#and are being fed trash and lies. it hurts so bad to me

[edgessunflower]

This is who I am

Pairing: Rey Mysterio x Fem autistic reader

Description: Rey stands by your side after seeing you confront your biological father

Gif credits to @laknxght

You felt many emotions that were held in for the majority of your life surface and memories flood through you when you open your locker room door to see the man who had caused so much suffering and pain in your life. The rage came flooding over you after he walked in saying he was proud of you making a name for yourself which only added fuel to the burning fire as your fists clenched knowing if you were to use physical force you would likely be suspended or lose your job chugging water before staring at him as he locks eyes with you while Rey was in the ring with Edge and Randy Orton in a tag team match against Triple H, Bautista, and Christian not knowing the emotional, trauma filled, and wound opening confrontation taking place backstage between you and the man who left you and pretended you didn't exist until out of the blue he was here and pretended he gave a damn when he didn't care at all seeing through the act he was putting on stopping him as he said he wanted to be in your life "You had a chance to be years ago when I was younger and there was still time for me to not really realize how bad of a person you were and change to be in my life but you fucking threw that chance away like trash and you pretended i wasn't even fucking alive!" you hadn't realized that the match was done and that rey and the boys won walking backstage in disbelief by the big win but stop hearing yells from your locker room. "You saw me when I was twelve years old and lied about knowing me at all because you wanted to get drugs from your friends in the store fucking parking lot!" you follow him in the hall where the boys saw the two of you "You left a woman and two kids alone to fend for themselves and you didn't give a fuck whether we were safe, fed, taken care of, or even alive you only cared about your pills and drugs, you don't know me!" rey feels the emotions pour out of you and his heart breaks at the tears forming in your eyes knowing about all the pain this man had caused you for so long grabbing a seething edge when your father grabs your arm as you turned away but you respond quickly "I'm a top wrestler in the women's roster and the whole fucking universe of WWE history, I've helped people who have autism like me who didn't have the care and support I did growing up, I have friends who've filled my life with joy and they're family, I've met the most wonderful man in my life who has and would never hurt me in anyway especially how you've hurt me for the past 22 years! I'm 25 and I haven't seen you since I was three and all you did was tell mom how much of a burden we all were to you and I've blamed myself for all of it and suffered in pain because I was so afraid of being like you but I've learned that I can take what I have of you in me and make good from it which is what I've done and what I will do for the rest of my life and that includes you never coming back on my life, I've been fine without you I didn't need you then and I don't need you now". "The only change is that I know the truth which you can't change no matter how much you lie and that I actually get to say bye this time, this is who I am and you didn't have no part so goodbye, stranger" you walk away as the tears flowed looking to see the boys before edge and randy personally escort him out while you quietly cried in rey's arms "I'm proud of you I love you mi girasol" the two of you share an emotional tender kiss laying your head on his shoulder when edge and randy come back sharing two warm hugs with them before you and rey watch Eddie's match against Matt Hardy "I love you, thanks for loving me no matter what honey" he wraps his arms around you pulling you in his lap with your hands intertwined and head on his chest smiling when he'd press a kiss to your forehead.

[luxinclover]

to you

It's been years, and I still can't seem to let go. I am in the happiest, healthiest relationship I've ever been in, and still you cloud my mind every single day. You're like a poison I can't get rid of. I do not miss being with you. I do not miss the way you made me feel. I do not miss knowing you willingly chose someone else over me. I do not miss your lies, your promises, or your manipulation.

That's what it is - manipulation. It took me years (and lots of therapy) to finally see through the rose-colored lenses you glued to my face, but I see it clearly now. The lies that "no one will ever understand us" and "our love is different than any other" were precisely that - lies. You kept me in your bubble. When I looked in the mirror my reflection was you. I lost myself. The only thing that mattered was the value you allowed me to have.

And yet, I think of you, everyday. I think of what we had and lost. I think of the multitude of ways you hurt me. I think of the good years, and the bad moments. I think of the last time I saw you, not knowing it would be the last time. I think about how the last words we ever said to each other were "I love you". I think about how guilty I feel, knowing I love John and that he is my future, and yet my mind is on you everyday. I think about the anger I feel that you've taken up every corner of my mind when I'm sure I rarely cross yours.

You broke me. You took me to my lowest point, where I believed death was a better alternative than a life without you. Is that what you wanted? Are you as manipulative as everyone in my life says that you are? This question haunts me. Half of my heart believes the words that you fed me - that we were special. We were made for each other. No one would ever understand the love that we shared. The other half of my heart wants - needs to believe that what they all say about you is true. That you're still manipulating me in my head, all these years later, and that our love was not only not true but a tactic to keep me weak and small, at your mercy and as your property. The first half of my heart screams that that's not true - that you loved me so much that you'd never do that to me. And yet, what happened happened. You reached for me again, I gave myself to you, and you threw me in the trash. Like I was nothing. Like our story was nothing more than gum on the bottom of your shoe.

I keep thinking of the quote, "the person you saw in the end is who they really are". The Kai that I've created in my head is so vastly different than the Kai you showed me. My Kai would have never pulled me out of my stable, happy life and fed me promises that he couldn't keep. My Kai would never willingly hurt me. My Kai knew me more than anyone on this planet, and my Kai was my future.

But that's not reality, is it? My Kai, and the real Kai are two different entities. Reality proved that the real Kai is nothing more than an imposter. Someone that takes, and takes, and takes. Someone that likes to see me small. Someone that operates on selfish desire. Someone that said he'd changed from that first year, only to destroy me again, like an animal lying in wait.

I don't know why you still occupy my mind. I don't know why I can't shake you. All I know is that the way I feel, because of you, is not love. Love would never do this. And that fact is what will keep me with my feet on the ground. I am in love, he loves me, and no one will take that away. I spent a long time thinking that I made the wrong choice, leaving you. The poisonous, looming thoughts of you that fill my head everyday consistently prove that thought wrong. Leaving you, and you leaving me in the end, was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You introduced me to the concept of pain. No one in the world has ever hurt me like you hurt me, time and time again. I may miss the thought of you, but I will never stop thanking God for salvation from your grasp.

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Alya & Nino (commission for miner249er)

Fourth chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission

Chapter Summary: The truth is harsh. Teens are harsher.

Previous Work

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Truth.

As an aspiring journalist it was something Alya strived for. It was the most important thing she could give the people who followed her so diligently. She thought she had been giving them that. She had been so good about giving them the truth, her truth, and Ladybug’s truth in the past, she foolheartedly believed she was continuing to do so despite taking shortcuts later on in the road. Why didn’t she fact check herself? Why did she throw that very thing in Marinette’s face? What kind of reporter was she? What kind of friend was she? The answers were all around her and yet she still wasn’t ready to face them head on. There was still that voice in her head that was telling her that this was all Lila Rossi’s fault. 

But is it? Alya thought as her and Nino ate together at her house, the TV on in the background. At first it had been on the news but Alya was done with the news for a long while, all it had been was coverage of The Protector and Nino had immediately taken the remote and changed it to cartoons. This was hitting him hard, harder than Alya had expected if she was being honest. When they found out Ladybug and Chat Noir had, in fact, not defeated The Protector and instead the akuma, that Marinette had gone missing, it hit the class hard. Hard because they learned the truth about Lila in that time and that had been rough to work through. Then they had to come to the realization that they believed Lila over Marinette, the sweet, kind, selfless girl that had all at one point been friends with. 

Then the lies got to them. It poisoned them. That’s what Alya had written on her blog anyways. They were victims of a silver-tongue and they had paid the price, one they had not been prepared to pay for. Their friend was missing, had been missing and they couldn’t do anything. Alya had been searching through as many local papers and news around the world for any clues if Marinette had possibly gone to those places. Everything was coming up empty. She had even made a separate website along with Max all about Marinette and what had happened, she left ways to reach her and her classmates in case anyone had any info. Nino said they should have added Tom and Sabine’s information as well but Alya was too scared to ask them if they would be okay with it, last time they had all been at the bakery the tension had been palpable. 

They weren’t banned like Nathaniel had worried they would be but every time they went in with their families, because that was the only time they went in there, it was always awkward. Tom and Sabine were much too nice to ban them even if they felt like they deserved it. How did everything go so wrong? Even school wasn’t as fun as it had been. Walking into their classroom was like taking a walk of shame, people from other classes, even teachers just stared at them. Some even glared. Then there were the whispers, Dieu the whispers, they followed them everywhere not just school, but they were the most prominent there. Her, Nino, and their classmates would find notes in their lockers, none were really threatening but they tore at her heart all the same. Things like, ‘You’re the reason she’s gone,’ or, ‘Are you guys proud of yourselves now?’ ‘Were the lies worth it?’ ‘You traded in a gem for fool’s gold.’ ‘What a reporter you turned out to be.’

All the notes hurt. That was the truth. That last one? She had found it in her locker this morning and it burned. Alya had been bullied before, she never liked to think about it, who would? But she was and she had to acknowledge it because she had told herself she would never allow herself to be bullied again, and most importantly, she would never turn into a bully. Wrong. She was wrong, and it wasn’t the first time she had been made aware of this since everything happened. Since everything changed. It was a blessing that Nino and her were still together, he never partook in the “tough love” the class had been giving Marinette before she...before she had been akumatized. Sure he didn’t stop them, and that was bad, but he didn’t go out of his way to not invite her to things until she stopped being “jealous” and started acting like the bigger person. Nino wasn’t the one who ignored her text messages, which now that Alya read them, were pretty telling that her friend had been hurting and she had only made that worse. 

“What are you thinking about babe?”

Alya looked up from her half eaten bowl of soup to see Nino gazing at her in concern. “Marinette.”

“Oh…” He breathed out as he put his spoon down and looked down at the table before placing one of his hands on hers and giving her a small smile. “Everything will be okay Alya. Someone will find her and then she’ll be back home.”

Empty words. Empty words fed to him too much from adults who didn’t have any updates on anything. “You don’t believe that. And even if she did...who's to say she would even want to talk to us!? What’s to say that anything would be better? We would still be seen as the bad guys! We will still all have to eat lunch at our houses or the park just to avoid the stares and the whispers and the tossed trash our way and the “accidentally” spilled drinks!”

Alya had never understood just how much their class had been living in its own little world. Not to say they were completely unattached to the rest of the school, Alix, Nathaniel, Rose, Chloe, and Sabrina were in the art club (the art teacher and the rest of the club had made a mural of Marinette without notifying them or asking for their help. Everyone is encouraged to leave notes about Marinette on the mural. The art room even has a chair decorated in honor of Marinette that no one else can use. That was announced very pointedly Alix later shared.), Rose was in the scrapbooking club (no one asked to use her materials anymore like they used to), and Max was in the gaming club which Marinette had helped him set up (people weren’t showing up lately.) They weren’t kicked out, but they were reminded of Marinette all the time,it was like everyone’s way of punishing them. It had never occurred to any of them how popular Marinette was.

So popular that the whole school seemed to hate them. Even Mlle Mendeleiev seemed to be harsher than normal and that was really saying something, it would seem like she had a soft spot for Marinette. In their class everyone avoided Marinette’s seats in class, Alya had to step up as class representative but the silver lining was that Nino had stepped up to be her deputy. Though another negative was the fact Nino had stopped making his music and taking DJ gigs. At first he hadn’t said anything to her or their friends, Alya found out because of Chris actually, but then her and Adrien confronted him and he broke down. He cried and he didn’t stop for a long time, but when he had calmed enough to talk he pulled out old pictures of him and Marinette, told them stories about how they had grown up together. It had made the pit in Alya’s stomach grow, she had just been thinking about her and how much she blamed herself and how much she missed her best friend, she hadn’t even thought how this was affecting Nino.

“I...I need to believe it Alya. I need to. Because if I don’t I will break apart. Mari...Marinette and I were best friends in l'école primaire. I never thought she would ever not be a part of my life. Then the whole Lila thing happened and I turned into a coward again, like I had with Chloe! No, worse than a coward! I don’t even know what I would call myself but I know I can’t call myself her friend.” His voice rose the more he spoke and near the end it cracked. 

“Nino…”

“No. I know that’s the truth! And I know, I know that things at school have been rough. Hell, they’ve been awful, everyone sees us as these villains in some trashy young teen novel when all we’ve done is make a mistake! Yes. It was a big mistake but it was a mistake nonetheless but we’re...we’re kids dammit. We’re just kids.” Alya felt tears race down her cheeks as she saw her boyfriend break yet again, his cheeks wet with his tears, his voice choked with his guilt. 

“I know. I just...I just want her back. I want everything back. I don’t know how many times we have to apologize to the school, but they’re not even the ones that need to hear the apologies! The one we need to have hear us isn’t here and…” Alya could feel herself breaking but she tried to hold on. Nino needed her to be strong. Her class needed her to be strong. Her family needed her to be strong.

“I can’t take the stares! Or, or hear Rose’s cries that she tries to hide from us. Mylene hasn’t been eating and I know she thinks we don’t notice and Adrien, god Adrien. I’m trying to hold it together because my bro is falling apart at the seams! First Marinette gets...gets fucking akumatized, then his dad and Nathalie get taken to the hospital from some supposedly random attack but it’s pretty obvious it was Mar-the akuma’s doing, his mom freaking pops out of nowhere but of course that can’t just be a good thing because everyone has to talk about how his dad and Nathalie were probably Hawkmoth and Mayura! And I’m over here trying not to think too much about all that because it makes actually too much sense, but then we find out that Marinette was most likely Ladybug! LADYBUG!” He lamented, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying, more like sobbing. It just made Alya cry more.

“I...I wanted the truth for so long, but not like this. Not like this. I...I know this makes me sound like the worst person on the planet but I kind of wish stupid Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth because then I could be akumatized and maybe I could be some kind of time-travelling akuma and we could go back and fix everything and school wouldn’t be hell and the twins wouldn’t act like they had to walk on eggshells around me all the time and my dad wouldn’t look like he’s always so disappointed in me and my mom wouldn’t look at my with only pity in her eyes and Nora would talk to me and Marinette would be back!” Alya sobbed out. At this point her and Nino had moved from their seats to the kitchen floor and were huddled together hugging each other for comfort. 

The two just sat there soaking up whatever comfort they could and dreaded the time that passed. For each minute that passed, was a minute that brought them closer to having to go back to school. Alya didn’t know if she had the strength to go back and deal with everything, she didn’t know if Nino could handle it either, but she knew her mother would be by any minute to give them a lift back to school. If there was a way she could just finish school online, Alya was willing to do it, but her father wouldn’t ever allow it. He had put his foot down, Otis Césaire was mad, then he was disappointed and he thought it only fair that Alya face her peers and continue on at Françoise Dupont. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel fair at all, it felt like punishment. Hadn’t she been punished enough? Even in sleep she wasn’t safe, all she dreamed of was Lila and her making her act like a puppet. She would see puppet her do all these things to Marinette and she would wake up in sweat and tears.

“Okay I’m here, I hope you two are ready to head ba-” Alya looked up to see her mom standing there staring at her and Nino, her mouth agape. “Oh Alya...Nino...How about I call the school and tell them you’re not feeling good? And I’ll call your parents Nino.”

Alya was going to respond, she really was, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out but a choked off cry and nod. Nino nodded as well as he took in a shaky breath. “Th-Thanks, Mme C.”

“Nino, you know I told you to call me Marlena. Now you two go rest in Alya’s room while I make those calls. Then maybe I can get the rest of the day off and-” 

“No manman. Things...things are already bad enough, don’t make it worse by not going back to work. I don’t...I don’t want to be the reason why you get fired.” Alya mumbled as she and Nino got up off the floor.

“Oh...Oh my little one, that won’t happen. And if it did, not because of you. Never. Don’t you think that.” Alya’s mother breathed out as she pulled her daughter into a hug before taking her daughter’s face in her hands and doing her best to wipe her tears. 

“Papa and Nora would! Nora still won’t talk to me and Papa only looks at me like he’s disappointed he ever had me!” Alya cried out before she could stop the words from coming out. Her mind completely forgot that Nino was standing right beside her until she felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze. 

“Your Papa is just being stubborn, but you listen to me, he could never ever be disappointed in having you. You are our daughter. You made a mistake yes, but I know you know you made a mistake and that you are sorry. Your Papa will realize that. He just needs time. And Nora...she just needs time too. I just think she doesn’t know how to handle everything and that she’s mad that she couldn’t protect you sweetie. She’s always been the protective older sister, and this was something she couldn’t protect you from herself. They’ll come around. I’m sure.” 

“If you’re sure manman…”

“I am. Now you kids go relax. I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go to the store for dinner ingredients, I’ll be back soon. I know things are hard my little Melusine but they won’t always be like this.” With a kiss to her forehead and a swift hug to Nino, Alya’s mom left the two teens in the family apartment.

At first they just stood there in silence and sniffles, but Nino made the move to put their plates in the sink and rinse them out while Alya gathered their schoolwork back into their bookbags. Then they  made their way to Alya’s room and kicked off their shoes before sitting on the bed. Nino nudged Alya who looked at him in confusion until she saw him give her a crooked smile and open his arms which she fell easily into. She took off her glasses and placed them on her bedside table while she felt more than saw Nino take off his cap. For a while they just sat there in the quiet of the moment and Alya was content to do just that, to just have a moment of peace, but she slowly pushed away and reached for her remote to turn on the TV and quickly pulled up Netflix. Her mom wanted them to relax so why not fry their brains with some television. 

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” She asked as she settled back against Nino.

“As long as it has nothing to do with school or superheroes...I’m good.” Nino responded with a hollow chuckle. 

“I’m glad we don’t have to go back too…” She murmured, “Should we...tell the others?”

“Probably. But if I’m being honest I don’t really feel like talking to them and them asking how we are and if we’re okay when they know we’re not. I just. I don’t think I could handle that. Not today.” 

“I get it. Sometimes I feel like everyone else even blames me for what happened. Like... Like it was my responsibility to not fall for the lies and to warn them. Like my word would have made a difference! Mari...Marinette’s didn’t so why would mine?” Alya huffed as she scrolled through all the movie and show choices and tried her best not to cry again. 

“If they blame you then they need to blame me too and blame the people in the mirror. We all fell for the lies. Sure you’re the budding reporter, but the blame could just as easily be pushed onto Max who is so smart he created a living AI. But we have no one to be mad at but ourselves and we can only do that for so long.” Nino sighed as he held her closer and kissed her temple. Alya relished in the warmth of it all. 

“When did you get so wise?” Alya teased softly.

“When I decided to rewatch Star Wars. But no seriously. If anyone in class bothers you please tell me because we should be sticking together not at each other’s throats.” Nino stuck out one hand and Alya slid her hand into his.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I will. And you’re right, we do need each other, especially now, especially at that school.”

“Especially at that school, yeah.” He laughed out. “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know how, but, we are and we’re going to do it together.”

Alya smiled wryly before she looked up at Nino and it slipped into a real small smile. “Together.” She agreed softly.

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l'école primaire - elementaryschool

manman - Haitian Creole for Mother

[firelxdykatara]

Let me start by saying I've never watched Legend of Korra. like, the most I've watched was any bending scenes/fights and all the Zuko and Toph clips (admittedly, I didn't watch any of the Katara clips because..well..honestly I didn't want to see her be so meek). But I've always felt kinda...bad for liking Mako since the few posts I did read made it seem like both Korra and Asami were better off without him and I didn't want to accidentally fall into the category of sympathising with a man who didn't treat women right. Even when I watched what few clips he was in -Mako seemed a little serious but not anything bad- I thought it was just because I didn't see enough of him to see why he was so bad for Korra and Asami.

And then I read your post on Mako and how he had to do anything and everything to take care of Bolin and my heart kinda broke. I don't know if this is right, but it kinda feels like Mako is being treated a bit like Katara's being treated. Like, they both fit the sibling-turned-parental-figure roles and some of the fandom seems like they can't accept that both are still teenagers who...well, still act like teenagers. seriously, I'm gonna be mad if I ever see another 'take' about how Katara is bad for acting more teenager than mother 😤. And the parallels between the non-con kisses that their respective Avatars gave them, with both Mako and Katara shouldering the blame (though in Katara's case it's more of a "she's supposed to like it! She's the Avatar's girl uwu") . It just rubs me the wrong way how neither of them get any slack for acting less than amazing when they both spent years carrying their trauma and shielding their siblings from that same hurt.

Sorry if this is bothering you or if it doesn't make sense; I'm just kinda fed up of seeing people side with the Avatar no matter what the situation was, especially when Korra and Aang were actually in the wrong *coughnon-conkisscough*

You're not bothering me at all, don't worry!

Honestly all of this makes a ton of sense, someone who's never seen the show and only has fandom's word to go on could be excused for thinking Mako's a fuckboy who was intentionally leading the girls on rather than a kid who'd been raising his baby brother alone on the streets since he was eight years old and maybe not the best at navigating personal relationships and didn't know how to deal with the fact that he had feelings for two incredible girls at the same time. That shit's hard to deal with even when you have parents and had a happy and comfortable life and are just in high school trying to get through the day, but you throw that in the mix with 'became a parent at eight years old' and 'struggled to get enough to feed his brother, nevermind himself, while they lived on the streets' and then everything that happened during the series, and it's like, cut this kid some slack maybe????

Also the comparisons with the way the fandom treats Katara are also spot on. Obviously in Katara's case there's also an added element of racialized misogyny, because she's a dark-skinned girl and the only dark-skinned girl in the main cast, so that gets added to the fact that she was also the gaang's 'mom friend' and you get fans unironically calling her a 'bitch' for -checks notes- getting reasonably upset after being pushed to her limit and losing her cool--but in Mako's case, he actually fills the same niche in the krew that Katara did in the gaang, and he gets a lot of the same treatment, which I think winds up coming at him from the opposite side of the fence so to speak. Because he's a boy, he automatically gets the blame for anything that goes wrong with the love triangle--up to and including the avatar violating his boundaries and kissing him without his consent--because Korra and especially Asami are precious girls and could do no wrong.

And the thing is that it gets kinda complicated because Korra did also get a lot of racialized misogyny flung at her by the racist&misogynistic dudebros of the fanbase who hated that a brown girl was now the avatar, but that wound up overshadowing the very real and reasonable criticisms that can be made of her character and her behavior. Especially in Book 2, where she gets angry enough at Mako for -checks notes- doing his job and not wanting to jump to conclusions that she TRASHES HIS OFFICE!!!!! IN A FIT OF RAGE!!!!!! (which of course Mako gets blamed for and a lot of fans will frame that as Korra getting 'reasonably upset' which lol no)--and the fact that this occurs in the same season as Bolin getting trapped in an explicitly toxic and abusive relationship with a Water Tribe girl (who happens to be Korra's cousin) that is played for laughs the entire fucking time makes me think that Bryke just have very troubling ideas about how it's ok for women to treat their significant others, particularly if they happen to be men.

(Although let it not be said that they didn't write toxic relationships from the other side, Varrick spends the entire series mistreating Zhu Li and then at the end he decides he's in love with her and they get married [in a very Western ceremony, incidentally], and nothing is ever mentioned of the awful way he treated her for the entire show.)

So yeah like, it really, really bothers me that Katara and Mako share similar niches in their respective teams and both of them get a whole lot of untoward hatred for -checks notes- being teenagers and having feelings and sometimes expressing them. They both deserve so much better from their respective fanbases, and I think the biggest reason Katara has a bigger and more devoted defense squad is because atla is still pretty widely regarded as the best installment of the franchise and a lot of people just don't care to even watch lok. The bulk of the lok fanbase is anti Mako and it's hard to maintain any resilience as a fandom in the face of that lmao.

But I'm always happy to talk about how much I love him and if I can only turn the tide one anon at a time then that's ok.

[ellestra]

Time to burn

I have suspected TVA was evil from the beginning and the way they would punish people for braking the rules they had no way of knowing even existed was proof enough. If something as mundane as being late for work make you pruned it hardly seem fair. But back then it seemed like pruning was just death. It turns our it much more horrifying than that. The TVA just dumps them to trash - out of sight, out of mind - so they can eaten by a monster that sucks out the time of their bones leaving only ruins behind. Everyone they prune and all who are in the range of reset charge just fed to Alioth or cannibals or, I suppose, dying of hunger. They feed people to a monster to get rid of them. That's evil. That whole place is evil.

At least the ones like Ravonna Renslayer who know and still value status quo over the truth. She always knew what happens after pruning. She knew she was sending countless beings into horrific deaths. And even after she learns that Time Keepers are a lie and the whole building a paradise of that garbage heap is bunk she wants to bury the truth. Sure she wants to know what the TVA is really about and who created it but not to rock the organisation. She is in power here and she doesn't want to rock the boat. This system works for her so she wants to stop anyone from disrupting it. After all she's not the Variant being chased to death and that all that matters.

This is a contrast to other TVA agents who learn the truth. Even if she didn't know before Ravonna learnt for Hunter C-20 they were all Variants but she just buried it with her. But Hunter B-15 and Mobius react to the horrifying realisation that they've been lied to and have been used to abused others with wanting to make up for it. That's the difference between the good and evil. Unlike Ravonna they don't hide their crimes - they tries to atone for them. B-15 helps Sylvie and loki fight the Time Keepers and uncover how deep the lie goes. And Mobius tries to save as many of the very people he prosecuted before as he can. And most importantly he apologises. He apologises to Sylvie for his role in helping TVA hunt her.

Because even when you did something bad in error - because you were lied to and indoctrinated - the people you hurt are still hurt. This is the difference to someone like Grant Ward who hid behind excuses and blaming others and someone like Mobius and Loki himself. I've seen so many people just going on about how all Loki did was the fault of his upbringing and Odin and he's just hurt but he is still the one who did it. His childhood can be an explanation of the person he became but it's not a justification. Hurting people (from trying to kill Thor to all the people on Earth) was still on him. And we see in this series that he doesn't try to justify it so don't do it for him. This is the big part of the growth - taking responsibility.

I often complain about lack of accountability in Marvel stories - especially from superheroes themselves - and it was really nice to see the characters taking time to try to make up for their mistakes at least in the TV series.

It's nice that let us see both sides of it in Lokis. They are all burdened with such mistakes and we see how those who learnt nothing from it keep repeating the same mistakes even as that brings them closer to annihilation. Those who learnt from their mistakes get a chance to show their growth. Something TVA tried to take away from them. Another one of that organisation's crimes.

And it looks like each Loki got there in their own way proving that their improvement wasn't all that unlikely as there were many paths leading to it. Kid Loki killed his Thor and I'm pretty sure that was one of Loki pranks going wrong. We see it in our main Loki's face when he hears that. In many ways Loki has always been a lot like Nebula. For all the talk about killing the sibling it was always more about wanting to be noticed and appreciated as equal. The main thing about all those attempts to kill was that they were not supposed to succeed. How can you gloat to them if their dead? They just wanted to win. So I think the reason Kid Loki helps other Lokis is to have a replacement sibling for the one he lost. Someone to hang with and not try to kill. It turns out the killing wasn't really that fun.

I'm not sure what makes Alligator Loki care besides pool and wine but if I had to guess it's him having Kid Loki and willing to kill everyone in the room even looking at him the wrong way.

Even though the Classic Loki is prone to fatalism of their inability to change we can see that he already did. He hangs with the Kid and Alligator without betraying them so he can have the companionship he missed. He saves them when push comes to shove. And in the end he also saves Sylvie and main Loki and the day. He was the hero already. He just didn't believe in himself.

But the part that really made me irrationally upset is that Old Loki never got to reunite with his Thor. He blamed himself for all the bad things that happened and let Thor believe he died. And when he tried to reconnect TVA came. All I could think at that scene was Thor during the Infinity War and Endgame - completely devastated by that loss and never learning he isn't alone. Neither of them even knowing how much the other missed them. It makes me so angry.

This is TVA crime I cannot forgive. As Loki has said it the first episode and as Mobius promised to help with back then burn the whole place. Now Loki has given him that spark and it's time to burn it all down.

[taeslovehandles]

I never meant to target you and I'm sorry you felt that way. You properly tag everything and adhere to the "don't like, don't read" rule. I don't follow you nor you follow, because we simply don't vibe together and that's okay.

But there are posts that are on the more "innocent" side that do represent fat people as a joke and it's like they don't even realize it because it's something so well ingrained in our fatphobic society.

For example, all the characters are having fun except the fat one or referring to someone as "twice his size" (like... If they want to say he's huge, they should just say it, not imply that there's a "right size" for someone to be).

I don't think authors should censor themselves, just acknowledge the role they play in how fat characters are perceived by the community they write for.

-🍓

First of all, since you obviously haven’t blocked me, you could have come to me via direct message. This is not a topic that needs to be brought out into the public eye even more than it already is. I have worked with anons before, I would have been the last person to reveal who you are. You could have made a trash account to message me in dm’s, but since you didn’t, I will reply to you here.

I want to make one thing clear. This will be my last response on the topic. If you do not like me as a member of the community please use the block button and filter me out, because I will stay. I have many friends here, and know that many people enjoy my content. Just because a small handful of people don’t appreciate dark themes in fiction, the contents of which they can easily protect themselves from, won’t make me falter.

Now, I want to debunk this ask because your ‘apology’ actually made me very upset.

I know you don’t mean it when you say you are sorry because you’re backpedaling on what you’ve told your friends and it really rubs me the wrong way. You could have owned up to your mistakes and apologized sincerely like others had but you continue to play victim and excuse your behaviour with tales of your own trauma, projecting your own insecurities onto my blog and thus hating me.

I know for a fact that you despise my blog, especially my writing, because you do not like how “obviously skinny people write about weight gain.”

Honey.

I couldn’t be any further from skinny.

I don’t mind sharing my actual weight, which has actually gotten worse due to COVID. I weigh 490lbs. I am morbidly obese. I have always been morbidly obese. For you to come and be “nitpicky” about a genre you don’t even enjoy? Why are you even reading my fics then?

The way I write about obese people, their struggles with literally everything… that comes from real life experience. I write this to share embarrassing and exhausting daily life tasks I personally struggle with.

A skinny person would never write some of the stuff I do, because they simply don’t know. They don’t know how scary it is to hear the line “we are going to a restaurant.” They don’t know how scary it is to go into that new restaurant, scan the chairs and think “Shit, am I gonna fit? Is the chair gonna creak? Is there enough space for the next table? What if I won’t fit?” A thin person doesn’t have to think this way.

And, let me tell you something else. Yes, I agree. The world is fatphobic.

In one of my recent posts I talked about movies and shows where they make fun of fat people because I hate it. Because it is REAL LIFE. And I am all for the body positivity movement and I do believe that all bodies are beautiful, because they are.

You do not know me personally.

And that leads to my next point. If you personally have issues with the phrase “twice my size”, then that is on you. And guess what? I cannot count how often I’ve heard lines like that my whole life.

“Oh wow two people would fit in one of your pant legs.”

“Wow, you are so fat, I could use your pants as a tent.”

So trust me, I know. I KNOW. But anon, this is the important part for me. Everyone processes trauma differently.

Inked ch3? Or literally any story I have written with a fat character being forced, insulted and talked down to like they’re dumb? That’s what I have been living with my entire life. Most of these stories, some obviously more extreme than how I had experienced them since it’s fiction, have been recordings of trauma I have went through.

My own dad force fed me. Forced me to eat food and gain weight. My first boyfriend was a feeder that manipulated me into gaining more weight and took measurements. Called me pig names and abused me. Hit me, manipulated me into having s** with him and then let all of his fantasies out on me.

I don’t make this shit up. I hate my brain for being so twisted now, that I actually find it hot and arousing. It’s weird. I know, but that’s how it is.

I’ve also never had friends in school. Not even kindergarten. Why? Because my “fat incased body could spread like a virus.” I was being bullied like JK was in Pondus.

I had hot water thrown at me, got glue put on my seats and hair, had my hair ripped out and even got a cigarette burn mark on my arm. Just because I was fat. Just because of how my body was shaped.

I was strangled and locked into a small locker for a night. I was almost killed for running away from my abusive dad from his car and had to listen to things like, “You are going to die when you are 30. No one will ever love you and your body.” That I have trust issues now and am paranoid about everything and everyone.

Those dark stories. I use those dark stories to try to work through my trauma. And yes, it may be absurd to you. It may disgust you, what I write. But sadly, most of it? Most of it really happened to me. To me and other people I’ve talked to as a friend or seen online. Most of what I write will be dark because the human species is made up of terrible creatures.

Fatphobia is an important topic, and I am happy the media has been slowly getting better about it, that people accept us more. But my writing is how I work with my trauma. If I can make fictional characters feel the same things I had to feel, that makes me feel better.

And I’m not hurting anyone with it. So how is it wrong?

I do not support any of this behaviour in real life. I never bullied anyone, I always try to speak up for my friends and tell people if they are being assholes. Because I hate them too and it makes me angry when good people get shit when they do nothing but breathe.

And how @pudgecuddles already said. I don't need you to advocate for body positivity and all that shit when you go out of your way to bully someone that may have experienced the same shit you have. I do not know you or what you went through in your life, but I am sorry. I’m sorry you feel like my stories aren’t okay to write, but this is how I work on my trauma and I need you to respect that.

I’ve said this before. We don’t have to be friends, or even talk to each other.

Just be neutral.

Block me. Filter me out. Pretend I don't exist. But, whatever you do, don’t make posts that call me out while making it obvious you’re talking about me, with the cover that you are advocating against fatphobia. That’s got a name. Cyber-bullying.

Have you hurt me with those posts? Yes you have, but I’ve never wanted bad blood. As you may have noticed, it wasn’t me that made a post. It was my good friend. Because I told her how exhausting it was and she knew about the posts back then.

I have a good idea of who you are.

I remember you.

But I kept my mouth shut. Because this community is my home and the last thing I wanted was for the people who like both of our types of content to feel like they have to choose sides.

In the end, we all rub one out to fat gay boys in a band. No user is better than the rest, and if there are topics you do not enjoy, there is a button for it. No need to drag everyone into it with posts. It’s exhausting and irritating.

Now, I do not accept your apology because you lied to me and I also do not feel like you meant it sincerely knowing what I know now after reading some dm’s. But I also won’t sit here and start shit.

This is my last post about this.

Please block me and enjoy the content you do like.

Nonetheless, I hope you have a nice day and a lovely weekend. Whatever you are experiencing or going through, I hope it gets better. Because even if you hate me personally for creating content you do not support, I’d say that I am a really friendly and nice person.

I do not believe that anyone deserves to be bullied like that and talked down in official posts. It happened before with a friend of mine and you probably remember that I did speak up about it.... But apparently no one learned from it. I really hope this time you do.

Insult me and shit talk me all you want in dm’s, but don’t do it publicly. No one deserves that kind of hate or passive aggressiveness. No one. Since you sound like someone that went through a lot of shit too, you should know better. You should know how it feels to be bullied and what damage it can cause.

I’m already depressed enough and I have bad lows. Let me write my erotica and just enjoy it? That’s all I want? I am a part of this community just like you were. You leaving because you did not like my content, is not my problem. If you cannot block me or ignore it and go so far as to read them and then rant about them negatively, what do you want me to do? I won’t leave the scene just because you don’t like me.

So, you either trash talk me in dm’s from now on so that I do not see it, or you block me. The latter of which would be the more mature thing to do. The more humane thing to do. Because talking behind someone’s back is just as bad.

Again, I don’t know why you felt like it was necessary to send me an ask with lies in it when I got screenshot proof of something else you have said/issues with, so don’t backpedal on me. I know Hun. I know already.

At least stick to what you said and actually apologize or, if you can’t, just block me.

But this ask? This ask just upset me.

Have a nice day.

p.s: The fact that this even needs to be talked about is so absurd and ridiculous to me. The whole thing is a petty party in my eyes that isn't even worth anyone's time? Do people on here really not have any other issues right now or am I in the wrong movie?

[morizoras-cave]

Action (Request)

James McAvoy x teen!co-star!reader

Genre: slight angst, fluff

Request Description: okay cool! i've got a request, then: a teen!co-star!reader x james mcavoy where she gets an injury and tries to play it off as if she's fine and james notices and makes sure she gets proper medical attention and comforts her but scolds her about keeping it a secret if that makes sense. thank you!

Warnings: reader gets physically hurt, language, slight insecurity (ish)

(A/N): okay so, i didnt make a fic yesterday and i feel slightly bad, but its cool hahaha. im going home from vacation tomorrow, so ill have a little bit more time

“You don’t know anything!” you trembled, full of emotion. You braced yourself. You were currently filming the scene that you had rehearsed for weeks. Your character was going to be chased down by James’ character, in an attempt to fix their broken familial relationship. It was intense and difficult to shoot.

“Then tell me!” James was just as full of emotion, frustration and desperation painted on his face . He was bracing himself too, you could tell. You shook your head, just as scripted, and when James stepped towards you, you flinched back. “Tell me.”

That was your cue. You grabbed the windowsill of the open window, smoothly swinging out and landing several meters down. James looked out at you from it, and there was a moment where you stared at each other, before you dashed away, and he scrambled to get down the stairs. 

You were already running down the street, panting. Why did your director have to be so realistic? It would pay off. You hoped. 

The door to the house swung open violently and you saw James’ form exit, already sprinting towards you. Dozens of cameras were catching the entire scene.

James was much taller than you, legs and stamina allowing him to catch up quickly. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, looking around desperately. You quickly found the junkyard you were supposed to enter, constructed solely for the movie. You jumped over a white fence, entering the property of another person, to shortcut to the yard. James was right behind you. 

You continued into the junkyard, where you did several more stunts, jumping up and over things, squeezing in between narrow rows of trash. It was going very well, right up until the point where you had to jump from one heap of trash to another. 

You hesitated, both because it was scripted, but also because it was a terrifyingly large jump. I mean, you’d practiced it a ton, so you’d be able to do it, right?

You looked back and saw James there. He gave you a warning look, and you angled your head in response. Then you turned away and ran, jumping over the massive gap. 

You knew right away you wouldn’t make it. The trash gave away under you, sabotaging your jump. Flying through the air, you tried desperately to grasp the edge, so you wouldn’t fall. You almost did it, grabbing an old boot from the pile, when the boot lodged itself out of its position, breaking off your only hold on the pile.

You fell to the ground with a terrifying scream. The dust rose as you hit the earthy floor. 

The crew immediately stopped and several people came to your aid. James ran up to you, face strewn into concern and horror. He grabbed your shoulder and looked you in the eyes. 

“Y/n! Are you okay? That was quite a fall,” he said. You shook your head dismissively. 

God, that was so embarrassing. You had practiced it for weeks, and still managed to fail and waste all of these peoples time! 

“I’m good, it didn’t hurt that much,” you lied. Oh boy, it hurt. Your shoulder and arms hurt and most terrifyingly, your head hurt. But you had already wasted the crew’s time, you couldn’t postpone this by being whiney. 

“You sure?” James asked, seemingly not convinced. You gave him a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained, as it fought through the needle-like, pulsing pain all over your body. 

The director asked if you could do it again and you agreed. You did the stunt right on the second take, and although it hurt like a bitch trying to do all of it after your fall, it was worth it. 

After the scene was short several times (to your anguish), the day was wrapped up and every started getting out of their costumes and getting ready to go home. 

You and James had gotten into the habit of walking back to the hotel together, and chatting along the way, so you grabbed your things and met him by the entrance. 

“Man, that was a hard scene, don’t you think?” James asked and you just hummed, arm wrapped around your stomach in order to cease the pain. “That was quite a fall you took there.” 

“Yeah..” you mumbled, stopping when something wet touched your face. Your brows furrowed and you touched your upper lip. Search your fingers you saw blood, and realized you were having a nose bleed. “Uh-”

“Alright, that’s it,” James said, turning your attention back to him. He looked fed up and, an emotion that was unfamiliar on his features, scared. “I’m driving you to the hospital.” 

“What? No- no!”

“Yes!” he said and without another word, he picked you up, making you groan in embarrassment. 

“James, this is so unnecessary, it’s just a little nosebleed!” you complained, thrashing in his arms, but quickly stopping once you felt how much that hurt. Instead, you tried to stay as still as possible in a comfortable position.

“It’s not, Y/n. You’ve been squirmin’ in pain all day, I can tell,” he said. You knew he’d figured you out, and while you still didn’t think it was worth a hospital visit, you knew you couldn’t argue with James. 

“All right, all right! I’ll go to the hospital, but only if you put me down!” You reasoned. James stopped, considering it for a moment, before lowering you to where you could stand for yourself. Again, the movement hurt you terribly, but you put on a brave face. 

James hitched you and him a taxi, and headed to the hospital as fast as possible in the constant traffic. You sat uncomfortably, holding your stomach and biting your lip to prevent yourself from groaning. 

“Fuck,” you whispered and gritted your teeth. James looked at you broodingly. 

“You shouldn’t hide stuff like that,” he said. You looked up and met his eyes. A sighed escaped your lips. “I’m very disappointed in you for hiding it. You’re obviously in pain, N/n.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to waste everyone’s time.”

“Right, well, next time just waste their fuckin’ time! You realize you could be seriously hurt, right?” James’ voice only portrayed anger, but you could see on his face, clearly, concern and worry. The cars honked distantly outside the car. You said nothing. 

“I fucking mean it, Y/n. You can’t do this shit. Tell me that next time you’ll just say if you’re hurt,” James grabbed your hand and looked at you seriously, “Tell me.” 

A strange deja vu occurred, as your life somewhat resembled the movie. Then you looked at him and nodded, “All right. I promise.” 

James didn’t let go of your hand on the way to the hospital, squeezing it whenever you trembled in pain. When you did get in, he made an embarrassingly big deal out of it, demanding that you get checked out immediately. 

Relatively quickly (probably out of fear for the insane Scottish man you’d arrived with) you were looked at, and it turns out the fall had been quite serious, You’d fractured your arm and dislocated your shoulder. The doctor said you were lucky you hadn’t gotten any trauma to the head. 

When James was finally allowed in your room, you knew he’d gotten the news, because he had the biggest ‘I told you so’ look on his face. He gave you yet another lecture, but mostly he just hugged you and confessed how worried you’d made him. You apologized profusely, of course, because it was an absolute crime to worry such a sweet person. 

The incident had definitely made James more paranoid for the rest of the shooting, asking you each time you’d done a stunt if you were okay. You found it sweet though, and nice that he cared for you. Which he did, because you were like a sister to him, and it was over his dead body he would let you hide your pain from him.

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @ireadfanficforfun @snarky--starky @garbage-potato @eviemarvel​

[straydawg-writing]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.

- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘𝙠

• hunter x hunter series

⋯✰⋯

Chapter 3—

"Don't they have anything at least a LITTLE flattering? I get they're like hippie-extremists, but not all of us want to look like a sack of potatoes," you complained, swiping through their clothing racks that screamed no-potential-whatsoever.

You'd finally arrived at NGL headquarters, only for them to make the three of you throw out your phones and clothes. It's like they were still living in the 18th century.

"It's only clothes. Just pick whatever," Killua replied while browsing through the selection, though he looked equally as aggravated and bored. He did have at least some style that he wanted to upkeep.

Gon on the other hand didn't seem to care.

"You think they have anything green?" He wondered out loud.

You pulled out a set of white pants with a blue long sleeves top.

"Hey Killua."

"Yeah?"

You shoved the set into his arms, giving him a bright smile.

"Try this on, I think it would match your eyes well."

"Idiot. The Chimera Ants won't be looking at my eyes when we're fighting them." Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked to the side, avoiding eye contact.

He bought the outfit without even trying it on.

Gon pouted. "Wait, what about me?"

You pulled out two more similar sets. One was a pair of green pants and a white tank top, while the other was burgundy pants with a black top. That one was yours.

"We can all match!" You grinned, relieved you finally found something that wouldn't make you all look like homeless children. "Well, sort of." The sets were still different colors, but they retained the same general style.

"Oh, great idea Y/N! I'll go change into it now," Gon beamed, nearly skipping all the way to the changing room with his brand new green pants. It was about time he put on something different for a change, you inwardly joked.

Killua was already walking back from the stalls when Gon ran past him.

"Wow Killua, look at that drip~" You whistled, checking out his new outfit.

"You're so hopeless," he sighed, bonking the top of your head.

You rubbed where he had hit and stuck out your tongue, pretending to be hurt. It was the truth though, he looked really good in the outfit you had picked out. Peeking at him while he wasn't looking, you discovered that the tight-skinned long sleeves accentuated his arms in a way you'd never noticed before, hugging his lean muscles. You were right about the royal-colored shirt bringing out his pretty blue eyes. And the way his pale skin and white hair contrasted them even looked a little heavenly...

God, what were you thinking? If Killua heard you right now he'd hit you over the head another 20 times over. You looked to the floor, hoping he wouldn't see your growing blush.

After all three of you had changed into your new clothes, the hunt for the Chimera Ants began. Kite was on his own horse, while the rest of you fit on the second one due to your small frames. You were holding onto Gon's torso as he took control of the reins.

He was like a natural, his whole body moving in sync with the horse in strong determination. You trusted him, knowing that wouldn't just let you topple over. You weren't really used to horses, as they weren't typically found roaming around the jungle.

Then there was Killua, who was standing stick-straight on the horse like it was nothing.

"How do you even do that?!" You called out over the sound of galloping hooves.

"Huh, Do what? You mean this?" Killua smirked, doing a handstand.

You couldn't believe him. The boy had no fear at all.

"You're crazy," you stated, turning around to face Killua and leisurely leaning your back against Gon.

You had finally mastered balancing on the horse without having to hold onto him— but you had nowhere as near the skill Killua did.

"Maybe I am, but you love it," he teased, still upside-down. Temptingly enough, his white locks of hair were hanging upside-down too.

Slowly, you leaned forward on the palm of your hands, steadily closing in the distance between you two.

"Sure, I do. You got me there," you cooed, catching him off guard.

"Huh.." He sweatdropped, turning bright red. Killua's balance was starting to wobble.

Then, exploiting his moment of weakness, you tugged on his hair knocking him over.

Satisfied, you rested against Gon again. Thankfully the boy didn't seem to mind.

"Show off," You said, sticking your nose in the air.

"Man, that was so unfair!" Killua whined, sitting back down on the horse and dragging his hands down his face.

You crossed your arms, ready to deliver some witty comeback, when you noticed some bees in the distance that looked like they were carrying something. Squinting your eyes, you saw that they were flying in closer.

"Hey guys, look at that," you pointed out. The horses stopped as one of the bees dropped the paper in Kite's hand.

Help!!

Chimera Ant Nest, Rocky Area

Notify Hunter Association!!

An SOS? And it appeared to be written in blood.

You cast a worried glance at Gon, who looked disturbed.

"It's Ponzu..."

Ponzu...? The name wasn't familiar to you at all. That must be somebody Killua and Gon knew from before you had met them.

The bee fluttered defeatedly around you before making its landing on your ring finger. Kite made the decision to leave the horses, with a message for the Hunter Association.

Even though they ran faster on foot, it didn't take much time until you came across an unsettling scene.

Or, what was left of Ponzu.

Blood soaked the ground. Articles of ripped-up clothing scattered the dirt, and there was not even a bone in sight. The putrid smell of iron overwhelmed your nostrils.

It was fresh blood.

If you had arrived even 15 minutes earlier, maybe Gon and Killua's friend would not have so barbarically killed. You felt sick to your stomach.

'This wasn't done by a human'

"This was done by a Chimera Ant," Kite finished your thought.

The look on Gon's face scared you. Most of the time, Gon was a sweet boy on a journey to find his father. But sometimes, you could spot a festering darkness threatening to take over his very being. You knew he would never tolerate his friends getting hurt, but you couldn't help but wonder if Gon was self-sacrificing, or perhaps selfish?

"I hate to consider the possibility, but it's possible that NGL's underground rulers have already been fed to the queen. What will happen if Chimera Ants are born with their genes..?" Kite trailed off, studying one of the bullet casings in the murder scene.

An unprecedented biohazard never seen before in human history, is what that meant. The worst-case scenario had just happened.

⋯✰⋯

That wasn't the last disturbing scene the four of you came across. In front of you now were three decaying horses, each speared through the stomach by its own tree. They resembled grilled chicken and steak kebabs.

The scent was even worse than the last incident. This time, they were rotting. Killua and you both covered your noses, in an attempt to block out the stench.

"It's like a morning sacrifice," Gon stated.

You remembered what that was. Back at home, sometimes birds would impale their prey on sharp objects like branches. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was the circle of life. What kind of monster could do this to not just one, but three 1,000 ton horses?

Your question was answered quicker than you had hoped.

"Trash. Those are mine!" The monster in question growled as he stepped foot out of the dense forest.

He looked like an overgrown bunny, with wings of a bird, thick-ass thighs, and seaweed green hair. And as for the vibe he gave off? You could safely assume he was just a stupid man-child.

"Wow. You're ugly," you deadpanned.

"You wanna say that again little brat?" He snarled, making the first move and charging right after you.

You quickly dodged his attack, but not before he came in contact with your arm. That was gonna leave a bruise.

Kite activated his aura, temporarily distracting the bunny-monster. It seemed to have noticed the change in atmosphere.

No way...was it possible? Had it already learned about the power of nen?

"Y/N, Gon, Killua... You three must deal with him yourselves. We'll be encountering more Chimera Ant soldiers like him. I won't be able to help you during combat, so if you can't defeat him, you will have to leave." Kite stepped back from the fight.

You nodded, Gon and Killua mirroring you. The three of you understood what hung in the fate of this fight.

"We told you before Kite, we're pros, not just kids!"

In sync, you all activated your nen together.

"Did you hear that bunny? I'm about to blow off those weird speedos of yours into the next dimension." You raised your hand in front of you, manipulating the wind to blow him away with every step that you advanced.

Killua was already in the air, prepared to test his thunder-bolt. In a flash of blue, dozens of lightning strikes were being zapped into the ant, immobilizing him. Gon's charged punch was enough to send him flying across the sky.

You saw his tail-puff shrink and sparkle in the distance as he was about to disappear, until something fast and unidentifiable swept him away.

Someone had been watching.

"He let his soldier do the fighting so that he could learn our abilities," Kite explained while walking towards the three of you again.

Gon and Killua looked disappointed. You hadn't even gotten a chance to use much of your powers during that fight. If you had finished it off, would that have been enough to prove yourselves?

"Are you coming?"

You looked up at Kite.

"There's no need to feel down, your attacks weren't that bad. You just need experience now. If you wish to become stronger, this is a perfect opportunity... But if you aren't prepared, you won't be able to endure it. Whether we win or lose, hell lies ahead of us." Kite finished off, looking at each one of you in the eye with a resolute stare.

You knew that. Gon and Killua knew that also.

Even so, all three of you were prepared and eager to do whatever it takes to strengthen yourselves and help Kite save NGL.

⋯✰⋯

Kite looked serene as the light of the small campfire lit up his features. He and Gon had caught some fish for dinner earlier, while Killua and you set up camp. Now, you sat brushing arms with Killua, who was sitting next to Gon, who was huddled up close to Kite. The night was quiet, except for the cicadas singing in the trees and the thoughts running through you and your friend's minds.

There was a lot to think about.

Gon and Killua hadn't even been given the time to grieve over the loss of their past acquaintance, before being hit with the hard-hitting truth that the Ants were already evolving at a nightmarish rate. Nobody knew how many had gone missing or even more so been eaten. Yet everyone knew that the death count had already surpassed comprehensible numbers. Most likely, not everybody here would make it out alive.

But, the three of you consistently have proven the odds wrong. You held onto that fact like you held onto your pendant.

It reassured you.

It was obvious that the three of you had become inseparable over the past two years.

After you met Gon and Killua at Heaven's Arena, you'd never left each other's side.

Nobody would be going home without the other, because you had all found home within each other.

"Hey, Kite? What was your dad like?" Gon asked.

Kite looked up at the boy, surprised by the sudden question. Turning his eyes to the starry night sky, he exhaled a breath of cold air.

"I didn't know him. He disappeared when I was a child."

Gon hummed, waiting for Kite to continue. He knew that feeling too. It was an icy and empty feeling, not having a father figure in your life to guide you, praise you.

"I have very few memories of him, but they've all muddled together by now. Sometimes I can't tell if they're real or if I've convinced myself they are."

"....I think Ging would thank you."

This brought Kite's attention back to Gon.

"Thank me for what?"

"Well... You've been like a sort of mentor for me ever since we met, back on Whale Island. If it weren't for you, I would never have even become a hunter. Maybe I'm just a kid, but the past month it felt like I.. like I had a dad."

Your heart ached for Gon, who had been searching this whole time for his father in everyone he met and everything he saw. Gently, you placed your hand over his and squeezed it, wishing you could be of more comfort to him. Wishing you could turn back time and bring Ging back to his home, to Gon.

Kite's eyes softened as he looked at the boy, who offered a wobbly smile.

"Ging would be proud of you," he said, ruffling Gon's spiky hair.

That night, the glimmering moonlight had brought out your most vulnerable selves. You felt a honey-like warmth grow inside of you— a new member had just been added to your family. Killua seemed content, happy that his friend was smiling. And Gon's eyes matched the twinkling stars as he looked up to Kite like he was the most wonderful thing.

It was a special night. You knew deep down that you would treasure it, for a long time to come.

⋯✰⋯

[planetsam]

The impact is jarring.

“Shit, sorry,” the apology comes quickly and from his spot on the ground, Alex tries not to pray for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He wishes he had two left feet instead of the awful truth, “here, let me—“ he drags his eyes from the hand to the face and inhales sharply.

“Guerin?”

He looks different. Older. But the pain in his eyes is chillingly the same. Alex ignores the hand and finds his footing as he makes his way to his feet. It’s not how he saw this reunion going. Then again, nothing is how he saw it. Michael’s hand lingers for a moment before it falls to his side. He tucks it away before Alex can see the scars and while he appreciates the sentiment, they’ve been burned into the back of his eyes since the hammer was brought down. He focuses instead on Michael and forces himself to take in the man he’s become. He’d be lying if he said it hurts but he’s got no right to feel anything about how Michael’s turned out.

“Hi,” Michael says and however Alex was expecting his voice to sound, small is not it. Something shows on his face because he can pinpoint the instant Michael’s walls come down, “what are you doing here?” He asks.

“That’s—“

“Classified?” Michael offers and Alex rolls his eyes at his tone, “didn’t realize the ufo emporium was hosting actual aliens these days.”

“I was going to say none of your business,” Alex cuts in, “I figured you’d be long gone by the time I came back.”

Michael scoffs, looks away and Alex feels his hackles rise. Michael’s looking for a fight, again. Apparently nothing has changed. The scruffy, hollow look is still the same, he’s still finding sleep in the bottom of a bottle. Alex doesn’t know how someone so bright can throw their lives away like that, but hell there’s a lot about him Alex knows he’ll never understand. He’s got better things to do with his time anyway.

“I guess if you ever came back you’d have known,” Michael sneers. It’d be an ugly thing if there wasn’t something so sad about it.

“I never had a reason to come back,” he says instead, “and you’re right. Now the reason’s classified.

“Well I’ll let you get to your super secret alien business,” he says with a fake salute, “oh there’s a metal detector in there now,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks away, “don’t forget your keys, coins and whatever else you’ve got.”

Alex cringes at the thought of struggling out of his prosthetic. Or presenting that stupid card he was given. His mouth goes dry. He doesn’t want to answer the questions that will follow. Not today. He decides this trip was stupid, he’s not a teenager trying to get out of the house. He’s an adult who can leave whenever he wants.

Besides, he doesn’t exactly need to seek out memory lane when it’s apparently walking around town.

*

“Nothing ever changes with you, does it?”

Michael’s shoulders stiffen and Alex immediately regrets his question. He could blame it on the liquor but he knows that’s not it. Not after a night of watching Michael slip in and out of dark corners with different people. There’s a growing pain in the back of his skull but he’s pushed past worse. Right now he’s focused on Michael. Michael sets down the glass and glares at him.

“You got something to say?” He challenges and Alex feels his muscles tense.

“I just did,” he shoots back.

“Screw you,” Michael snaps and much to Alex’s shock he turns and walks away.

Maria shoots him a look and shakes her head but Alex is past caring. He follows him. He has orders to be here and he can’t do that if every moment Michael is there making different parts of him hurt. He follows him out into the night, wincing at the sounds of a fist slamming into brick. When he gets there Michael has his arms braced against the brick and his face turned away.

“What’s going on?” Alex questions.

“What the hell do you care?” Michael questions.

“There’s no way you’ve been on this kind of bender for this long,” he says, “you’d be dead.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“That’s not funny,” Alex snaps, “I have to be here,” he says, “I have orders. I have to be here,” Micheal presses his forehead against the brick, “it’s got nothing to do with you. You have—“

“No reason to go on a bender?” Michael fills in.

“Yes,” Alex says.

Michael makes a sound that sends chills down Alex’s spine. It’s a wounded sound, something that makes him think he’s never going to hear a laugh properly again. He had hoped pointing out he didn’t want to be there, that he wasn’t there for him, that it would somehow make things better. But the sound Michael makes makes him want to find a bottle and didn’t until he forgets it. The pain in his head spikes. Before he can help himself a hiss escapes his lips.

Michael’s reaction is instant. He steps out of the darkness and to Alex’s shock, his eyes go from his face to the one thing Alex has tried to keep hidden. Embarrassment sinks into his stomach as a thousand scenarios fly thought his head for how a Michael could have found out. Why he didn’t say anything. Who else could possibly know. Everyone, he reasons with a dry mouth. Everyone must know because it’s not enough that he gets his leg blown off and sent to torture his father with the reminder of how bad a soldier he is. No, he also has to show everyone that he can’t do the simplest thing like walk properly anymore. Michael’s eyes lock on his and Alex feels laid bare, like Michael knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“Alex—“

“I have orders,” he repeats, “this is the only chance I have of serving my country,” Michael cringes, “I have to be here.”

“Yeah I know,” he says in that small voice again.

“No, you don’t,” Alex says, “I have to be here. I have orders.”

“I said I got it!” Michael says loudly, something desperate and defensive in his voice.

Alex doesn’t feel a breeze but there must be one that makes the lid of the trash can slam. It echoes in his rattled brain, sending the coming headache into overdrive. He wants to push past the pain and keep fighting but even he can tell there’s no victory to be had here. Michael seems to know it too. He scrubs his face wipes his hands before hiding them away.

“Just stay away from me,” Michael says, “it’s a small town but you can manage that.”

“The ‘small town’ isn’t the problem,” Alex says.

“Fine,” Michael shoots back, whatever he was about to say is lost to the tight press of his lips. Alex wants to pry his mouth open and snatch them out. Or do something even stupider but all he can do is nod, “see you around,” he says, “or hopefully not.”

Alex watches him walk away and realizes the sight is very, very painful.

**

“How did you know about my leg?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he drops his french fry. He looks annoyed and Alex knows he’s been trying to avoid him. Alex has been trying to avoid Michael in equal measure. It’s not hard on busy days. But proximity to Michael is fucking with his head. He’s turning every stupid moment over so many times it’s giving him literal headaches. He’s trained to push past the pain of things like that. But it’s an annoyance he wants to deal with.

“I googled it,” he says.

“No, you knew exactly where my leg was,” Alex says. Michael presses his lips together and looks away. The pain in his head throbs, “how did you know?”

“I could see the place,” he says, “through your pants. Danger of wearing tight jeans.”

Heat floods Alex’s face even though they both know that’s bullshit. He’s not expecting to see Michael’s face go pink as well, even though the real give away is the usual tell Michael has.

“I can’t tell if it’s worse that you’re lying to yourself or to my face,” Alex says.

“Think about it and get back to me,” Michael replies with a lop sided grin that makes Alex’s stomach do a flip flop he most certainly doesn’t need right now, “can I finish my fries, I gotta get back to work.”

“You have a job?”

“Yeah I have a job,” Michael snaps, though this is different than his usual retorts, “is that hard to believe?”

“A legal job?” Alex repeats.

“Oh my god—yes, Alex, I have a legal job,” Michael says, “Can I get this to go?” He asks loudly and then swivels to face him, “let’s keep avoiding each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex blurts out, still trying to process that Michael who has all the appearance and drinking habits of a small town criminal has a job, “I didn’t—“

“Yeah you did,” Michael cuts in, “I’m a mechanic,” he says and that small voice creeps in, the one Alex hates even as he is impressed at Michaels ability to let a stranger in, even a little bit, “I got my ASE.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex says.

Michael shrugs.

Alex turns from the sun as the pain hits harder. Michael swears under his breath and shifts forward but Alex holds up a hand to stop him. He shifts back though out of the corner of his eye Alex can see he’s ready to spring forward.

“I got it recently, that’s why it didn’t come up,” he says, his voice low and urgent, “that’s all.”

“Come up?”

“Of course you already looked me up, I just passed the exam. I don’t even have the certification yet. But we both know i passed, yeah? But it just didn’t come up, that’s all. If you look again it’ll be there now.”

Alex focuses on his voice and his own breathing as the sharp pain recedes. It’s manageable, it’s a linger ache which seems to be the best he gets these days. He looks over to Michael to say something but Michael is somehow already moving fast towards the door. He doesn’t look back as he goes, just gets the hell out of there as fast as he can. Like seeing Alex in pain is still something he doesn’t know how to deal with.

It’s confusing as hell but the bright light makes him turn away and when he looks back the truck is speeding off and Michael’s already gone.

When he goes back and looks it up, Michael’s name is in the database.

But the test is dated six months ago.

***

The headaches aren’t enough to distract him from the fact that he is being lied to.

And not in the usual way.

Alex has been fed lies his entire life. About being wanted and loved, about fitting in, about how if he accepted himself everyone else would too. It’s been a long time since he believed any of them. But the level that it’s been taken to is almost laughable. Almost. It’s weeks before he’s in the same room as Michael again. The funny thing is that some instinctive part of him still tries to trust Michael. Still clings to the brave, brave boy who would throw everything away to protect him.

“Been to a lot of drive ins lately?” Michael asks when they somehow wind up alone.

“Not unless you count my laptop and a humvee,” Alex says.

Michael snorts which is immediately calming and troubling. Michael’s always gotten his sense of humor but he’s always hated the military that hangs over Alex. The military and authority in general. The fastest way to get Michael to do something is to tell him to do the opposite, everyone knows that. Especially Michael himself. But Michael chuckles and Alex feels himself relaxing despite his best efforts to remain angry and on task.

“What about you?” He asks.

“Not really one for the drive in,” Michael says, drumming his thumbs on the bottle.

“Why’s that?” Alex asks.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael drawls.

The heat on his cheeks is back. He can just picture Michael and a long line of girls. Which feels—he doesn’t want to name the feeling that it inspires. He doesn’t have a right to that anymore. Michael can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants in the back of the truck. Instead Alex glances around until Michael gives him a questioning look.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s safe to sit here,” he says.

Michael laughs in surprise but it’s a real laugh before he clutches his fist to his chest with fake dramatics.

“You know I take good care of my truck.”

Alex shakes his head but doesn’t argue for once because Michael has always taken good care of his truck. It’s why he’s the only person Alex knows who still drives his car from high school and it isn’t a complete death trap. He can also remember a time when he was the only one Michael made out with in his prized truck. Not half of Roswell. The bittersweet feeling lingers but for once the headache isn’t the thing that he’s most focused on. It’s almost nice to be sitting there with him. Even if the others would be back any second.

“So is Roswell as good as you remember?” Michael asks.

“Good? Are we talking about the same Roswell?” Alex asks, “remember when you couldn’t wait to get out of here?”

“Yeah but you did,” Michael points out, but there isn’t a challenge in his words for once, “so how’s it being back?”

Alex shrugs.

He wants to say being back sucks. That he regrets every second he’s spent away dreaming of this place because the reality is worse. He wants to grab Michael’s stupid lapels and demand to know why things are the way they are. Why everyone’s lying to him, why Michael lying to him is so much worse. He wants answers that not even Michael can give him. Like why his leg is gone or his head is hurting or what it’s like to get a full night of sleep. But Michael isn’t the brave boy who protected him and he’s not the type to ask the universe for things it won’t give him.

“I’ve been on worse deployments,” he says.

Michael shuts down.

Alex has computers that would be jealous of the speed which Michael goes silent and closed off. Like magic the rest of them are back and there’s no chance for anything except to sit there in the awkwardness. Alex gets through maybe half the movie before he gives up and slips away as best he can, before anyone can ask if he needs help.

“Nice ride,” Michael says from behind him. Alex glares at his reflection.

“You shouldn’t sneak up behind a solider,” he says.

“Sorry,” Michael says.

Alex glances down and realizes his hand isn’t on his firearm. He doesn’t feel the way that he usually does when people sneak up behind him. It’s another thing that doesn’t make sense in all of this. He turns around but doesn’t move out of the way. He should feel trapped, pinned, afraid. But he doesn’t. The more he thinks on it the more the pain in his head digs in. He’s hand enough of his body betraying him though. He can deal with the pain.

“Why did you follow me?” He asks.

“Came to see if you were okay,” Michael says.

“Why?” Alex asks.

Surprise gives Michael away. Or the lack of it anyway. He’s surprised at how Alex asks so directly but he doesn’t seem like the kind of surprised where there isn’t an answer. Or an answer he doesn’t want to say. He looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin or scream at the top of his lungs. When he reaches for more bullshit, Alex finds his patience snapping at the same time something seems to snap in his head. But he ignores the hot pain, he shoves past it. He’s survived worse than this.

“We used to be—“

“Don’t lie to me,” Alex cuts in, “this isn’t about what we used to be.”

“It always is,” Michael says.

“You’re doing it again,” Alex snaps. Michael blinks and looks confused in a much more honest way, “You keep getting this voice—“ he fights the urge to rub his temples, “this isn’t about what happened ten years ago.”

“You don’t know that,” Michael scoffs and if the wariness in his eyes didn’t give him away, the tongue over his bottom lip and heat in his face do.

“Yes I do,” Alex says, “you’re a miserable liar.”

The comment makes Michael’s jaw drop.

It also makes an explosion go off in his head.

Alex has a high tolerance for pain, it’s a virtue of his upbringing. This isn’t pain. He doesn’t have a word for what this is. It’s like his entire spine is being crushed into itself. His skull is going to break open, it has to. There’s no room for anything else in there. The words keep tumbling over in his head. Miserable Liar. Lying about something that’s just out of reach. He grips Michael’s forearms tighter, he strains to catch at whatever it is that keeps dancing just out of reach. The explosions keep happening, the pain is blinding and so is the heat. It hurts worse than anything but it isn’t the first time.

It isn’t the first time.

He’s been in three explosions, he doesn’t know how he knows that.

He remembers the one that took his leg.

He can’t say how he remembers the one that broke his heart.

And the third—

He reaches for the thought desperately and the answer comes to him a moment before he passes out.

The third took his mind.

****

“Here,” Michael puts the folded up cloth over his eyes, “shhh don’t try to talk,” he says as Alex parts his lips. Michael picks up his finger and puts it on his wrist, “tap once for yes, twice for no,” he says, “you want water?” Alex taps once.

It’s mildly humiliating to have to be helped to drink but the pain tempers the humiliation. Michael helps him lay down again, he sets the water glass to the side. The sound rattles Alex’s brain and Michael grips his hand back, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles until the waves subside.

“What happened to me?” He asks.

Michael seems to know not to tell him not to talk. Alex is touched and offended by the concern in equal measures. Michael doesn’t let go of his hand. Alex doesn’t have it in him to draw circles with his thumb or anything like that but he squeezes Michaels hand. Michael sighs several times like he’s trying to organize his thoughts. Alex opens his mouth to try and help with some kind of basic question but Michael cuts him off.

“You’ve been here for a year,” he says.

“What?!”

Alex shoves himself up before he remembers what a bad idea that is. The cloth goes flying as Michael lunges forward to steady him with one hand behind his neck and the other at his shoulder. There’s also a bin suddenly in his lap that he knows wasn’t there before but it saves him from puking on both of them. A bin magically appearing isn’t more stunning than finding out he’s missing a fucking year of his life. Or that he’s not in Michael’s trailer but some underground space with a chandelier that reeks of Michaels style and is an impossibly far cry from the trailer.

“Why can’t I remember?” He demands. The pain in his head flares and the dots finally connect, “it’s the headaches,” he says in case Michael hasn’t picked up on that. He lifts his head to see Michael’s shoulders sag, “what happened to me?”

“It’s a drug,” Michael says, “they inject it into your spine,” he taps the back of his neck, close to the base of his skull, “it takes away your memories and if you try to get them back,” he motions towards his sorry state.

“Who?” Alex demands. Michael cringes, “my father?”

“Your dad,” he licks his bottom lip, “this guy you were trying to date. Flint—“ he hesitates, “they did Flint first but he helped.”

Alex stares up at him, trying to reconcile the fact that he’s been experimented on, lost a year of his life and apparently was dating someone who helped do this to him. He’s almost grateful when his stomach turns over, though there’s nothing left in there to come out. If Michael hears the dry sob buried in the heaving he lets Alex have at least one shred of dignity and pretends he doesn’t. Alex fights back for control before putting the bucket aside.

“What am I missing?” He says.

“Alex—“ Michael starts, fear in his eyes. It’s fear now, Alex can place it. But it’s not fear of him. Michael’s scared for him. Which would be great if it wasn’t for the fact that he can already feel the throbbing coming back, “I can’t,” Michael says. 
“Yes you can,” Alex replies. Michael hesitates, “I need to know what’s going on,” Alex tells him, “Michael, please, I need to know what they took from me—from us.”

Michael cringes and looks away and Alex realizes he’s stumbled onto something. It makes sense that something would happen if he’s been there a year. He was trying to find a way to get Michael to give him the information he needed to know. Embarrassment curls through him, he deserves worse than hearing he was in two relationships he can’t remember.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Michel says finally.

“Michael,” Alex repeats his name.

“I’m gonna be the one who hurts you. Again,” Alex opens his mouth but Michael shakes his head and seems to come to some kind of decision. He goes for his belt and folds the leather over itself, “it’s been a year,” he says grimly, “you might need this.”

Alex takes the belt and goes to put the leather between his teeth.

“I might hurt you,” he says, “physically.”

Michael shakes his head.

“Trust me, that’s not going to be a problem.”

***

“I never thought I’d miss the days when you just ran away.”

Alex cracks open an eye to see Michael standing there. He’s wearing a black cowboy hat Alex does and doesn’t remember seeing him in. It’s a nice contrast if Max used to be a cop, Alex could remember nothing and he’d still remember the cops around here wear white stetsons. The light only hurts his eyes because he’s wasted and Michael’s positioned himself in the worst way. Which Alex has a feeling isn’t an accident.

“Are you enjoying being on the other side of this?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “you could be the one who runs away this time,” he offers.

“I’m shit at it,” Michael says.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees.

“You’re shit at it too,” Michael adds, stepping out of the stupid light to join him against the wall.

“I guess we’re both just good at burning our lives down,” Alex muses.

“Guess we are,” Michael agrees, “you gonna stand up?”

Alex considers it but between the liquor and the brawl he was just in, he thinks the ground might be better. Michael nods and suddenly Alex isn’t sitting outside the Pony alone. Michael’s explained everything to him but if Alex had any doubt about how Michael feels it’s pretty much gone when he willingly drops onto the ground next to him so Alex doesn’t have to sit in the ruins alone.

“I was a better fighter when I had two legs,” he says.

“You beat him pretty soundly,” Michael points out, “he just got a few lucky shots in.”

It’s true, he’s sitting on the ground but his brother and his ex are probably gonna be eating liquid meals for a bit. Alex can’t say he regrets it.

“I gave them a chance to explain themselves,” he tells Michael, “I didn’t just attack them.”
 “You don’t have to explain,” Michael says quickly.

“I mean I’m not going to—“ he winces at the thought of Michael holding him down with his fucking mind and wonders why it’s important he reassures him, “if you thought I was.”

“Thanks,” Michael says and there’s no humor in his eyes even though Alex is pretty sure he’s just made a hysterical joke, “I’d understand if you did,” Michael adds, “after—“

“That’s not your fault,” he cuts in.

“Come on,” Michael counters, “we both know that’s not true.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex emphasizes, “I don’t blame you for it.”

Michael hangs his head. Alex doesn’t. There’s a lot of messed up shit in the story Michael told him that Alex could and does blame him for. But him losing his memories, the bomb, the things that led to this? Alex can keep the things he does blame him for separate from that.

“You’re not a saint Michael,” he says, “but you’re not a monster,” he looks over at him, “and this,” he motions to his head, “it’s not your fault.”

He knows Michael doesn’t believe him, he also knows it’s impossible to convince him. He can only hope that Michael doesn’t think he has to self-flagellate. Michael sighs and cracks his knuckles. He isn’t hiding his hands anymore. Alex wishes it was that easy to feel like he doesn’t have to hide his leg. Or lack of. It’s strange to have Michael have so much and Alex have nothing. On one hand he’s happy for him. On the other—Alex can put that feeling aside in the place where he puts all his feelings about Michael that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Are you done burning down your life?” Michael asks. Alex shrugs, “Alex?”
 “That wasn’t my life,” he says simply, “I’m done if they are,” he offers.

Michael sighs loudly.

They both know the answer to that.

“You know this whole time I thought all of this was my fault,” Michael says.

“Are you disappointed?” Alex asks and the sarcasm brings a genuine smile to Michael’s face. His nose wrinkles.

“You know I kinda am,” he says.

Alex can’t remember the last time he laughed until his ribs hurt. It isn’t even that funny. Maybe it’s just that laying in the back of an alleyway with Michael laughing in the wreckage of both their lives, there’s something real. Even if that something is just a fucked up connection he can’t fully explain. It’s funny and it’s tragic and the wetness on their cheeks could be from either of those things. Or just from the exhaustion and pain that’s ruled their lives for God knows how long. A year? Ten? Always?

Michael looks over at him and it’s the easiest thing to push himself closer.

It’s Michael who pulls back.

“We can’t,” he says. Alex stares at him but lets him keep going, “I can tell you the fucked up shit I did, but you don’t remember,” he says, “that’s not fair to you,” Michael adds, squeezing his eyes shut, “shit none of this is fair to you.”

“I might never remember,” Alex points out.

“Yeah,” Michael says.

“Did you stop caring?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “could you?”

Michael doesn’t hesitate when he shakes his head. Alex knows he feels more for Michael than he has for anyone. But those feelings haven’t stopped either of them from doing fucked up things to each other. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to do anything more with them. It’d be a lot easier if he thought that was what was happening.

“I haven’t stopped caring for you,” he says.

“You did,” Michael tells him, “not that I blame you. With all the fucked up shit I did.”

Alex nods.

“You did a lot of messed up things,” he says, “but I don’t think I stopped caring for you,” he looks at Michael, “deep down I don’t think you believe that either. I think you want to, but I don’t think you do.”

Michael looks away. Alex hates being the manifestation of Michael’s need to punish himself more than he hates any role he’s been shoehorned into. Including being Jesse Manes’ son. He doesn’t have the words for that. He’s not sure the words for it have been invented. For someone you would rather sit on the ground with than be warm and dry. Or anywhere else. Alex has wanted to fit in places before but he’s never found that sense of acceptance he remembers with Michael.

“Do you think we can get past it?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, “do you want me to go?”

“No.”

**

“You sure this is okay?”

Alex looks up at the sight of Michael standing in his doorway. He nods without any hesitation. Michael is very much of the ‘alternative living’ dwelling but living above a bunker with alien stuff has draw backs. Like some long lost alien relative coming and blowing it up. Alex isn’t sure how he beat Isobel to the offering of Michael coming back with him, but he was pulling into his driveway with Michael’s truck following. Alex is at least grateful the truck survived with only minor dings.

“I’m sorry about your bunker,” he says. Michael nods, “is there anything I can do?”

“Can we look for the piece of my ship?”

Alex nods, grateful for anything to do. He can’t remember and Michael only has a few clues like the bag he shoved it in. So they turn the house upside down, pausing only for snacks and beers. It beats dreaming about Michael losing another home and him being powerless to stop it. Of course the cabin with all its secrets doesn’t make this easy. Why would anything be easy when it comes to them.

“This is like being drunk and hiding something from yourself,” Michael says, half under the bed, “you know?”
 “No,” Alex says honestly, “the stuff I hid I wanted to keep hidden. From my dad, or enemy insurgents.”

“There’s a difference?” Michael asks. Alex snorts and lays back, looking up at the wood beams, “you’re too good at this.”

“Sorry,” he says, “I do it professionally, if that’s any consolation.” 
“Not really.”

Alex tilts his head. He spent years picking out patterns and discrepancies. Code and buildings aren’t terribly different when it comes to the patterns. And he’s always been good when it comes to discrepancies. He rolls over to the painting against the wall.

“Can you get the painting off?”

Michael comes out from under the bed and blows his curls out of his eyes in a gesture that shouldn’t be so adorable. Or so hot. He looks at the painting and frowns. Then it swings out, hinged to the wall. The keypad there is like a cruel joke. He likes to think he knows himself but the missing year taunts him.  He looks at the pad and then at Michael. Michael stares at the pad for a moment and then punches in a code.

“Glad I told you,” Alex says, reaching in and pulling out the bag.

“You didn’t,” Michael says. Alex looks over at him, surprised.

“What was the code?”

“Date of our high school reunion,” Michael says.

Alex isn’t sentimental about a lot of things. Not in any version of himself. Tangible things can get broken too easily to be important. He passes Michael the bag and looks inside the safe. Everything in it is practical. Which he should have expected but finds himself disappointed all the same. He wishes his memories were in there. But the ship piece will have to do. He looks as Michael pulls out the piece of glass, the colors going blue around his handprints.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex says.

Michael nods, turning the piece over in his hands. The light trails across where he touches, changing the colors reflected across his skin. He’s beautiful. Alex is grateful that he was able to hide it, that he was able to give it back. No matter what happened in between that and him losing his memories. It’s a small thing but Alex has long since learned to be grateful for small victories. Especially when the big ones are so far between.

“I’m glad we found it,” he says, breaking through whatever spell has fallen over Michael and the last remaining piece of his home. It’s jarring and he wants to snatch the words back, even as something in the marrow of his bones tells him to stop him. That the longer he stares the more likely it is he’ll go. “What’s the date?”

“The date?” Alex nods and Michael seems to jerk back to life, “oh yeah,” he rattles it off and Alex tucks the numbers away, memorizing them easily.

“I have to figure out a way to remember these,” he says, “in case my dad tries something like this again.”

“You can just ask me,” Michael offers.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He wants to say that he believes their friendship would be strong enough that if it happened that would be true. But the things they don’t say or can’t say have started piling up again already. There’s an ache that hangs over their relationship, their friendship, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“Yeah but just in case,” he says. 
“In case of what?” Michael presses. Alex blows out a breath.

“I don’t know, in case you decide to take a trip somewhere,” he says, “or you meet someone and move away. Or you’re busy,” he shrugs, “you know, just in case.”

He closes the safe and gives Michael a good extra few seconds to collect himself. He hears Michael put the glass piece back in the bag and he still takes his time before turning to face him.

He isn’t expecting Michael to be so close.

“I meet someone new?” Michael repeats.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” Alex points out then shakes his head, “no it already did. We both did.”

“And look where that got us.”

It’s a challenge and Alex desperately wants to fight back. But Michael has been clear—as clear as Michael ever is about his feelings when he isn’t broadcasting them. He has a year of fucked up memories of them that Alex has made his peace with he’ll never get back. It’s like his leg. They’re gone. There’s a time to mourn and then it’s time to move on. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to be with someone who can’t remember moments like the ones he has. He can only blame him for not wanting to move past it with him.

“You said in the alley—“
 “I know what I said,” Michael snaps, “but I didn’t know.”

“Know what? What changed?”

“I didn’t know you had the reunion as the code to your safe.”

Alex rolls his eyes.

“You’re the only one whose surprised at that,” he shoots back, “I told you—“

He gets why Michael put the glass piece down when his back hits the wall and Michael’s lips find his. The world slips away as he melts into the feeling. If he remembers nothing ever again he’ll remember the taste of Michael’s mouth. How he presses up the extra quarter inch like it makes a fucking difference. His hands are on Alex’s cheeks and then at his waist like he can’t figure out where to touch first. The frantic energy crackles between them and Alex has no idea how he didn’t know Michael was an alien. Or maybe Michael being special just eclipsed all of it.

Any awkwardness Alex envisioned for his first time without both his legs is gone. Michael doesn’t cringe at his prosthetic and when the bed moves in a way that’s got nothing to do with what they’re doing, Michael doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed. They lay on his bed after gasping unsteady breaths.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t make up the couch,” Michael says.

Alex might feel love drunk but that doesn’t stop him from smacking Michael with the pillow.

* “I should have known when you said there was a metal detector,” Alex realizes aloud.

Michael cringes and ducks his head, focusing back on the car he’s working on. Because he is actually a very good mechanic and all it takes is a simple sign saying his customers can find him in Alex’s driveway for the operation to move there temporarily. From his spot on the porch Alex can work without the sun in his eyes while Michael buries himself in cars.

“I was just trying to keep you from getting those headaches,” he says.

“The UFO Emporium still runs on floppy disks,” Alex says, still flabbergasted he fell for it, “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“To be fair,” Michael begins, stepping out from under the hood, “I was banking on you still thinking your leg was new and being too embarrassed to risk it.”

“No I know,” Alex says, “but I worked there, I should have known there was no way they would install a metal detector.”

“They might one day,” Michael offers.

“If they do we should move,” Alex says turning back to his screen, “it’ll be a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Or an alien invasion.”

Alex rolls his eyes and looks over at Michael who flashes a grin that makes his cheeks burn. The alien thing is, in some ways, easier to get used to than openly dating. Which seems backwards in his head but it’s not in this situation.

“Speaking of signs of the apocalypse, invasions and unbelievable things,” Michael says, “you know we’ve been dating a month.”

“I know,” Alex says, “that reminds me, I changed the safe combination to today,” he glances up at Michael, “in case I forget.”

Despite them dating for a month and all the other stuff, the gesture does exactly what Alex was hoping it would. Michael goes pink around the ears and blows his curls off his forehead before turning back to the car.

“I’ll remember,” he says.

“I know.”

[cheseyre]

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all. 

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo 

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo 

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS  BEEN SO  LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP.  I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀 

Okay, okay. 

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle. 

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this. 

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man. 

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon. 

There is no in between 

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

Like

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking  destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay. 

Okay. 

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video. 

Like

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader. 

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals 

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww 

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose? 

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020​ you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

[kpopisamood]

Queen’s Clan { 19 }

Summary: y/n is plagued by nightmares. She realizes that the more she runs away, the less frequently they haunt her. However, in running away, she’s also running straight into her ultimate demise. Will she be saved in time by those who would lay down their lives for her, even if they don’t know of each other’s existence?

Monsta X/Reader, Human/Vampire(s), Reverse Harem

Warnings: needles, breeding talk

Word count: 1.8k

Tag list: @noonaduck @lovinggalaxies @elenaramos1 @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @snowythellama @stargazersara @luvthatleader-nim @jooheonbee @vincent-stargogh @perrshian @kurochan3 @imbxckytrash @joonsgotthejuice @mymymywonderland @2ka-tja2 @qween-of-trash @senpai-creampai @shorty-will-notice @atricksterwithwings

***

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You warned, taking a cautionary step back.

“Y/N, we just need one tiny, little—“

You cut Shownu off by throwing a chair. “Nope, you don’t need shit!”

You were embarrassingly surrounded by your Clan. All set on getting some kind of sample from you.

“We just need a couple vials and then it’ll be over. If it wasn’t safe, we wouldn’t let them near you. Honest.” Wonho approached slowly behind you, trying to corner you with Shownu and Jooheon while Minhyuk and Changkyun watched in earnest, laughing whenever you lashed out.

Shownu tried lunging at you before you yelped and chucked another chair at him, narrowly missing his brute strength. He huffed in annoyance when Changkyun fell to the floor laughing.

“You could help, ya know?” Wonho snapped at the two.

“We could, but we’re not touching her with a ten foot pole after the stunt you pulled with her doctor.” Minhyuk politely informed, keeping his stare on your shaking form.

Truthfully, your little tantrum was a bit dramatic and overdone. The doctors wanted a few vials of your blood plus other bodily liquids to test to figure out your fertility and social status. You’d fed your guys before and blood wasn’t an issue. But the long needles and the fact that they wanted to test you for other anomalies while your Clan Mates directly lied to you about the procedures they wanted to undergo were what threw you off. You’d thought it would be a simple physical, and that’s what your Mates had said. But the procedure itself was very invasive. Granted, it was something all new Queens had to do and only had to do once in their lifetimes. But it was necessary for the Elders to know everything there was to know about their Royals. Everything down to the last follicle would be taken into account. Nothing left untouched.

This was why you were a tad angry.

“Should we call Kudrow?” Jooheon asked softly, hiding behind Wonho’s bigger frame.

“You call her, it’s the last call you make.” You warned with a smile.

Shownu ran at you and all but tackled you away from Jooheon, signaling the younger to go and call your Guardian to help. Wonho rushed after and held onto you, sandwiching you between the two walls of muscle they made up.

But you were also getting stronger by the day.

In a frenzy, you scratched Shownu’s forearm, making him hiss out and drop his arms in surprise. Wonho held on tighter and before you knew it, he’d picked you up by your bottom and crashed his lips onto yours. You’d fought against his kiss for a few seconds then sighed in defeat when Shownu stood behind you, keeping you locked into place against Wonho.

You slowly grinded against the latter, giving just as much passion as he was giving. He licked roughly at your bottom lip, demanding access and you wholeheartedly let him in. Your tongues fought in a dance of dominance before he gave up and let you take what you wanted from him. Shownu growled behind you and suddenly, you were being handed off to him. You whimpered at the loss of contact from Wonho but Shownu immediately set to work, showing you exactly why you chose him as your Mate. He lightly nipped at you and would slow the kiss down to tease you while shifting his hands under you to get to your clothed center and you huffed in annoyance whenever he would tease around it, not fully touching you where you wanted.

“The faster you get these samples done, love, the faster we can get back to this,” Wonho whispered in your ear before lightly biting on the lobe.

All at once, you were set down and left in a heated mess. You noted that you weren’t the only one hot and bothered when you looked at your Clan. Changkyun was quirking his eyebrow at you in a sarcastic manner, Minhyuk was smirking at you, Shownu was panting soundlessly, and Wonho’s lips were red from your little make out session.

“She’s here with the nurses!” Jooheon ran in excitedly, Kudrow waltzing in a second later with two females who wore medical masks.

You sighed as you nodded and walked with the two medical professionals who would be doing invasive checkups with you for awhile. You’ve gotten certain physicals done before, but they wanted to check everything; organs, blood type, anything which could be passed off to your...heirs. Plural. Yikes.

Your Clan had wanted to come and give you support but after a heated glare from you, decided it would be best to leave you alone while you underwent the invasive physical.

They needed to talk to Miss Kudrow anyway.

***

“Should we be worried about Hyungwon’s intentions?” Minhyuk asked her.

“After meeting with his Guardian, I don’t think he has any ill intentions for Miss L/N. However, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious at all times. His reputation is still in place and the other Royals will be looking at her to see where her loyalty lies. If she decides to mate with him,” Changkyun growled softly. “she could very well be stepping on loyalty lines and perhaps cause a civil war between some Royals and that’s not including herself. If she doesn’t, she could become a target for Hyungwon. He doesn’t have a big Clan, but he doesn’t need one. There’s a reason why he’s been alive all these years with so little protection.”

Jooheon frowned before voicing his own thoughts. “If we were to meet with him, do you think he’d be willing to compromise?”

All heads snapped to him, all angry or in disbelief at his words. “You’d give in to him?” Wonho demanded.

“No, I said compromise. What if, instead of allowing him to mate with her, we ally with him?” Jooheon proposed.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Miss Kudrow cut off Wonho’s next angry outburst. “But to step down from a mating to an ally is a major downgrade and you’d have to put something else on the table he may want. Do you have anything he’d bargain for?” She asked.

They didn’t. Not that they knew of right now, anyways.

“If she mates with him, could we persuade him to keep our Clan intact?” Minhyuk voiced, wondering just how far his Clan would go for their Queen.

Shownu growled lowly before calming down with deep breaths and focusing his attention on his Queen’s Guardian, also wanting to hear of a possible outcome of an almost impossible circumstance.

“You probably couldn’t,” they all looked down in defeat. “But she could.”

***

“We want to talk about the possibility of you mating with Hyungwon.”

After an hour of testing, the last thing you wanted were your Mates bombarding you. You’d felt like less than cattle, being poked and prodded while nurses nodded to each other and murmured about your physical traits. It was very intimidating and it took everything in you not to cringe when they slid needle after needle under your skin, but you refused to let them know how much it bothered you. Something in you was too proud.

You lazily turned to Minhyuk, the gentler of your Mates. He was quite mischievous with the others, but you noticed he turned a softer side when you were present.

They had sent their best negotiator to talk to you.

“Now you guys want me to mate with him?” You asked, narrowing your eyes slightly.

Minhyuk smiles gently and grabbed your hands, looking deep into your palms. “What do you think about mating?” He asked instead.

Mating. You were aware of what went down during the process but you weren’t sure exactly why it was such a major issue with Royals.

He took your silence as an answer and continued, “A mating is quite different from bonding. We are all bonded to you for life. But mating, is when you choose who to conceive with. It’s the greatest honor for anyone asked.”

“So this is a breeding livestock situation?” You deadpanned.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, a mating is choosing someone you think will have upstanding qualities with your heirs.”

There it is again. Heirs.

“Why is everyone talking like I’m gonna pop out a litter?”

A roar of laughter sounded off somewhere in the house and you realized your other Mates were listening in on this somewhat misogynistic conversation.

“Who you choose to mate with is one person and one person only. That person will be the only one allowed to give you an heir. However, they will not be allowed to rule alongside you. That is strictly a Royals only decree.”

“And you all want me to mate with Hyungwon?”

“We’re open time the possibility of you wanting to end this tension. It may seem fast to you, but would you rather mate him or one of us?” He looked up at you, a suspicious glint in his eye that you couldn’t make out.

“I—don’t want to have this conversation yet. I’ve only just found out I’m not entirely human and now everyone wants to breed me like I’m an animal.” You pulled your hands out of his larger ones and frowned. Was this all you were to your Clan? Someone to make heirs? Someone who had status so long as they made babies?

Loud, thunderous footfalls echoed around you and before you knew it, you felt yourself being lifted up and positioned to sit on a thick lap.

Wonho.

“You don’t have to have this conversation. We were worried about Hyungwon possibly trying to start something so we chose Minhyuk to ask you to do the easier option.”

“Easier for who?” You demanded, trying to pull away again, but he refused to let you go.

“Easier for Hyungwon. However, we do have another option. One that’s likely impossible for him but perhaps easier for you.”

You looked at him then, seeing his solemn face.

“You can try to persuade him to be your ally rather than Mate. He won’t stop pursuing you but you could offer him other ways to hopefully dissuade him.”

Why hadn’t they just offered this before making you feel insignificant.

“The thing is, if you ally with him, you have to give him something he wants. And he’s made it pretty clear he wants you.”

Shit. Double shit.

So how’s everyone in quarantine? Y’all alive? I posted this because I have too much time now so let me know what y’all think and if y’all are okay!

[whitetigerdemoness]

People (like, one person) asked for a continuation of Evillustrator messing up Lila due to being fed up with the class shitting on Marinette and well...here. I’m shipping trash so peep the tags first. As an explanation for the end, it is my full belief Hawkmoth does not need a strong negative emotion to akumatize someone, just a strong emotion. Negative emotions are just easier for him to manipulate. 

Master post of all chapters

The day was not going so well for the Evillustrator. He had been moments away from chucking Lila Rossi, bound and gagged, of off the school roof when Ladybug and Chat Noir had arrived (How had they gotten there so fast anyhow?). After a very brief scuffle he had barely managed to get away in one piece. Hawkmoth had been badgering him non-stop about fleeing instead of fighting, but  Evillustrator had played this game before and lost. He had seen dozens of other Akuma try and ultimately fail against the super duo, all recklessly throwing themselves at the pair.

What he needed was a plan, something the red head had never been good at. He created things. He didn’t think about them. He needed someone to direct him. Someone good with seeing things from all their different angles. Not just anyone would do, it would have to be someone who knew how superheroes operated. Someone like...

“Hey Hawkmoth? Do you think you could send me another Akuma? I need my writer.”

....................................................

Marc wasn’t having a very good day. First he had forgotten his lunch this morning. Then during science lab the akuma alarms had gone off and caused him to drop the glass beaker he had been holding on the floor, shattering it. Which caused his own personal bully to harass him more than usual. Which was a lot seeing as Juste had some weird hyper fixation on him as a target to begin with. Then when he thought he could finally escape to the art room at the end of the day (what? of course classes were not canceled. If class was canceled every time there was an akuma, there would be no class) Nathaniel had been absent. Oh, and it was raining and Marc had forgotten his umbrella. 

So here he was, hood pulled up in a futile attempt to keep dry, walking home alone. He had taken the back exit from the school to avoid the police cars out front, taking a statement from a sobbing girl Marc vaguely recognized as the new girl who sat next to Nathaniel that Nath grumbled about sometimes. Something about her being too talkative. Oh well, none of his business. Maybe if he got home fast enough he could sneak into his room before his older brother saw him and started picking on him. What a great day.

Marc was so wrapped up in his dour thoughts he didn’t notice the person standing in front of him until he walked into them. Instead of landing on his butt as he flinched away to apologize, warm arms wrapped around him holding him in place.

Grinning down at him (how? Marc was taller than Nath so why...?) was the  Evillustrator.

Marc’s day really sucked.

-------------------------------------------------------

“So let me get this straight. You want me to voluntarily be akumatized again so I can come up with a plan for how you can defeat Ladybug and Chatnoir?” 

“So we can defeat them!” Evillustrator said, almost pleading, a black butterfly lazily resting on his hat. The akuma had taken Marc to a currently abandoned warehouse, sweeping the shocked teen into his arms and hopping over rooftops like they were hopscotch squares. Evillustrator had used his powers to dry Marc off and create the most comfortable chair Marc had ever sat in. The akuma had also tried to create some hot chocolate, but had discovered his powers of creation did not extend to edible items. Every time he tried he only got wax and plastic props. Despite currently being a kidnapping victim, Marc was pretty content. He couldn’t remember the last time someone went so far to make him comfortable. There was only the small issue of his friend trying to posses him with a demonic butterfly.

“I don’t really want to defeat them. They protect the city from Hawkmoth. Besides, you basically have the most versatile super power ever. Why do you need me?” Even purple and wearing a ridiculous skin tight outfit (which Marc was NOT complaining about but...) Nathaniel, that is, Evillustrator was almost too adorable for Marc to say no too. Despite the stupid hat, those puppy eyes were lethal. 

“How....” Marc sighed, “How did you even get akumatized in the first place?” He really probably should have been more afraid of the akuma, but lavender or not this was Nath. Marc was 90% certain he would never hurt him. 80%, Marc corrected glancing at the butterfly.

“Lila.”  Evillustrator hissed, faced turning a complete 180 from adorable to menacing. Wow, were his teeth that sharp before? Maybe 80% was too generous, Marc thought though he still didn’t feel threatened. He probably needed to work on his self preservation instinct. 

“That conniving vixen,” Evillustrator spat in a way that Marc was sure had he not been in polite company would have been an entirely different adjective “Since day one she has had the entire class wrapped around her little finger with her outrageous lies. She’s slowly been poisoning them against Marinette, the only one brave enough to stand up to her, and everyone BELIEVES her! Even me at first! I can’t believe I was so stupid...but today was the last straw.” Evillustrator had stood from where he had previously been kneeling at Marc’s feet and was now furiously pacing back and forth. Stalking, more like.

“Lila claimed to have created one of Marinette’s deigns herself, saying that MARINETTE was the one lying for attention and everyone just-just BELIEVED it!” The akuma shouted, throwing up his arms. “You know the worst part? Marinette got there just in time to hear how everyone thought she was a liar. Sweet, kind Marinette. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wish I had been brave enough to do something sooner, but now at least I’m strong enough to do something.” The dark look on Evillustrator’s face said that something might be homicide. 

“How do Ladybug and Chatnoir fit into all this?” Marc questioned. He had heard rumors about Marinette that painted her in a bad light, but had quickly dismissed them as nonsense. He had no idea they had gotten so bad...Marc felt a little guilty for not noticing sooner.

“As I was throwing Lila off the roof-”

“As you were WHAT?”

“-Ladybug and Chatnoir saved her.” Evillustrator plowed on, ignoring the outburst. “Come to think of it, they always save Chole too, and XY’s manager that one time. If they’re such good people why are they always saving the bad guys?” Marc stopped Evillustrator’s furious pacing by grabbing his hands. In the back of his mind, Marc thought he must be having some sort of....mental breakdown, or crisis or something. Who just calmly walks up to an akuma and touches them? Him apparently. Why couldn’t he be this bold when Evillustrator was Nathaniel? There had to be something wrong with him that he felt calmer and more confident around his crush’s evil alter ego than his actual crush.

“Evillustrator,” Not Nathaniel. Akuma were notoriously touchy about their names. Having been akumatized himself once Marc sort of understood. He didn’t remember being Reverser, but he recalled feelings. Impressions. The names were important. “Ladybug and Chatnoir save them because they’re the good guys. They wouldn’t be very heroic if they let someone die just because they didn’t like them. Besides, letting people die won’t solve anything anymore than throwing Lila off the school roof would.”

“You’re right.” Evillustrator murmured. “We should throw her off the Eiffel Tower.”

“No.” Marc scolded. “Please surrender to Ladybug. Then we can go home and-”

“No!” Evillustrator snapped, clutching Marc’s hands a little too tight in alarm. “I can’t do that! I have to get their miraculous!” The akuma looked frantic. The butterfly that had been napping on his hat fluttered away as if startled.

“But why? For Hawkmoth? What ever he promised you, it isn’t worth it.” Marc pleaded. 

“It is! You are!” The akuma spoke fervently, leaning closer to Marc’s face than he liked.

“M-me?” The writer stammered, puzzled.

“Yes.” Evillustrator whispered, voice going soft. “If I get him his treasures, he’ll let me keep my treasure.” Marc’s heart was pounding so fast as he processed the confession he couldn’t tell you exactly when his beating heart became a fluttering butterfly.

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Carved in the Cradle Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They were in the conference room gazing at their usual murder board. Malcolm had kept the roof of Isabella’s stroller covered so she didn’t have to see anything. Based on the fact that she had just been changed, fed and was currently taking a nap, everything seemed to be alright.

“So have we found out anything unusual about Arianna?” Malcolm asked as he studied the board.

He still couldn’t quite understand how a woman like Arianna could have gotten herself put on this particular sequential killer’s radar. The first two victims had been both been very different. One had been a waitress in a beat down diner and the other had been a mechanic in a downtown auto shop. By all accounts, she lived a relatively different life. Being a teacher in uptown and living in an apartment that had cleaning services and all.

However, that was the peculiar thing.

“Other than the fact that she was living in a brand new uptown apartment on a fourth grade teacher’s salary, not much, not even how she got the apartment.” Dani replied, “All the documents say is that the apartment was bought in her name and the buyer bought it with cash.”

“Could it have been from a boyfriend?” JT inquired.

Malcolm shook his head, “She didn’t have one. Barely anything in that apartment other than Isabella’s nursery suggested the personal touch.”

“Bright’s right.” Gil nodded his head, “Judging by ads for the apartment complex, Arianna hasn’t changed much about the decor inside. Save for a few pictures of her parents and Isabella over the fireplace.”

“No way she could have afforded a place like that.” JT said as he flipped through an old ad brochure of the apartment, “Even if we didn’t have the twins, there’s no way me and Tally would be able to afford this place.”

Dani raised her eyebrows, “Are these places really that expensive?”

Malcolm nodded, “Oh yes, I remember Mother tried to bribe me with one of those apartments. Never saw the appeal; it was too... clean cut.”

Dani smirked, “I’m guessing it didn’t work.”

He smirked back, “Do you see me living in that building? Instead I live in an apartment that my mother threatens to turn into a Panera every other day.” He looked back to the board, “You know... she may not have had a boyfriend but if we can figure out who bought her that apartment then we might be able to figure out if there’s a connection between the apartment and the killer.”

“Good call.” JT nodded in agreement, “There has to be connection there but what about the whole corset thing?”

“First we need to find the corset that killed her.”

“Luckily for us, that apartment building gets its trash taken every other Friday so we can go check their dumpster.”

Just then, they heard tiny sobs and hiccups coming from them. Their heads all turned to the stroller as Malcolm walked over and lifted the roof of the stroller slightly as Gil flipped the board to hide the gruesome photos of Arianna.

“Hey...” Malcolm whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Isabella just hiccupped again as she held out her arms to Malcolm. He picked her up out of her seat as her tiny hands grasped the fabric of his suit jacket. However it wasn’t long until Isabella started hitting him and kicking her legs. Her sobs only got louder as tears started streaming down her face again.

“Isabella-” Malcolm was only cut off by her crying and that she started hitting his face. If she wasn’t so tiny, it might have hurt him.

He tried gently shushing the baby and Dani was the first to notice the look of panic that slowly crept onto Malcolm’s face, “Bright-”

“I don’t know what I did wrong!” Malcolm started with worry in his voice, “I-I fed her right a-and she doesn’t need to be changed. She was just taking a nap-”

“Hey.” Dani interjected, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the cries that just kept getting louder, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just the same thing that happened this morning.” She walked over and tried to help him keep Isabella from falling out of his arms, “She’s somewhere she doesn’t really recognize. She’s probably just scared.”

Then it hit him, “Do we have any of Arianna’s personal effects?” Malcolm asked over Isabella’s screaming.

Dani furrowed her brows, “What?”

“A jacket, a shirt, something soft that belonged to her.”

“We have a scarf.” JT said, holding up a light blue scarf with pastel pink flowers embroidered on it.

“That’ll do!” Malcolm exclaimed as he snatched the scarf out of the detective’s hands. He looked down at Isabella as he held the scarf close to her and gently tried to shush her.

She kept crying and Malcolm silently wondered if this had been a dumb idea until he felt Isabella move to reach for the piece of clothing. Her screaming cries began to subside into quiet sobs as she held the scarf close. Her tiny fist gripped the soft garment as she began to whimper and settle down.

That’s when it clicked for Malcolm as he let out a defeated sigh. She just wanted her mother but her mother wasn’t coming back. What’s worse is that there was nothing he or anybody else could do about it. He just let the little girl rest her head on his shoulder as she began to calm down.

“She’s starting to realize that her mom’s not around, isn’t she?” JT asked, seemingly the only one who could bring himself to speak after Isabella’s little scene.

Before Malcolm could respond, he heard a shrill voice coming from outside the conference room. “Malcolm! You have some explaining to do!”

He cringed at the sound of his mother’s voice. He looked down at Isabella who had stuffed part of the scarf along with her own hand in her mouth and was chewing on it, “You don’t think she noticed the crib, do you?” Isabella just used her other arm and patted his head, “Yeah, it was dumb to think she wouldn’t.”

He gave an apologetic look to Gil but the older man just waved his hand, “Go explain things to your mother. The quicker she understands, the quicker we can get back to work.”

Malcolm nodded as he walked out of the boardroom.

JT then turned his head to Dani with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk, “So... you were at Bright’s place this morning?”

“Shut up.”Dani glared.

“I’m just surprised. Bright doesn’t really seem like your type.”JT chuckled, “Didn’t think you even liked his skinny ass.”

Dani turned her head to Gil who seemed a little too amused by this, “Gil, if I killed JT right now, would you still arrest me?”

“I don’t know Powell,” The older man grinned, “He is just asking an innocent question.”

(~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

Malcolm found his mother waiting by a desk, tapping her designer heel on the floor. Her brows were furrowed in annoyance and her arms were crossed across her chest. Malcolm sighed and tried to put on a fake smile, “Mother-”

“Malcolm, you lied to me.”

“Now Mother-”

“You say that you’re not hiding anything from me but when I went to your apartment, there was a crib, baby supplies and stuffed animals which I am certain were not there a few days ago.”

“Mother-”

“I’ve been trying to give you your space but keeping something,” She gestured to Isabella, “Like this from me-”

“Mother! Will you listen?”

Jessica let out an exasperated sigh, “Go ahead.”

Malcolm adjusted the way he was holding Isabella when she started kicking her feet, “I wasn’t lying when I told you Isabella isn’t my daughter.” Jessica opened to mouth to respond but when she saw the scarf Isabella was chewing on and that her little face was a little puffy, the older woman stayed quiet. “There wasn’t any room for Isabella in any nearby foster homes so I was volunteered to take care of her.”

“You didn’t refuse?”

“I was hesitant...” Malcolm smiled when the baby girl started grinning through the floral scarf she was gripping with her tiny hands, “But other than a few minor hiccups, she hasn’t been much trouble.”

Jessica’s face softened. She may have come off a bit harsh but she had been genuinely offended thinking that Malcolm would hide a grandchild from her. She noticed the baby blinking at her with her wide blue eyes for a moment when suddenly, Isabella shot out an arm in Jessica’s direction. The older woman froze for a moment.

Isabella started to whine when she wasn’t able to get closer. Malcolm chuckled as he held out the baby to his mother, “I think Isabella would like to say hi.”

Jessica gingerly took Isabella in her arms, keeping a hand on the baby’s back to keep her upright. Isabella giggled as she lightly patted the older woman’s face with one hand and kept a death grip on Arianna’s scarf with the other.

“Hello...” Jessica cooed as the baby gurgled at her. She noticed the baby’s red face and tear-stained cheeks, “Have you been crying?”

Malcolm nodded, “We’re guessing that she’s becoming aware of her mother not being around.”

“Oh dear...” She continued to gush over the little girl who suddenly found Jessica’s sparkling gold necklace very interesting, “A lady as beautiful as you should not be crying. It’s not worth the headache you get afterwards.”

An idea occurred to Malcolm, “Would you be willing to look after her for the day?”

Jessica raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Gil said as he walked out of the conference room with a slight grin. “I was wondering why it was taking so long.”

Malcolm gave a sheepish grin, “Gil, I-”

“No worries. I could tell that you were explaining our little predicament.” The older man looked to Jessica, “It actually would be a big help if you could watch Isabella for a few hours so we can go out into the field. Talk to some suspects and it’s probably best we don’t have a baby with us.”

Jessica looked down at the baby in her arms and when Isabella looked up at her with her big blue eyes and toothless grin... she just couldn’t find it in herself to hand her back. “Alright...” She adjusted the baby so Isabella was sitting on her hip, “But only if I’m allowed to take this little angel on a shopping spree.”

Malcolm raised his hands in defense as Gil went to get Isabella’s stroller, “As long as she’s fed and changed when she needs it, you can have her until we’re done for the day.”

Gil returned with the stroller, “We need to figure out who bought Arianna that apartment.”

“What apartment?” Jessica asked as she placed Isabella into the stroller.

“That apartment complex you tried to bribe me with a few years ago. Isabella’s mother lived in that building but it’s more than likely someone bought it for her.” Malcolm responded.

“The apartment complex uptown? Every home fully furnished?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah...” Gil furrowed his brows.

“I know exactly who bought the apartments there.”

So... I’m back... *awkwardly waves* Hi guys.

I had writer’s block for the longest time and I’m sorry this chapter is kind of short but this is one of those chapters I kind of had to get through in order to get to the good stuff.

I hope I did the characters justice and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

Please let me know what you thought and even you have any ideas on where the story might be going because I may or may not live off of attention.

I promise it won’t take so long for the next chapter to come out and I hope you guys are still interested in seeing where this story goes <3

[polygamyff]

49. Part 3

It’s a weird feeling to feel like this, I am relieved to have met them, I am happy in a weird way. I feel like Daphne gives me such a calming vibe, such a neutering emotion she gives. To see the emotion all of that family holds for my dad, wow I am actually saying dad. Seeing those pictures really felt heart-warming to me, I now see it. I never looked like Thomas, but I mean who am I to question it when everyone said I looked my like my mom, I never did look like him. I feel good, they are so appreciative. Maybe this was missing in my life too, I wouldn’t blame my mom because I am sure she made the right decision for me at that moment in time. I think I have realised I don’t have any feelings towards Thomas, I couldn’t forgive the man because he treated me like a piece of shit and I don’t think I want him to even see me, I wish my mom will let that go because he deserves nothing from me. He treated me like all those years meant nothing, I can’t do it. He called me a whore for finding a man, I just can’t accept that, and he doesn’t deserve it. He should have loved me no matter what, he looked after me like his own and he should have stuck to that. I just can’t accept it but right now, I am in a good place “you’re quiet in the back” Maurice said “preparing myself for the argument” I said, Maurice laughed. He laughed like anything was funny about what he said about his mother “come on Robyn, it doesn’t need to be like this does it?” I shrugged; he will learn that I am not playing about “what did you do now?” Jay said, Jay knows this nigga does nothing but annoy me “nothing really, just Robyn being a drama queen. You know me? I speak the truth?” watching Maurice patring Jay’ shoulder like he’s right in any of this “I am not involved in any of this, nope!” Jay is clever because he doesn’t want the smoke with me either. Maurice thinks it’s a joke, everything is a joke to him “how is the family Robyn? Let’s all ignore Maurice” Jay turned in the front seat to look at me “nice, very emotional. I want to know so much more about him. It’s weird but I feel like there is a connection there, seeing those baby picture of him, he looks like Reign and me. I just, it was emotional Jay” he cooed out “that is sweet, shit like this is amazing. Bringing families together and stuff, when I got them. They asked who I was, I said I am a family friend. The lady, she is so sweet she said how is Robyn? What is she like?. I goes oh she is nice, she has a big heart. Be nice to her, they were all so cool. I get the feeling they have never recovered from their son dying, they mentioned him in the elevator” even Jay noticed that “like it’s been years and they haven’t, it’s sad” I find it sad because I could have had my real dad.

Walking behind Jay up the steps, who needs a gym when these stairs do it for me “is little mess asleep?” she must be asleep, I can imagine. Moving my head to the side to see “oh she is, you’re back. She fell asleep in her activity jumper, she wouldn’t let me put her to sleep. She just fell asleep now” oh Reign was playing up, that is not shocking “thank you Ally, for taking care of her. She wasn’t too much was she?” seeing Reign in her activity jumper, she looks exhausted “that girl of mine” shaking my head “she didn’t want to drink her milk, so like I left it here” Ally passed it me “and then I put her in there because I needed to go to pee and I didn’t want her to move, when I came back she fell asleep. Then you guys came” Reign hasn’t drank any of the milk “thank you though Ally, she can be a little bossy when she wants, I understand. Sometimes you need to trick her into having milk” let me get her out of this jumper, she is something else this girl. I will wake her to have this milk, or let her wake up crying when she wants it, see what happens with that “did everything go ok?” Ally asked “it did thanks, very well. I was nervous for nothing, and Maurice was no help” picking Reign out “it’s ok baby, it’s mommy” Reign woke up like who the fuck is touching me “that is a lie, I helped” here he is “ssshhh, it’s ok” placing Reign over my shoulder “if you say, I am going upstairs now. Goodnight everyone” I hope Reign wakes up so I can feed her.

Reign flat out just fell asleep again as soon as I laid her on the bed “what happened to Reign’ bedroom?” it’s annoying me, I cannot believe this “oh you really picking out fights today” Maurice said “no, it’s legit, what is happening? I am not picking a fight, why is it so long? Is it a grand opening?” I don’t get it “AI said he needs to fix the electronical circuit in the room, that is it. It’s done then, tomorrow, latest ok? Now can we be friends?” shaking my head “I want you to be truthful with me, do you actually feel that way about your mom? You can’t say those words Maurice, it’s not nice” Maurice does not want to talk about it, but we are right now “ok, so I feel disappointed in my mom and I will never forgive her, it still stands Robyn that she was with my dad for money. If she cared for me, she would honestly got me back. What you told me made it even worse, why didn’t she say that before huh? Tell me that Robyn, why didn’t she threaten him before why? I would have loved to be bought up with my siblings, you know that. It’s just bullshit, shit is too late. Mami bought me up, how you think I felt when my dad told me my mom let me go to be with him, she didn’t need another child after Nalah and then she had Malik, maybe my dad lied but I was a child. My mom didn’t think of me and you told me that? Where was she when I was a baby and I needed a mother, she is a bitch, she is a stupid useless money grabbing bitch and I will never like her. I will just put face with her, I told my dad to not hit her because you don’t hit women, but other then that fuck her. So now you know, I am going to get changed” Maurice stormed off, he needs to stop calling her this. I need to personally know who Joy is, I don’t think a mother would be like that. I don’t see it, he is seeing and feeling what his dad fed him.

I knew Reign would wake up; she wants her milk now. She usually likes holding her own bottle but not this time, she wants me to do it “did you miss mommy?” Reign is just staring at me as she drinks her milk “well I did, put your baby grow on once you fall asleep” looking back up at the TV, catching up with The Kardashian’s, I love trash TV and I am behind on episodes. I am trying to concentrate on this, but my mind is on this issue with Joy and Maurice, I mean for him to say to his dad don’t hit her, he does care. There is some care there, there has to be, but he is hurt, and I understand. The bathroom door opened, looking over at him and I had to double take “really? What if I so happened to let Jay come in? Walking around butt naked for?” I asked frowning at him “I am air drying, I can’t be bothered to dry myself so I am walking around to dry myself” shaking my head looking back at the TV “well don’t come here all wet, Reign is settling down” I don’t want his bare ass all in my face “I thought she was sleeping?” he asked, I don’t appreciate him stood there naked “you’re not sexy at all, stop it and she woke up. She didn’t have her milk that is why. So, are you going to dry yourself so we can talk?” Maurice groaned out walking off “I don’t want to talk Robyn, just let’s think about your family. Not mine” he wants to divert the conversation.

Maurice is finally back but with some boxers on “better, didn’t want to see that tiny sausage” Maurice jumped on the bed “hey! Watch it, Reign is there” my poor daughter got scared, he is so stupid “turn this shit off though, it’s wack” Maurice pointed “no, and also. I feel you have gained weight” Maurice frowned at me “also, this big dick be making you moan so loudly, don’t give me that shit, you can’t sit there and tell me my dick is small” shaking my head while watching The Kardashian’s still “your dick is small” I repeated “Maurice!” I shouted, watching the projector fold away “are you being real? Give me the remote now” holding my hand out “you said I am fat and my dick is small” I couldn’t help but laugh “so, give me” Maurice shook his head “ok fine, let’s talk” I said, Maurice rolled his eyes “about what? You know how I feel” reaching my hand over, placing my hand at the side of Maurice’ face “I feel like you do care, somewhere in your heart you do. You’re hurt and I get it. I have been thinking and Paula can visit, she can’t stay. Deal?” Maurice is not happy with that, I can tell “why the change?” he questioned “because” I dragged out moving my hand “I thought back to Spain, I saw the happiness in your eyes. I see you do love her, I don’t want to ruin that for you, she was nice to me but I can’t accept you saying bitch to your mom” I thought until I do my own research with Joy, I will leave it “I can take that, but are you excited about tomorrow. The meal?” nodding my head “thank you, you supported me. I love you so much” Maurice got up and started to crawl over to me “watch Reign will you” Maurice growled before licking the side of my face “Maurice” I laughed before nearly falling off the bed “I swear, you’re so bad” turning my face to him, he pressed a kiss to my lips “Latin mama, I see you” I chuckled “who would have thought” I said laughing.

Reign is really fighting me on this “Reign! Stop it, let mommy see your teeth coming through!” I spat, Reign screamed out “Pootie!” I have Maurice humping and Reign fighting me, she does not want me to see it “ok, fine. Mommy won’t look, calm down” moving back “why do you have to be like this?” looking behind me “I just saw your tee ride up and I was like I need hump her” playfully hitting his arm “dog” Maurice pointed at my phone, looking to the side table seeing my mom calling “woah!” Maurice flew by me, looking to the bed and seeing Maurice just only caught Reign “oh god, Reign” I totally neglected her there but Reign wasn’t phased by it, she giggled because Maurice caught her, she thought it was a game “it’s ok, mommy is bad” side eyeing Maurice “that bedroom better be done! Hi mommy” AI is here so the room has to be done now “Robbie, I didn’t want to call you yesterday because it was a big day but I have been stressed thinking about you, how was it baby?” bless my mother “well I was waiting for you to pick up but you didn’t call, what can I say mom. You was so right in saying he was a good man, I understand why you cried speaking about him” my mother breathed out “now you know baby, he was a great guy. How were they, please tell me” sitting on the edge of the bed “so nice mom, they are so appreciative of me. Daphne said she felt it in her heart that her son lived on and mom! He reminded me Reign as a baby, they showed me his baby picture and he had a bald patch the exact place Reign did, Wesley is Latin, well half Latin. I met Kiano. Mom, they are everything, I feel so complete” I can’t stop speaking “oh Robbie! I am sorry I kept them away from you, I just at that time I felt scared” my mom explained “don’t, it’s ok. Do not explain anything mommy, I don’t blame you but I feel happy, to see pictures of my dad” the name dad came out of my mouth “I wish I never did what I did Robbie, but I never thought Thomas would have changed” sighing out “mom I think you deserve better, I feel like you’re going to Thomas because you don’t want to start again. I don’t want you to be with Thomas” Maurice’ eyes widened overhearing what I am saying “tell me I am wrong mom, he hurt you like he did me. He made you tell secrets you held in your heart out, he did that to you. Mom listen to me, you can do better” my mom is ever so silent on the phone “Robbie, I am going to try. Let me try this again, if I don’t feel it’s right I will leave, please. I am so happy for you, I am happy that you saw your dad like I did” I wish she doesn’t “you loved him, not Thomas” my mom sighed out “I know” she admitted, and I am glad she admitted it.

Reign is banging on that tray on her high chair and will not stop doing it, I swear to god that baby of mine “Jay, Robyn says I have gained weight, what do you think?” here is he goes, placing Maurice’ plate in front of him “shut up and eat, always complaining. I made you waffles and steak! Watch it, and you Jay” placing his plate down “oh wow, Robyn this looks so nice. Marry her!!” Jay said so excited “I will think about it, this steak is a little burnt too” see what I mean with him “nah, I would marry her. I would marry any woman doing this for me!” Jay pointed at his plate, I feel so good, like a good wife “Jay, it’s fine. Maybe you and I can get married” sitting down with my plate “and you! Stop it” holding her hands, Reign is a drooling mess “this is your daughter, look at her” I can’t get angry at her at all, she is too damn cute “Maurice, oh wow. This smells delicious” AI said “made by yours truly!” I grinned “come on baby hype me up” I said “yeah, yeah whatever. Anyways are you done? Do you know how much she has been complaining?” AI laughed “I promise, it’s done. Officially but you are all eating, I will wait. I want to see everyone’ reaction” I am so happy my daughter’ room is made “well let me eat this and I will check, baby your room is done” I can finally have things back to normal.

I need to give Reign a bath, she is a mess. She wants to feed herself and the rest of her body while she is at it “let’s see what daddy done for you baby, this bedroom better be spectacular, I expect Mickey Mouse to be waiting” they are laughing but the amount of time they took “I can only apologise, we was going back and forth and we had to do a lot of changes but then we decided on something with the designers, Maurice doesn’t even know but we had to change a lot, first design didn’t go to plan so we changed it up, are we ready?” AI said, nodding my head “Reign and I are excited aren’t we, little stink” AI stood in front of me pushing the double doors open “and welcome to Reign-Texas world” AI moved out of the way, my eyes widened “oh my” stepping inside her bedroom, a chandelier in the middle of the room, the whites and light pink “oh my god” this is a like a princess’s paradise “we incorporated a bed for Reign just under the princess tower” turning to AI “she can walk up these steps, like she is walking up a real castle” watching AI walk up the steps “ and here, she has a castle doll house for when she grows up, so what happened is that we thought on it and we goes Reign needs a crib, she is not old enough so if you look behind you, she has a baby crib which when she is ready you can get rid of that. This room is ready for her, her princess dream room. There is nothing more she could want. As you can see from the sign, it says Reign-Texas world. The back of the room she has her own bathroom, we changed it up, to be pink themed, made it so when she is training to use the potty everything is accessible, then her walk in closet. We did already move the clothes, and Maurice set that out for her” I am in shock, I get why it took so long “Reign, look at this. Oh my god, I am sorry. I see why, this is one hundred times better then her room in Cali, you are amazing. I am in shock, she is going to love it” Reign whined out pointing “yes, is that Minnie, you want her” waling over to the side “this is yours, daddy did this for you. Ok, I will stop complaining” I laughed “you damn right, AI outdone himself. Thank you” Maurice said, Reign hugged Minnie so close. Maurice walked up to us “can daddy have a hug?” He got his hands out to Reign “you go to daddy” letting Maurice take her “I am so happy, her room is beautiful” moving back “Maurice stand just under the sign” getting my phone out “awww shit, it’s daddy daughter photo shoot Mi Amor” holding my phone up smiling, Maurice placed Reign on his shoulder but held her so she won’t fall back “you like that?” Maurice laughed looking up at her, I took the picture quickly “I love that you both are so photogenic” tapping on Insta, tapping onto the plus sign and adding the picture, captioning the picture ‘Weeks later and Reign-Texas world is now open!’ Pressing send, that picture is too damn cute.

We left Reign with Jay, she is asleep anyways so he just needs to watch the monitors and hear out for her, I am happy she has her own room because now she is in her crib asleep instead of being asleep on the couch waiting for us to go to bed, I prefer it that way and I am happy. I decided I wanted to put Reign to sleep before I go, I said I would meet them at the bar in the hotel for a while, I wanted to put Reign asleep and fed first “thank you for coming with me again” I said to Maurice, he didn’t need too “I would always come with you, you know that. Least we haven’t got Jay, that is one thing huh” watching Maurice as he waved to the receptionists “are you back again?” one of them shouted “I decided I missed you all, have a nice night” he is calmed down so much with his flirtatious ways, it’s none existent and I don’t feel jealous like I would “it’s nice you have a relationship with them like that” I mentioned “you see, some of them have been there since my dad, and he never bothered with them. Keep your workers happy” letting Maurice lead the way “are you wanting a drink?” Maurice asked me “erm, just get me a cocktail, anything nice” I said, Maurice let my hand go as he walked off “I am sorry that I had to reschedule” I said as I made my way to the table “it’s ok, you had to put the baby to sleep. How are you?” Wesley said, sitting down “I am ok thank you, what about yourself? Is New York treating you both well? Is Daphne not awake?” I asked because she is not here “she is not well my mom, so it’s just us tonight. She said she is sad to not see you and she will see you soon” nodding my head “I hope so, yesterday was emotional. I wanted to ask, if you can send me some pictures of Rell?” I asked Kiano “of course, I will do that” he is so sweet “my sister asked, I told her and she is very excited to see you, hi. Nice to see you again” seeing Maurice pulling a seat out, he’s shaking their hands this time around.

Makes me smile that Maurice has water, this is why I know he has changed “I want to invite you and your family to our home on Cinco De Mayo, we will have all of the family there, we eat food and have fun. I want to show you to my family, but if you not ready I will understand” I giggled “erm, I would have but it’s Maurice’ birthday at the same time, and we are celebrating or I mean we could drop in” looking at Maurice “we will be in California, for business. You should be coming” Maurice looked at me “I should be?” I said confused “yeah, I don’t mind it. We should be in the area, we can come” I didn’t know this at all “then that is it, you can come!” Wesley spat “I guess we can, it’s overwhelming. Just to feel the love you hold for Rell, the love you already hold for me. It means so much to me, and I know Maurice said it too, he said that how nice you all are, how hurt you are by Rell’ death. It is just something I needed too, you know to find out that Thomas was not my dad and then to find out my real dad is dead, it hurt me. I felt lied too, I was hurt but I am hurt still because I feel like I need to lay some flowers down at his grave, to feel I have family that like me, it’s a good feeling” I feel a lot right now “I can take you there, it’s crazy that this happened but it’s a blessing. It makes me happy, to see my brother in you. I can just imagine him now, he would be over the moon. His daughter a surgeon and I know he would have loved the name Robyn, I think you are the blessing we needed to heal us all” Kiano said, I just want us to heal together. I am happy that I got to know the truth, I can be less hurt now because I thought my dad called me a whore, when he is nothing to me so I am over that.

[angrylizardjacket]

i keep digging myself down deeper // charlotte&lola

Summary: Lola takes Charlotte to confront her mother after finding out that she lied about Lola’s dad’s death. Lola is plotting a murder. Charlotte is trying to fix her moral compass. They still end up in a graveyard.

A/N: tagging @misscharlottelee as always, and @local-troubled-writer . this made me so fucking sad folks. also i think lola is overall a better person in this au and im so sad about the main story too now. wrote it at work.

[run to paradise au]

“Take Charlotte,” Doc says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he knows Lola’s on a knife-edge and can trust the younger woman to pull her back. He says it like he’s trying to throw a wrench in whatever malicious scheme she’s concocting that she thinks he doesn’t know about it. 

Take Charlotte. Unlike you, she’s good. Is what Lola hears, and it sets her teeth on edge. It could have been Tommy, but Doc knows better than anyone that Lola’s got that man wrapped around her little finger, though he’s the backup if Charlotte won’t go, because god knows Lola hates Mick enough to murder him on a trip out of state, and she and Nikki together will never do anything good. He could ask Vince, but that’s asking for trouble, and Vince has actually kind of settled down. Lola on a rampage is liquid heroin, and Vince is finally in recovery. So take Charlotte, somehow the only stable one of the lot.

“We’re going to pay respects to your dad, right?” Charlotte’s got a backpack full of clothes for if they stay longer than intended, and Razzle on her heels, offering to drive them both to the airport. Lola confirms. “And Doc doesn’t trust you?”

“No he does not,” Lola grumbles through her teeth, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Nikki, on the sofa wearing only his boxers, covered in scratches and hickeys.

“He’s a smart man,” Charlotte says with a smile, but Lola’s not matching her energy, just rolls her eyes. That being said, Lola’s at the very least grateful that Charlotte’s not walking on eggshells around her the way everyone else seemed to, Nikki notwithstanding, since she’d found out her father had died when she was nine, and her mother had lied about it to her, and she’d believed that he’d just left because she was a bad kid ever since.

But now she was out for revenge, had told Doc she’d just wanted to visit her father’s grave, but the moment she’d been given the go-ahead, she knew she was heading home to confront and kill her mother for everything she’d put Lola through.

When they get on the plane, Lola’s pretty sure she can see Razzle waving from the terminal, and when she points this out, Charlotte leans over her and waves back, despite Lola’s noise of disgust.

“Don’t be like that Lols, notice how I didn’t say anything about your hickeys and band aids on the way here? You look like you had a raccoon try and rip out your jugular,” Charlotte tells her with a smirk, sitting back before avoiding her gaze, “and I don’t think Nikki would give it up that hard if you were still really grieving, so what’s your real plan here?” Cutting straight to the point, she’s so unbelievably no-nonsense about it, seeing through Lola before Lola had even fed her a lie. Lola knows she could convincingly lie to Charlotte in a heartbeat, but it’s not worth the effort; either way she’d have to tell her.

“I’m gonna kill my mom,” Lola tells her under her breath, before smiling at the stewardess doing final checks, while Charlotte sits in stunned silence.

“You’re gonna murder her?” Charlotte matches her volume, though her voice is full of disbelieving rage. They haven’t even taken off yet. Lola hums in agreement. “What? Just gonna shoot her in the face? You don’t even have a -”

“A plan? Of course I do. I’m gonna burn her house down. With a flare gun,” Lola fires back easily, before adding, “shooting her is Plan B. Also with a flare gun.”

The flight is only a few hours long, and Charlotte spends it fuming in silence, not wanting to cause a scene on a plane, in the airport, or in the taxi to the hotel. There’s no words for the rage, for the betray, for the being an accessory to murder, and she’d probably fight Lola if the older woman didn’t have biceps the size of a rotisserie chicken.

Lola leaves, claiming to get dinner, and comes back with a greasy burger and a flare gun, and Charlotte wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to believe this is all a bad dream.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” is what she says, and Lola gives a patient smile.

“Charlie, please just remember she set me on fire,” and she puts the flare gun on the bedside table, puts her trash in the bin, and goes to bed.

Maybe Charlotte considers taking the gun and throwing it in the ocean. But she doesn’t. Deep down, she’s pretty sure Lola’s not capable of murder, enough that she leaves the gun there; it’s trust. Lola wouldn’t make her an accessory to murder. Probably.

“You’re only an accessory if you come,” Lola tells her over a room service breakfast, and Charlotte feels like she’s going to be sick, “go sight seeing, meet me at the airport,” she shrugs, “if the cops ask you questions, just play dumb, like you do every time they come looking for Nikki or Tommy.”

“You’re not going through with this -”

“I’ll be done by midnight,” Lola’s not usually so focused and sincere, seemingly trying to ignore Charlotte’s negativity.

“Please, Lols, don’t do this; don’t do something crazy that you’ll regret,” Charlotte almost begs her, and Lola’s teeth stretch into a snarl.

“So I’m only allowed to be crazy when it benefits you, right?” She snaps, finally, and Charlotte swallows hard, eyes going wide in surprise. “Because when we rock up to your cheating ex’s house and I’ve got a baseball bat, you can call me crazy and be proud -”

“I never called you crazy,” Charlotte says through her teeth, completely unprepared to handle Lola, who’s never actually lashed out at her before.

“No, Duff called me a psycho, and you believed him, didn’t you? But I was your psycho, wasn’t I, Miss Lee,” Lola’s voice turned cruel and mocking, “it’s okay if I’m a psycho so long as you can wind me up and point me in the direction of whoever you want fucked up -”

“After fucking everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna accuse me of just using you?”

“No,” Lola said easily, flipping from feral to collected with an almost terrifying speed, “we’re friends, Charlotte, I know this, I just don’t think you’re used to my anger not benefiting you.” Her lips twitch into a cool smile, “I think you forget that we’re very different people, Charlie; before I met you, I was blowing cops to get me and Nikki out of trouble every other week, and all that’s changed is that Nikki has started bribing his way out.” it almost seems like a point of pride, and Charlotte has no fucking idea what to say to that. “But sure, I can be crazy when we’re hurting the boy who broke your little heart,” she coos in a mocking falsetto, before her expression just turns cold, “but when it comes to the woman who abused me during my formative years and set me on fire, sure,” she rolled her eyes, miming screwing a lid on a jar, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll put a lid on it, for your sake.” She spat.

“I’m sorry I don’t want you to commit fucking murder,” Charlotte blurts out, realising far too late that she’s crying, and Lola’s hard resolve instantly crumbles, “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just, just, just using you for your anger, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” and she’s just crying now, sitting in the hotel with her head in her hands, “obviously I don’t think you’re a psycho.”

“Yes you do,” Lola sighs, but it’s neither angry nor an accusation, its defeat, a label she’s worn for a long time finally spoken by one of the only people she actually respected, “and I am; there’s nothing you can do to help it.” 

“Please don’t hurt anyone, Lols, please,” Charlotte begs, and Lola heaves another deep sigh.

“Go home, Charlotte, go back to Razzle and pretend this was all a bad dream; I don’t want you living in my reality. You’re better than that.”

“You shouldn’t live in this reality; Lola, you’re scaring me, I’ve known you for half a decade, and for the first time,” Charlotte snifled, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding Lola’s dark gaze, “I’m fucking terrified, okay? You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“Small price to pay,” Lola shrugs, and Charlotte’s going from guilty to frustrated fast, but Lola’s voice turns hard, “go home, Charlotte.”

“No.”

“You’re not a felon,” Lola finally snaps, voice flat and angry, “you’re a romantic at heart with terrible taste in friends.” Finally, Lola stands, and Charlotte’s shocked into silence. 

“You’re the worst friend I’ve got,” it’s like it’s finally hit her, voice a little breathless, a little disbelieving, and Lola gives a wry smile.

“Now you’re getting it.” And she leaves. In the middle of the day. Leaves Charlotte alone and fragile in the hotel, off to do god knows what, possibly off to commit murder.

Charlotte calls Razzle; she’s never been scared of what Lola’s been capable of, maybe it’s that she’s never really thought Lola could commit murder, but now she’s afraid. The only thing that’s ever terrified Lola was her mother, and now, knowing what she knows, the truth about everything she’s been through, in some twisted way Charlotte can easily see how Lola’s made herself believe that the murder is just. Charlotte’s never known a killer, not really. Razzle reassures her over the phone, tells her that Lola’s just gone to blow off steam but that she’s got a good heart under all of it. She’s motivated by loyalty, not revenge. But then it hits them both; Lola’s mother besmirched her father’s name for years, the first person Lola ever truly loved and looked up to. The only man she’s been even more loyal to than Nikki is her father; and she’d kill for either of them in a heartbeat.

“I need to stop her,” Charlotte’s still got tear tracks drying on her cheeks when she sits bolt upright, phone still to her ear, “do I- should I call the cops?” She asks, and Razzle hesitates. It would be a betrayal that would send Lola spiraling further. 

“Go to her, you know you can talk her down; she loves you, she listens to you,” Razzle tells her, and when he says it, so sweet, so gentle, so self assured, she almost believes him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tells him, before sniffling loudly, “wish me luck.” She tells him, feeling far more capable than she had minutes before; Razzle was good like that, was supportive like that, knew just what to say when Charlotte needed to hear it.

Charlotte knows the address that Lola was given, and heads there first, but the street is quiet, the house is quiet, and there were no signs of Lola to be seen. She drives for a bit down the road, heart beating in her throat, anxious and mind jumping to all sorts of terrible conclusions, but there’s no signs of any disturbance. Lola had been on foot, and had left only an hour and a half ago, she couldn’t have gotten far. 

At the end of the street, there’s a park, and Charlotte comes to realise that school must be on break, because it’s teaming with parents and children, and she searches, wonders, thinks she sees someone who looks a bit like Lola, but doesn’t stick around to make sure. That woman looks too old to be Lola. 

She checks bars and liquor stores and gas stations, and finally has a hit from a cashier who sold her two bottles of vodka, and the gas station attendant who had given her a pack of smokes, despite her having already gone through a quarter of a bottle in the half-mile between stores.

The only thing at the end of this street was a graveyard.

Lola’s wasted, unable to stand, sitting with her back against a faintly worn grave, mumbling to herself. 

“How could she do this to us, dad?” Is the first thing Charlotte hears from her, an angry growl. With one hand around the neck of a mostly empty vodka bottle, the other comes to forlornly pet the gravestone. Catching sight of Charlotte out of the corner of her eye, Lola’s entire expression crumbles, and for the first time in their whole sordid history, Charlotte watches Lola begin to cry. Angrily, almost defiantly, she searches her pockets, before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Dad,” Lola says to no-one in particular, looking out ahead instead of at her best friend, face scrunched with angry tears, “meet Charlotte,” she announces, and Charlotte’s words die in her throat; “Charlotte, meet my dad,” and she nods to the headstone she’s leaning against. 

“I thought -” Charlotte tries, but no words come to her.

“We’ve just been catching up,” Lola takes a long drag from the cigarette, coughing when she follows it with a swig of vodka.

“What happened?” Charlotte asks quietly, approaching like Lola was a wild animal. Lola grumbles something unintelligible, mostly under her breath, and Charlotte gingerly sits beside her.

“He was a really, really fucking good man,” Lola murmurs, forlorn, resting her head on Charlotte’s shoulder, startling the younger woman, who wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this situation just yet, “he would have loved them, Motley,” she clarified, and she takes another smoke, “he was always a huge fan of rock, always had the hair to match. Mom would call him a long-haired yahoo but it was never malicious, it just-” she was crying now, and she had to pause, “she would have loved them too, back then, but when he was gone, I think she just started hating everything that reminded her of him.” She pauses, taking another drink, her voice defeated when she finally spoke, “probably why she hated me so much." 

Silence, then;

"She has a kid.” Its the most defeated she’s ever sounded. Even Charlotte feels it like a punch to the gut. “She gets to play happy families, and I get to slowly dig myself an early grave,” she finishes her cigarette and immediately lights another.

“Lo, what happened?” Charlotte asked once more, and Lola turns to her, eyes bloodshot and mouth in a thin, unhappy line.

“Nothing.” It sounds like it hurts to admit, “because I’m not a psycho,” she says quietly, “I’m not gonna hurt that kid.”

“Your… sibling?” Charlotte almost winces as she says it, but Lola laughs in an almost disbelieving way, leaning her head back against her father’s gravestone.

“My little brother; Milo, I think. I didn’t stick around long… she doesn’t even know I’m here." 

Charlotte wraps her arm around Lola’s shoulder, pulls her in for a hug, and Lola melts into her, lets herself be pulled into hug, her head on Charlotte’s shoulder as she cries unashamedly. They sit on the grave of Lola’s father until it gets dark, wrapped up in each other, giving comfort and getting drunk, and there’s stories spilling from Lola that she’d never told anyone; happy times from before her shit got dark, before her father passed, stories she’d thought she’d forgotten. 

"Did you mean what you said?” Charlotte asks finally, voice fragile, vodka burning through her veins, “do you think I have bad taste in friends?” Lola contemplates for a long while before humming.

“I think you deserve better than me. And Nikki. I think you’ve got good friends, Peach and Eileen, they’re good friends,” Lola nods resolutely, “they wouldn’t drag you down to Boston just to argue with you and watch them chicken out on murdering their mom.”

“They don’t wanna murder their mom to begin with,” Charlotte agrees with a half laugh, her arm tucked into Lola’s, resting her cheek on Lola’s shoulder. Lola hums an agreement. Gently, she rests her head against Charlotte’s.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

They gaze out into the graveyard, tired, drunk, and world-weary beyond their years. Moments like these are a sharp reminder to Charlotte, of just how terrifying Lola’s world can be, and just how lonely she once was. The way Lola clings to the band, to Charlotte, it very suddenly made clear and perfect sense. 

“You’re not the worst friend I’ve got, Lols, not even close; you give a shit when it counts the most. About me, about our band-family; you give so much of a shit you’d kill for us. You’re probably the most loyal person I’ve ever met.” Charlotte tells her honestly, and Lola’s quiet, before sniffling loudly, and laughing.

“Stop it, Miss Lee, I promised Tommy I wouldn’t have a thing for any more of his family,” Lola jokes, but hugs Charlotte tightly as she squawks with horrified amusement. 

Its a considerable walk back to the hotel, but as Lola crashes onto the soft mattress of the bed, she feels worlds lighter than when she’d woken up.

[honeybammie]

every day & always › jeon jungkook › pt.2

↳ part one, part three  ↳ when the time comes for jungkook to take over his father’s role in the min gang, he has second thoughts about the man he wants to be, but you’ll do everything in your power to make him stay.  ↳ mafia!au jungkook, angst  ↳ wc: 4,893 ↳ note: i forgot that i meant to post a new part today until like 10 minutes ago so this isn’t edited and i am posting from my phone so i’ll have to go back and fix some things later i’m srry

Yoongi returned the following afternoon, having spent the previous couple of days checking on some of our assets on the outskirts of the city. I heard him whistling down the hall before he waltzed into my office, brown paper bag in hand. His relaxed shoulders meant he would have no bad news, which I was thankful for. Since Jungkook had left the day before, I couldn’t stop wondering what he was going to do.

“You know that whistling shit creeps me out,” I said to my brother, who came right up to my desk and sat on the ledge, welcoming himself to a cigarette. “What’s in the bag? A severed hand?”

He set it in front of me, covering the paper I had been writing. “Open it and find out.”

I glared at him, but he only jerked his head toward the bag. There was no distinct flesh smell filling the room, so I took my chances and glanced down inside. Takeout. A plastic container with noodles and beef inside.

“You’re not funny,” I told him while removing the contents and throwing the bag in a waste bin. When we were younger he once brought me a finger, shoved it in my face while I cried and screamed for him to take it away, and I constantly reminded him that I had yet to forgive the incident.

“I’ve been gone three days and brought your favorite meal and don’t even get a thank you?” he asked, pressing a hand over his heart and pretending to be hurt.

“It’s a tough life,” I said, shoveling bites into my mouth and hardly chewing. I had been so caught up in work that I’d forgone lunch. “Is everything going well out of town?”

He nodded, taking a drag and exhaling a lazy coil of smoke. “Nothing to report here. Did anyone give you a hard time while I was gone? Need to rough anyone up?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, obligated to tell him about Jungkook, but I feared what he would say. “Depends on what you define as a hard time.” Yoongi raised his eyebrows, urging me on. “Jungkook came by yesterday, and he’s having…doubts.”

“Doubts?” Yoongi echoed, like it was a dirty word. I was trying to tread lightly, but it was Yoongi’s job to turn every seemingly small detail into a big deal. There was no such thing as being too careful.

“He’s not sure he wants to be involved in the syndicate anymore.” I stretched the truth further than I should’ve. Jungkook would do anything to leave, but I believed he could still be won over, especially when he was stuck between his own life and someone else’s.

“Those are some serious doubts,” Yoongi said. As my stomach sank, I tried to convince myself that it was just because I had eaten too fast. “What did you tell him?”

“His problem is that he doesn’t want to kill anyone.” More or less. “I told him that if he got over it and killed just one man, we’d never ask him to again, and we’d put him on one of our business paths. I told him that if he leaves, the Park Clan won’t hesitate to come after him and his family. He wants to know if there’s a middle ground, one that doesn’t involve blood.”

“Doesn’t involve blood?” Yoongi laughed, a roar coming from deep in his chest that vibrated my chest, instilled me with the knowledge that I had been right to tell Jungkook there was no easy way out. “He can be a meager associate if he wants, but he’d have to find a soldier to work under. Even so, as much as we try within our means to protect our associates, they aren’t members. The Parks could put a bullet between his eyes and there’s nothing we would do. And we’d have to kick his mother and brother out of their current home, since we provided it for them. They wouldn’t be safe, either.”

I nodded along, having been aware of all of those things. “If he’s an associate, he might put off his fate for a while, but he’s valuable to the Parks. He’d end up dead all the same.”

“He could kill his father’s murderer,” Yoongi suggested, as if I hadn’t already.

“I mentioned that to him.”

“And?”

I backed myself into a corner for this one. If I told Yoongi that Jungkook would be willing to kill his father’s murderer, there would be no need for this conversation in the first place, and if I said that Jungkook wasn’t willing, Yoongi would throw him out on the streets in a heartbeat: no man was worth having who wouldn’t avenge his own family’s death. “He…didn’t say much,” I lied. Right through my teeth. “We had a pretty long talk yesterday, and I think he’s going to consider his options.”

“His options are to kill or be killed,” Yoongi said. I had said so, too, but hearing the words out of Yoongi’s mouth made them all the more real, falling into my lap with a gravity heavier than all the deaths that had come before. We had seen my father’s death coming for months, preparing ourselves in every way possible, but Jungkook’s death was coming out of nowhere. I didn’t want him to die hating me.

“What’re his odds of evading the Parks?” I asked. “If he leaves, I mean.”

“There are none. They’re barely human, that clan, and they’d sniff him out in a day. Even if a miracle struck him, his mother and brother wouldn’t make it out, and the Parks would use them as bait to bring Jungkook back.” Yoongi flicked the butt of his cigarette into the trash, and before I attempted to speak, a dark expression fell over his eyes, a black curtain at the end of a tragedy, when the audience sits dead and still.

“What?” I had never seen this face from him, but I knew it from my father. I was trying to place the times I had seen it.

“If he leaves, the Park Clan will find him. And they won’t just kill him. They will break his bones and cut off his hands and carve out his soul. He’ll spill everything he knows about us, eventually. He’d get people killed.

“Or he’ll run to the federal government—that’s his only hope from the Park Clan. The feds would put his family in witness protection in exchange for information. He’d get the two of us arrested, and who knows how many others.”

In Yoongi’s pause, I remembered where I had seen that look on my father before. It was the face he made when he realized he would have to kill a member of his own clan, and I knew Yoongi’s next words before they spilled over his lips.

“If Jungkook leaves…we kill him.”

A scream bubbled in the back of my throat, begging no, no, no while I choked down promises I had made. To protect. I would have to get Jungkook to stay with us, no matter what it took.

Out loud, to Yoongi, I said, “Okay.”

“You can’t tell him. You know that, don’t you?” Yoongi’s voice was low, dark. It was customary to kill members who betrayed the clan or were even suspected of betrayal. This wasn’t new. We had been doing it for centuries, but the thought of Jungkook being on the receiving end had me dizzy, like I was bleeding out of an invisible wound.

“Of course I know that,” I scoffed at my brother, never showing internal conflict on my face. I hadn’t even tugged on my earring— had I? “I’ll call him in tomorrow and try to get an answer.”

“No.” Yoongi waved away my request. “I’ll talk to him. You’re too easy on him, always had a soft spot. I’ve been hoping it’s still in him to be one of us, but I’d like to see for myself if his spark is there.”

I stiffened because Jungkook won’t sugarcoat his thoughts the way I had to Yoongi. My brother would know I lied, and once he knew that Jungkook had no intention of avenging his father, Jungkook would be stripped of the clan. And his life.

“Have it your way.” I forced myself to shrug, hiding my cards from Yoongi. I had never lied to him, not since we were children. My father stressed the importance of trusting each other above all else, and that if our relationship were ever to cave in on itself, our organization would as well.

As soon as Yoongi left, I found myself digging through files of our member’s and associate’s addresses, flicking past H’s and I’s until I landed on J. I had to see Jungkook tonight.

I had never been to Jungkook’s apartment since he moved out of his father’s three years ago, but I quickly found out he was housed adjacent to the streets where he smuggled and sold drugs, or snuck into busy stores to nab something we needed, a permanent borrowing. A lot of our young soldiers lived in the area, but despite the fact that it was claimed Min territory, I left home in disguise. Long trench fluttering around my calves, bobbed wig, and glasses to mask the top half of my face.

Jungkook didn’t recognize me, of course, and hadn’t been expecting anyone in the dead of night. I heard his footsteps approach, a pause as he observed through the peephole, and then nothing.

“It’s me,” I hissed. “Open the door. We have to talk.”

The lock clicked, and Jungkook swung open the door, rubbing an eye with his free hand. “I was trying to go to sleep. This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” I said, walking past without asking to enter. His living room reminded me of him, black couch and gray walls unwelcoming at first glance, but there was something in the smell and the shape of the room that made the quaint space look like home. He was wearing a black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, his usual color palette, and he still looked like home.

“The get-up is a little tacky, don’t you think? Looks like something out of a bad movie,” he commented as I removed my wig and glasses.

“Honestly?” I threw both onto his couch. “Do you take any of this seriously?”

“What? We’re not in your office anymore. This is my apartment, and I still can’t talk to you like you’re a normal fucking person? I can’t joke about a stupid wig?” He stood in the foyer, arms crossed over his chest, letting me into his house but not any further.

“Your life is on the line, and you’re making jokes.” I was raising my voice already, something I hadn’t permitted myself when we were in my office, but I was desperate. I didn’t even have a concrete plan or a script to go off of, just hoped that he would take whatever bone I threw him.

“I have to keep myself sane somehow, don’t I? If I spent all day thinking how I might be dead in a week, I wouldn’t be able to leave my bed.” He pulled at the roots of his hair, already at the end of his rope. “Are you here just to yell at me? Remind me how I’m an idiot and a coward?”

For a moment, I regretted coming, remembering how hopeless he was, but fear of his impending death kept me from leaving. “I’m trying to save your life,” I said, using all of my strength to keep my voice from wavering. “Yoongi’s going to call you into his office tomorrow.”

“And I’ll tell him the same thing I told you: that I want out.”

“You can’t do that!” I cried, involuntary, and raised both hands to cover my mouth. I wished we were back in my office, where I knew my role and how to practice it over him. This place smelled too much like him and looked too much like him and I was pale in the face of it. “If you tell Yoongi you want to leave, he will let you, and you will die. Your mother and your brother will die. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for them.”

“You’re not supposed to care.” He took one step towards me and stopped, like he hadn’t meant to, like the draw was invisible and he had no control. “If someone who isn’t an official member wants out, you’re supposed to let them go back into the streets to fend for themselves. If a member wants out, you’re supposed to kill them. No questions in either case. The only people you’re supposed to care about in this entire world are the ones who swear themselves to you, and I won’t.”

“What will it take?” I asked. He cocked his head at me—out of pity, not curiosity, I realized with dread—and took another step forward, then another. “You won’t make it out there. The Park Clan will get to you. If you think you can escape them and catch a plane somewhere safe and beautiful, you won’t, and—”

He had stopped, forced himself to, with only one more step between us. Up close, with the tilted window shades casting opalescent moon shadows over his face, I saw the resignation of a man who was already dead. He had let go of my hand years ago, when we stopped running, and now he was weaving his fingers with fate’s.

“The Parks won’t ever get to me, will they?”

My heart stopped. I felt it. My blood ran cold and the room fell apart underfoot, leaving only him and I, suspended together in death.

“You said during our meeting that they would torture me until they got the information they wanted. Later, I realized you and your brother would never let that happen. If I leave, you kill—”

“Shut up, Jungkook. Shut up.” I clamped one hand over his mouth and one at the back of his neck, standing toe-to-toe with him now. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. Every day and always, remember? Remember?”

He didn’t shove me, didn’t even let anger pool in his eyes. He just raised a hand, removing mine from his mouth, and squeezed once before letting go. “Not you, specifically. Maybe Yoongi himself, or another one of your hitmen. Every day and always ends with death. You’ll have kept your promise just fine.”

My knees buckled and met hardwood floor, face in my hands. He hated me for so, so many years, that I didn’t even know what I was doing on his floor, didn’t know why I hadn’t volunteered to kill him myself, but here I was, begging him to change everything he believed in. I hated him with half my heart for being an embarrassment and a coward, and I loved him with the other half because I was one, too.

“I need you to do me a favor.” He sunk down on the ground with me, pushing locks of hair from my face to restore a shred of my dignity. “My mother and brother—I have enough money for two plane tickets to the other side of the world. Give them those tickets. Get them out of here safely, please, so they can have another chance. Once they get where they’re going, they won’t be your problem anymore. Just this one last thing.”

“I can’t. I won’t. Not if you die.” I shook my head, despising myself for telling him no, but his family was the only leverage I had, my only means of keeping him with me. “You join us, and I’ll tell you where they are, and you can make amends and live happily with them in your life. Isn’t that worth it? To live for them?”

“Not if I have to kill a—”

“Grow up, Jungkook. Your father’s murderer is going to die whether you’re responsible or one of our hitmen. His life is already gone, but yours doesn’t have to be.”

He sighed, the sound heavy with so much pity. “Get up,” he said, standing and offering me a hand but I pushed myself up by my own strength because his hand in mine was too much, too intimate. We sat on the couch instead, where I wouldn’t have to rely on my feet to hold me up but could still straighten my back and feign a sense of power. He had done this intentionally, I thought, because he didn’t want to see me weak. He knew I needed to look like I had a purpose. “You’ve always said the best kind of man is one who dies by his beliefs, and the worst is one who lives by others’, and that’s what you’re asking me to do.”

“Call me a hypocrite, then.” I snapped. “Tell me I don’t have what it takes to be boss, or that I’ll never be like my brother or my father. You were right, yesterday, when you said you were the weakness I have never been able to get over, but what you didn’t get is that I’ve stopped trying to.”

He leaned his side into the couch, resting his head on the back of the couch and inhaling, deep, like he wanted to memorize the smell of his life and keep it with him afterwards. “I’m sorry,” he said. That was all. He was done fighting.

I was not. “Do you want to die?”

Jungkook’s eyes fell shut. I remembered him saying he had been trying to sleep before I came, and I had to be tiring him beyond measure. I was ready to repeat my question when he opened his eyes again, only partway, and stared right at me. Right through me. “There’s only one thing I want less than to die, but it’s the one thing you’re asking of me.”

“Could you be happy, do you think?” I copied his position, resting my head close to his and watching him watch me, reminded of when we used to love talking to each other so much that we’d fall asleep unwillingly on the couch or the living room floor of my home, and we’d wake up hours later with a blanket draped over us. “After initiation. If you could run your own club or casino, and find a girl who’s either okay with what we do or is involved in it herself, and have a million fucking kids—”

“I only wanted two.”

“Shut up. I’m talking,” I scolded, but the faintest traces of a smile appeared at the edges of his lips. Breathtaking. “If you could have all that, could you be happy?”

“I said I don’t want to raise my kids with a criminal father. Or put my wife through what my mom did. But maybe if I married within the syndicate, or tried to raise the kids so they could have a better life, then maybe. I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. That fantasy’s gone.”

“You won’t kill? Ever?” I asked.

He shook his head, the faint echo of ever leaving his mouth.

“That’s the only thing you wouldn’t do to save your life?”

He nodded.

“Then would you lie?”

I could barely stomach the question, knowing what it would mean if he said yes, knowing that I was ready to keep a secret for the rest of my life if it meant he would do the same.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, fully awake now given the change in pace. No more killing. Just a lie, one lie, one monumental lie.

“I’ll kill him. The man who killed your father. I’ll do it, but we’ll say that you did it and no one will know any better and you’ll be initiated and you’ll be one of us and protected. And you can have the whole world, but no one can find out.”

Jungkook could turn me in right then if he wanted to. Maybe he was part of a covert operation this whole time and his apartment was bugged with microphones waiting for me to confess to the greatest sin of all. A traitor to my own blood. Willing to build a soldier into a king on a throne of falsehoods. I’d be killed. Yoongi would have no choice, and Jungkook would smile over my grave knowing that he had taken me down, like he had wanted all along.

But there was no gotcha, no sudden burst of light or noise or pain, just a silent apartment with a foolish boy and a foolish queen. We had always been quite the pair.

“What if someone did?” he whispered, like he too was scared of spies in the midst of the dust collected on his coffee table. “What if someone ever found out?”

“We die.” No use in sugarcoating since he was already familiar with the concept. “You have to be willing to live with it—the shame, the possibility that we could fuck up and someone could find out.”

“What do you think are odds are of survival?” he asked. An improvement. I could almost see him coming back to life, right there, blood rushing back into his face and the taste of plasma under his skin.

“Fifty-fifty: either we pull it off or we don’t.”

We would be a gang of our own, the two of us, like the old days when we hid ourselves within blanket forts and conspired against evil. Maybe we were evil. My family name would be stripped from me if anyone was ever to find out, and I would be buried—if even—in an unmarked grave far from the generations of Min men and women before me. The tiger with its amethyst eyes would be scraped from my skin, raw, and I would be forced to watch.

But if no one knew— I’d continue having everything I had ever wanted, and Jungkook would have the same with his wife and his kids. Wherever my father was, maybe he’d understand since he had been the one all along who said every day and always and I was only fulfilling the first promise I ever made.

“How do we pull it off then?”

I smiled first, and he followed, easy smiles that wouldn’t last, but we were here now.

“Tomorrow, when Yoongi calls you into his office, you tell him you’ve made up your mind, and you want to kill the man. Whatever he asks, just make him believe you want to be one of us. Talk about honor and duty and vengeance and family—you know how. I’ll write up your assignment and give it to you. The day of the assignment, I’ll say that I’m going out for the day and staying in a hotel or hanging out with strippers or—”

“Strippers? Taehyung’s not good enough for you?” Jungkook snorted.

I pinched the skin of his arm. He slapped my hand. We traveled back ten years for a single moment. “One of these days I’m going to cut off one of your fingers, and you’ll learn when it’s your turn to talk. Anyway. You’ll take my car, head out somewhere remote, wherever I tell you to. I’ll take your car, and I’ll do the job. Then I’ll come out and find you, and we’ll trade cars back, and you’ll tell Yoongi that it’s been done. The news the next day will confirm that he’s dead, and if anyone sees the car leaving the scene, it’ll be yours.”

“What if anyone sees your face?” he challenged.

“Theoretically, there wouldn’t be any witnesses, but…” I trailed off, almost tugging on my earring but not needing to. “I do have other tacky disguises I can put together. A man’s wig, a suit, and a pair of your sunglasses ought to keep any bystanders off my trail. No one will be close enough to tell that I’m not you. Whenever you go back to Yoongi, you’ll just have to be wearing the same kind of suit, and I’ll give the glasses back.”

He was studying me like I was either a madman or a genius, but centuries have proved there’s hardly a difference, the two caught in permanent, blissful embrace. “You think we can pull that off?”

I shrugged. Yes. No. Even if we did it might not be worth it. We might suffocate on our own shame. “Only one way to find out.”

“What do we do after?”

“I start you off working at one of our casinos, I guess, or a strip club, depending on which you prefer and who you want to work under,” I mused. “You’ll have to answer to a few other higher-ups, and you can’t talk to them the way you do with me. Not if you want to stay in one piece.”

“I’ve been working under half a dozen different capos over the years, and they never cut me to pieces.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So it’s just me, then?”

“I’ll start following decorum better when we’re in public, but if you’re ever in my apartment again, I reserve the right to speak informally. I’m still older, after all,” he said. I bit my cheek to hold back a comment about how he could only afford this ratty home because of the jobs we provided him. I didn’t want power over him, not here at least. “I’d prefer to work in the casino, too, if that’s possible.”

“No strip clubs?” I pretended to pout. “You might meet your future wife there.”

“I’ll take my chances, thanks. My future wife could come by the casino, too.”

“Looking to marry a high roller? Fair enough. Your children will be spoiled.”

He shook his head, laughing—laughing. I hadn’t made him laugh in years, and I felt like I had just walked into frigid ocean waters, struck stupid with shock before I eased into calm familiarity. For a moment I even forgot how much time had passed since we had been this way, like the chasm from the last years had never been there at all, but it was, even still.

“Jungkook?” I whispered. His eyes found mine, still crinkled at the edges. “What do we do after? Us. I’m still the same person you hated.” Maybe he did even now, but I didn’t care to guess anymore. All I could remember was Jungkook’s face in my office when I told him Yoongi and I didn’t keep track of the number of murders we signed off on. “After this, I might be even worse, and I’m not going to change what I do. I’ll spend the rest of my life killing people and letting other people kill people and committing a million other crimes to uphold an empire.”

Uncertainty crossed his face again, his confidence from the past couple minutes wasting away. “It’s an empire that I’m a part of,” he said. “You’re not the only criminal.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. Your crimes will never be anything next to mine.” I would drown in the same blood that would never touch him. “Will you hate me for what I do?”

“What you do isn’t who you are. Killing people isn’t who you are, it’s just—” He tripped over himself, trying to justify what he desperately hated. “I hate what you do, okay? The murder part, at least. I can live with screwing people out of money or selling drugs. But I don’t hate you. I won’t.”

I didn’t say anything, satisfied with the improvement, but Jungkook must not have liked the silence because he continued. “I don’t…I don’t think we’ll be friends after this, though. You know? We’ll be connected forever between our past and our secrets, but the excitement of all this will fade and we’ll probably have that kind of chummy boss-employee relationship where we catch up once in a while but mostly we just smile at each other when you give me orders.”

He had always been the one in dreamland, with my feet kept firmly on the concrete, so I had no idea what shifted now. All I knew was that I hated his vision for the future, so much so that I reached for my wig, tucking my hair back into the cap in preparation for my exit.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sitting back up. In retrospect, I didn’t know what answer I expected him to give, but I’d hoped for something more than the dull pleasantries exchanged between a boss and a worker.

“You said you were tired,” I pointed out, slipping the sunglasses over my eyes before he noticed my disappointment. “Besides, we have our plan, so it’s time for me to head home.”

He hurried after me to the door, stepping between me and my exit. “What did you want me to say?” he demanded. “That everything will be the way it was when we were young? That we’ll stay up until the break of dawn laughing like the rest of the world doesn’t exist? That we’ll be best friends all over again?”

“Grow up, Jungkook.” I waved him out of the way, pushing the door open myself. The one thing I was good at was talking down to him, but it wasn’t a skill I wanted to have anymore. “I never wanted to be your damn friend.”