgeous tail, the pain in his eyes clearly visible with his long hair tied back.

“Janus,” he croaked, and pushed off of one of the rocks, swimming for Janus as fast as he could.

They crashed into each other, Roman’s arms encircling him. Janus choked on a surge of emotion and squeezed his best friend back. It was the first time they’d been this close to each other since his arrest.

“I’m sorry, Jan.”

“It’s okay,” he lied. Perhaps if he could convince Roman, Janus could believe it himself.

…

All too soon, the sky above the water began to turn pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was time to leave.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Roman asked.

The two mermen floated together at the edge of the reef. Behind them, bioluminescent lanterns had begun to glow, and the sounds of life had begun to lull as most everyone went home for the night. Everyone except for them. Janus had a bag strapped to his back, with what few supplies he had allowed himself to bring. Some food, his gloves—which still fit over the cuff that would forever mark him as an outcast, thankfully—some bandages, a compass, and two carvings: one of his family made just after his youngest sibling had been born, and one of Janus and Roman, smiling for the carver.

Roman and Janus had gone back to Janus’s home to fetch the supplies. It had been nice to have Roman there, for his support. Most of his family had avoided him, even though he could tell they were heartbroken. A couple of his siblings had told him good-bye, and to take care of himself. Only his littlest sibling, who probably knew very little of the situation, had hugged Janus. She’d grown, since he’d last seen her. Janus had remained resolutely calm as he clung to her for the last time.

“Of course I’ll be okay,” Janus lied, now, looking out at the dark water.

Roman looked unsure, but Janus only turned and offered a half smile.

“So, uh… where are you going to go?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Janus still didn’t know how to answer.

“Maybe I’ll find another pod to join,” he shrugged eventually.

Roman’s eyes went to the metal cuff on Janus’s wrist, letters etched within it to symbolize his condemnation. He knew as well as Janus did that no mer pod who knew its meaning would take him, not when it was so clear to see.

“Maybe I’ll cover it up,” Janus said, putting a hand over the cuff self-consciously. He did his best to seem casual about it. He’d been almost defiant, back in the busier part of the reef, but it felt different, with Roman.

“Maybe,” Roman agreed halfheartedly.

“You know those arm bands the guards wear? Maybe I’ll get something like that. Or I’ll get thicker gloves.”

“You are pretty good at weaving,” Roman allowed. “You could make them look nice.”

“Naturally.”

They looked out at the open water.

“You could add some beading,” Roman suggested.

“Sea glass,” Janus nodded.

Roman nodded vaguely. “Oh—Jan, I have something for you.” He took off his own pack and started to dig through it.

“I hope it’s not too heavy,” Janus said dryly. “I’ll probably have to swim pretty far. If you’re giving me one of those statues of yours, I’m going to have to say no.”

“Ah, shut up,” Roman said, smacking his arm lightly. A heartbroken look flashed briefly on his face, and he quickly went back to digging through his pack. “No, it’s… here.” He pulled something out with a small flourish. He looked at it for a second, as if hesitating, then handed it over.

It was a small, red scale, a little bigger than the pad of Janus’s thumb, attached to a cord.

Janus took it in careful hands. “One of yours?”

Roman shifted, tucking his hands behind his back. “Yeah. You know, so you don’t forget about me on all your marvelous adventures to come.”

“I’d never forget you, Roman.” Janus looked down at the scale for a few seconds, tilting it so it shimmered in the fading sunlight. He glanced up, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I don’t have any to give you.”

They glanced down at Janus’s tail. It was sleek, nearly black, with a thick yellow stripe down the center that flared out at the fin, with yellow hints at the fins on his sides and back as well. All in all, it wasn’t all that different from most mers’ tails, except that rather than scales, its surface was made up of smooth, thick skin.

“It’s okay,” Roman said. “I’ll remember you, anyway.”

Janus nodded. He put the necklace around his neck, but kept turning the scale in his hands.

Silence fell over them. Above, the sun seemed to dip further below the horizon, signaling just how little time they had left.

And then Roman began to cry.

“Sh*t,” said Janus, looking down at the ground. “Don’t do that. You’re embarrassing me.” You’re going to make me cry if you keep that up.

Roman shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—I know you want to just act like it’s normal, like this is just a normal night, but—Janus, I’m never—” his voice broke, and he had to take a shuddering breath to continue—“I’m never going to see you again.”

Janus knew that. Of course he knew that. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“This f*cking sucks.”

Roman, still crying, nodded emphatically.

“Come here,” he sighed. He reached out and put his arms around Roman. They floated there for a moment, holding on to each other. Roman’s grip was so tight that it almost hurt. Janus tried to memorize the feeling of his bracelets where they rested against his back, the texture of his hair against the side of his face, the way the merman felt in his arms.

“I just… How are you—how are you just okay with this? Why aren’t you yelling and screaming? Why aren’t you angry? Go fight them on this! Appeal or something. Fight. You’re… it’s not like you to just accept this.”

“It won’t change anything.” Janus said, his chin on Roman’s shoulder.

“You could at least… try.”

“I did try, Roman. I promise you I tried.” All the yelling and swearing and fighting in the world had gotten Janus absolutely nowhere. All his attempts to prove his innocence had been stricken down. One last attempt at an appeal would simply be rejected. It was too late to try, with the sun nearly set; and doing his trial over again would made no difference, anyway. Janus’s fate had been decided the moment he was arrested.

“Damnit,” Roman mumbled. Somehow, he managed to squeeze Janus tighter.

Normally, Janus was not the most cuddly mer in the ocean. But he’d allow it, tonight. …For Roman’s sake.

“What if I let you stay here?” Roman asked. “I could hide you. My parents left me a pretty big property. It has plenty of hiding spaces.”

Janus shook his head. “They’d figure it out eventually. And then they’d just kill us both.”

“Then… then I’ll come with you.”

Janus shook his head. “Roman, what about Patty? We can’t take them with us.”

Roman turned his head briefly away. He didn’t answer, other than to drop his head down so that his forehead rested on Janus’s shoulder, defeated. He never could have abandoned his sibling, or forced them to share Janus’s fate.

The sun sank lower.

“Just tell me you’re going to be okay,” Roman sniveled. “Really. Promise me.”

“Of course I’m going to be okay,” Janus lied. “I promise.”

It was okay that Roman clearly didn’t believe him. It was just what he was supposed to say, wasn’t it?

…

The moment that Janus was far enough from the reef that Roman could no longer see him, Janus broke. He just hadn’t wanted Roman to see him cry.

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years ago

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Devotion

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU]

Warnings: priest!Bucky, explicit language, smut, loss of virginity (Bucky), sex in a church, altar sex, desecrating and blasphemous thoughts and actions, oral sex (M receiving), unprotected sex. Both parties are consenting adults.

Summary: Father James wants you to be his first, and hopefully his one and only.

The white collar around his neck brands his soft skin like scorching iron when you pull it down to you, your cotton candy lips as sweet as sin as they melt into his, your body pliant and warm. He’s never known that doing wrong would feel so good.

There’s fire burning within him, his skin feverish, his breath ragged, as he gives into the temptation of the flesh. He’s tried resisting at first, back when he still thought of himself as Father James.

The lord is my shepherd, and I lack nothing.

But he’s strayed from the herd the day you’ve shown up at the confessional, your soul so light, and bright, your sins not weighing you down, and there’s no way for him to find his path back to salvation, not when nothing’s ever felt as right as his hands on your body and your sweet moans in his ears.

“Wait.”, he stutters when your hands reach his belt, eyes downcast and chest heaving. The cross around his neck has never felt heavier. “I- I’ve never done this before.”

He’s embarrassed. It’s always been right, the way it’s supposed to be, but not now, not when all he wants to do is get on his knees and worship every inch of your body, not when all he wants to do is please you until you are as devoted to him as he is to you.

He’s expecting you to laugh at his face for being a virgin in his late 20s, but you don’t; there’s a small smile on your lips as understanding dawns in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, or feel comfortable with.” you whisper in a soft voice, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so caring, “We can just sit here and hold hands. I won’t force you to do anything, ever. And I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this.”

He ponders your words for a second, his hands still hesitant on your hips. He’s never touched a woman before, but he wants to touch you, he wants all of you, only you, more than he’s ever wanted anything before.

“I want to-, I want you, I want you to be the one.”

He wonders if you understand how much, and if the fire in your eyes is only lust, or love.

“Are you sure?” you ask one more time, and when he reassures you he’s never been more sure about anything in his life, you slant your mouth against his again. Teeth clattering, tongues intertwining, he doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he draws circles on your waist until you take pity on him, and you move his arms so he can graze the flesh of your breasts, revelling in the way your nipples stiffen under his caresses. His back hits the marble top of the altar, and his breath hitches when you palm him through his pants.

When he raises his gaze he sees Jesus on the cross, and he’s almost ashamed of himself, until you reach inside his briefs and stroke his cock, and a strangled moan escapes him, the cross forgotten by now.

You're intrigued by his shyness, your desire to ruin him, tarnish his soul with the same stains on yours, growing with each soft caress. He has no clue how to touch a woman, but you feel the coil in your core build rapidly anyways.

He’s so pretty under the candlelight, his flushed cheeks, the speckles on his nose, the blue of his eyes completely swallowed by darkness. You wonder how a man so innocent could be so intoxicating.

“I want you, James.”

Four words are all it takes for something primal, something animalistic to snap inside him, his hands relying on instinct as they roam all over your body, his mouth sucking bruises on the tender flesh of your neck, the whimpers that escape you like music in his ears.

A sweep of your arms, the golden cups hit the ground, the clattering reverberating in the empty church.

It’s exhilarating the way he’ll preach tomorrow morning at 10 and you’ll be there, on the first bench.

“Please.”, he whines, “Do something.”

A wicked glint crosses your eyes. “Beg me. Beg for me like you pray for your Lord.”

Frustration does things to the body that make you forget the shame and humiliation that burn your cheeks. “Please angel, please touch me, I need it so bad, I’ll do anything for you.”

Your chuckle is pure evil against the tears pooling in his eyes and his hips grinding on you in a weak attempt to soothe his aching cock.

You don’t need to be told twice before you get on your knees, ready to worship him.

“What are you doing?” he stammers, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as you free his cock and it springs up, his girth almost intimidating.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you deadpan, before you lick the tip, your hand stroking his shaft slowly enough to torture him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know you could-” he inhales sharply when you take him in your mouth, and his eyes roll to the back of his head, all thoughts forgotten as you bob your head like a woman on a mission. Dark thick hair rub against your nose as you fight against the ache in your jaw, swallowing him whole.

It doesn’t last long however, and you hear him curse when you fondle with his balls, a choked groan and some incoherent words escaping him before he cums deep in your throat, his heady taste reaching your tongue when your choke on his release, cum dripping down on your chin.

He tries to speak, justify himself, embarrassed by his admittedly short performance, and he doesn’t need experience to understand that it’s bad, very bad, but words fail him, his mind focused on the electricity that shakes his body as the tight knot in his belly unravels, and he sees stars for a second. You don’t let him sulk long before you sit on the altar and beckon him to join you.

“On the altar?” he asks, hesitancy clear in his voice, some remnants of his pure soul lingering somewhere inside him.

“Yes, sweet boy, I want you to fuck me on the altar.”

He blushes deeper, a small smile finding its way on his face despite the embarrassment.

You straddle him, your need to have him buried balls deep inside you growing the more you taste him on your tongue. You wish to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grind your hips on his, feeling him grow hard again. You walls throb, and you’re desperate to release the ache in your cunt.

In a blur all your clothes and his cassock are on the ground. He marvels at your curves, your soft skin, your glistening folds.

It can’t be wrong when it feels so right. Love can never be wrong, he hopes.

Hungry kisses, heated touches, you grab him in your hand, your gaze boring into one another’s as you sink onto his cock. He grunts and wills his pleasure back this time, hoping he won’t embarrass himself again.

It feels so good, therefore it can’t be wrong, your walls accommodating him, clenching on him, his girth stretching you just right, your clit brushing against his pubic bones.

It’s wrong, but it feels so right to fuck him on the holy countertops he breaks the bread and pours the wine on, under the watchful eyes of saints and cherubs. Some are disappointed, some smirk, you think.

You grind your hips, feeling your core get hotter, his cock brushing against all the right places. “God, you feel so good, you’re doing so good, sweet boy.” you moan, the tip of his thick cock hitting the spongy spot inside you.

“I can’t last much longer.” he groans, his strong arms around you. He grabs you, and moves you, desperately trying to hold himself back and please you.

More sloppy thrusts before his hot load shoots inside you again, painting your walls and filling you so nicely that it tips you over the edge, your orgasm shaking you from the core to every limb, your cunt clenching down on his cock and milking every last drop he has to offer.

There’s no words as you pant against one another, the air heavy with incense and sex. When his cock goes soft inside you, his cum drips onto the altar cloth where he’ll preach Sunday mass tomorrow morning.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” you mumble in his ear, “And watch you squirm as you preach and remember how good it felt to be in my pussy, on this same altar.”

God, he’s so fucked.

This oneshot can be read on its own, or as a part of no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. It takes place before the second confession… the one where they masturbate in the confessional. Maybe send in some priest!Bucky hc or ideas if you want to read more of these two?

A/N: If you liked this, please consider reblogging and leaving some feedback. You don’t have to, but it helps me immensely. Thank you for reading, love you all.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #priest!bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #marvel smut #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes

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the-delta-42 · 4 years ago

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Broken

@gale-of-the-nomads you said I could and now you can’t stop me.

Broken

Kagami did not know what happened. She saw Lila and everything went black.

“Kagami, stop!”

Kagami kept hearing excerpts of what happened, Marinette was shouting. But Marinette never really shouted.

The distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air.

“Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“Kagami, please, listen to me!”

Kagami took in her surroundings, she was in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table. It was only then she noticed the blood on her hands.

What did she do?

The door opened, Kagami expected her family’s lawyer to walk in, but a young woman, roughly ten years older than Kagami herself walked in and stood in front of her.

“Kagami Tsurugi?” Asked the Woman, Kagami was struck by how similar she looked to Marinette, with the difference of hair and eye colour. Where Marinette’s eyes alternated between blue and grey, the woman’s eyes were a warm green colour and while Marinette’s hair was black, this woman’s hair was a soft brown colour, like Marinette’s father’s hair.

Kagami nodded.

“Skye Dupain,” Said Skye, “I’ve been asked to handle this matter, which was easier than expected, since there was no one else.”

Kagami’s heart sank, her mind already connecting the dots.

“Do you know what you’re being charged with?” Asked Skye, looking at Kagami, who shook her head, “They’re holding you for ‘attempted murder’ of a girl your age, with one eyewitness supporting this claim.”

“M-Marinette told them that?” Whispered Kagami, making Skye look down at her.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is listed as the victim, Mlle. Rossi is the witness listed on the file.” Said Skye, glancing through the document, “I want you to tell me, in your own words, what happened?”

Kagami spotted Lila shoving Marinette against the locker, a bag of swords that D’Argencourt kept in the school falling from the top of the locker, before jamming a knee into her gut and throwing her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

Lila sneered and kicked Marinette in the side, knocking her back to the floor, before stepping on Marinette’s right hand and pushing down on it until she heard a crack and a cry of pain from Marinette.

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

“You know what?” Said Marinette, holding her side, trying to ignore the pain, “I can live with that. As long as Adrien is happy, I can be happy. Love isn’t something that requires both parties to feel the same way, because if you truly love someone, then seeing them happy is enough.”

Kagami felt touched by what Marinette had said, before Lila snarled and grabbed one of the swords from the bag and went to stab Marinette with it. Something in Kagami broke, growling as she charged forwards grabbing the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at her.

Marinette stood frozen, watching as Kagami started to attack Lila, mentally arguing on if she should stop Kagami or remain out of the fight. The decision was made for her when Lila tripped and landed on her rear. In a flash of movement, Marinette had grabbed a sword from the bag and parried Kagami’s jab away from the liar.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

Kagami lunged forwards, with Marinette going to parry from Kagami’s previous position. The blade slid between Marinette’s ribs, the girl felt a pain in her chest, before she felt the sword poke out her back. The sword Marinette had been holding fell to the floor.

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed.

There was silence, before the sword clattered to the floor, joining its partner. Marinette felt her legs give way beneath her, while Lila smirked viciously, before letting out a scream. Kagami stood frozen, as she stared at the blood coating her hands.

Kagami stared at her hands in horror, “I killed her.”

“Marinette is still alive, she has a punctured lung and a cut artery, but nothing too fatal.” Said Skye, looking down at Kagami, as the Japanese girl started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, in through the nose, out through the mouth.” Soothed Skye, “Marinette’s fine, she’s going to make a full recovery.”

Kagami followed Skye’s instructions, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

“Until Marinette wakes up, you’re going to be kept here,” Said Skye, gently, “I’m sure once she’s awake, you’ll be able to go home.”

Kagami nodded, before Skye left and a police officer arrived to take Kagami back to the cell she’d been allocated.

Adrien stared down at Marinette’s unconscious form. He didn’t want to believe what Lila had said, that Kagami had attacked and tried to kill Marinette, but without anyone else to give an alternative take on what happened, he couldn’t do anything but believe what had been said. He’d tried to think of everything that he thought could explain it, other than Lila lying, Kagami being akumatized, Marinette getting stabbed by someone else and Kagami was the one who found her, anything that wasn’t that Kagami had lied to both of them and deliberately tried to kill Marinette.

But what if she did?

Adrien shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his mind. He had already heard from his father that he was to break up with Kagami, he didn’t want her actions to tarnish the Gabriel brand. Everyone was treating Lila like a hero, except the select few of Nino, Alya and himself, the three of them more concerned with Marinette’s situation.

“The doctors said she had a couple of broken ribs and a broken hand.” Said Alya, quietly, “They think that Kagami, or whoever did this, was already attacking her before she was stabbed.”

Adrien saw Alya tightly holding her phone, her knuckles slowly going white, every time someone was akumatized, there was a side effect, Alya couldn’t be separated from her phone, Nino couldn’t hold or come in contact with bubbles and Juleka couldn’t look at her reflection.

Everyone who had been Akumatized was left with an invisible scar, Damocles would hoot and Bustier was say ‘kissu’ at random points while talking. Perhaps Kagami was left with a serious aggression.

But that didn’t explain how or why Marinette was stabbed. Marinette looked so small, the bed spanning around her, as if she were an island in the middle of a sea of white and blue. Marinette suddenly started jerking, as if someone had grabbed her by the throat.

Within moments, a doctor, nurse and a couple of orderlies rushed into the room.

“Right, she’s choking.” Said the Doctor, as one of the orderlies guided the group out of the room. The door closed before any of them could hear what the Doctor said next a few minutes later the Doctor stalked out of the room and headed to a desk.

Before Adrien knew it, he was in the corridor, with Gorilla watching from the end of the hall.

Adrien was just leaving class when he heard the scream. In the back of his mind, he was able to identify the voice belonging to Lila, but still, he ran to the source, skidding to a stop when he reached the locker room. Lila was plastering herself against the wall, while Marinette lied in a steadily growing pool of her own blood.

With Kagami standing over her. With Marinette’s blood on her hands. Adrien froze, absently aware of Kim rushing past him and tackling Kagami to the floor. Alya started calling for an ambulance, while Ms. Bustier and Ms. Mendeleiev started applying what first aid training they knew, being careful to stem the bleeding as best they could.

“I really don’t know what good this is going to do.” Said Mendeleiev, checking Marinette’s pulse, “Since she’s discharging blood from her mouth, we know she has internal bleeding.”

“Demeter,” Said Bustier, looking sick, “Can you, kissu, please not say that.”

Mendeleiev looked around, noticing the pale faces of the students.

“All of you, go to the library.” Barked the Teacher, making most of the students’ scatter.

“Alya, could you please take Lila to the staff room?” Asked Bustier, as an ambulance pulled up outside the school.

Adrien had been guided away by Nino, when Alya took Lila to the staffroom. There was a commotion by the lifts, Adrien looked up and saw a young woman, roughly Ms. Bustier’s age, stalking towards them. Adrien was struck by how much she looked like Marinette, with the exception of her hair and eyes, being light brown and green respectively.

“I’m looking for the Dupain-Chengs.” Said the woman, in place of introductions or greetings.

“They’ve gone to close their bakery up.” Said Alya, after a moments silence.

The woman growled, before fishing her phone out of her pocket. Adrien frowned, quickly noting that it was an older style of mobile, early 2000’s, and not one of the latest models like most people went for.

“Mike, where are you?” Demanded the woman, Adrien had the sinking feeling that both the woman and ‘Mike’ were Mrs. Tsurugi’s lawyers, “Okay, if you’re there, then they can’t be home yet.”

The woman stiffened, before her attitude changed entirely, “Ah, hi… Okay, I’ll wait for you to arrive at the hospital… No, I don’t think anyone’s been able to raise Toby, we’d need a fucking Ouija Board.”

The woman nodded and confirmed a few things, before hanging up. She then turned to Alya.

“I take it you’re Alya?” Asked the Woman, looking at the Creole girl.

“I am.” Said Alya, drawing the same conclusions as Adrien.

The woman took them all by surprise by smiling widely and grabbing Alya’s hands, “Mari’s told me so much about you, I’m Skye, Marinette’s sister.”

“I… didn’t know Marinette had a sister.” Said Alya, after a moment.

Skye was still for a moment, before slowly turning to Nino.

“I didn’t recognise you.” Said Nino, quickly throwing his hands up.

Skye only narrowed her eyes, before her gaze settled on Adrien, “And you must be the pretty boyfriend of the girl who stabbed my sister.”

Skye’s tone wasn’t accusatory, merely factual.

“Soon to be ex.” Said Adrien, keeping his tone level.

Skye wrinkled her nose, before she started to circle Adrien, frowning as she went. Skye stopped and glared at Adrien.

“If what I’m told is true,” Said Skye, her tone cold, “being akumatized affects everyone differently, each victim having an invisible scar that they have to live with every day. Ms. Tsurugi was not in control of her actions and, while Marinette is still unconscious, we only have the testimony of a teenage girl who claimed to witness the entire thing but didn’t alert anyone until after someone had been stabbed and remained calm as she recounted every detail.”

Adrien could’ve sworn that the room temperature dropped.

“And that isn’t taking into account her… ‘exceptional’ lifestyle that is faker that Kim Kardashian’s ‘assets.’” Skye’s glare pinned Adrien in place, “But, seeing as you’re more of a wet blanket-”

“That’s enough, Skye.” Said a gruff, yet at the same time soft, voice, making everyone look towards the entrance.

“Michael, you got here faster than I expected.” Said Skye, leaning back on her heels, “I was just talking to Mari’s friends.”

Michael looked like an older, male, taller version of Marinette, except his eyes were a mixture of blue and grey. Michael had three pale scars that ran from the middle of his cheek to his jaw.

“Skye, you’re not in court,” Sighed Michael, before looking into Marinette’s room, “I take it she hasn’t woken up?”

“No, but she started choking on something just before I got here.” Said Skye, folding her arms.

“Well, I’m sure she’s going to be fine.” Said Michael, turning to look at Marinette’s friends. His gaze slowly went over the three, before settling on Adrien, “Relax, you look like you’ve got a foil shoved up your butt.”

Adrien let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You’re Emilie’s son, aren’t you?” Asked Michael, making Adrien stiffen.

“Wait, Emilie?” Asked Skye, whipping around to look at Michael, “You mean that actress you loved? The one you met while on work experience. The one you fainted in front of when she introduced herself to you?”

Michael slowly turned and glared at Skye, “That was one time.”

“Yeah, but you were bitching about how your life was over because your idol saw you act weird.” Snickered Skye, as Michael slowly grew redder.

“Well, at least I didn’t moan when I met Dark Owl.” Snarled Michael, making Skye freeze.

“Take that back!” Demanded Skye, as she went red as well.

“Make me!” retorted Michael, before a hand grabbed his ear, while the person’s other grabbed Skye’s ear.

Both suddenly paled, and silently sent a prayer to a powerful and merciless god, before they were tugged down to their mother’s level.

“Stop it, both of you.” Growled Sabine, before butting their heads together.

Michael and Skye recoiled and grabbed the point of impact on their heads. The two glared at each other, before they turned and look at their parents.

“Sorry, mum.” They said in unison.

“Anyway, why does it matter who his mother is?” Asked Skye, gesturing to Adrien.

“Because his father is a controlling, abusive dick.” Said Michael, as he stopped rubbing his head, “In the month I worked with her, he stormed on set six or seven times and had to escorted off by security.”

Adrien was silent as he processed the information, he’d never heard about this side of his father. It did fit some of his father’s attitudes and actions.

“He… He did tell me to break up with Kagami after the news broke.” Said Adrien, quietly.

Michael had a smug look on his face, until Skye punched his arm. Skye then turned to Adrien and spoke to him, “Do you have any other family members that can take care of you? An aunt or set of grandparents, perhaps?”

“T-there’s my Aunt Amelie.” Said Adrien, making Skye nod and walked away, pulling her phone from her pocket as she did so.

“What’s she doing?” Asked Adrien, frantically looking around.

“Most likely contacting Child Services,” Said Michael, looking down at the panicking blond, “Since you literally just told us that your father has near total control over your life.”

Adrien looked around the room again, his breathing starting to come out in rapid puffs. He vaguely heard Michael swear as the world went dark.

Amelie Graham-De-Vanily quietly swirled her tea around in her cup. One of the two rings laid on the table. Felix had decided to go to bed early, since he’d pulled an all-nighter the previous night. She jumped when the phone suddenly rang. She spotted the number was from France and scowled, no doubt Gabriel noticed the ring was missing.

“Hello, Amelie Graham-De-Vanily speaking, can I help you?” Asked Amelie, already knowing Gabriel was going to be as hostile as possible.

“Mrs. Graham-De-Vanily? My name’s Skye Dupain,” Said a young woman’s voice, a French accent tinting her English, “I’m calling to inform you about the current legal situation with Gabriel Agreste and that you’re currently Adrien’s only known living relative.”

Amelie paused, before frowning, “What has my idiot of a Brother-In-Law done now?”

“Currently we’re investigating him on suspicion of neglecting and coercively controlling his son.” Said Skye, making Amelie stiffen.

‘Well, that explains why Adrien wasn’t able to attend my husband’s funeral.’ Thought Amelie, as Skye let her take it all in.

“Do you have any residences in Paris that you and your son can stay at while the investigation is on-going?” Asked Skye, “We’re going to need Adrien to remain in Paris, as this concerns him, and we will need his testimony in the case.”

“I believe I have a house somewhere in Paris,” Said Amelie, oblivious to Felix picking up another phone and listening in, “I’ll have to check, but are you sure Gabriel is abusing Adrien? I know he’s been distant since Emelie died, but actively neglecting and controlling Adrien’s life?”

“I’m not at liberty to say at the moment,” Said Skye, “But, we have gone over the case and spoken to a few employees. One has given cause for concern, but that is another case that’s also ongoing.”

“Right,” Said Amelie, sighing, “I’ll let Felix know and be there as soon as possible.”

“Right, thank you for your time.” Said Skye, before hanging up.

Amelie kept the phone to her ear, before saying, “Felix, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

There was a loud groan, before the phone was hung up and Felix stomped his was down the stairs.

“What’s this about Adrien being abused?” Demanded Felix, making Amelie sigh again.

Skye put her phone back in her pocket, before looking down at the case file in front of her. It was thick with sheets of paper filled with testimonies, bank statements and other pieces of legal evidence. Skye looked over at the other files, one filled with unfair dismissal cases, another filled with evidence of illegal substances and purchases, a third filled with Gabriel’s concerning relationship with Gabriel Agreste, the fourth filled with Emelie Agreste’s ‘disappearance’ and the subsequent unsolved investigation and the final one filled with the case that concerned Ms. Tsurugi and Marinette. Skye had said to her boss that she shouldn’t handle a case that involved her sister, but their firm was a total of five people, two of which were on holiday and another was off sick after taking a dip in the Seine.

There was a knock on the door, before a Japanese man strode into the office.

“I assume you’re the one handling Ms. Kagami’s case?” Asked the man, holding a thin folder.

“I am.” Said Skye, leaning back in her chair.

“These are the disinheritance forms signed by one Tomoe Tsurugi in regard to one Kagami Tsurugi.” Said the man, dropping the file on Skye’s desk, “I tried to talk her out of it, but that only resulted in Tsurugi dismissing me from her service.”

The man left without another word, before Skye groaned and slumped forwards.

Kagami sat in the corner of her cell, waiting for her mother to turn up. Part of her wanted her mother to tell her everything would be okay, but it’d been a week since she’d been brought here, and her mother had yet to show up.

There was a knock on her cell door, before it was unlocked and allowed Skye to walk in.

“Kagami,” Said Skye, hesitantly broaching the subject, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Kagami stared up at Skye, trying to read her body language.

“I’m afraid your mother has chosen to disown you,” Said Skye, slowly, “her former solicitor approached me last night with the paperwork.”

Kagami didn’t react, she just stared at Skye, as the young woman waited for a response.

“This makes your case incredibly complicated, as we will need to find a family for you for when all this draws to a close.” Said Skye, running her hand through her hair, “But, don’t worry. I promise we’ll have something sorted out before everything’s over.”

Skye was quickly ushered out of the cell, leaving Kagami alone. Kagami sat still for a few moments, before pulling her knees to her chest and started crying.

Alya watched Marinette’s chest rise a fall; she no longer needed a ventilator to help her breath, of course, Marinette had to learn to breath on her own again; so, they made sure they had someone in the room with her. The nurse was reading a magazine in the corner, keeping one eye on Marinette.

“Kitty Section got a new gig this week,” Said Alya, quietly talking to Marinette, “Nino’s got one tomorrow, he hopes he’ll get his big break and fix all the problems in the world.”

Marinette said nothing, as usual.

“Lila’s been unbearable since this all started.” Said Alya, wincing at the thought, “Your, er, sister inspired me to do some research. You were right, Lila has been lying.”

Alya reached out and grasped Marinette’s hand, rested her head on the bed.

“Adrien’s been living with his aunt and cousin,” Said Alya, her eyes closing, “apparently his Dad was controlling him, which actually lost him custody and since there are rumours that he’s unfairly dismissed people and had an inappropriate relationship with people who’ve been underage, I think it’s fair to say that he’s no longer someone anyone want to be associated with.”

Marinette’s hand suddenly tightened and relaxed, making Alya bolt upright.

“M-Mari?” Gasped Alya, getting the nurses attention.

“What’s wrong?” Asked the nurse, approaching Alya.

“M-Marinette just squeezed my hand.” Stammered Alya, before the nurse turfed her out of the room.

Lila entered the classroom, expecting everyone to crowd around her and take everything she said as gospel, but instead she found them all laughing and hugging over something.

“Lila!” Cried Rose, spotting the Italian, “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?” Asked Lila, already thinking up a way to make it about her.

“Marinette’s woken up!” Cried Rose, happily embracing Lila.

Lila’s mind screeched to a halt, if Marinette had woken up, then she’d tell everyone what actually happened and everything Lila had would vanish.

“T-that’s great.” Said Lila, quickly glancing around, “Are we allowed to see her?”

“The police were speaking to her when Alya left,” Said Alix, frowning at Lila, “Alya was in the toilet when she woke up. Marinette’s mum was with her when she woke.”

Lila swallowed her nervousness, quickly thinking on how she could turn this to keep the consequences away from her.

“How can they be sure Marinette remember what happened exactly?” Asked Lila, getting a few frowns.

“Well,” Said Max, pushing his glasses up, “they’ll ask Marinette what happened and depending on if her story matches to what either you or Kagami said, then they’ll carry on from there.”

Lila gnawed on her lower lip, before the conversation moved on. If she went home, perhaps she’d be able to convince her mother to move to another country. Things had started to get stale anyway.

Half-way through the lesson, a woman and a couple police officers knocked on the classroom door.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Mdme. Bustier,” Said the woman, quickly flashing her badge at the teacher, “but we need to speak with Mlle. Rossi, regarding the currently ongoing cases, regarding her employment at Gabriel and the attack on Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Mdme. Bustier nodded, before turning back to the class. Lila wasn’t out of the room, before she screamed, “Marinette and Kagami planned everything to discredit me!”

The detective and police officers all stopped, all eyes were on Lila, as the Italian finally realised what she just said.

“We haven’t even asked you anything,” Said the detective, slowly, “and that’s the first thing you choose to say?”

Lila nervously looked around, before she was guided out of the classroom. She was guided to the Principle’s office, where she found her mother waiting for her.

“Mama!” Gasped Lila, her eyes darting around, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the Police wanted to speak to my daughter and I decided to be with you as emotional support.” Said Mdme. Rossi, as Lila slowly paled.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said the Detective, sitting in a chair opposite Lila and her mother, “I was hoping you could walk me through everything that happened when Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was stabbed.”

“Oh, it was horrible!” Cried Lila, burying her face in her hands, to hide her lack of tears, “Kagami was out of control, she kept hacking at Marinette! I could only scream when she finally stabbed her!”

The detective was silent, before she leaned forwards, “And when did Mlle. Tsurugi break Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s ribs?”

“Just before she stabbed her.” Gasped Lila, pushing her hands in her face.

“And her hand?” Questioned the detective.

“Before she broke her ribs.” Said Lila, feigning a sniffle.

“That’s odd.” Said the Detective, locking her fingers together, “Because, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s ribs are broken at the back and on the opposite side to her hand. So, unless Mlle. Tsurugi rolled her over and then stomped on her hand, then the footage we’ve got is wrong.”

Lila’s world broke.

Marinette shifted slightly, she’d been discharged from hospital and was about to go into the witness box.

“The people call Marinette Dupain-Cheng to the stand.” Said One of Skye’s business partners, Malcolm.

Getting sworn in was reasonably quick and Malcolm started asking questions.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Started Malcolm, “Could you tell us what happened the day you were stabbed?”

Marinette took a deep breath.

Lila shoved Marinette against the locker, she was vaguely aware of a bag with something metal in it falling to the ground, before Lila jammed her knee into her gut and threw her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

Lila sneered and kicked Marinette in the side, knocking her back to the floor, before she stepped on Marinette’s right hand and pushed down on it until she heard a crack and a cry of pain from Marinette. Marinette was fairly sure it was broken.

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

“You know what?” Said Marinette, holding her side, trying to ignore the pain of a broken rib, “I can live with that. As long as Adrien is happy, I can be happy. Love isn’t something that requires both parties to feel the same way, because if you truly love someone, then seeing them happy is enough.”

Lila snarled and grabbed something from the bag, a sword, and went to stab Marinette with it. Marinette heard someone growling before Kagami charged forwards grabbed the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at the Italian.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed. Everything then went dark, before she opened her eyes again to a brightly coloured room.

“After I woke up,” Said Marinette, trying to stay calm, “the Police asked me what happened I told them what I just told you.”

“Just to clarify,” Said Malcolm, smirking at Lila’s lawyer, “Mlle. Tsurugi didn’t attack you, but entered a blind rage when she saw you in danger and, excluding the already existing injuries, you were only injured because you got between her and Mlle. Rossi?”

“Yes.” Said Marinette, clearly.

“No further questions.” Said Malcolm, as Lila’s Lawyer stood up.

“Mlle. Dupain,” Said the Lawyer, an old, balding, fat man who looked at Marinette as if she was a piece of dirt.

“Dupain-Cheng.” Corrected Marinette, her tone flat.

“Dupain-Cheng,” Said the Lawyer, “is it true that you do not like my client?”

“I don’t dislike Lila,” Said Marinette, carefully adjusting herself so she didn’t aggravate the stab wound, “I dislike the lies she is telling people, as it plays with their emotions and their dreams for their future.”

“But you have no proof she’s lying.” Said the Lawyer, smugly.

“On her first day, I saw her steal a book that belonged to Adrien’s father from Adrien’s school bag and then dispose of it in a trash can in the park.” Said Marinette, her tone flat, “I then followed her and saw her lies exposed by Ladybug.”

Lila’s lawyer paled slightly, before clearing his throat, “Hearsay, you have no proof that she lied about anything.”

“I didn’t need to,” Said Marinette, flatly, “The lies she started telling when she returned from hiding in her room, were poorly made and only required a quick google search to disprove.”

Lila’s Lawyer paled further, before looking at the judge.

“No further questions.” He muttered, before Marinette was dismissed from the box.

Kagami’s leg bounced, her host parent glanced over and her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Said Claire, gently rubbing Kagami’s shoulder.

Kagami nervously swallowed, while Maria took hold of Kagami’s hand.

“You just need to go up, tell them what happened and answer their questions.” Soothed Claire, while Maria looked at Lila and her lawyer.

The process of Kagami being called to the stand and sworn in came too quickly for the girl’s liking, Malcolm had gone over the basics with her the day before.

“Mlle. Tsurugi,” Said Malcolm, approaching the stand, “I only need you to answer yes or no to my questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, as Lila’s Lawyer smirked.

“On the 17th of September, you entered College François Dupont’s locker room to get changed for a fencing lesson, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, getting a nod from Malcolm.

“You said, in your statement to my colleague,” Said Malcolm, picking up a folder in his desk, “you saw Mlle. Rossi grab a sword from a bag and try to stab Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.” Said Kagami, as Lila started to whisper in her Lawyer’s ear.

“After that, you described the following series of events that led up to the stabbing incident, as if you were not in control of your own body. Is that correct?” Asked Malcolm, putting the folder down.

“Yes.” Said Kagami.

“No further questions.” Said Malcolm, returning to his seat.

“Mlle. Tsurugi,” Said Lila’s Lawyer, looking at the Japanese girl, “Is it true you believe on acting first, despite not having the full picture?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, looking at the lawyer.

“So, if you found that your boyfriend viewed a girl, who wasn’t you, and one that he clearly held feelings for,” Continued the Lawyer, “you wouldn’t wait for further clarification and you’d immediately go on the attack.”

“No.” Said Kagami, shaking her head.

“Just like how you didn’t wait before attacking Mlle. Rossi and, subsequently, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Accused the Lawyer, “You saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, didn’t you, Mlle. Tsurugi?”

“No.” Said Kagami, shaking her head harder.

“Or perhaps Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was simply collateral damage.” Said the Lawyer, before Malcolm stood up.

“Objection, Your Honour. M. Strand is forming baseless accusations.” Said Malcolm, leaning forwards, his hands resting on the desktop.

“Sustained,” Said the Judge, before turning her gaze on Strand, “Monsieur Strand, I do hope you have actual evidence to back up these allegations.”

Strand grinned, “My client’s account of the situation will confirm the allegations.”

The Judge glared at him, “The testimony of one sixteen-year-old girl, who has been denounce as a liar by three different witnesses and has herself claimed to have blacked out and only woke up to see Mlle. Dupain-Cheng already wounded.”

Strand’s grin slowly fell from his face, and looked over a Lila, who had paled significantly.

“Permission to call a recess.” Said Strand, sweat forming on his forehead.

“Granted, we’ll reconvene in thirty minutes.” Said the Judge, slamming her gavel onto the desk.

“Strand’s got nothing to stand on.” Said Malcolm, as Skye handed coffees around, “Compared to who we’ve got, the case is ours.”

“So, he’s stranded.” Said Adrien, looking up at the legal expert.

“Not how I would’ve put it, but yeah, he is.” Said Malcolm, Lila had accused Adrien of harassing her, both at school and at photoshoots. Those claims were quickly refuted by Adrien’s classmates, the photographer Vincent and scars that adorned Adrien’s arms in the shape of Lila’s fingernails.

Adrien had another court date, in regard to Gabriel’s neglect and emotion and verbal abuse towards Adrien. A bell rang, signalling the people to head back into the court room. Malcolm walked up to his desk, with Skye sliding in next to him, as Strand stood up, his eyes glued onto his desk.

“Against the advice of her counsel, Mlle. Rossi wishes to take the stand.” Trembled Strand panic clear in his eyes.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said the Judge, leaning forwards, “If you take the stand, you will be open for cross examination.”

Lila gave the Judge a sickly, sweet smile, before she nodded, “I understand your honour.”

“Mlle. Rossi, could you please recount the event of Friday, September 17th?” Asked Strand, a smirk on his face.

“I was arguing with Marinette in the locker room, she was just about to leave when Kagami burst in and tried to kill me,” Said Lila, tears starting to form in her eyes, “Marinette got caught between us and was stabbed, there was so much blood.”

“You said you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng were arguing.” Said Strand, as Lila faked a wince.

“Someone had vandalised one of her sketchbooks,” Said Lila, “she thought I’d done it because I was the last one to leave the room it was in.”

“I have no further questions, your honour.” Said Strand, smirking at Malcolm.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Started Malcolm, approaching the girl, “you said you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng were ‘arguing’, at any point, did the disagreement turn physical?”

“No, we were only using words.” Responded Lila, unknowingly walking into a trap.

“Then, how, may I ask, did Mlle. Dupain-Cheng suffer; a broken arm, a broken hand, two broken ribs and three fractured ribs, a skull fracture and a shattered ankle? Your Honour, I’d like to introduce items 14-JT, 15-JT, 16-JT, 17-JT, 18-JT and 19-JT into evidence.”

“She, she must’ve gotten them when Kagami attacked.” Said Lila, a small amount of panic appearing in her voice.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said Malcolm, “you just said Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was caught in the crossfire, when all of these could be considered defence wounds.”

“M-Marinette did put up a fight.” Said Lila, trying to cover her story.

“Mlle. Rossi, you are aware that there is video evidence that contradicts your version of events?” Asked Malcolm, before turning to the Judge, “Your Honour, if you will permit it, I’d like to add item 16-JS-B into evidence, it is footage from the security camera the school locker room, it has also recorded audio.”

“Sustained.” Said the Judge, as a TV was wheeled into the courtroom.

The TV screen flickered into life and started playing the recording.

Lila shoved Marinette against the locker, a bag fell from the top of the locker, before jamming a knee into her gut and throwing her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

Lila snarled and grabbed one of the swords from the bag and went to stab Marinette with it. Kagami charged forwards grabbing the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at her.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed.

“As you can see, Your Honour,” Said Malcolm, “Mlle. Rossi has been lying on the stand in regards to the entire situation and sequence of events.”

“I now understand your reasoning for add additional charges against Mlle. Rossi.” Said the Judge, looking down at Malcolm, “Attempted Murder in the second degree and truancy. I believe that the Jury has seen enough to make a verdict.”

The Jury deliberated for an hour, before returning to the court room.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Asked the Judge, looking at the jury members.

“We have, sir.” Said the foreman, shuffling his feet.

“How does the jury find on the first count on the indictment, attempted murder in the second degree?” Asked the Judge, leaning back in his chair.

“Guilty, Your Honour.” Said the Foreman, looking down at the paper.

“How does the jury find on the second count on the indictment, truancy?”

“Guilty, Your Honour.”

“Mlle. Rossi, even without these charges, you would’ve been sentenced for your continued perjury in this court room,” Said the Judge, “you are hereby sentenced to 30 years in prison, you will start serving the sentence at a juvenile detention centre and, one you are of age, will be transferred to an appropriate prison to serve out the rest.”

The Judge banged his gavel on the desk, before dismissing the court.

Kagami looked around her new room, Maria and Claire had decided to adopt Kagami, after Tomoe had refused to allow Kagami back into the home to collect her belonging, instead having all of them burnt to a crisp.

Kagami took a deep breath, finally realising this was her first day of being a normal girl. There was a groan and a wheeze, as Marinette struggled to lift a box up.

“You’re going to tear your stitches!” Said Kagami, striding over and taking the box.

“The doctor said he might invest in getting me a cone.” Said Marinette, slumped against the door, “I can now write properly with my left hand.”

“Considering that your right one is fucked,” Said Kagami, carefully helping Marinette up, “I’m sure the compensation that Madam Rossi had to give you will help in finding someone who can get it back up to fighting strength.”

“I’ve actually got a physiotherapy session tomorrow.” Said Marinette, dropping herself onto Kagami’s bed, “Adrien’s helping with the animal’s downstairs.”

“Are you sure it’s not Felix?” Asked Kagami, dropping down next to Marinette.

“Nah, Felix hates cats,” Said Marinette, looking at the ceiling, “and I think he’s afraid of me.”

“I’m not surprised.” Responded Kagami, looking at Marinette.

Adrien joined the two girls half-an-hour later, dropping himself onto the bed and curling around them.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #lila rossi #tom dupain #sabine cheng #caline bustier #michael dupain cheng #skye dupain cheng #delta writes #angst #tw: violence #hurt marinette #i just bullshitted my way through this

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punkscowardschampions · 3 years ago

Text

Jac & Jameson

Jac: [An appropriate amount of time that the conversation could have taken place]

Jac: Tell me when she’s finished

Jameson: I’m done

Jac: I had to give her the chance to tell you herself, I’m sorry

Jameson: I know, it’s okay

Jameson: well, it’s fucking not, but between us anyway

Jac: I hate to say I’m more shocked at him but

Jac: I literally am, I’m not going to pretend otherwise

Jameson: she’s a school kid, he’s not

Jac: Yeah, it’s disgusting but I wasn’t even going to go there with her on that point

Jac: because it’s not the point but also, what the fuck

Jameson: I introduced them, and that’s the tip of the iceberg of what I’ve trusted him with

Jameson: I’m supposed to shoot with him tomorrow, share the same hotel room

Jameson: I just

Jac: I know

Jac: what are you going to do

Jac: about tomorrow, not long term

Jameson: Cancel

Jameson: I’ve never called in sick before, that much’ll be fine

Jac: I wish you could fucking bill her for the cheque you’ll miss out on

Jac: likewise mum and dad for all the free childcare, food, shelter, she is just expecting

Jameson: Maybe he was planning to buy her continued silence once the baby’s born cos he sure as shit wasn’t ever gonna say a thing to me about being the father to my niece or nephew

Jac: I doubt it

Jac: It’s not as if she would think to ask

Jac: I’d somewhat respect her if she did but no

Jameson: yeah, I’m giving them both too much credit, he won’t have said a word to her either

Jac: It’s so fucking

Jac: tragic

Jac: literally, even more so than previously thought

Jameson: and who the hell is the bigger dickhead here? At least he only lied to her face for one night

Jameson: now I’m a joke, along with the entire brand I’ve built around him

Jac: There has to be a way to disentangle your work from his

Jac: without outing this because it wouldn’t just tarnish his name

Jac: I’m going to ask the law students I know, as well as just think on it

Jameson: we’re an us right now, that’s how everyone wants it, there’s no way that won’t make me look unprofessional and if I get a reputation as someone who’s difficult to work with, I might as well forget it

Jac: He was unprofessional first

Jac: You need to talk him into being the one to break the contracts

Jac: he can be the one who thinks up the bloody story, he can at least do that much

Jac: you can threaten to out the truth without actually doing it, or intending to

Jameson: He’s also the one with a famous rock star dad, not me

Jac: I know

Jac: but fucking hell, if he was ever really your friend

Jac: he could make some effort to not ruin your career, Jesus

Jameson: he obviously wasn’t, or he’d have told me after it happened

Jac: Just don’t do anything hasty, okay

Jac: he’ll be more useful if he’s scared of losing something himself

Jameson: I don’t know what to do, hasty or otherwise

Jac: I don’t either

Jac: this is the worst, I can’t believe they’ve done this to you

Jameson: it could’ve been worse if you hadn’t forced Jude to tell me the truth, I know I can’t trust Raff anymore, which is good knowledge to have before we sign some massive new contract

Jac: She was wrong for trying to keep it from you

Jac: even if this is going to be messy, and we can’t work it out fully, you still need to know

Jameson: I get that I work loads, but I still thought I’d been a better sister than this

Jac: I know I weren’t so

Jac: but working under the assumption she’s not completely full of shit, she thought she was doing you a massive favour not telling you sooner

Jac: which proves she’s a total child but still

Jameson: yeah, she said, when I’d gotten her to stop crying and actually talk

Jac: Jesus 🙄

Jameson: it’s like trying to be fuming at one of the pups, meaning I don’t know where to put how I really feel

Jac: She thinks she can cry her way out of everything

Jac: Not how life works

Jameson: won’t get me any more sick days when I still don’t wanna go back to work after tomorrow

Jac: Exactly

Jac: I’m so angry at her

Jameson: He literally hangs around models all day, why my little sister?

Jac: Opportunity

Jac: men don’t think like that

Jameson: stupid of me to reckon I had any idea how his mind works

Jac: I know you trusted him

Jac: he clearly didn’t see it as the betrayal it is

Jac: and you wouldn’t have known if she didn’t get knocked up

Jameson: but she did and it is, so here we are

Jac: Are you going to talk to him?

Jameson: God knows how but I’ll have to

Jac: Do you want me to talk to him first

Jameson: you’ve already had to do more than you should’ve

Jameson: even Savannah and her sister have been involved

Jac: Thank God she did blab to Sienna

Jac: What if Toby came to her in a years time, ten years, whatever, and wanted to be involved

Jac: She’s so fucking stupid

Jameson: Whenever we think she’s stopped making a mess of things, it gets bigger

Jac: I don’t know what to do anymore

Jac: I really don’t

Jameson: what’s next, like?

Jac: If she has twins I’m officially calling the social

Jameson: I’m this close to getting on the first plane I can afford as is

Jac: I’d sooner never come back

Jameson: very relatable

Jac: Unfortunately

Jac: she’s very welcome for the pity party she can have

Jameson: she can go all in and have it on my birthday if she wants, I’m not in the mood

Jac: We should actually do something though

Jac: make sure you’re at least somewhere nearby

Jameson: Aren’t you going away with Sav?

Jameson: I should probably be somewhere near Italy or France

Jac: Well contrary to how she’s made it, I was actually trying to be a better sister in general

Jac: we should be able to meet in one of the two

Jameson: I’ll definitely be free if I can’t get booked

Jac: We’re not letting that happen

Jac: a rebrand, definitely

Jameson: it is a bit weird how invested everybody is in my completely invented love life, I wouldn’t miss it

Jac: Exactly, you don’t want to do those sort of shoots forever

Jac: and not solely those, either

Jameson: something to do tomorrow that isn’t just feeling like shit sounds like a 🥇💡

Jac: We’re not going to pretend she’s done you a favour because any hint of that and she’ll be clinging to it for all it’s worth

Jac: but you’re actually decent at your job, he just has a name and a rich dad

Jameson: You’ve never liked him, bit rude of your intuition not to go any further but

Jac: I’m sure she’d say I don’t like anyone

Jac: He’s also not attractive but I guess that’s secondary to cash

Jameson: it might be, but it’s cheered me up that you’ve said it

Jac: If anything, we’re allowed to drag him privately

Jac: publicly tbd

Jameson: I could always become an actress after selling for the cameras that we’re couple goals

Jac: 🤣

Jac: I don’t envy you, aside from the obvious reason why

Jameson: I don’t envy your uni course load, but I probably could go if I have to rebrand that hard, I’m not recognised everywhere, just loads of places

Jac: become a model that bangs on about her degree 💄🧠

Jac: you wouldn’t be the first or last

Jac: It isn’t going to end you, there’s no way

Jac: there’ll be the crazies who are mad/sad but most people over the age of 12 need to know it wasn’t real

Jameson: I’m not ready for it to be over

Jac: It isn’t

Jameson: I’ve worked too hard for it to be, not for a fuck up that ain’t mine

Jac: Who in this day and age is going to side with a boy blindly

Jameson: some of the lads I work with are SO unbelievably hot and I’ve never been for a drink or nowt with any of them cos I’m not trying to blur boundaries and put my job at risk and Raff just don’t even care

Jac: He can afford to

Jac: literally and with the double standard of it all

Jameson: there is no line for him, no wonder he didn’t bother to tell me, it wouldn’t occur to him he’s crossed one when he’s used to being able to do whatever he wants

Jac: Typical rich boy

Jac: I know this sucks though, he clearly acted like he weren’t that

Jameson: Typical Jude to take something from me and make it all about her

Jac: She really was waiting in the wings to be the sister who made it real 🙄

Jac: it’s ridiculous

Jameson: I don’t get to be upset cos her life is more ruined

Jac: It’s not cool that he betrayed you, but he didn’t do fuck all wrong to her

Jac: she’s made every decision since, if her life is ruined, it’s her fault

Jameson: at least you get it

Jac: Here’s hoping if I say it enough she’ll actually realize it’s her and her decisions

Jac: not holding my breath

Jameson: I can’t talk to her until she does

Jac: You can’t feel bad about that, we can’t

Jac: she has support, she isn’t alone

Jac: idk what the fuck she wants, a friggin baby shower and us to feel her bump or some shit

Jac: but her not getting that doesn’t mean she’s being victimized, like

Jameson: she’s not alone but she’s made sure I am, out on a weird fucking limb I didn’t ask to be on

Jac: I hope you told her all this

Jac: or I fucking will

Jac: more than I did beforehand, anyway

Jameson: there’s no point, she might go to the pub with her co-workers, or you know, did before, but she doesn’t get that Raff weren’t just teaching me the ropes at [whatever Pete’s record store cafe is called where Jude sometimes works]

Jac: It’s like she doesn’t live on the same planet, I swear

Jac: God knows where she came from

Jameson: I don’t talk about how lonely and homesick and daunted I was when I started, or any of the negatives honestly, cos that was my decision, but I shouldn’t have to explain that he was my mate and how few of them I have

Jac: You aren’t allowed to talk about it with 99% of people already

Jac: and she clearly thinks your life is perfect, nothing less

Jac: she doesn’t get it, at all, add it to the long list

Jameson: I knew she didn’t, but I thought he did

Jac: I know

Jac: finding out he wasn’t legit was never going to be good but this is possibly the worst way

Jameson: I hate that we’re in different countries when I found this out, you’re like the only trustworthy person left

Jac: 🥺

Jac: I don’t suppose extending the day off to a long weekend is a good idea?

Jameson: I could be fake sick that long, but I don’t wanna Jude my way into your life cos I can’t drop any of my 💔 into the group chat with [her friends names, however many of them are still around at this point]

Jac: I definitely owe you, okay, two years worth of not being there is a lot of long weekends

Jac: If you want to, you can

Jameson: You and Sav deserve a break from all this bollocks, we only just found out she was pregnant a bit ago

Jameson: I’ll be okay

Jac: We all do

Jac: do something fun in [whatever country she is in rn] that you wouldn’t have had the chance to do before

Jameson: alright, I will

Jac: and [something more nerdy] for me

Jameson: 😏👌

Jac: I notice that lack of a firm yes but okay

Jameson: I’ll send you a 🤓 selfie, okay?

Jac: 👍

Jac: and I’ll work out where we’ll be for your birthday, that’ll dictate what we do 🥂🏖🎭🏛🩰🏞🎨🛍🎼 yeah?

Jameson: yeah

Jameson: and tell your girlfriend I said tah for having a little sister who knows how to make a decision that’s not total shit

Jac: Ikr?

Jac: not about to tell her she’s SO lucky but…

Jameson: but I’m lucky to not still be in the dark about who Raff is

Jameson: so I appreciate it

Jac: I’ll let them both know

Jac: and make sure Jude doesn’t come at Sienna for letting us know

Jameson: and then take a break

Jac: I don’t think that’s on the to-do list

Jameson: I think you could get Sav to * it

Jac: Probably 😌

Jameson: go on, you’ve admitted you need one, that’s the hard bit

Jac: Thank God it’s Summer at least

Jac: If I had to deal with this and revise, nah

Jameson: If I had to be home with her rn

Jameson: my phone nearly didn’t survive how hard I chucked it after hanging up

Jac: I know the feeling

Jac: and the likelihood of her having an ugly kid isn’t a good enough consolation prize tbh

Jameson: Don’t, his face is literally on billboards here, even if he’s not trying to speak to me in person about what happened, he’s everywhere anyway

Jac: It’s really giving shit psychological thriller

Jac: 👀 on you at all times 😷

Jameson: and how good I look up there too is no consolation prize

Jac: but thank god you don’t look like shit, that’s the last thing you need

Jameson: I need to go for a run

Jac: Good idea

Jac: I’ll meanwhile try to remember what the hell I was doing before yet another bombshell was dropped

Jameson: Good luck

Jac: It’ll be alright, you know

Jac: I promise

Jameson: I don’t know but

Jameson: at least a promise coming from you is more reassuring than one of Jude’s

Jameson: or anything else she said

Jac: She’s not even reassuring herself

Jac: if this wasn’t her choice, or she was willing to be persuaded to make the right one

Jac: then we could help but

Jac: well

Jameson: 🤞 the baby isn’t ugly, it can have a go at modelling and get further than me

Jac: I don’t want to think about it’s lack of a future

Jac: or hers

Jameson: just mine then

Jac: Come on

Jac: we’re going to sort this

Jac: fix her fuckups like always

Jameson: Yeah, sorry, it was just loads to hear for such a short phone call

Jac: ‘course, I get it

Jac: we’re all spiralling

Jac: I’m just trying to keep us on track and not catastrophize

Jameson: that’s you and her with your polar opposite approaches covered, like

Jameson: meanwhile I’m just ignoring his messages

Jac: what’s he saying, trying to

Jac: he’s got nerve, give him that

Jameson: nowt that sounds enough like soz I impregnated your sister, here’s how I’m gonna sort it

Jac: He’s helped her ruin her life, period

Jac: because she’s not going to be talked ‘round, even by him

Jameson: if mum and dad can’t and nan won’t, that’s that

Jac: Yep

Jac: and we’ve all got to just

Jac: live with it

Jameson: and I’ve got to work around it on top of that

Jameson: fuck’s sake, I was getting somewhere

Jac: it’s not fair

Jac: she’s ruined everyone’s hard work, literally

Jac: what was the point of mum and dad doing things different, doing it right

Jac: for her to turn right back ‘round and fuck it all up, literal square 1

Jameson: Dad’s gonna have to bring clients back to a house where there’s a screaming kid

Jac: She better move to nans if she wants to be her so bad

Jac: I’m not being dramatic, I can’t bear to see her right now and I don’t know when I will be able to again

Jameson: poor Cam won’t have nowhere to sleep if she don’t

Jac: wouldn’t even want her around Jude if I was Bob or her mum

Jac: can’t have it being a trend, fucking hell

Jameson: her mum’ll love the excuse to stop her coming round as much, well done Jude

Jac: She should chat to her

Jac: they were in uni and look at what a completely subpar mum she is

Jameson: Jude would have to go properly deaf to get that charity off her

Jac: She only shouts like she’s hard of hearing, I know

Jac: she’ll just pretend she LOVES being a mum and do nothing with her life and hope someone writes a shit song about her

Jac: not a waste at all, so happy for her

Jameson: I’m going for my run before I do something you warned me against earlier

Jac: Sorry, go

Jac: it’s not time-sensitive anymore

Jac: it just still feels like an emergency

Jameson: it’s cos we know she’s still got time to do the right thing, even though we obviously also know she ain’t gonna

Jac: yeah

Jac: but seriously, go run, that’s sensible

Jameson: I’ll talk to you tomorrow

Jac: We can facetime

Jac: assuming you don’t look like total shit now 😘

Jameson: I probably do but you’re not in charge of my bookings so 🤷‍♀️

Jac: Thank God

Jac: Sav wants to speak to you more

Jac: I’d have hoped it’d be under less awkward circumstances but she still wants to so

Jac: pretend we’re not completely fucked as a family, or something

Jameson: she’d be the last person to judge someone else’s fucked family dynamics

Jameson: but if her dad’s willing to drag Jude to Sligo I wouldn’t say no rn

Jac: True but let’s say that in a less we’re judging yours kinda way

Jac: I’m sure he’d love to get her far away from Sienna by any means necessary though

Jameson: Poor Sav is never gonna be able to tell him how connected she is to you and this family at this rate

Jac: It was bad enough without this actual shit

Jac: I won’t blame her if she doesn’t

Jameson: I know it was

Jac: I don’t care

Jac: it’s all so new anyway

Jameson: if you do care, that’s alright, you’re allowed to reckon it’s another unfair thing

Jac: No, I don’t

Jac: It’s not like I want to talk to her father any more than he wants to talk to me, really

Jac: as long as she’s happy

Jameson: I don’t need facetime to work out she is, about that bit of life anyway

Jac: 🤞

Jameson: *👍✔️

Jac: alright, nerd

Jac: maybe you’ll meet some boys you can ask out for coffee on this run

Jameson: 🤞 I don’t now I’ve got a whole career rebrand to sort out, I was too busy before

Jameson: also boys plural is a bit rude

Jac: A boy per run, don’t get crazy

Jameson: it’s crazy enough I feel like I got cheated on, maybe when I’m not reeling from all the fake relationship drama

Jac: You don’t feel as lonely now

Jac: do you?

Jameson: Ask me when I’ve done my first shoot without him, that’ll be when it starts actually feeling real

Jac: Right

Jac: I’m sorry it’s so shit

Jameson: he wasn’t the only good thing about it, I’ll be alright

Jac: You’re not that daft

Jameson: it’s my job and I love it, before him and after

Jac: I’m really glad

Jameson: okay, I’m really going before this gets any closer to 😭

Jameson: I’ve got enough problems without being puffy

Jac: make sure your roller is in the freezer

Jameson: ‘course

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tekehu-archive · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, I was wondering if you would like to go on a big long rant about your Elden Ring OC? They seem pretty cool, so I thought I would give you an excuse to rant about them if you want to :)

I hope you have a nice day!

this is so sweet anon, ty 🥺 also sorry this is a little late, i’m kind of busy atm

i already made a short post about his pre-exile history here, but let me tell you about what happens then (hee hee).

eadwyn is tarnished, but it is important to note that he’s wasn’t dead. he didn’t die before or during his exile. he’s conscious, but death itself has festered within him, and because of this he has been branded as one of those who live in death, to be granted a proper death once the deathblight will have fully overtaken him. it had never come to this, though, partly because no one expected a tarnished to ever return from exile – so the stigma on his forehead remains, to remind all loyal to the golden order of his fate, and their duty. witnessing the guidance of grace vanish from his sight, he felt utterly lost – abandoned even. having acted against the order only to serve the order and being cast out because of it... the longer he thought about it, the more bitter he became.

fast forward, from just on the brink of the shattering, the great war, to an age later. those bitter feelings manifolded even more drastically once grace called on him again. what good had his faith done him? exiled and branded to be killed, undying and no longer able to wield the magic of his order. though grace has found him once again, when he returns to his home he feels lost still. the lands he knew are shattered, nothing but ruins and rot, remainders of what used to be, but nothing more. truly, what good had faith done anyone?

he travels through these ruins of his home, embittered and lost. don’t be mistaken, though – he does see where grace tries to guide him, but why should he follow? what good had his faith done him. it is not only grace that tries to lead him, either. he can feel a pull from deep inside his chest, right where death had began to fester, so long ago; root searching for root. it leads him to a village, abandoned like so many others, where the dead walk through the water and where a lone hunter waits to grant their proper death. said hunter sees the stigma branded on his forehead and readies his sword. as a follower of the golden order, d is one of few that could eadwyn for good; as an ex-follower of the order, he knows this, too. yet the order with which the stigma had been placed was to execute him once the deathblight would have eaten through his soul. it didn’t yet, but d would not let that go; it is his duty, now, after all. so instead, he follows eadwyn, ready to strike him down the second the blight will have overpowered him.

but here, too, one has to ask again. what good had faith done anyone? it brings only tragedy.

#replies #anonymous #oc: eadwyn #hope you have a nice day too!

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fallencomrade · 4 years ago

Text

𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙻 // T̷ R̷ A̷ N̷ S̷ M̷ I̷ T̷ T̷ I̷ N̷ G̷ . . . 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚇𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 // [ SOURCE ] 𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙳 : BLONDIE. ↦ @melancholya

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄. unforgiving to the eyes and like a knife to the brain. its hue, along with the cheap overhanging lights only succeed in making bucky’s head hurt. of course, the lingering hangover from last night’s bender probably isn’t helping ( && more likely the source to blame ) - and neither is the caffeine high he is now determined to funnel down his throat, but details, details ... in an effort to ease the burden, he instead redirects his gaze to the floor, but is left disappointed when he finds that the tiles beneath their feet reflect the same god - awful shade. it is all very CLINICAL - like a hospital or a mental ward, and isn’t that just fitting ? bucky wonders if the VA should be renamed something as such, considering the types of poor souls who wander in through these doors. maybe they too should all be locked inside here like the loons confined within the nearby mental hospital. surely, TRAUMATIZED veterans are all the more dangerous.

bucky barnes certainly is.

temperamental. violent. barbed - tongue. sarcastic. scathing. always itchin’ for a fight - if only to clench his fist and shatter something ;; release some of that boiling steam rising in his chest. if only to DESTROY something like he has been DESTROYED. volatile, like a ticking time - bomb ... && he isn’t the only one here with a timer glinting in the shadow of his gaze. might truly be smarter ( safer ) to lock them up and throw away the key. steve here though ... steve is different. damaged obviously, but more likely at risk of imploding - if only to ensure no one else gets hurt caught up in his own self - destruction. guy looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. like he would apologize to each bug smashed against his windshield. the idea of it makes him chuckle a little under his breath.

the blonde fumbles with his words, choking on his own polite small talk. he isn’t sure if steve’s interest is genuine or if he was simply raised with manners. either way, he struggles to string together the words. barnes doesn’t react negatively to it though. he doesn’t stare or laugh or cut him off. he remains quiet, unruffled. contrary to his beforementioned self - criticism, barnes can be surprisingly patient when he wants to be. it doesn’t bother him - steve’s lack of confidence in himself - in his skin, in his voice. there is a reason steve is the way he is. just like there is a reason bucky is the way he is. they are both walking tragedies, egregious products of war. steve has been nothing but kind and despite his bitter disposition and spiteful outlook, barnes does try to spare those few people who really do not deserve his rancor.

so he gives steve a moment - allows him the time and the permission to be FLAWED without being judged. lets the man find and say each half - choked word without interruption. buck thinks giving steve the opportunity to do so - to ASK his questions - might be more important than any answer he follows up with. steve still flounders though and once they reach a door at the end of the hall, he seems to give up. it is only then that bucky pivots on his heel and faces the guy, shoulder coming down to lean against the doorframe. his lax smile remains and he answers steve’s question as if he had asked it without issue.

❛ i’ve always had this strong dislike of fathers who name their sons after ‘em. it’s so - fucking maniacal, you know ? so SELF - ABSORBED. to believe you are so important, that your name is so prestigious, that you decide to BRAND your child - and turn ‘em into a walking scar. it is an insult. they didn’t even give me a chance to be my own person. from the second ma pushed me out, i was just - his son. ❜ he lets out a huff. a brief pause to his dramatic tangent - and then some ... retrospection. ❛ pretty sure pop regrets it now. the only thing worse than not living up to expectation is tarnishing it. ❜ gaze flickers away, glossing over slightly - starry eyed. ❛ i consider it my proudest accomplishment. ❜

bucky blinks - and comes to. ❛ but that doesn’t answer your question, does it ? ❜ he flashes a grin. ❛ i never really did like ‘james’ - but i grew to hate it once we started fighting so much. — didn’t want to go by ‘barnes’ for a while either, cause again - the reference to dad. the only unique thing about me was my middle name, buchanan. kids laughed at that though. that was too different ;; i couldn’t pull it off. ❜ he chuckles softly before continuing. ❛ it was actually my kid sister who came up with ‘buck’. she was five when i unloaded all this on her - my IDENTITY CRISIS. brat first suggested bug, cause you know, buch and bug sound kinda similar. then she pointed out that buch and and buck also sound really similar ... && i ran with it ever since. ❜ with a sparkle in his eye that always glimmers when he speaks of the infamous becky barnes, he adds - ❛ stroke of GENIUS really. ❜

&& then, to wrap everything up, he ends the elaborate history lesson with one final comment. ❛ lil squirt still calls me BUG to this day, though. ❜ the door to glorious cookies has been opened - a gateway to deliverance ! - but he has some time to spare. the one - armed oddity finds himself just as interested in steve rogers as he is in cookies - and if that ain’t a compliment, he doesn’t know what else is. ❛ how about you ? ❜ curious eyes flicker over his frame. ❛ you share the same name as your old man ? steve sounds pretty generic, short for steven - yeah ? mm, that’s the kinda name passed down through the generations, just like james. ❜ he props himself against the doorframe and waits for steve to choose either to reveal a piece of himself or slam the door in his nosy face.

#melancholya #⸢ ✪ ⸥ THREADS. | 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟.#⸢ ✪ ⸥ VERSE. | 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟 ⸢ 🇲🇴🇩🇪🇷🇳 🇻🇪🇷🇸🇪 ⸥#⸢ ✪ ⸥ OOC. | ‘ gosh how i adore our threads.

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princeandreis · 2 years ago

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one thing that i think sets wilbur soot apart from a lot of other mcyts is he’s extremely mature in the way he goes about content creation. not in terms of the content itself, but in the way he goes about his career and how he interacts with other creators. he’s not close with many of them, but have you ever heard of wilbur soot having earnest beef with somebody online? nope, you haven’t, because he’s bigger than that.

there are so many petty squabbles and controversies that crop up online, and wilbur is always notably silent. that speaks volumes about his priorities. he seems to understand that jumping into those arguments serves 0 purpose and only fuels things further. (he’s also probably aware that joining in on controversy of any kind tarnishes his brand, so it’s a smart move from a purely PR standpoint.)

still, when things get really ugly and involve his friends, he encourages his community to show kindness above all else. take, for example, dream’s sexuality controversy on twitter in april. wilbur didn’t address it explicitly, but he went live (for a regular stream) perhaps a day or two after everything exploded and spoke about how important it is to be kind to other CCs (clip here). maybe i’m showing my bias because i’m primarily a dream team fan at heart, but it meant so much to hear someone who ordinarily is silent during controversy speak up in defense of his friend.

that’s another thing: wilbur and dream don’t even seem to be close friends, and wil still spoke in strong defense of him, in the name of decency and kindness. this wasn’t one of wilbur’s closest pals who was being attacked, but someone who’s a fellow content creator and friend. wilbur and dream have worked together many times and seem to get along well, and clearly there is a high degree of mutual respect between them. wilbur didn’t have to address the controversy, but he saw his friend’s name being dragged through the mud; so he asked his own audience to treat dream (without using his name) with respect. just as wilbur does. and that’s something he does with every CC he interacts with.

it’s sadly uncommon to see a mcyt who is so well-liked across the board, and who gets along with everyone he meets. if you ask me, it comes from wilbur’s experience in the industry. he’s been doing youtube and streaming for many years at this point and in many different circles, like soothouse, smplive, smpearth, the dream smp, etc. he’s educated in his field, and he’s now also working in music— i can tell you from personal experience that musicians who expect to go anywhere with their career have to be able to work with anyone, even the most difficult and insufferable kinds of people. you truly can’t expect to succeed in any creative field if you can’t adapt to your environment and work well with others. (wil is also just a naturally charismatic and funny guy, so he sets others at ease right away. not everyone has that gift!)

anyway, i just think it’s so neat to see a creator who does exactly the kind of content he wants (be it the most batshit-insane thing you’ve ever seen), succeeds at it, and also is held and holds others in high regard. it’s a testament to his passion for his work, as well as his love for others. i’m sure there are mcyts wil has worked with that he might personally dislike, but you’d never know because he treats everyone around him with the same kindness, decency, and authenticity that he does his closest friends. i love wilbur soot the end

#wilbur soot #mcyt #more people should approach their careers the way he does (through a slight veil of mystery but also genuine love and kindness)#also theres this clip of him preventing tommy from shaking ass onstage at an event and u can just See his gears turning #like yes tommy is silly and excitable and sometimes crude and that’s his reputation but it didn’t fit the moment and wilbur saw that #it’s also one thing to be silly and excitable and crude online and it’s another to shake your ass onstage at a convention #like that’s a more personal display and a little undignified even for tommy so wil stepped in like a big brother should #hes so protective in a good way and it makes me :)#wilbur just has a lot of wisdom in everything he does and i truly admire that about him #analysis

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imagining-supernatural · 5 years ago

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What Happens in Vegas...

Part 1 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You wake up in Vegas with a brand new wedding ring on your finger next to Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 1641

A/N: I am super excited about this series! And it’s completely written (except maybe an epilogue), so I won’t leave you hanging when writer’s block hits.

What was a Vegas weekend without waking with a major hangover and a random naked guy next to you?

Ideal. That’s what that would be.

Yet, here you were. Hungover as hell. With a naked guy next to you. In your hotel room. So you couldn’t even sneak out.

Not Ideal.

Aw well. This was your last Vegas weekend ever, so you might as well go out with a bang.

The form beside you groaned and shifted until you could see his face.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, prompting him to squint at you, slowly waking up. It didn’t take long for his blue eyes to open. Eyes you’d only seen on the big screen. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Who are you?” He shot back, voice still scratchy with slumber.

“This is my hotel room so I think my question should get answered first.” Sitting up, you pulled the sheet up to your chin. It was pretty obvious what had happened last night, but if he was even half as drunk as you had been, he wouldn’t remember. So… there was no need to flash your assets.

Sebastian Stan – yes, the Sebastian Stan – looked around for a moment before his thoughts were gathered enough. “I… don’t remember. I mean, I think I remember you from a club? But the rest of the night is blurry.”

“Yeah. I’m dealing with a lot of different kinds of headaches right now.” As soon as he left, you were going to dig out your medication and down a pill or two. You must have forgotten to take your pills last night.

His eyes widened when he looked at your hands holding the sheet up to cover your body. “You’re married? Fuck, how did I not notice that last night. I—shit.”

“Married? I’m sure as shit not—” Now it was your turn to ogle the giant ring on your left hand. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

The look of disbelief he was giving you sent your mind into hyper drive. “You’re saying that we…”

“Not necessarily. I mean, maybe it’s just a ring, you know? Maybe, shit I don’t know. Maybe it’s fake and we won it from one of those machines where you put a quarter in and twist the knob and you get a toy, you know?” By this point, you weren’t talking to Sebastian anymore. You were muttering to yourself, trying to calm the fuck down. And, for the record, when you tapped the diamond you knew it definitely wasn’t plastic. There was still the hope it was fake. Glass or something…

“And even if we did have a ceremony, that doesn’t mean it’s legal, right? Like, there have to be documents filed with the state and shit. I feel like I would have remembered that. But if we did file those, we’re in Vegas! The town that probably processes more annulments than any other city. It can’t be that hard. We’ll sign some papers at the courthouse and bam! No more marriage, no legal financial obligations when I die. I mean, this isn’t how I expected to end my weekend, but whatever, it’s an adventure. Something to tell my fri—”

“What do you mean, when you die?” he interrupted, latching onto the one part of your blabbing that you definitely hadn’t meant to say aloud. “You got plans to get in an accident or something?”

You could see the worry in his eyes and it took you a second to process what was beneath his question. “Oh, no. No, I’m not gonna kill myself. Don’t worry about that.”

“So what did you mean?”

How much to tell him? As a stranger, you didn’t owe him anything. But he was your husband, maybe. At the very least, you were both naked in the same bed. And anyway, what could it hurt? Telling him the truth wouldn’t change your prognosis and it might light a fire under his ass to figure out how to cut all ties with you.

“I’m not planning on killing myself, or anything. But my body seems to be doing a great job on its own. I have cancer, can’t afford treatment, and this weekend was my last weekend to cut loose before getting my affairs in order, you know?” Hopefully he would let that all slide. Not question further. “But that’s not your problem. We need to focus on figuring out if we really did get married, and if so how to—”

“Won’t your health insurance cover treatment?”

His well-intentioned question startled a bitter laugh from you. You relaxed back into the pillows, starting to say more than you needed to. “Yeah, sure. It already covered the chemo and radiation I went through. Those didn’t help enough. And I can’t afford to cut my hours back again at work. If I do, corporate will shunt me down to part time and take away my benefits. Ain’t that the American Dream?”

Shaking your head, you determined that it was time to get away from your sob story.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I can, uh, get dressed and poke around a bit to figure out how to see if we really are married. It can’t be that hard. I mean, how many accidental, drunken, Vegas weddings do you think happen here? There’s probably a website somewhere called, like, help-i-woke-up-married-to-a-stranger.com or something.”

That stupid joke rewarded you with a half-smile on Sebastian’s face. “By the way, wife, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. And,” you shrugged, “I already know yours.”

“Yeah?”

“How could I not? You’re in the fucking Marvel Cult.”

“Cult?”

You grinned. “What else would you call it?”

After a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the headboard, sheets pooling around his waist and you tried extra hard to keep your eyes on his face. “Cult’s a good word actually. All the secrecy.”

“Y’all got so many devotees, man. Like, if all of you sent out a tweet that said something about taking over the world, it would be yours.”

“You one?” At your eyebrow raise, he clarified. “A devotee?”

“Ha, no. A fan, sure. I’m far too lazy to get in a cult. While y’all storm the capital, or something, I’d be at home watching YouTube videos of Kelly Clarkson singing while I’m eating chips and salsa.”

“Kelly Clarkson?”

At his question, you got defensive. “She’s a goddess.”

“Kelly Clarkson devotee?”

“I—” you stopped to consider that before tilting your head. “I suppose so. But only because she wouldn’t want to take over the world. She’d tweet something like Everyone come over to drink wine and chat and I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

He grinned and you found yourself wishing this was real. That this really was the morning after your wedding to a handsome man.

But that wasn’t your life.

“Never thought I’d marry a Kelly Clarkson Devotee.”

“Not to, uh, cut this marriage short, but I have to be on a flight tomorrow morning. So we should probably get on with figuring shit out today. Get that annulment if we’re actually married.”

A playful frown toyed with his lips. “You’re divorcing me because I made fun of you for being in the Clarkson Cult?”

“Yes,” you played along. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but I just can’t stay with someone who doesn’t share my absolute love and adoration of KC. If I’d have known this last night, I would have definitely left you at the altar.”

Briefly, you caught sight of a shy smile before he turned his head away. “So, uh, you mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all. I’ll start researching,” you motioned to your laptop that was laying over on the desk.

After he nodded, he started looking around the room. It took you a minute to remember that you were both naked. Though it shocked you that he would be as shy about his nudity as you were, you didn’t point it out. Instead, you pointed to your travel blanket that was draped over a chair within his reach. With a grateful nod, he grabbed it and secured it around his waist as he stood.

As he walked over to the bathroom, you found yourself staring at a wrinkle in the sheets, letting your brain start shutting down just enough to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You glanced up.

“I, uh, I just… Look. With my job I just wanted to ask that you not share anything on, you know... Twitter or anything.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t. No one would believe me even if I did.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “I don’t really know what it’s like to be in the public eye, not like you are, anyway, but I’m sure it’s not all glitz and glam.”

With a nod of thanks, he disappeared into the bathroom.

That brought up a whole new side of worry. If you were married and did need to get the annulment, how would you keep it from getting out? You needed to make sure all of this stayed out of the press. You couldn’t let your reputation tarnish his. Not when you were going to die and leave him to deal with your bullshit.

As soon as the shower started, you darted across the room to quickly pull on some clothes. Once you were no longer naked, you dug out your medication and popped a pill, knowing you’d definitely need it to keep up your strength. Hopefully it would also work some sort of wonder on your hangover headache as well.

Once you swallowed your medicine, you grabbed your laptop, only to have a paper fall to the ground. You bent down to see what it was and stopped cold at the calligraphy written across the top:

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

PART 2: THE FIRST DATE

#sebastianxreader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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mprjanedoe · 4 years ago

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Hi there folks. I really did not intend to make this blog a regular update situation. I intended for the information to be out there for those to read and that really be the end of it. But a number of noteworthy things have happened and I feel they are worth talking about.

Please repost this if you see this.

Nothing in this post is legal advice directed to anyone or from anyone. I am not a lawyer. I know lawyers, I have spoken with lawyers, I am reading what lawyers have to say – but this is not legal advice.

I am here expressing my opinion on this situation and how it has been handled.

At no point in talking about this, in any correspondence on this blog, my twitter, or my Instagram, has my intent been malicious. I am not talking about all of this with the intention of saying any of it to harm Michael, or any members of Steam Powered Giraffe. And I would venture to say that Bunny and David, when they’ve spoken about what Michael’s done, also had no intention of harming Michael by speaking about this. It is a pervasive and toxic myth that the vast majority of people who would ever speak out about abuse have something to gain from doing so. I have absolutely nothing to gain from this. Even in my personal life – non-anonymously, I have nothing to gain from this. I am putting myself at risk of retaliation in various forms. I am doing this because I care about the people Michael harmed, myself included – and they all, we all, deserve the respect and dignity of people knowing what happened in our path to healing and recovery from the lasting harm caused by Michael.

I was informed by multiple people, publicly, and privately/anonymously that Michael has threatened legal action against Steam Powered Giraffe LLC and has used the word “libel” to describe what legal action he may choose to take. This is likely the reason Bunny chose to delete her tweets about Michael. I have been asked to remove the public conversation around this. I am not going to do so. The person who publicly mentioned this to me deserves no negative attention for doing so. The access fans and supporters get to SPG when becoming patrons is merely a paywall.

So let’s talk about Michael’s response, and let’s talk about libel. Libel is the legal term for written defamation of character. The legal definition of defamation is as such: “Generally, defamation is a false and unprivileged statement of fact that is harmful to someone's reputation, and published "with fault," meaning as a result of negligence or malice. Libel is a written defamation.”

Steam Powered Giraffe has mentioned on public posts on Patreon that Michael has “denied everything”. Steam Powered Giraffe has mentioned on public posts on Patreon, verbatim: “The evidence is far from unfounded. It's all damning and there is no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The evidence is overwhelming.” (sic)

I do not know who all has reached out to Steam Powered Giraffe’s members and what they have all come forward with about what Michael has done. I only know what I have experienced, what I have personally witnessed (in person, and online/over the phone), and what I have been told (and shown, in photos, texts, chatlogs, etc) from other victims. I have no reason to believe Steam Powered Giraffe is hyperbolizing, exaggerating, or making anything up about the situation. I also have made no hyperbole or exaggeration. To my knowledge, there is a significant amount of evidence and a significant number of victims to prove that Michael has caused the harm that has been spoken about. There is no indication that Steam Powered Giraffe has posted anything that is not true about him in this situation. That in and of itself, nullifies the idea that there is libel occurring.

In addition to this – as I said earlier, I have nothing to gain from this. I am at risk of more harm in this. Steam Powered Giraffe as an entity also has nothing to gain from this. From what they’ve said, it appears they have not been working with Michael for a while, and while I imagine some sort of legal residual financial situation for royalties will have to remain in place, what I cannot imagine is that Steam Powered Giraffe is paying Michael so much in royalties that they would lie or seek to tarnish his image just to find a way not to pay him. Steam Powered Giraffe is also at risk for talking about him, and it is a financial risk to put their reputation on the line for being associated with him for a number of years to talk about this.

In my opinion, Michael’s threat is at best, an empty one, and at worst, a foolish one. Legal action of any kind is expensive. From what I’ve read, a libel/defamation lawsuit can cost on average $15,000, over a process of at the least $1,000 a month to pursue. Not to mention Michael is not in the US anymore, and we’re in the middle of a pandemic where legal cases are not as easy to just initiate and process. In addition to this, much of what Michael has done, that I can personally state I know there is proof of, was and is illegal. Statutory rape, possession and distribution of illegal drugs, providing alcohol to minors – all of these things were and are illegal. To initiate a process where Steam Powered Giraffe would be in a position to present the burden of proof of what he’s done, would be a significant risk to “open up a can of worms”, so to speak. It would not be in Michael’s best interest financially or personally to pursue legal action against Steam Powered Giraffe LLC or anyone talking about the things he has done.

It is not uncommon for perpetrators of abuse to threaten legal action in an attempt to silence victims and those who would bring their actions to light. In the case of directly attempting to silence victims, there are laws called Anti SLAPP laws. SLAPP stands for “A strategic lawsuit against public participation is a lawsuit intended to censor, intimidate, and silence critics by burdening them with the cost of a legal defense until they abandon their criticism or opposition. In the typical SLAPP, the plaintiff does not normally expect to win the lawsuit. “ These laws and these types of lawsuits typically are talking about domestic violence cases wherein an abusive spouse threatens legal action to try to prevent a victim from seeking help and talking about the abuse they’ve experienced or are experiencing. This does not apply directly here, but it is an indicator that these behaviors from abusive people are not necessarily a rare occurrence.

I have some grievances about how Steam Powered Giraffe – namely David and Bunny, are handling this situation. Is it reasonable for the Bennetts to make sure to cover their brand and their *assets*? Absolutely. But not everything is black and white. I believe that not enough is being done by David and Bunny to appropriately make it known the harm Michael has caused. This is a morality issue, and I know not everyone has the same morals as I do, but I would hope with the things David and Bunny appear to stand for, that they would care more about Michael’s victims than Michael’s threats or the potential at Steam Powered Giraffe being looked at negatively by being associated with Michael. Here’s the thing – Michael’s harm cannot be divorced from his associated with Steam Powered Giraffe, and Steam Powered Giraffe handling this appropriate and respectfully would make people who care about things like this respect and admire SPG more. Currently, it feels as though SPG is more committed to doing the absolute bare minimum and focusing the rest of their attention on protecting themselves from a perceived threat as opposed to caring about the severity of the situation and doing their part to help the victims.

David said, in a tweet on July 3rd: (I have not checked to see if this tweet is still up) “I’d trade everything with Steam Powered. Giraffe if it meant I could go back in time and stop Mike from joining the band in 2009, so he might not hurt anyone”

David said on a tweet on June 30th “I feel sick having hired him for gigs in 2017, knowing this all now” and in another tweet “To know what he was actually doing sickens me”

Bunny has also stated a number of emotional and remorseful things which have mostly since been deleted:

She stated that she “almost couldn’t” love him anymore (in the past) because of “the sheer panic attacks” she got “around him and fans”

She said “I know the band wasn’t harboring an abuser knowingly or anything like that, but it’s hard not to feel like I was. I will be asking myself that for. The rest of my life. I should’ve said something. I should of stood my ground. We had nothing to go off of except an irate fan and a girl who didn’t want to press charges or do anything about it”

Bunny also said – presumably on behalf of SPG as a whole: “We’re talking, we’re listening, and we’re horrified at the accusations against Mike”

She also said “I can’t express my disgust. I can’t express the rage and hurt I have inside of me boiling up” and “I will fucking tear down this band and burn it to the ground if that gets the fucking bile out of my mouth” and “I’m watching this bastion of hope we created be sordid by someone we let in… gave the benefit of doubt to… MULTIPLE TIMES. I don’t know if SPF will ever be the same for me – every guitar lick… every phat beat he wrote. Tainted.”

David said in a tweet “We stand with the victims who have come forward to us privately, publicly, and those that haven’t.”

Bunny said “This is something that will haunt for years. I’m personally energized to spend the remainder of my life contrary to what Mike and people like Mike do. When the world heals and touring begins again, know that if you take advantage of our audience, we will be there with other performers like us to hold you accountable. And our audience. And your audience.”

On July 12th, Bunny said “The best part of this is that Steve and Mike get away scot free. They don’t get their comeuppance. I dunno if “vengeance” is the way to live life, but I know for a fact the next decade is going to be spent finding my own happiness in truth and loyalty.” “Mike has denied it all, even in the fact of damning evidence. We gave him the benefit of doubt too, and we contacted his family. No regrets, no justice in the slightest. And there are still people singing his praises”. She goes on: “Trying to describe my feelings on Steve and Mike’s behavior and how for years I’ve defended them… all the while being lied to is… heartbreaking to say the least. I know things are confusing, but you can’t make this shit up”

On the specifics of Michael’s behavior: “Mike’s stuff is so much worse. I was afraid Mike’s underage grooming habits would be somehow lessened or forgotten in the wake of Steve’s behavior back in the day… which while deplorable, have at least been owned up to.” “Stringing together tweets is the worst way to address all this, but I suppose a video about it or something down the line is called for. Right now I’m far too upset and rattled to reflect on it all. I don’t know how SPG will be salvaged from all this”.

Why am I repeating all of this? I want it to be cleared that David and Bunny expressed remorse, disgust, regret, anger, grief, shame in all of this. I see that. I acknowledge that. And in seeing these statements, I trusted them to handle this in the best way they could manage. But it also needs to be acknowledged that there has been a harmful failure on their part in how they’ve responded beyond these tweets. I am not the expert on how best to handle horrible situations like this, but as both a victim and an ally to other victims and a person who has been a fan of SPG before, I think I know enough to say that not enough has been done, and inaction in and of itself causes harm as well.

I’d also like to address the unfortunate situation that David and Bunny maintain they had no prior knowledge of Michael’s behavior. Here’s the thing: while I 100% believe they did not know all of the details of all of the harm Michael caused, there were definitive patterns and red flags and there needs to be actual accountability around this. Bunny said that the band gave Michael the benefit of doubt multiple times. She also said that Michael was caught and reprimanded for kissing a teenage fan in 2011. If my math is correct, at the time Michael would’ve been 25 and the fan was 17. That’s nearly a decade of difference, despite the fan being almost 18. On top of this, this was a fan and a minor and not only is there a power dynamic at play with age but also setting and influence. Bunny also mentioned Michael had been reprimanded for being “too friendly” around fans as young as 14. As an adult in my 20s, if I had a peer and friend my age who had a pattern of getting friendly with teenagers and minors of any age, that would be a huge red flag. Let ALONE a bandmate, a coworker or sorts – or technically a contractor level employee. I would see anyone like that as a liability I could not take the risk of associating with, and as a likely dangerous man to be around. That was an entire decade ago, and nothing was done beyond a slap of the wrist. On top of this, as someone who was Michael’s friend, I went to multiple Steam Powered Giraffe shows to support him. I also was apart of online fan communities as well. I saw how visible he was with his predatory “friendliness” towards young fans, and I saw fans gossip about his friends and give them a sort of adjacent celebrity status as well. While I was young and being manipulated myself and not in a position to prevent harm – I am saying this to state that I witnessed the public visibility of Michael’s predatory behavior. I take issue with the claim that there were no signs and that no one could’ve prevented this sooner. I’ve seen some fans say that Michael would’ve “always been this way” and found ways to harm other people had he not been in Steam Powered Giraffe. While this could be true, it cannot be denied that being apart of a successful band like Steam Powered Giraffe that gained a cult status online and in the local scene and had a significant YEARS of DAILY exposure in a family setting to minors, cultivating a fandom of a significant amount of younger fans, giving Michael the upper hand of minor celebrity and influence, travel, etc, cannot be divorced from this situation. This is not inherently Bunny or David’s fault. But it is a factor in the breadth of harm Michael was able to do, and it is a factor in knowing there were opportunities for him to have had the resources he gained and used to cause harm pulled from him much sooner than now, when he has already removed himself from the band as it stands.

The past is the past. It cannot be changed. As David and Bunny both lamented that they’d go back and stop things if they could’ve, well yes, to a degree, there were opportunities to prevent further harm, but it’s too late now. Now is the time to make things right, and to prevent the potential for further harm.

Currently – there is absolutely not enough publicly visible and available information on the harm Michael has caused on Steam Powered Giraffe’s social media presence. This is made worse by the fact that consistent promo and every day band stuff creates a wider and wider gap between the leftover posts about Michael’s abuse on Twitter, Facebook, and Patreon. It is now becoming a game of chance whether a fan of Steam Powered Giraffe will know what Michael has done. I have seen numerous posts and tweets from fans asking what happened, saying they are confused and in the dark. It has been less than 3 weeks since Bunny first tweeted about this, and it cannot fade to memory.

It is unfair and grotesque for fans of all ages, including children and parents of children, to unknowingly hold Michael dear in their hearts as an admirable, safe, kindhearted person – without knowing what he has done. It is unfair to not let people decide for themselves whether they still look up to him, whether they still admire him, whether they still support him. Michael’s victims cannot safely have a platform to speak openly about his violence without harming themselves by being exposed to backlash and being triggered by repeated exposure to their traumas out in the open. However, Michael’s victims deserve to have their voices heard, their grievances aired, and deserve to get some slight respite after years of abuse at least knowing that what they suffered is no longer a secret and people are not *unknowingly* offering praise and fame to someone who has done such disgusting and lastingly harmful things.

Bunny expressed that Steve and Michael got off “scot free” and that there was “no justice”. I am not advocating that SPG or myself or any of Michael’s victims be the ones to make any attempt at giving Michael consequences for his actions or enacting justice. However, Bunny and David can do things to make the burden of harm lighter.

Here is what I believe can and should be done, at the least, to do the right thing in this situation:

-SPG needs to make public statement(s) about Michael’s harmful actions on ALL public social media. Not just Patreon and not just the statements that have already been made. These statements should not be deleted.

-Michael’s likeness should be removed from all SPG’s media, within the realm of whatever royalties or residual contractual obligations will allow

-SPG should take a moratorium on normal fandom posts: promotion posts, art prompts, casual band updates on band specific pages. Every promo post, every art prompt, every band announcement will detract further and bury the information if not given the space and respect to allow the information to be seen and processed. The moratorium should at the very least last a week, if not more.

-I and Michael’s victims that I know would appreciate the original statement of harm reposted on Steam Powered Giraffe’s social media. I remind David and Bunny that doing so does not make them legally liable for MY statement, and some fans who have read this statement have also directly encouraged SPG to repost. David and Bunny’s words cannot properly convey the direct harm caused to Michael’s victims. The victims deserve to be heard directly. Using Steam Powered Giraffe’s platform to make this known, the same platform that helped enable Michael to cause harm, is a respectful course of action.

-I also encourage David and Bunny to reflect on their role in allowing Michael to “get away scot free” in this. I have no specifics of personal accountability to ask of them, but I do encourage them to not focus on guilt or shame that cannot be fixed, but to really process this and do what they can to learn and grow from this and not allow the chance of letting harm occur again.

I know this was an extremely long post, and if you stuck through it all, thank you.

I hope that actions are taken in the right direction, and I hope I will have less commentary to offer on the situation in the future so I can focus on healing.

#steam powered giraffe #steam powered giraffe fan #steampunk #spg fan #spg #michael philip reed #mprjanedoe #mpr #merker #michael reed #mike reed #make believe #david michael bennett #david bennett #isabella bunny bennett #bunny bennett #steve negrete

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arcticdementor · 4 years ago

Link

Media Twitter does not hate Substack because it’s pretending to be a platform when it’s a publisher; they don’t hate it because it’s filled with anti-woke white guys; they don’t hate it because of harassment or any such thing. I don’t think they really hate it at all. Substack is a small and ultimately not-very-relevant outpost in a vastly larger industry; they may not like it but it’s not important enough for them to hate it. What do they hate? They hate where their industry is and they hate where they are within their industry. But that’s a big problem that they don’t feel like they can solve. If you feel you can’t get mad at the industry that’s impoverishing you, it’s much easier to get mad at the people who you feel are unjustly succeeding in that industry. Trying to cancel Glenn Greenwald (again) because he criticizes the media harshly? Trying to tarnish Substack’s reputation so that cool, paid-up writer types leave it and the bad types like me get kicked off? That they can maybe do. Confronting their industry’s future with open eyes? Too scary, especially for people who were raised to see success as their birthright and have suddenly found that their degrees and their witheringly dry one-liners do not help them when the rent comes due.

…

Life in the “content” industry already sucks. A small handful of people make bank while the vast majority hustle relentlessly just to hold on to the meager pay they already receive. There are staff writers at big-name publications who produce thousands of words every week and who make less than $40,000 a year for their trouble. There are permanent employees of highly prestigious newspapers and magazines who don’t receive health insurance. Venues close all the time. Mourning another huge round of layoffs is a regular bonding experience for people in the industry. Writers have to constantly job hop just to try and grind out an extra $1,500 a year, making their whole lives permanent job interviews where they can’t risk offending their potential bosses and peers. Many of them dream of selling that book to save themselves financially, not seeming to understand that book advances have fallen 40% in 10 years - median figure now $6,080 - and that the odds of actually making back even that meager advance are slim, meaning most authors are making less than minimum wage from their books when you do the math. They have to tweet constantly for the good of their careers, or so they believe, which amounts to hundreds of hours of unpaid work a year. Their publications increasingly strong arm them into churning out pathetic pop-culture ephemera like listicles about the outfits on Wandavision. They live in fear of being the one to lose out when the next layoffs come and the game of media musical chairs spins up once again. They have to pretend to like ghouls like Ezra Klein and Jonah Peretti and make believe that there’s such a thing as “the Daily Beast reputation for excellence.”

I have always felt bad for them, despite our differences, because of these conditions. And they have a right to be angry. But they don’t have much in the way of self-awareness about where their anger really lies. A newsletter company hosting Bari Weiss is why you can’t pay your student loans? You sure?

They’ll tell you about the terrible conditions in their industry themselves, when they’re feeling honest. So what are they really mad about? That I’m making a really-just-decent guaranteed wage for just one year? Or that this decent wage is the kind of money many of them dream of making despite the fact that, in their minds, they’ve done everything right and played by all the rules? Is their anger really about a half-dozen guys whose writing you have to actively seek out to see? (If you click the button and put in your email address, you’ll get these newsletters. If you don’t, you won’t. So if you’re a media type who hates my writing, consider just… not clicking that button.) Or do they need someplace to put the rage and resentment that grows inside them as they realize, no, it’s not getting better, this is all I get?

It’s true that I have, in a very limited way, achieved the new American dream: getting a little bit of VC cash. I’m sorry. But it’s much much less than one half of what Felix Salmon was making in 2017 and again, it’s only for one year.

You think the writers complaining in that piece I linked to at the top wanted to be here, at this place in their career, after all those years of hustling? You think decades into their media career, the writers who decamped to Substack said to themselves “you know, I’d really like to be in my 40s and having to hope that enough people will pitch in $5 a month so I can pay my mortgage”? No. But the industry didn’t give them what they felt they deserved either. So they displace and project. They can hate Jesse Singal, but Jesse Singal isn’t where this burning anger is coming from. Neither am I. They’re so angry because they bought into a notoriously savage industry at the nadir of its labor conditions and were surprised to find that they’re drifting into middle age without anything resembling financial security. I feel for them as I feel for all people living economically precarious lives, but getting rid of Substack or any of its writers will not do anything to fix their industry or their jobs. They wanted more and they got less and it hurts. This isn’t what they dreamed. That’s what this is really about.

…

My own deal here is not mysterious. It’s just based on a fact that the blue checks on Twitter have never wanted to accept. I got offered money to write here for the same reason I got offered to write for The New York Times and Harper’s and The Washington Post and The LA Times, the same reason I’ve gotten a half-dozen invitations to pitch since I started here a few weeks ago, the same reason a literary agent sought me out and asked me to write a book, the same reason I sold that book for a decent advance: because I pull traffic. Though I am a social outcast from professional opinion writing, I have a better freelance publishing history than many, many of my critics who are paid-up, obedient members of the media social scene. Why? Because the editors who hired me thought I was a great guy? No. Because I pull traffic. I always have. That’s why you’re reading this on Substack right now.

…

A really important lesson to learn, in life, is this: your enemies are more honest about you than your friends ever will be. I’ve been telling the blue checks for over a decade that their industry was existentially fucked, that the all-advertising model was broken, that Google and Facebook would inevitably hoover up all the profit, that there are too many affluent kids fresh out of college just looking for a foothold in New York who’ll work for next to nothing and in doing so driving down the wages of everyone else, that their mockery of early subscription programs like Times Select was creating a disastrous industry expectation that asking your readers directly for money was embarrassing. Trump is gone and the news business is cratering. Michael Tracey didn’t make that happen. None of this anger will heal what’s wrong. If you get all of the people you don’t like fired from Substack tomorrow, what will change? How will your life improve? Greenwald will spend more time with his hottie husband and his beloved kids and his 6,000 dogs in his beautiful home in Rio. Glenn will be fine. How do we do the real work of getting you job security and a decent wage?

…

But how do things get better in that way? Only through real self-criticism (which Twitter makes impossible) and by asking hard questions. Questions like one that has not been credibly confronted a single time in this entire media meltdown: why are so many people subscribing to Substacks? What is the traditional media not providing that they’re seeking elsewhere? Why have half a million people signed up as paying subscribers of various Substack newsletters, if the establishment media is providing the diversity of viewpoints that is an absolute market requirement in a country with a vast diversity of opinions? You can try to make an adult determination about that question, to better understand what media is missing, or you can read this and write some shitty joke tweet while your industry burns to the ground around you. It’s your call.

Substack might fold tomorrow, but someone would else sell independent media; there’s a market. Substack might kick me and the rest of the unclean off of their platforms tomorrow, but other critics of social justice politics would pop up here; there’s a market. Establishment media’s takeover by this strange brand of academic identity politics might grow even more powerful, if that’s even possible, but dissenters will find a place to sell alternative opinion; there’s a market. What there might not be much of a market for anymore is, well, you - college educated, urban, upwardly striving if not economically improving, woke, ironic, and selling that wokeness and that irony as your only product. Because you flooded the market. Everyone in your entire industry is selling the exact same thing, tired sarcastic jokes and bleating righteousness about injustices they don’t suffer under themselves, and it’s not good in basic economic terms if you’re selling the same thing as everyone else. You add that on to structural problems within your business model and your utter subservience to a Silicon Valley that increasingly hates you, well…. I get why you’re mad. And I get that you don’t like me. But I’m not what you’re mad about. Not really.

In the span of a decade or so, essentially all professional media not explicitly branded as conservative has been taken over by a school of politics that emerged from humanities departments at elite universities and began colonizing the college educated through social media. Those politics are obscure, they are confusing, they are socially and culturally extreme, they are expressed in a bizarre vocabulary, they are deeply alienating to many, and they are very unpopular by any definition. The vast majority of the country is not woke, including the vast majority of women and people of color. How could it possibly be healthy for the entire media industry to be captured by any single niche political movement, let alone one that nobody likes? Why does no one in media seem willing to have an honest, uncomfortable conversation about the near-total takeover of their industry by a fringe ideology?

And the bizarre assumption of almost everyone in media seems to have been that they could adopt this brand of extreme niche politics, in mass, as an industry, and treat those politics as a crusade that trumps every other journalistic value, with no professional or economic consequences. They seem to have thought that Americans were just going to swallow it; they seem to have thought they could paint most of the country as vicious bigots and that their audiences would just come along for the ride. They haven’t. In fact Republicans are making great hay of the collapse of the media into pure unapologetic advocacy journalism. Some people are turning to alternative media to find options that are neither reactionary ideologues or self-righteous woke yelling. Can you blame them? Substack didn’t create this dynamic, and neither did I. The exact same media people who are so angry about Substack did, when they abandoned any pretense to serving the entire country and decided that their only job was to advance a political cause that most ordinary people, of any gender or race, find alienating and wrong. So maybe try and look at where your problems actually come from. They’re not going away.

Now steel yourselves, media people, take a shot of something strong, look yourself in the eye in the mirror, summon you most honest self, and tell me: am I wrong?

#freddie deboer #substack #journalism

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five-miles-over · 4 years ago

Text

‘Aftermath’ Part 7: Wait for It

Summary: Disdain of the emperor is now rising again in the streets of Rome. Meanwhile, Commodus’s first day of the games brings back triggering memories and dark thoughts.

Warning: Violence, angst

Word Count: 2,631

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

“That’s the problem with young men like you. No restraint upon your tongues…or on your swords for that matter.”

Senator Julius smirked at his colleague Senator Gaius’s remark. Gaius had never been one to appreciate a jest with a vulgar double-meaning, but still did it to seem like a man in public.

General Petronius shook his head. “He’s going to do it - he’s made plans to announce it at the games and no one seems to be doing anything about it.”

“The Senate has done much to gain the support of the people. Especially after the death of Senator and late Consul Gracchus, may he rest in peace.” Gaius lectured, “We hammered the letter addressed to the Caesar in the public square. With our collective pleas, we begged him to show us mercy and bestow kindness upon the Senate of Rome.”

“Keep making your jests, Senators,” Petronius answered, disgusted with the two elder men. “The people do not understand the value of elocution as well as we do. All they know is…fear and wonder. Wasn’t it your friend Gracchus who said that the heart of Rome lies not in the marble of the Senate, but in the heart of the Colosseum? That is what his Highness takes advantage of. It is how he whisks the common man from under our noses.”

“And the army, too,” Julius chuckled. “What have you to complain about, General? Does Caesar not pay you handsomely enough?” The general was beyond offended by this.

“He pays me well, but in not the way I would desire” He spat, not caring in that moment about the repercussions of his tone. “I am complaining because I do not wish to tarnish the legacy that the great Caesar Marcus Aurelius has brought to Rome.”

“And the General who became a slave…who rose from his ashes into a gladiator who could defy an emperor, Maximus Decimus Meridus,” Petronius added with a theatric flair. “The two of them gave their lives for Rome, and now that very Rome is to pay for the life of this man sitting on the throne now!”

“And I suppose you wish to follow in his footsteps,” Gaius sneered. “Or do you wish to survive? Last I recall, you have an unwed sister and two small children at home. I shudder to think what may happen if their breadwinner goes gallivanting behind a metaphysical quest for a Republic.”

Petronius continued to assert himself. “If not us, who will? Our venerated Lady Lucilla was once there to stop him from carrying out such a dastardly action. And now…the duties fall upon us to bring back the Rome that once was.”

Senator Gaius clicked his tongue. “With your way of words, you could have been extremely political. What a pity you had to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

“I prefer to fight my battles in a straightforward manner. A general talks with his weapons more than with his tongue, Senators.”

“Yes, but anyone can be killed with weapons,” Julius retorted. “Only a fool can be killed by his own tongue.”

“I should say so, coming from a man who may soon find himself out of a livelihood very soon and is still making jokes like a street jester.”

Just as the angry young general was about to leave, Gaius grabbed Petronius’s arm. “It does not bode well for a man like you to behave like this in public,” he whispered hotly. “For our own safety, we must remain quiet until we have the power to act. You must trust Fate for the time being, General”

The young man hissed, “I have no faith in the same fate that brought such an emperor back to life from the realm of Tartarus.”

“Meet us tonight in the Forum, and I will guide you to my house. There, we shall set our next move.”

—————————————————————————————————————

The golden sun gleamed upon the city of Rome. In the early hours of morning, it was truly a heavenly sight to behold - it was as if the entire city was bathed in an ethereal light, with the warm glow emanating from every marble structure.

A divine Father…that is what the sun truly is, Emperor Commodus mused to himself, standing from his balcony. For the first day of the reinstated games, he wore a brand new set of dark grey and black armor coupled with golden ornamentation.

It shows light equally upon the buildings as well as upon the grass and the flowers. Regardless of the obstacles it faces, the Sun continues to illuminate the world and shower light, just like a father showering unconditional love upon his children.

And so I shall be like the Sun - brilliant, courageous, and devoted to his children. I shall rise every morning and shower love upon all of my people as the Sun bestows light.

“Uncle?” Lucius called meekly. “Yes, Lucius?”

“Is all of this violence necessary in the name of entertainment?” Commodus was taken aback by the boy’s query. “Lucius, it does not serve you well to question such a tradition. Ever since the reign of Emperor Augustus, gladiatorial games have been held to entertain the masses. They will make you courageous in the face of battle.”

Lowering his tone to a whisper, the emperor knelt down to the boy’s level. “Many Caesars, including those from our ancestor Emperor Claudius have used the games as a way of keeping the people of Rome happy. And these games…these games are being held to honor the legacy of your grandfather. He was a great emperor whom I swore to honor when he named me his successor.”

“I see, Uncle.” Lucius replied, not wishing to ask more about the late Caesar. His mother had told him many things before she was sent away from Rome, including the conspiracy that his uncle, of all people, killed his grandfather through suffocation. Lucius was intelligent enough not to directly ask the emperor about this, but it lingered in the back of his mind. His uncle could kill for the throne, granted his last battle nearly cost the emperor his life, but it would be logical to suspect the emperor was capable of committing another such heinous act.

“Now, finish your breakfast,” Commodus instructed, smoothing the boy’s dusky, golden hair. “Our chariot will take us to the Colosseum at noon, and I expect that you will be prompt.”

Lucius nodded, and Commodus watched as his nephew ran off. He loved the boy dearly, but there was something…strange about the dear prince. Whenever Commodus wanted to approach him, he always flinched like a sparrow being approached by a hawk. In the place of love, there was fear in Lucius’s eyes. It reminded Commodus too much of his own sister. The more he ruminated about it, he could even see Lucilla’s face in Lucius.

He loved the boy dearly, but…the betrayal by his own sister was unforgettable, to say the least. It stung him more than the most sharpest of daggers. Even before his duel with Maximus, he’d already felt as if he’d lost his greatest weapon. In a blind fit of rage, he threatened the life of the very boy whom he hoped to shower with paternal affection. Commodus never failed to regret bringing his nephew into the stakes of politics. Though it was Lucilla who’d committed the mistake of revealing confidential information to Lucius, Commodus took it upon himself to blame for putting Lucius’s life in danger. From the moment he first stood up from his bed, barely recovered from his injuries, Commodus swore to protect his dear nephew - even at the cost of his own life.

And, the emperor promised himself that he would do the same, should the gods bless him with sons and daughters of his own.

———————————————————————————————————-

“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”

With the majestic stride of a lion, Emperor Commodus felt as powerful as the feline king of the jungle when he entered the Colosseum and waved to the citizens. His triumph over Maximus had appeared to have reaped its fruit. The crowd loved him, and even embraced him. He watched as his servants threw loaves of bread into the crowd. Perhaps it was not him who was fighting in the arena this time, but Commodus felt the victory he never had a chance to feel on that fateful day.

The announcer, wearing a blonde wig, ascended the steps to the podium. He declared, “On the first day of the reinstated games, his Highness is pleased to present yet another piece of history. Honoring the great triumphs of the Commander Publius Cornelius Dolabella during the Roman-Gallic wars, the Battle of Lake Vadimo will be re-enacted before you today. But before the emperor can let the battle commence, there is a special announcement he would be delighted to deliver.”

“Thank you, Cassius,” Commodus politely acknowledged the announcer. “People of Rome, it brings me immense pleasure to be in the presence of you all. As your emperor, I consider it my foremost duty above all else to make sure that my citizens are satisfied with my reign.

In the name of satisfying my subjects, it is my executive decision to formally announce the dissolution of the Roman Senate. From tomorrow, the citizens will be encouraged to take their grievances to my palace directly. My doors shall remain open for each and every citizen, and I shall give each and every concern of theirs due attention.

’Tis time for Rome to enter a New Age. One in which power is out of the hands of dry, old men who inadequately represent the people whom they are supposed to give a voice to, and an age in which an empire is ruled by an emperor. I thank you all for your love and support, and it is my ardent wish that you enjoy the games today.”

For a moment, it was as if the gods made time stop for Commodus’s words to echo through the Colosseum. Silence prevailed through the arena before scattered applause morphed into furious claps, mainly from the commoners. Despite the acclamation from the plebeians, it was the artificial smiles of the Senators that instantly attracted the attention of Emperor Commodus. It baffled him how not a single one of them protested their dissolution. And then it came to him - they were already plotting against him. He had been too transparent with his disdain for them, and now they were already planning to take revenge.

This was not his first time fighting this particular battle. When Commodus told the Senate he was using the grain reserves to pay for those very games, they reacted with silence. They reacted with deadly, lethal silence that only paved the way for a grand scheme to depose him. Granted it failed ultimately, but it still cost him everything he knew and cherished.

Not wishing to repeat his mistake, the emperor forced himself to maintain his jovial manner and suppress his resurfacing paranoia. Casting an affectionate glance towards Lucius and the empty throne that used to seat Lucilla, Commodus gestured for the games to begin.

The bloodshed, as always, managed to take Commodus’s mind off of the political trauma he’d endured for too long. Bloodied chariots, fallen hounds, and even spears to the chest elicited laughter and childlike glee from the emperor. Many of the intellectuals would scorn an emperor who took so much pleasure in the games, citing his father’s stoic ideals, but in Commodus’s mind it was his way of honoring the traditions of Rome. Moreover, it was a rare feeling of multifaceted control that Commodus never seemed to feel often. Seated above all in the Imperial Box with the ability to grant life or death with the mere movement of his thumb, it was a powerful sensation indeed.

And to add to his good mood, there were no rude surprises today. Just as history had written, the Romans won the Battle of Lake Vadimo, while the Gallics were brutally defeated.

——————————————————————————————————————-

The moment the large doors closed behind the emperor, the laurel crown announced its place on the floor with a loud clang.

“Wine,” the emperor ordered, immediately being delivered an urn of dark scarlet liquid and a goblet. Commodus poured himself a drink and gulped it down. Closing his eyes, he let out a painful sigh from both the gravity of the day’s events and the alcohol taking its toll. It was for Rome, he told himself. I needed to save Rome from the politicians.

“Commodus, the Senate has its uses.”

Could he be hallucinating again? “L-Lucilla?” He stammered, looking up to her with wide, naive eyes.

“Brother,” Lucilla narrowed her eyes. “We both know father would not have wanted this for Rome.”

“Father is dead, Lucilla,” Commodus dismissed, pouring another serving of wine.

“Come now, Commodus. We both know you feel otherwise.”

“Why should it bother you what I feel? You and Father were the experts at putting up facades, pretending to care for me. I was the one so foolish as to believe your love for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Commodus. There’s always been a Senate.”

“Rome has changed since the days of the Republic, dear sister. An empire needs an emperor, nothing less.”

Lucilla’s nostrils flared at his impudence. “Even Death has been unable to teach you a lesson. All your life, you’ve been stubborn, clinging to those dreams you fabricated as a boy. You turned every one of your friends and allies against you because you refused to accept things.”

Enraged with her, he threw his goblet onto the floor, staining the marble with red droplets. His upper lip quivered while his eyelids struggled to hold back hot tears. “YOU LEFT ME! You left me when I needed you the most and I paid for it with my life!”

“No one left you, Commodus,” she harshly reprimanded him. You sent them away to satisfy your insatiable ego. Soon you’ll be left with no one but your own mind for company. It will do you good to remember me then.”

Growling like a wounded animal, he furiously lunged towards her only to fall from his chair. When his eyes rose from the floor, she disappeared. It was only his mind playing tricks; Lucilla was truly gone.

A young, startled slave rushed in, holding a tray of food. “Sire, is there something you need?”

“No, go away,” the emperor dismissed him, trying to stand up. He had given in to a hallucination, and now he was caught in a rather compromising position by a servant.

“Are you sure, Highness? I heard- “ the servant rambled, only to be cut off suddenly.

“Actually…I’d like you to fight me.” Commodus demanded the slave.

“I-I-I don’t have a weapon, Your Highness.”

“There’s a knife on your platter, near the cheese. Use it.”

“Sire, it is no-”

“That was not a request, slave. Pick up your knife and fight me.”

Obedient to his master, the slave put down his platter and grasped the kitchen knife tightly. Commodus held a naked sword and led the slave into the hall, launching the first attack. For a servant, he was surprisingly good at stalling the emperor, blocking and dodging many of Commodus’s blows. Alas, it was only a matter of fatigue and timing before the servant was unable to maintain his momentum. The emperor backed the servant into a wall, swiftly letting his blade enter the servant’s stomach again…and again…and again.

Tiny droplets of blood from the crumpled corpse blemishing his face, Commodus looked around slowly as he sheathed his dirtied sword. The halls were empty, except for a pair of emotionless blue eyes that had seen too much.

#gladiator 2000 #commodus #commodus fic #emperor commodus #gladiator au #gladiator fic

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