#and then I kind of mentally went down a spiral of other Choices I don’t love

[whenthegoldrays]

sigh

[shysublimecoffee]

Marinette receiving the Ladybug mantle was an absolute mistake. I watched the special, and honestly, gurl is doing the most—and for what? A guy? One dude, and she’s ready to throw her common sense out the window. Like, how has Hawkmoth/Gabriel not used his own son more often as leverage against her by now? That’s villainy 101, and he’s just sitting on it. Like for the amount of times I've seen this show rag on ChatNoir because of his weakness in romance when that Ladybug biggest weakness not CN lol.

At this point, I don’t even care about what Marinette’s going through. Whatever emotional investment I had in her? Long gone. She’s out here spinning lies on top of lies, desperately trying to hold together her crumbling Adrien-obsessed empire, and for what? She lost. Game over.

Now, if this were a story about a girl slowly getting corrupted, spiraling into villainy, and intentionally written as a downfall arc? No problem. That would’ve been a compelling narrative with a real lesson for kids about the consequences of obsession and dishonesty. But nope, instead we’re stuck with this mess where her choices make it harder and harder to root for her.

Marinette's speech at the press conference—“Ladybug holds the truth, she holds the truth” —had me scratching my head cause it sound more like a villain then a hero. Like, did the writers forget she’s supposed to have hero-like qualities? She’s meant to be the messenger, the symbol of hope, the hero. But how often does she actually display that in her own show?

Lately, it feels like being Ladybug is more of an obligatory chore for her than something that brings her real joy or fulfillment. Isn’t the whole point of magical girls to inspire, to help others, and to grow through their journey? Where’s the sense of accomplishment, the spark, the joy of making a difference? It’s like they’ve stripped her of everything that should make her role uplifting and meaningful.

I've seen here and there about how MC was never meant to come off that way or the writers are trying to make her more complex or how dare you do you dislike complex female characters or the most used it was never her intention to come off that way it was a mistake.

I want you to picture this without the music just dialogue cause i'm going to be clearcut about this.

Ladybug went to an orphaned, grieving child—one who had been locked away in solitary confinement, surrounded by nothing but white walls and being sensory deprived—and lied to him about his father being a hero. Let that sink in. Gabriel, who systematically abused his own son, was painted as a noble martyr by Ladybug.

Adrien, a kid who was finally starting to question his father’s authority, even beginning to tear down the oppressive image of the man who controlled and hurt him, is now trapped in an even tighter mental cage. After all, if Paris sees his father as a hero, a savior, how could he possibly feel justified in blaming or resenting the man? Gabriel is now a martyr in the eyes of the world, and Adrien is left to wrestle with guilt and shame for ever having cruel thoughts about someone everyone else idolizes.

Ladybug’s decision to perpetuate this lie doesn’t just protect Gabriel’s image—it messes with Adrien’s already fragile mind. Instead of helping him heal or giving him the freedom to process the truth, she’s reinforced the very chains Gabriel used to control him. It’s not heroic; it’s delusional and harmful, all in the name of preserving some twisted version of peace in her head.

You want me to feel pity for a girl who I'm sorry if I sound harsh to yall at the end of the day just want to keep the peace to fill her delusions that everything is going to work out in her part at the end when really she's just the worst type of coward there is when it comes to confrontations lmao. Accountability? She avoids them like they’re some kind of plague. It’s almost impressive how someone can masquerade as a hero while being utterly incapable of facing the hard truths. Lmao, sure, let’s all pity her.

Honestly, in the earlier seasons, at least Marinette seemed to feel bad about her mistakes. Now? She’s only gotten worse. I headcanon that receiving the Ladybug mantle or becoming the Guardian inflated her ego, giving her a power trip. With no proper mentor to hold her accountable and everyone automatically deferring to her leadership, who’s left to challenge her? Well maybe CN if he has the guts to do so but he'd rather cower into his shell lol.

In hindsight, I don’t think Marinette should’ve become Ladybug��not because she lacks the capability, but because the role itself seems to have worsened her as a person. Instead of growing into the hero I though she was meant to be, she’s devolved, losing some of the humility and self-awareness she had at the start of the series.

Let’s be real—we’re in Season 6 now, and we all know the writers aren’t going to make Marinette face any real consequences. The whole universe bends over backward to accommodate her. If you’ve seen Season 5, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

That said, I’ll give credit where it’s due: the special was fun. Yes, despite all my ranting, I actually enjoyed it because it was funny in its own way.

At this point, though, I’m only sticking around for Adrien and Lila. Honestly? I’m rooting for Lila to be the one to drop the truth bomb and expose everything. It would be chef’s kiss poetic if she ended up being the one to set things straight. Lmao.

P.s For anyone who thinks there is a dilemma to be had about the whole thing its really not lol rip the bandaid off.

It reeks of a megalomaniac in the making, making her come off like a gaslighting psychopath. Ironically, it reminds me of Gabriel—especially with the way he used similar wording. Honestly, are we sure Marinette isn’t Gabriel’s true daughter? Because the parallels are man.

I’m genuinely angry that she is the one everyone feels sorry for, and it’s only because the show is stuck in her perspective. If we spent even a fraction of the screen time on Adrien’s pain, it would make for a far more compelling story. It’s infuriating. Marinette isn’t some helpless sheep/damsel victim here—no one forced her into this role at gunpoint. She made her choices, knowingly and willingly. How dare she act like the weight of the world was thrust upon her without her consent? When she very much messed with a grieving kid here?

And yet, Adrien’s pain—real, tangible, and far more tragic—is constantly sidelined. He’s an orphan, being lied to by nearly everyone around him, adults and teens alike, and his suffering is treated as a subplot to Marinette’s endless drama. Why should the audience feel more for her than for the boy who’s lost everything? Why is his pain has to be centered to her??

This isn't a small mistake this has far reaching consequences if the show had the balls to do it to lie to the entire world over a man who terrorized on people fear.

If Adrien ever became a villain, I wouldn’t blame him. In fact, I’d understand and give him the free ticket to go ahead and cataclysm and burned the world .

[gcldenhecrts]

(RUDY PANKOW, CIS MALE, HE / HIM) Oh, is that FREDDIE PARKER? I heard the 24 year old is LOYAL. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also IMPULSIVE.Makes sense seeing how they have a MEMBER in the GHOST RIDERS gang. (charlotte, 26, she / her, gmt )

‘ he will sometimes send you funny emails. He prefers spaghetti over penne. Have you seen my son? Have you seen my beautiful boy? Tell him I miss him’

TW: HEAVY DRUG ABUSE, PARENTAL & SIBLING DEATH, MENTAL HEALTH.

- Freddie was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His parents came from nothing, but all they wanted was a home and a family, and they were willing to work and struggle to ensure their children never went without in the way they had.

- Freddie’s earliest memories were of his mother leaving for work at 3.30 am and arriving back in the early evenings. She had a look of exhaustion on her face but always pushed it aside to spend time with her Freddie and his twin sister Frankie. She never missed a family dinner or a bedtime story. She was the foundation from which Freddie became Freddie.

- the twins grew up as the best of friends. While they didn’t have money, they had something much more valuable: stable roots. Yes, they did not go to the best school, nor did they wear the best clothes, but they recognised their privilege in small ways. The kindest of children, sometimes wicked in the ways that children are, but neither were ever nasty or cruel.

- Freddie had always been a sensitive soul, and while his mother was the lighthouse that guided him home, his sister Frankie was the anchor that kept him stable amongst dangerous waters. While Freddie was gentle, kind and soft, his mind was not. From a young age, it felt like his mind was working against him like it wanted him to suffer. His sister kept him safe.

- As he became a teenager, Freddie’s mind only got louder and darker. A boy riddled with anxiety but unable to find the words to ask for help. NO, all Freddie knew to do was pour the love he had into everyone around him. He never spoke about himself, not to anyone but Frankie. To everyone else, he was the boy you could lean on. The boy whose advice was as good as his mother's, the boy who would listen and hold your hand when his mind was collapsing in on itself. The boy who overwatered flowers because he didn’t know when to stop giving.

- When he was thirteen, Freddie found a way to quiet his mind. It was a slow descent when he started using marijuana, soon joined by acid, ecstasy, mushrooms and cocaine. By the time he was nearing 16, crystal meth was his drug of choice as everything spiralled out of control. When he had tried it, he felt it was the first time he felt better about himself. All the years of underlying depression, self-doubt and crippling anxiety seemed to melt away. So he just kept doing it.

- While his friends didn’t often see the darker side of his addiction, his family did. Anger, upset, frustration. Tears and tears and tears. He wanted to get better, he wanted to make everyone around him happy, but he was making everything worse and he just couldn’t stop. He focused again on pouring love into his friends but would come home and steal from his parents. He would argue with his sister, and cry into their arms as he begged not to go back to rehab.

- Freddie spends eight years in the thick of addiction. He spends those years in a cycle of overdoses and rehab centres. 12-step programmes and sponsors he didn’t call. It took ten years for him to make it a year and a half sober. The most he had ever gone and for once, the future looked bright. A party with his closest friends, a cake to celebrate eighteen months. It was hopeful. Everything was hopeful. He joined the ghost riders at some point between rehab stint three and four. He joined because Frankie had joined, and well, they never did anything by halves.

- And then the world came crashing down. Freddie was with his best friends when the call came in. His dad was on the other line, it was the second time Freddie had ever heard him cry. The first time was when Freddie was fourteen and his dad first dropped him off at rehab. But this cry was different. It was guttural. His mother and Frankie had gotten into a car accident on the way home from a ski trip. They had died on impact. Freddie sat in his friend's living room, staring at the ceiling, his heart ripped out on the floor in front of him. He told them, but in the same sentence he said he was fine, he was okay. He offered to make everyone a cup of tea. He made sure his friends were okay. And at the end of the night, he got onto his bike and drove into a tree. A broken leg. A damaged bike. That was all.

- his mothers diary was found in her suitcase. Freddie knows he shouldn’t have, but he read it anyway. It dated back years, and he was a heavy feature across the pages.

‘ if you could take all the words in the language, it wouldn’t describe how much I love those children. And if you could gather all those words together, it still wouldn’t describe what I feel for them ’

‘I worry sometimes that this … what’s happened is my fault. I wanted to raise my beautiful boy to be kind and empathetic. I worry it’s because he’s too kind and empathetic that he turns to drugs to cope. My freddie .. he said the world is really ugly and everybody seems to be okay with it. He says everybody is out to make everybody else seem less human and he doesn’t want to be a part of it or witness it. He says that’s why he does drugs. To make this world easier to process.’

‘ he will sometimes send you funny emails. He prefers spaghetti over penne. Have you seen my son? Have you seen my beautiful boy? Tell him I miss him’

- It’s been six months since his mother and sister's death, and Freddie will still tell you he is fine. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else with his mind. He wants to be treated as he always has. He wants to just be Freddie. But he’s not Freddie, and he’s not fine. He’s not sure he ever will be again. His father does not help, so confused with grief he’s forgotten who Freddie is, living in a period of time before he was born.

[abbatoirablaze]

Ex Wive's Club, Chapter 13

Word Count:  2.3k

Warnings: sexual tension, sexual situations, angst. 

“God…wh-what am I going to do?”

Curtis frowned, looking at the broken mother who had been sitting on his couch for the past half hour.  She was almost numb as they searched through the bags of her stuff that was intermingled with trash.  She barely reacted to how Andy had mixed actual garbage in with the stuff, pouring things on it, tossing in broken items. 

It broke Curtis’ heart watching her sob as she tried to piece herself back together with what little she had left.

Sasha had spilled nearly her entire life story to him. 

From being adopted at a young age from a Russian orphanage by the first captain America, to having to learn English.  To it taking a while to learn who real friends were because people just used her because of who her father was.  And just when she thought she had settled in to the American dream, made friends who were real, and felt like she was figuring herself out, she’d met Andy. 

Yes, he was one of her best friend’s fathers.  And yes, there was a substantial age gap.  But Sasha had fallen in love with him on the spot.  As it turned out, her friend was alright with it, as the other five girls in her tight-knit friend group had crushes on each other’s fathers or step fathers.   

But even that didn’t last.  There wasn’t a fairytale ending for her when she got knocked up.  She was scared, and young, but she ended up keeping the child despite wanting to originally get an abortion.  She felt her mental health spiral downwards, until finally when she gave birth she was diagnosed with postpartum depression. 

So, she ran. 

She ditched the engagement ring and the life Andy had promised her.  While they had made a child together, Andy had been treating her with kid gloves.  The doctors all made her feel alien and foreign in her own body.  And she realized that maybe she should just be a teen. 

She went to school and got her degree, but each time she went home she realized that she wanted to be in her first home; with the man she truly loved, and their son.  She realized that she was too young to know who she was and what she really wanted at the time; but it was him. 

But he’d already moved on. 

Or so she thought. 

Things happened like a whirlwind once more and she found herself back in Andy’s arms.  Her son was so accepting of her.  It was like they were all craving one another in their lives.  They got married and had Ashley.  And it was like a kick in the stomach with how things started spiraling again. 

Old feelings came back. 

Andy became resentful all too quick. 

She went to counseling.  Therapy.  Group meetings.  She was trying, for the first time, not wanting to lose them yet again.  Because she had been in that spot, and she knew this time around that despite what she was feeling, Andy was her true north.  Her son was her true north.  And now she had her daughter to add to that.    

And yet, there she sat on his couch.  Hands cut up but freshly bandaged from going through the trash to try to piece herself back together.  Broken-hearted over her husband making the choice for her.

“You’re going to stay with me,” Curtis replied thoughtfully, sitting down on the couch.  He handed her a cup of tea, and she gave him a sad smile, still mostly in a daze over the previous hours, “I don’t mind how long it takes…I can tell that you’re an amazing woman, Sasha.  I’m not going to just let you slip back into that dark place.”

“I can’t ask that of you, Curtis.”

“You’re not asking,” he pointed out, “I’m offering up my home to you.  Me and Maritza.  You could stay with us…at least until you get in contact with your dad and figure out what to do about Andy.”

“I can’t believe the asshole froze my cards,” she muttered angrily, “it wasn’t just his money in those accounts.”

“Sometimes you can’t help how people act.”

She sighed, “you’re really too kind, Curtis…”

“I’m just me, Sasha.  I’m not anything special.”

Curtis gasped, surprised at what he’d seen at his dining room.  He had come back from dropping Maritza off with Lily and had gone grocery shopping, but in the time that he’d been gone, everything had changed.

No longer were his daughter’s toys strewn across the hall and living room, but rather, they’d been delicately placed in the cubbies that Curtis had made last spring for her them. 

The living room looked like it had been cleaned and organized, and the dining room table was very clearly visible.  Two place settings were in order, and on each a wonderful seafood pasta dish that looked like it was straight from a magazine. 

Curtis dropped the bags, shocked at how much she’d accomplished in such a little amount of time. 

Soft footfalls made their way towards the dining room, and she appeared with a bottle of white wine freshly uncorked between her bandaged hands.  Her eyes widened ever so slightly. 

Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to be back so soon.

“Curtis…”

His name coming from her lips sent a shiver down his spine, and a strong emotion overtook him.  His breath stole away.  His lips parted at how beautiful she looked in one of his knit sweaters, and a pair of her leggings.  He could faintly hear the washer, and he realized that her clothes must have been in there. 

“Sasha…” he gasped, suddenly feeling an even stronger emotion as his jeans tightened ever so slightly.  He knew that he didn’t know much about the woman in his home, but he didn’t expect such an electric response to her. 

“I-I thought I could make us dinner…” she said softly, “I mean…I know you’ve said it’s been a while since-“

“It has…” he nodded, affirming that it had been a long time since he’d had a well-prepared meal.  His eyes traveled to the table once more, and he began to feel himself drooling, “I-it looks amazing, Sash…”

She bit her lip, “I figured it was the least I could do…since I’ll be staying with you for a while.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, and then her eyes fell to the groceries that were at his feet.  She rushed to the table, putting the bottle of wine down before rushing over to him, “here…let me help…”

But Curtis promptly picked up the bags again, denying her offer, “you made dinner…I’ll get this put away and be right out…”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “positive…”

“I’ll pour the wine.”

Curtis frowned as he looked at Sasha, “I’m really sorry about dinner…I-“

“Stop,” she said quickly, her hand falling over his own.  He wanted to smile, but a frown perched itself on his lips when he looked at the bandages once more; a reminder that she was just as broken as him, “I get it.  Trust me, I do.  If Andy called me right now and said that I needed to get Michael and Ashley, I wouldn’t have even thought about it…and anyways…we can always re-heat it…”

“Might have to…” Curtis frowned.  He looked back in the rearview mirror as he put the car into park, to his daughter.  Mouthing the words, he signed in the space where the center console was, ‘food?  Hungry?’

To which Maritza squealed, acknowledging her father with a series of happy nodding, She signed ‘thank you,’ and ‘love daddy’ on repeat. 

Curtis couldn’t help but chuckle and sign, ‘love baby.’

“I take it she hasn’t had dinner either?”

Curtis turned his attention back towards Sasha.  He shook his head, instinctively signing as he spoke, “she hasn’t…”

She giggled and Curtis realized that he was signing to her.  He went to apologize, but she stopped him, “I get it…don’t even apologize because you can communicate with your child.  Does she like seafood pasta?”

“Not in the slightest,” Curtis chuckled, “but I can mak-“

“No…you deserve to relax,” Sasha replied, cutting Curtis off, “I saw some mac n cheese in the cupboards.  Does she like that, or is it yours?”

“She likes mac n cheese…it’s her favorite,” Curtis admitted, “if you make that for her, she probably will beg you to stay forever.  Lily doesn’t like her to have it.”

“If it’s a proble-“

“I said Lily doesn’t like her to have it,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “it’s Maritza’s favorite food…I’m not going to deny my baby girl of anything.”

Sasha felt her heart flutter as Curtis handed her the keys, “I’ll get started on dinner for us then?  And the little princess?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed, “I’ll get her out of her car seat and be right in.”

Curtis’s heart swelled as he watched Sasha putting his daughter to bed.  After she’d made her the mac n cheese, and tried to interact with her all through dinner, Maritza was stuck to her side like glue. 

And she didn’t seem to mind it. 

They played together while Curtis did the dishes, and though he knew he already trusted Sasha with her, he kept finding his gaze going back towards them.  His heart would fill with joy as he watched the beautiful woman with his child. 

“You know…I always hoped Lily would be like that with her…” Sasha nearly jumped ten feet into the air, clutching her heart as she looked at Curtis.  The large man chuckled, “Did I scare you?”

“You’re horrible!” she giggled, gently pushing his shoulder, “you scared me so much.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, a blush finding its way to his cheeks, “sometimes you forget how much sound affects people with normal hearing.”

“You know…even without it, she’s so curious…so interested in the world,” Sasha said with wonder, “it’s like everything is new and fresh to her all the time.”

“She pays attention to everything,” Curtis admitted.  A frown overcame him when he thought about just a few minutes ago, when he caught his daughter making the love symbol and pressing it to Sasha’s chest when she tucked her in, “did you know earlier…a few minutes ago, she told you that she loved you?”

Sasha’s eyes went wide, “She-she did?”

He nodded, “yeah…funny thing about that is that she’s never even told Lily that…not once.”

Sasha frowned, suddenly feeling bad about how she’d achieved such a quick connection with the little girl, “oh…I-I’m sorry.”

“No…no.  Don’t be!” he said quickly, “she’s never told it to Lily because not once have I ever seen her take half as much interest in her as you did…and that’s her daughter.”

“Ma-maybe she’s got postpartum…” Sasha tried, offering up an answer, “When I-with Michael…”

“No…she just never loved our daughter.  I know that for a fact,” he sighed, cutting her off.  There was a pause between them for a few moments, before he continued, “don’t ever put yourself in my ex-wife’s shoes, Sasha.  You’re leagues above her.”

Sasha took a deep breath, and then she noticed just how close Curtis was to her.  She’d been all but backed up against the door, but she didn’t mind it. 

“Curtis…”

Curtis looped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against her chest, “Fuck…I really like you, Sasha…”

He could feel the heavy thrum of her heart beating, “I-I like you too, Curtis…”

“I-I want to kiss you, Sasha!” he replied, a desperate tone to his voice, “god, do I want to kiss you…”

“I want to kiss you too!” she admitted, her voice barely coming out in a whisper.

“What about Andy?”

“Is he really in the picture if he tossed my stuff and asked for a divorce?” she asked breathlessly. 

Curtis ignored the question and pinned her against the wall.  Their lips clashed in a heated frenzy, working together on an instinctual level.  Her hands slid up his chest, already feeling the muscular form of his body. 

In her head she started comparing the two men in her life.  Her husband was about 6 years older than Curtis, but they looked similar.  Same facial and bone structure.  Same type of undertone in their attitude and how they carried themselves.  But Curtis was a passionate, gentle giant, whereas Andy was a dominating force. 

She moaned against Curtis’ lips, feeling the true strength of him.  He was quick to grab onto his button up, the one that she’d been wearing all day, before tugging at the two pieces of fabric so hard that the buttons flew off of the shirt. 

She gasped, the cool air hitting her bare chest.  Curtis’ hands cupped her breasts as he broke the kiss.  He was taken aback to see her cream colored, milky flesh.  Her nipples pebbled under his touch.  His hands slid down her waist and he picked her up as though she weighed nothing.  Her hands tangled up in his short hair, her legs wrapping around his waist.  His hands tangled in her hair as well and he groaned, grinding his jean covered crotch against her thinly covered core. 

“I wanna feel you, Curtis!” she moaned gently.

“I want to feel you too!” he admitted, gasping as she circled her hips over him.  He groaned and tugged on her hair.  She moaned and pulled him back into the kiss. 

“Who the fuck are you?” a voice called, breaking the couple’s kiss, “and why are you kissing my husband?”

Curtis growled and his eyes turned dark as he looked to Lily, “how the hell did you get in?  And why are you here?”

“My question first!” she taunted, holding up the spare key, “who is your little slut?  And does she know that you’re my husband?”

“Wife?” Sasha asked.  Sasha paled, thinking of the state the two of them were in.

Her legs stayed locked around Curtis’ waist, and he used his body to shield hers from his ex-wife, “Sasha…meet Lily.  Maritza’s mother…and my ex-wife.  What the fuck are you doing here, Lily?”

Chapter 14

Tag List:  @Cjand10, @huntress-artemiss, @lohnes16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @elbell20-blog

[thespoonisvictory]

i'd love a moment where someone tells wilbur that he isn't universally disliked, especially if it's one of the og l'manbergians, but i'm also not too hopeful because of how many of them feel betrayed by him (esp fundy and niki) :( on the other hand,, maybe eret could relate? or maybe that's just me wanting eret content adfgkhsd

Alright anon, you’re gonna get a whole essay here I’m so sorry, but I have so many thoughts about revived Wilbur. 

Wilbur’s self esteem was kind of a mess, but there are two primary issues he seems to struggle with the most: believing he was a horrible president/leader and that people hated him for it, and believing that he was only valuable if he could be the perfect leader everyone wanted from him. I could pull out specific quotes, but honestly Ghostbur’s entire character and the Pogtopia stream transcripts I made would do a better job. During Pogtopia, part of his concern for why Tubbo might be a spy is because he thought he did a bad job as president and that Tubbo would prefer Schlatt. 

Now, it’s easy to see why this would be a problem, as Wilbur simultaneously feels like he has to be this perfect leader and never show any flaws in order to have worth, while also feeling like he’s doing a horrible job. He felt like everyone hated him while still feeling pressured to act like everything was fine, which puts a lot of context behind his breakdown culminating in statements like “let’s be the bad guys” and “I can finally do whatever I want.” It was a mix of finally giving up on his attempt to be perfect and wanting to make everyone hate him before they had the chance to do it on their own, y’know? 

(This problem could’ve so easily been addressed if the other characters were aware, and while I don’t want to blame everything that went down in Pogtopia on “aw look at him he’s sad”, a lot might’ve been prevented if at any point a character was like “hey Wilbur you doing ok bud? take a day off.”)

In my opinion, this is why a reconciliation with Eret is so, so necessary for a redemption arc for Wilbur. It’s just so perfect that the one character who’s betrayal cut Wilbur so deeply and arguably started his spiral also happens to be the one most dedicated to preserving his history and the one who most openly admires him. It’s this neat little juxtaposition that’s made even better by the fact that Wilbur has no idea.

Eret’s betrayal clearly stuck with Wilbur, to the degree that he was the person he chose to quote, directly, for what was supposed to be his final statement. Most of the others had for the most part accepted what Eret had done and moved on, but Wilbur never did. And to his credit, I can see why. Wilbur had put full trust in Eret, and in return he had taken a canon life not only from Wilbur, but from his son and two brother figures, and nearly ended L’manburg before it even began. Most crushingly, Wilbur never got to figure out why. He never got an apology, or an explanation, just a traumatic experience and a statement that would haunt him for the rest of his life as a leader. “It was never meant to be” implies more than a mercenary betrayal, it implies that Eret personally did not see L’manburg as worth sticking with, and I think that really broke Wilbur, as he very much valued his ideals and his creations. He respected Dream and his friends at the end of the war, but for Eret to turn away from his cause and declare it not worthy to begin with was something else entirely.

Now we as the audience know that Eret feels immense guilt over the betrayal, that he respects Wilbur as a person and especially as a leader, and that he came to truly understand why L’manburg was so valuable. But Wilbur never got to hear that, and I would love for that to be the catalyst for him maybe starting to deal with some of his issues. To have someone look at the bad he’s done and say “I still respect you”, to know that he was and is valued. 

Obviously Wilbur has a lot of his own apologizing to do, but to be honest, the fact that Wilbur grew to be suicidal from all these unchecked mental health issues should probably be the primary focus, before we get into the whole “hey he kind of did some not so great things.” If Wilbur’s revival starts off with five minutes of Fundy and Tommy berating him as some people seem to want, that’s just not gonna be helpful from a guy who would probably agree with the worst they have to say about him. And I think Eret would be the perfect candidate as a person who, frankly, is in a stable enough position to help Wilbur, especially because he’d know what it was like to be hated by people he still cared about.

As for other candidates, Niki I think is another good choice. She’s been pretty open about the fact that she does still miss and care for Wilbur, and while I think there would definitely be a moment of “why did you leave me”, she would understand pretty well, especially given how she spiraled.

This got very long, but yeah. I love Eret’s character and I think if Wilbur gets redeemed he’ll definitely play a factor in it.

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[stargazer-balladeer]

Can I request persona leaders comforting an s/o dealing with toxic parents? My parents have kind of been destroying mental health recently.

S/o with Toxic Parents [Persona Leaders]

Characters Included: Akira Kurusu, Yu Narukami, Minato Arisato & Minako Arisato

Note: I’m so sorry to hear that 😞 If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Hope you’ll like this!

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warnings: Mentions of toxic parents, verbal and physical abuse.

Akira Kurusu

— Akira would be so furious when he finds out that you have that kind of parents. He might not have the same hatred as Ryuji when it comes to adults, but he hates that kind of people who degrades other people, especially their children.

— Akira will help you, no doubt about it. He might also change their heart (whether you know it or not)! When your parents get arrested, he will beg Sojiro (I forgot this dude’s name and had to google it LMAO) to make you stay with him. Sojiro relents (with a condition of course, no nasty things 😒).

— Even though you don’t want to, Akira would force you to live with him. When you two started living together, he’ll spoil you with affection and love. He isn’t ashamed in declaring his love for you.

— Akira would have a sad and angry look on his eyes whenever you flinch. Sad that throughout your life, your parents have been abusing you. And angry that he should’ve been here earlier to save you.

— Akira might not be a therapist but he can try to be one. Just tell him everything and he won’t judge. When you start to cry, he’ll pull you in for a hug.

“Shh.. it’s okay. I’m here.” The warmth and cozy feeling of Akira’s embrace is enough to send another wave of tears. You tightly clench the back of his shirt as you sob in his chest. The moon was out as some of the light pass through the attic’s window.

Akira didn’t mind that you were staining his shirt at all. He wants you to let it all out. His brows knitted together once more when his thoughts went to your parents. Oh how he wanted to make them pay for what they’ve done to you.

“That’s it.. let it all out.” How your agony cries make his heart twist painfully in his chest. Like a knife repeatedly stabbing him. He wants to clear all of your awful thoughts. To get rid of the pain your parents brought to you. But he couldn’t. All he could do now is hold you in his embrace as he waits for you to stop.

Yu Narukami

— Yu is actually shock when he finds out about your background, then his face morph into a deadly murderous glare. Which makes the whole Investigation Team afraid of him. This is afterall their first time seeing Yu angry— no, furious.

—“P-Partner! Calm down—!” “Where are they?” “Meep—“

— Yu would immediately bring you into a warm hug when he finds you. He craddles your head behind the back as he whispers sweet nothings in your ears.

— Yu would immediately tell Dojima about what’s happening in your family. Even though you don’t want to, Yu couldn’t bear to see you suffer anymore. After they get arrested, Yu would also ask Dojima if you can move in with them. (Dojima saying yes bc he pities you too)

— Yu would immediately worry if you disappeared, his mind would be fill with endless worry because of the fact that your shadow counterpart can appear in the TV world. If it’s not, then Yu would be so grateful and pamper you with love. But if it is, Yu is already ready to take on your Shadow.

— Yu would do everything to cheer you up. When I mean by everything, everything. This boi would move heaven and earth for you. All he wants is to get rid of your painful thoughts.

“Hey, darling. Where are you?” You can hear Yu calling for you downstairs, but you couldn’t answer. You hiccup pathetically as you press your hand harder to cover your mouth, muffling your cries. You could hear your parents words still, as if they were still here. Still taunting you about how pathetic you are.

“You pathetic, good-for-nothing child! Why the hell are you crying?!” Tears were still pouring out of your eyes as the voice of your mother ring in your ears. “You’re just a bitch, why did we receive such a useless child.” Your whimper grew louder when the laughter of your father resonated through your head.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt someone near you. You bit your lower lip as you closed your eye, anticipating for the abuse. You flinch when you felt someone removing the duvet you’re under and touching you. The person quickly withdrew their hand.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes, fearing that both of your parents came back to get you. The fear crawling through your veins as you whimper a bit. You felt someone tenderly running a hand through your hair. “Shh.. it’s okay.”

You recognized the voice. You slowly opened your eyes to meet your boyfriend’s gentle and reassuring face. He was sitting on the side with his hand running through your hair. No words needed, you quickly crawl towards him, seeking his comfort. Yu immediately welcome you to his embrace.

He pets your head as you sob in his neck. His eyes glazed with tears as well as his hug tighten. “It’s okay.. their not coming back. I promise.”

Minato Arisato

— This would be the first time that the group will ever see their leader showing his emotion. Minato’s emotion is actually spiralling, he doesn’t know what to feel when he heard about your.. condition at home. His face contorts quickly from shock, angry, sad, concern and worry.

— Minato doesn’t immediately pull you into a hug, but he does open his arms for you. He’ll hug you tightly when you rush to his embrace. He doesn’t need to say anything as he nuzzle his face to your neck.

— Even though Minato doesn’t want you to be there anymore, he doesn’t have a choice. If the police takes away your parents, then where will you go? Will you also have a similar fate to him? He doesn’t want you to be an orphan just like him.

— But, even though Minato can’t bring justice to your parents just yet (lol. wrong game), he would make you move in to the Dormitory. So that he can take care of you and make sure you are far away from your toxic parents.

— Minato would glare at anyone who’ll make mean comments (Yukari 😒) or make you uncomfortable (Junpei 😒). Everyone by now knows not to mess with their leader’s s/o.

— Minato might not be affectionate but he’ll try. But, one thing is sure, he’ll always have time for you. Even though he’s tired from Tartarus, school, and Confidant rising, he’ll make time for you.

— Minato will also dote on you like the rest of the leaders. He will give you small gifts and trinkets, give you food and share his earphones with you. Even though he can’t erase all of the traumatic experience your parents gave to you, he’ll be damned that he’s trying his best.

— Minato understands if you need some alone time. And he would be so surprised whenever you flinch. He doesn’t bring it up but you can see the pain in his eyes whenever he sees you flinch.

“Can.. I come in?” Minato’s voice rang through the room. You didn’t have the energy to move from your bed, nor can you find your voice to call to him. You just feel.. nothing. Useless just like what your parents say.

You’ve already shed all of your tears, nothing is left anymore to shed as you laid motionless. Your eyes never left the ceiling, even when the door opened and closed. You could hear him walking towards you. Your eyes flickered to him before returning to the ceiling.

“Move.” Minato said, more like commanded, but he said that quietly and so gentle. You did what you were told as you roll to the side. You could feel your bed dipping slightly when Minato sat and laid down.

He made you face him as you stare at his blue-oceanic eyes. His eyes were usually cold and emotionless, but now, they were filled with admiration and sadness. He carefully place an arm around you, probably testing if you’re gonna push him away or not.

You didn’t do anything, so he took this as a sign to hug you. Your face was on the crook of his neck as you could feel his fingers running through your hair. Even though Minato isn’t talking, you could feel your eyes prickling with tears again.

Minato only held you close as you cried in his neck. He doesn’t need words afterall to express his concern to you..

Minako Arisato

— Minako might already have an idea on what’s going on with you. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s very sad about the fact that you have that kind of parents. She might be angry, yes. But she’s more concern and worry about you than them.

— Minako would hold your hands first before hugging you. She wants to make sure you’re okay first before hugging you. Afterall, you’re wellbeing is much more important than hers.

— Like Minato, she doesn’t have any power against your parents. As much as she wants them gone (believe me, she does), she doesn’t want you to be an orphan just like her. So she makes you move in with her in the Dormitory.

— As much as Minako wants to share a room with you, she respects your privacy. But she will make sure that you’re room is next to hers so that when you need her, she’ll be immediately be there.

— Minako would dote on you like usual, except with much more love. But she wouldn’t overwhelm you! She extremely loves you and doesn’t like seeing you unhappy.

— Even though Minako can’t change what happened, she can change what happens in the future. She would make sure that nothing bad would happen to you again. Even if it means escaping the country so that you wouldn’t go back to your family.

— Whenever you flinch when she tries to hold you, she quickly retracts her hand and ask you if you’re okay.

“Thank you so much, Minako..” Minako hums as you two cuddle in bed. It was already the late of night, and you had a nightmare. Minako immediately came to your room and calmed you down. “Why’re you thank me for?”

“You know,, for.. helping me escape from my parents.” She knew that you were having a hard time coping ever since you move in with them in the Dormitory. Especially since your parents practically drill all those nasty things about you in your head. Minako just embraces you tighter and nuzzle her head on top of your head.

“What’re partners for?” She giggles as you weakly chuckle. Minako might not know what the future will hold, but if she has to choice, she’ll spend the rest of her life with you. Trying to make you happy and make up for the unhappy times.

[x] Main Page || [x] Persona 5 Page || [x] Persona 4 Page || [x] Persona 3 Page

[justasimplesinner]

those angsty Jon hcs i promised

i wanted this to be a fic but i simply can't write it out. i have no idea where to start, how to even write it, how to describe everything, but i needed to turn this into something so here we are

Jonathan was rough by default, you could recall maybe one or two instances when he wasn't. sex with him was exhausting, both mentally and physically, but it was worth it. you trusted him, because he never went to far. like he knew you and your boundaries better than you knew yourself. you weren't afraid to give him control of your pleasure, of your body. but this felt like absuing it

choking was never off the table. hell, it was very much on the table. it was good to just let go, to let the other person control you for a moment, without a worry in the world. until you started to get worried, feeling his fingers tighten. they never stopped. they never flexed. they just tightened. until it became painful. until you actually couldn't breathe. he didn't let go. you looked into his eyes and saw he clearly had no intention of letting go. you clawed at his wrist, but it only made his smirk widen, it only made him push harder

he always told you he'd never hurt you, but in that moment it was hard to believe that. he did hurt other people after all, didn't he? he could've changed his mind about you any minute, you wouldn't know. maybe it was his idea of having complete control, literally holding your life in your hands. but your idea was to stay alive

it was painful, mentally and physically, what with how he pushed you further into the mattress, watching your face grow red, your veins pop, feeling your pulse quicken under his fingertips. hell, you felt him twitch. you felt exactly how his victims felt. you felt pure, raw fear because your vision was blurring and he was smiling at you in a way you never wanted anyone to smile at you, especially not him

you were sure you scratched his wrist to the point of bleeding before he finally let go, started going on about your fear and how good it looks on you, but you didn't feel the same for the rest of that session. you didn't tell him to stop but you didn't want him to keep going either. without realising, you obeyed his every wish in fear of him hurting you. everything was dictated by raw, primal instincts 

he would never hurt you, as in actually hurt you. you knew that. that's what he said. but that whole thing, it did hurt. it left bruises, and not the good kind. it left a little thought behind, nagging at the back of your brain - he said he wouldn't hurt you and yet he did. maybe he didn't even know he hurt you, you didn't say anything after all. maybe he knew but it was unintentional. or so you hoped

suddenly, you were more interested in his research, in his victims. suddenly, you were starting to ponder just exactly why he was being dragged off to Arkham every time he got caught, or why was he even caught. you knew the risk when you entered the relationship, but back then, you were sure he'd never hurt you. now, you had to remind yourself at every step that he wouldn't because it stopped being so sure

Jonathan saw you slowly pulling away from him. even flinching sometimes when he raised his hand near you or got too close. he saw you listening with more rapt attention to the news reports, especially those about him, and then sit in thought for hours. he had to watch you try to go normally about your day while also partly trying to avoid him. and quite honestly, his first thought was that maybe you've finally come to your senses and decided to leave him

he wasn't a man that left problems unsolved. he wasn't a man that'd let you go without an explanation, without a talk, without knowing what the fuck did he do to finally push you away from him for good. he's stoic when he asks you to talk to him, lists all of your behaviour changes, inquires about it all, despite his mind reeling and his stomach churning. after all, it was hard, constantly being in fear that the only good thing in his life was about to be ripped away from him

you tell him. you know you should, you know that's the right thing. you're scared of his reaction, but you tell him that one time you two were having sex, you felt uncomfortable. unsafe. that sometimes he takes things too far, even for you. this man has the gall to tell you that you can always ask him to stop, use the safeword or whatever, but you easily make him realise exactly which instance you have in mind about once you spitefully talk about how it's a little hard to say anything when you're choked half to death. how it's a little hard, suddenly having the thought that the one you love could literally kill you on the spot just because. how your own body betrayed you, misinterpreting some signals as arousal instead of fear. how you're suddenly plagued with thoughts that you might not be as safe as you initially thought you were

Jonathan made you spiral down into your fear without even using his toxin, and he doesn't really know how to react to that. under any other circumstances, he'd be proud. he'd be proud of his abilities. and maybe that said something about him. maybe that said a lot. he's a terrible human. hell, he knows he is. he isn't crazy, he isn't insane like they tell him at Arkham. he's just evil. by choice. but that doesn't mean he's not human. that doesn't mean he can't love, that he can't regret, that he can't feel. because he feels. you make him feel. and he wanted to make you feel in return, but not fear. out of all people, you just... couldn't be afraid of him. you were the only humanity and genuity he had left. you couldn't

he apologizes. he sincerely apologizes over and over again and he'll never stop apologizing, verbally or otherwise. he'll never stop trying to regain your trust. if there's anything he can do to make you feel comfortable again, he will do it. he doesn't want you to be scared. he doesn't want you to leave him. he doesn't want to be alone and turn into the monster everyone makes him out to be

he will make sure there's more communication. he will make sure you always tell him whether what he's doing is fine by you or not. he will leave you whenever you want him to leave you, he won't touch you whenever you don't want him to touch you. it's not that he didn't do that before, of course, because he never forced you to anything, but it's different now. he's trying to build what he's broken, he's trying to show you that you have nothing to be scared of. he's trying to keep you there with him. and whether you forgive him is your decision. and no matter what will it be, he will respect it. he'd rather let you go completely instead of hurting you by keeping you by his side

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

((Note: If you’re a confused little muffin who saw our ship in the top 100 list and you want to know what in the ever loving fuck we are, feel free to dm me or mention me in a post or even to send an ask. do be warned tho that if u send me hate i will block and report u (and not just to tumblr, to everyone I know who is part of this fandom). our little sub fandom is not a toxic space and no one is allowed to make it one or there will be a fucking war))

And we’re back to our anxiety induced in denial Damian. I love this kid. Tho I do wanna make him slightly more… how do I say this… like cold? I dunno maybe I can bring that in with other people and his interactions. I just wanna write him with his proper grammar and what not and like lbh this boi is already a simp for Mari. But I don’t wanna let things happen too quickly, y’know?

Anyway, maybe I should make the theme of this chapter the fact that he has absolutely no chill. Lmao, I think that’s hilarious ngl. Also I’m just gonna pretend certain things existed back then for the sake of my sanity I can’t keep coming up with words that make sense for explaining what a thing is without saying the actual word because it didn’t exist yet. The hologram in that one chapter was hard enough bruh

Ok here we go, thanks for reading! I hope u enjoy it

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 7 – Chill

Previous

Next

Damian rolled the ring between his fingers as the morning light filtered through his windows. She’d put the choice in his hands, it was a kind thing to do, smart too. It made sense, if this role was as important as she made it sound it needed someone who could commit to it.

The miraculous was the kind of black that seemed to stretch on forever. It had a bright green paw print on it. He hadn’t put it on yet but from what he could gather it’s kwami would appear as soon as he put it on.

He'd be one of the leaders of an entire Order. He had no idea how big it was. His mother had raised him to lead but that was an entirely different organization. How would Marinette react to that? Could he handle the responsibility?

These thoughts had been plaguing him from the moment he picked up the ring.

But that wasn’t what got to him the most. She was just so… good. She had even agreed to move her entire court to Gotham for his sake. To uproot her entire life and move everyone involved just so that he could stay with his family.

There had to be a catch.

There always is.

He sighed, overthinking everything wasn’t going to help him make this decision.

There was only one thing he could do.

He put on the ring and a bright light caught him off guard. A small floating cat like being appeared in front of him.

“Kid?” he kept his eyes closed as though he didn’t want to see who was in front of him, his voice breaking slightly.

Slowly, the kwami – Plagg if he remembered correctly - opened his eyes. Damian stared at him as disappointment flitted across the creature’s face.

He lifted his brow and asked, “Hope to see someone else, Plagg?”

He chuckled slightly, sadness lacing the sound, “My previous holder, thought maybe I'd get the chance to say goodbye this time,”

Damian frowned, “What do you mean?”

Plagg frowned, “You don’t know about my previous holder? Who gave you my miraculous?”

“Marinette did,” he said, simply, “She actually just gave me the chance to consider the offer of the position, I have the rest of the day to get to know you and make my decision,”

Plagg seemed to consider what he said, he then sat down on the bed in front of Damian. He explained the basics of the miraculous to him, the phrases he needed to use as well as what those phrases would do. The things he’d need as well as what behaviors he might pick up.

“Purring?” Damian said in a disbelieving voice, “You’re telling me I might start purring in my civilian form?”

Plagg cackled, “Yeah, don’t worry it’s not that bad,”

“Tt, what exactly is the purpose of it? In fact what exactly is my purpose? It seems like she has the leadership thing under control,”

Plagg seemed to sober up at the question, he flew up right in front of Damian’s face and looked him in the eyes, “Her job is to lead and look after her court,” his look sharpened and he narrowed his eyes, “Your job is to look after her, your job is to protect her, your job is to see her. Your purpose is to make hers as easy as possible. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll have other official responsibilities and you will rule alongside her, but your real job? Your purpose? You have to help her remember that she’s only human and that that’s okay,”

Damian stared at Plagg, the kwami stared back. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? There had to be something. Some kind of catch.

Before he could grill the kwami, Dick burst into his room.

Damian could see his brother’s clear panic and immediately stood. Dick’s eyes found his, “She’s gone,”

Damian felt himself spiral, memories flew through his mind. All the times he or any of his siblings had been taken. Cass didn’t speak for a month after the last incident. Jason’s “secret" panic attacks had increased tremendously. Tim stayed up for nights on end, only sleeping when he passed out. Damian sparred for hours and hours, hating the feeling of being useless. 

His father and Dick weren’t in Gotham at the time and Selina was helping Harley with one of her ‘projects’.

When they got Steph back after a week, she was so shook up that she kept waking up screaming from nightmares for months.

They all blamed themselves.

“Her kwami showed us a letter she left but someone could’ve faked it to buy time, they’re searching the village,” Jason said, coming into his room, holding a piece of parchment.

Damian barely registered the way Plagg seemed to study his reactions. They needed to find her, it was already afternoon, who knows how far gone she could be?

They spent hours scouring the castle. Before he knew it the moon was rising and they were all gathered in the living room, going over possibilities.

“I’m going to go get Alfred and Bruce, this has been going on long enough, it’s time to call in back up. It’s already passed nightfall and she’s not back yet,” Dick walked out of the room, barely two seconds passed before he shouted something to them, “Guys I found her!”

They were out quicker than a lightning bolt. He ignored his siblings as they all flocked around her. He took her in.

She was wearing a cloak, which Jason quickly took and gave to a passing maid. She wore one of her black dresses. Her hair was in a braid.

But the cloak was dirty, the dress had tears and the braid was messy.

But it was her eyes that got him. The blue irises looked like someone had taken every drop of sadness in the world and left it in them. They were red rimmed and puffy and there were black bags under them.

She’d been crying and she hadn’t slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Somewhere along the line, they moved back into the living room. Cass was sitting next to Marinette on the couch and the others were arguing.

Damian couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was here. She was safe. She wasn’t taken.

Cass tapped his arm, he turned to look at her and she started signing. (a/n ok yeah I know that sign language might not have existed but do I really care?)

Get her out of here, she’s tired, Cass signed.

Damian nodded and after asking her permission and scolding his siblings, he escorted her to her room.

Plagg whispered something to her that he couldn’t hear. 

Then she apologized for scaring him and he explained his thought process. She explained that he would’ve been able to know via their miraculous whether she was in trouble or not. He made a mental note to ask Plagg more about that.

When they got to her room he opened her door. She was about to go in but he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She looked at him expectantly. He searched her gaze, he had so much he wanted to ask her, why she’d been crying was at the top of that list.

But she looked so tired, and Damian just couldn’t get himself to form the words. Instead he bid her goodnight and went back to the living room where his siblings were waiting.

All eyes turned to him when he entered. He didn’t know what to say. Instead of thinking his words through he blurted out the first thing he thought.

“She didn’t flinch when our eyes met,” he said. They all stared at him for a few seconds. Usually they would’ve laughed at his bluntness, Damian is certain, but there was something about the haunted look on her face that sapped all humor out of the situation.

Jason was crouched in front of the fire. Stephanie sat on one of the chairs while Dick leaned against its armrest. Damian was next to Cassandra on the couch and the five of them sat in silence.

Millions of questions danced through the air, the answers all just out of reach.

Little did they know that they weren’t the only ones with questions.

Outside, three pairs of eyes were watching the oblivious siblings closely.

Damian felt a chill go down his spine and turned towards the window. He walked over and stared out into the forest, he didn’t see anyone but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave him.

He closed the curtains.

The smallest of the three chuckled slightly, “She got herself a paranoid one, huh?”

“We need to head back,” the only guy out of the three said to the others.

They nodded and followed him deeper into the forest.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette @f-rget-lt @fusser90

[mudhornchronicles]

dreamboat | greaser!frankie | part four

pairing: frankie morales x reader; greaser!frankie x reader

warning: cursing, talking down, and feels

a/n: listen… I know the song mentioned in this part was released before their time and I’ve tried my hardest to stay within this timeline but it just went so well. sue me. also... do ya’ll like the moodboard i did? c:

part one | part two | part three | part four

masterlist

No matter what you were doing, homework or chores, your mind is always drifting off to Frankie. 

and so did Frankie’s.

The urge to talk to him became stronger every time you saw him in class because you truly enjoyed his company. You liked him because he never tried to be someone he was not - he was true to himself.

You were enamored by the way he spoke so passionately about his mother and his favorite pastimes. You felt a ripple of joy when you had seen his eyes light up when you complimented his father’s car. You also caught yourself giggling like a schoolgirl at the sight of his cheeks reddening at your comment about his “cute dimple.” 

You may have not known Frankie for long, but from the time you’ve spent with him, the more at ease you felt. 

Frankie didn’t miss the quick glances you shot his way, but he also knew you didn’t miss the way he paid more attention to the way you adjusted your pencil when you tried to understand the day’s lesson than to the lesson itself. 

Frankie took a mental note at the fact that you took great pride with your hair. Even though there were endless ways of styling your hair, Frankie’s favorite was your go to up-do with a ribbon that always matched your skirt. It was simple, yet so elegant at the same time. 

You packed your grey spiral notebook and #2 pencils in your school bag and settled the leather strap on your right shoulder. Your class let out early, which you were thankful for. You were tired from running to your first period after missing the bus and having to catch a ride with Max - making him late in the process. You walk into the hallway, ready to take the stairs for your math class when you hear a throat clear behind you. You assumed it wasn’t for you and as you placed a hand on the handrail, you hear Frankie speak your name.

You look back and flash him a tired smile. “Good morning, Francisco.” You check the giant black and white clock and cough up a chuckle. “Actually, good afternoon.”

Frankie looks around to see students’ eyes widen when they hear you call him Francisco. Shit, Frankie thinks. 

“C’mon baby.” Frankie silently chastises himself. “Don’t be runnin’ that pretty little mouth with my government name ‘round here.”

You stood dumbfounded. “Excuse me?” 

Frankie leans back on the cement wall and chuckles. “Y’heard me… Listen sweetheart. I-” He abruptly stops and glares at the gawking students. Freshman, he thinks.

“Was I talkin’ to you? Get the fuck outta here before I give ya a reason to stare.” and with that they scram. You frown and scoff.

“Goodbye, Frankie.”

“No.” He gently grabs your arm and turns you back to him. “Can we please talk? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“Frankie let go of me.” You tug on your arm, trying to set it free from is grasp. “I’ll be late for math class.”

Frankie lets out a laugh, the laugh you liked hearing. “It’s a short day,” he says. “School’s out for the day.”

“Is today Wednesday?” you question.

Frankie nods and smiles, revealing his perfect dimple. “You got a ride home? Lorenzano told me you got him detention.”

Your mouth drops. “He got detention? Oh no! That was not my intention at all! I was let off easy.” You shake your head in disbelief. “If he’s in there I should be too. Excuse me, Frankie.”

Frankie throws his head back in laughter and holds you in place. “I’m kiddin’, doll. I just saw ‘em leave with Goldilocks.”

“Goldilocks?”

“Michael, sweetheart. I gotta teach ya these names. He was your ride, wasnt he? How ‘bout I take ya home?”

You rub the back of your neck and shake your head slowly. “That won’t be the best idea, Frankie.”

“‘Cause of ya folks?” You nod and decide your shoes are much more interesting to look at than the brown swirls of chocolate that rest in his eyes.

“What do they say ‘bout me?” You look back up and your eyes shift to a doe-like look.

“C’mon dolly. Just tell me.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other as you bite your lip, trying to find the words to say. “They said you aren’t what I need to be seen with. That your only goal in life is to ruin what they worked so hard to have. My mother said you were only going to use me for the opportunities I earn and use them for yourself and that I should just forget you.” You let out a deep sigh and look into his eyes.

You see his jaw shift side to side and take in a deep breath. He looks at you and says, “and do you believe them?”

“No. Not one bit.”

Frankie takes one of your hands into his and smiles. “Good. I won’t make you any more late to the bus than I already have.” Frankie gestures to the hallway that stretches down and meets the entrance of the building. 

“But I do have a question for you.” You nod, motioning for him to continue. “You wanna go on a ride with me?

“I thought you hid your car?”

“I never said anything about my car. How ‘bout it, dolly? Let me take you on a joy ride.”

You hesitate and Frankie notices this. “Do you trust me?”

He continues to play with your fingers and you give his hand a small squeeze.

“I do.” you smile. “Pick me up at the same spot as the last time, okay?”

———

You can’t help but feel worried, yet excited all at the same time. When you heard the roar of Frankie’s motorcycle, a smirk crept up and planted itself at your lips. You turned and saw Frankie ride up and park right next to you, kicking the stand and stabilizing the bike before walking over to you.

“So this is what you meant by a ride, huh?” Frankie smiled proudly and nodded. “Yep. This here is Delta. Finally finished her a couple months back. Whatd’ya think? Ain’t she a beaut?”

You walked around the bike, analyzing it and committing her details to memory. “She’s a Harley FL? She looks like a ‘41 or ‘42.”

Frankie looks back at you with an amused look. “You know bikes?”

You smiled and nodded. “My uncle owns a shop upstate.” You comment. “His prized possession is a 1935 Vincent Comet. He’s very proud of it. It doesn’t move, but it looks nice.” You joke. 

“I think I just fell in love with you, doll. You can’t just whip this on me so suddenly.” You laugh with him and smile to yourself.

I think I just fell in love with you, doll. 

“Before we go, I need you to wear this.” He says handing you a silver and red helmet. You frown and pat the crown of your head. “But it’ll frizz and flatten my hair”

He pulls a white bandana from the inside of the helmet and hands it to you. “It won’t, trust me. My mom wears this all the time and her hair is still higher than the empire state.”

“I do trust you, Frankie.” You chuckle. You bring his hands, bandana in between, and motion for him to tie it for you. This brings him close. His face is close to yours - his lips closer than ever. 

He ties it in place and cups your cheek. Your eyes are glued on each other and that feeling of being content flows back into your system. He clears his throat and hands you the helmet, unbuckling it before you take it into your hands.

He helps you onto the back of the bike and before he can get on, you spot his school bag tied to the side of the bike. “What’s with the bag?”

“It has something for us. Don’t worry, doll. You’ll see soon.”

———

Who knew this place had such a view. Frankie drove up through windy roads, the elevation making your ears pop, but the result was breathtaking. He pulled up to a flat section of the mountain, nearly at the top, and you could see the navy image of the mountain range serving as the background of the miniscule outline of the town.

Frankie helps you off the bike, placing a helmet on each of the handles. He unties his bag for the bike, grabbing your hand and leading you towards a grassy area. He opens his bag revealing a squared white tablecloth, snapping it and placing it on the ground. He helps you onto the fabric and allows you to get settled before he sits and re-opens his bag. He snaps his bag shut and looks at you. He calls your name, and you give him your full attention, which he has had from the beginning.

“Would you like to have a picnic with me?” he shyly says. Your cheeks burn at the sight of his timidity. “I would love to, Frankie.”

From his bag, he pulls two glass soda pop bottles nestled in paper napkins, two wrapped sandwiches, candy bars, and a bag of potato chips. He sets your share of the foods in front of you and sets the candy choices in front of both of you.

“I didn’t know what candy your favorite was, or if you even eat candy, but I brought us some options.” He proudly says. In front of you were a plethora of candy: snickers, gummi bears, kit-kats, m&ms, junior mints, and tootsie pops. You grabbed your favorite and thanked him.

You weren’t used to be treated with the amount of kindness as Frankie was giving you. You had been courted before, but they all believed that gifts were the way to your heart, but, you just wanted a good conversation.

“Frankie, can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything you want, doll.”

“Why are you so set on being around me?”

Frankie shrugs, opening his sandwich. “You’re a cool chick.”

You nod in agreement and giggle. “Alright… You’re a cool cat too Frankie… well when you’re not getting arrested.”

Frankie playfully rolls his eyes and lets out a loud groan. “That was one time.”

You give him a nudge and when you are certain he’s looking; you start to mock him.

“Please Mr. Jailer…. Won't you let my man go free…”

Frankie lets out a hearty laugh. “That’s unfair!”

“Please Mr. Jailer,” you continue. “Won't you let my man go free.” You both cackle and howl until you’re out of breath.

“C’mon! How ‘bout ya give my criminal record a break and eat your sandwich!”

You looked at the plastic wrapped sandwich and grinned. “Did you make these yourself?” He nods with a mouthful of food and hums uh huh. You enthusiastically unwrap the sandwich and take a big bite. You let out a moan in delight as the flavor of seasonings attack your tastebuds. It’s not too spicy, but it’s also not bland – making it one of the best sandwiches you’ve ever had.

“This is amazing. What’s in it?”

“Um.. swiss cheese, a mayo and chipotle sauce thing my mom put together, crushed chips, and seasoned chicken. My mom wanted to be different and used chicken instead of ham, I guess.”

“Well tell your mom that she’s a genius. This is incredible.”

Frankie sniggered. “I’ll pass it along. She’s an excellent cook. You’ll have to try it sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

You both sat and ate quietly. No words were spoken – simply taking in the scenic view. You look over to Frankie, only to see him in a daze. There was a question that lingered in your mind and although you didn’t want to ruin the moment, you knew you had to ask. You whisper his name, hoping he would hear it, and he did. He slowly turned over to you and uttered a low yes.

“Why do you act differently when we’re together in public than in private?” You vocalized the confusion that lingered in your mind from the moment he flipped a switch at school. “You’re sweet, smart, and caring while we’re here doing this, but all you do at school is curse, skip class with the boys, and disrespect anyone that looks at you a little too long.”

Frankie knew this conversation would come. He didn’t think you would notice his attitude changes, yet here you were. He lets a sigh be exhaled through his nose as he shakes his head. “You just wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I act the way I do because that’s what people expect. They expect someone like me to fail and…You have no idea what this town… what these people… can do to you.”

“Frankie… I may not know what you’ve gone through in life, but what I do know is that you have my shoulder to lean on and my ears to listen when you need it the most. I like seeing this Frankie.” You sit up, resting your weight on your legs, and reach for his hand. “The Frankie that gets good grades and has a great sense of respect and responsibility – not the Frankie I saw at school today.”

He looks down at your interlocked hands and lets out a content breath. Frankie gives your hand a squeeze and gazes at you – not at your eyes… this look goes much deeper than that.

“Does your mother really believe I’d use you and toss aside the one person that decided to get to know me before they wanted nothing to do with me?”

You shrug, knitting your eyebrows. “She can think what she wants to think – just know that’s not the way I do.”

A cool breeze picks up as you continuously play with each other’s hands and sit comfortably in close proximity. Frankie reluctantly lets go of your hand and shimmies out of his leather jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders, making sure your exposed arms are somewhat covered. You take a lapel in each hand, pulling on them to wrap yourself with the jacket. Frankie’s heart skips a beat as he takes a mental picture of the way you looked wearing his jacket.

Frankie sits back down, but you nudge your way closer and closer to him. You feel like melting as you smell his cologne, from the jacket and himself.

“What are you going to do about Michael?”

Frankie looks taken aback from the sudden question. “Don’t worry that pretty little head about him. The boys and I will handle the trust fund baby. I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you going to get hurt?”

Frankie stretches his arm out, a quiet plea for you to come closer. You oblige and he immediately wraps his arm around you, placing a chaste kiss atop you head. “I don’t know.”

You put your head on his shoulder and hug him, both arms around him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No one will get hurt if Mikey boy plays his cards right.” You look up and see his softened face, but stern eyes. The thought of Michael alone burns a flame in Frankie, a reaction he had no actual reasoning behind.

You stay like this for a few minutes, but you decide to lighten the mood.

“Psst…” you say. Frankie looks down at you with kind eyes.

“I know that no other… One will ever do… And I know that the answer's…All up to you.” you sing.

Frankie sniggers and rolls his eyes, but nevertheless joins you.

“Please Mr. Jailer… Won't you let my man go free.”

———

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont @danniburgh​ @curiouskeyboard

taglists + requests are open!

[kimnamjoonsrightthigh]

1.1/Friday afternoon/KNJ

Series Protector, protected

Part 2/?

Summary On your way home, you encounter someone in need of your help. Giving it earns you six new friends and one new enemy.

Genre(s) Drama, fluff, bit of angst, bit of antagonists to lovers, eventual smut, hurt/comfort.

Pairing Namjoon x Reader.

Warning(s) Alcohol consumption.

Tags Tourist!AU, reader is a clumsy brave idiot, Jungkook is everyone’s baby, possessive!Namjoon, this will be a long one.

Wordcount 1.5K.

A/N I’m new to the social media AU sphere and also not from the US, if anyone could recommend me an app or a program for good fake texting/insta/twitter, that’d be amazing and I would love you forever.

On Friday afternoon, you were frowning into your gin tonic. Ani slumped into her seat across the table from you. A sigh left her lips, which went unnoticed by you as you watched the ice cubes in your drink. She narrowed her eyes at you and your expression.

“Earth to Y/N,” she said slowly, “are you here with me?”

“Hmm.”

“I take that as a no.”

“Yeah.” You considered the glass in front of you critically, with a look so scathing that it was usually reserved for incompetent colleagues, or annoying plaintiffs. Diluting liquor, you mused, seemed like a waste of everybody’s time, and yet you couldn’t stand shots without a chaser. You wanted to cling to that train of thought, somewhere between cocktail recipes and youthful memories, but you couldn’t. Mentally, you were still stuck on the group you encountered last night, replaying the encounter in your head over and over again. Your regrets had launched you into a full-on anxiety spiral that morning. You should have insisted on going with them. You should have insisted they take Jungkook to the hospital. Hell, you should have at least given them your damn name so the cops would have a witness. Bottom line, you should have done anything that didn’t include you awkwardly shuffling your way out of there. You felt like an idiot even thinking about it, but you couldn’t not think about it, either, because you were simply too old to behave like a headless chicken.

“I’m hungry,” Ani said, picking up the menu again, “let’s split some nachos.”

You hummed a response. Nachos seemed like a good way to take the edge off before you ordered another gin tonic. And then another. With ice. Which was cold. Like nights usually were. Unlike last night, when you had left a group of helpless tourists standing in an alley on their own… damn it. You had almost managed to pull yourself out of it. Almost. You forced yourself to look at Ani, whose eyes were focused on something behind you. She shook her head before saying: “That dude is wearing two fanny packs. No, three. Tourist much?”

Your head whipped around so fast you almost snapped your own neck. Sure enough, there was Seokjin, digging into one of his many pockets while Namjoon was fiddling with his phone and Hoseok studied the menu board of a restaurant further down the street. You nearly fell out of your chair in disbelief. They were all there, all seven of them. Either you got heatstroke at lunch and were now hallucinating, or the universe was sending you a sign to make things right.

“Order the nachos, Ani,” you mumbled. Without acknowledging her answer, or considering your choices further, you pushed to your feet and started walking towards the men. You were a few feet away, heart hammering in your chest, when you called out Namjoon’s name. More than one head shot up. You scanned their faces quickly, and they all seemed okay. Jungkook’s bruises looked better in the daylight, too. A smile blossomed on your face as the relief crashed right through you. Hoseok and Jungkook smiled back at you.

“Hey, guys,” you said.

Namjoon’s expression was unreadable when he looked at you, the hint of a strained smile playing about his lips. “Hello, Y/N.”

“You all look alive. And kicking. That’s good.” You felt a familiar nervousness claw its way up your spine, settling at the back of your neck like an oversized memory. Your hand came up to brush your hair from your face, and you found it trembling a little. “How’re you, Jungkook?”

“I’m good, thanks.” There was that grin again, slightly mischievous, but mostly sweet. You had no idea how any self-respecting mugger could have picked him of all people as a victim.

“Good. Great, actually. I, uh, wanted to apologize for running out on you like that yesterday. I should have stayed. Did you end up going to the police?”

“We did,” Namjoon said, “They wanted to put out a call for witnesses when we couldn’t give them your name.”

You blushed at that, because of course they did, and you didn’t think of it. “Yeah. Again, I’m sorry. I’ll get down to the station next week.”

“Seven strangers late at night,” he replied, shrugging in lieu of mentioning what seven strangers late at night might be capable of, “I would have wanted to leave, too.”

“Oh no,” you were quick to assure him, “No, not that at all. Just… that was my first mugging, too. In a way. I’m just glad Jungkook is fine.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and you wondered if that was his defense or offense. “Jungkook is fine, alright. We’ve been his friends for years, we took care of him.” You raised an eyebrow at him, very inclined to meet his tone at least halfway. The underlying challenge was not lost on you.

“Except for the time you lost him, of course. His English is good, though, I’m sure he would have found his way back – eventually.” You noticed that the other six had taken a few steps back, Hoseok and Yoongi grinning at each other, the others looking away.

Namjoon’s jaw was working hard to contain whatever unfriendly things he was undoubtedly thinking. You watched a range of emotions cross his face before he managed to settle on a smile.

“Again, thank you for your help,” he said, clearly intending to end the conversation there. You were ready to accept that, knowing now that they were safe and well, when Jungkook put his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders from behind and mumbled something into his ear. You were close enough to hear that something was being said, but not what.

“Would you be open to us buying you dinner as a thank you?” Namjoon sighed. You perked up immediately.

“It would be my pleasure,” you practically purred. You never said no to free stuff, categorically. It was free stuff, after all. Also, during your day of self-inflicted mental torture about the fate of the seven strangers, you had found yourself curious about them, their dynamic, whether they had enjoyed their vacation so far. There were things you wanted, no, needed to know. You didn’t believe much in fate, but two chance encounters were one too many for even you to ignore. So before Namjoon could change his mind or grab Jungkook and make a run for it, you pulled your phone out and motioned for him to do the same. Seokjin seemed to put as much trust in Namjoon as you did, because you saw him typing while you recited your phone number out loud.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, “I can come pick you up if you want.”

When Namjoon smiled this time, it seemed almost genuine. “Our treat, so we’re picking you up.”

After a few more waves and bows and goodbyes that were slightly less awkward than before, you returned to your table from where Ani had been watching the situation unfold, always ready to intervene if you showed any kind of discomfort or alarm.

“Don’t tell me that was them,” she scoffed into her beer.

“Yep.”

“And when did your life become a romantic comedy?”

“There’s nothing romantic about it,” you protested immediately. “It’s called civic courage. My duty as a citizen.”

“You’re full of it, Y/N,” Ani said, “but they’re hot. Whoever Jungkook is, you should have carried him to the hospital bridal style and locked that shit down.”

“Shut up and mind your boyfriend instead of ogling tourists.”

“Getting possessive already, are we?”

 After running some much needed errands on Saturday morning and getting some even more urgent cleaning out of the way, you were contemplating your closet when your phone vibrated with a new notification.

“I have no time for more of your boyfriend drama, Ani…” you mumbled to yourself as you picked it up. It wasn’t Ani, however, it was Namjoon, confirming the dinner time.

“Ever the gentleman,” you told your empty bedroom, but texted back something affirmative anyways. The big question remained, what in the fuck am I going to wear? So far, “dinner” was all the information you had. That could mean anything from a pizza slice to an actual reservation. You didn’t know where, what, for how long, would there be dessert? Should you wear a dress, or a dress? Sneakers or boots, in case you had to walk? The uncertainty was stressing you out more than any meeting you’d had this week. You decided it was high time to call the cavalry, but then Ani didn’t pick up and you were left to your own devices once more. Frustrated, you flopped down onto your bed to scroll through some apps. Your messenger was still opened to the last message, and you figured even Namjoon wouldn’t find a reason to get annoyed at you over a simple question.

You groaned, burying your head in your comforter. He really had to make this harder than absolutely necessary – not that you had expected him to be actually helpful. But even without his expertise, you were dressed and ready when 7 came around and your doorbell rang.

[mooglesorts]

man. it's weird, because there's a lot of things about me that are Very Badger Primary, to the point where i would probably pick it with a strong bird model over anything else at this point... except that i hate dehumanization. i saw primaries described recently as 'things you wouldn't be you anymore if you went against,' and more than just about anything else that's it. even when i think people are monsters, i can't see them as not human; i'd be hard put to define exactly what i consider a 'monster,' but it's more about like. good faith than personhood, i suppose?

it's not necessarily a permanent status to be one--people can change--but my deeply held instinct is that once you have done something monstrous you will always be a person who has been a monster by your own choices, and that it's your duty to learn how to accept that while still living your life, and act accordingly from thereon out. you have to reconcile that you are a person with the fact that some doors are closed to you now, and it's up to you to decide what you do from there.

just. like. even when i hate someone and as far as i'm concerned they can go fuck themself, even in the multiple Heavily Badger social environments i've been in over the course of my life--church, progressive circles, the way the structure of the internet kind of just affects you in general--even on occasions where i've gotten swept away and given in to the pressure to dehumanize (or perform it) for a minute, there's always, always been a voice in the back of my head saying this is a person. this is a person. this is a person. this isn't right.

unintentional dehumanization sets off my '...should we really be doing this? we are getting into not good territory here, it's time to pull up and start questioning' alarms. explicit, intentional, purposeful dehumanization sets off the whole ass tornado sirens. if people on my side are doing it it's enough to throw me into a system-destabilizing crisis, because NO NO NO I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE, I WANT NO PART OF THESE PEOPLE'S MORAL SYSTEM, I FEEL UNCLEAN. it's a good way to make sure i will never, ever, ever trust someone again.

things that are Really Really Badger, off the top of my head (after the cut because Long and trauma talk):

[[MORE]]

---

-i've always loved playing adoptable games, pet simulators, etc? any game with randomly generated characters that are Yours Now and a Community, in a deeply badgery way. including games where they can die (the satisfying part is making sure they don't). except that, no matter how much fun the gameplay is, if it gets to the point where they start feeling disposable, and the only way to really keep playing is to stop humanizing them, i lose interest. it's super fucking depressing. it feels like part of me dying inside a little. i don't like it at all.

-i've always been drawn to fandoms and roleplaying communities. i was fiercely loyal to, and proud of, my first rp community on dragoncave as a 13-year-old. when my abusive mom found out about it and completely isolated me for half a year, the promise of being able to make it back to them--just sneakier this time--kept me going; when i finally got back and the group had drifted apart in my absence, it.... was absolutely devastating. i never really recovered from it. even then, i spent years trying to get the group back together every now and then, until i finally gave up.

-i am always keenly, painfully aware of the life cycle of a community. every time i hear the sentiment 'you guys are all great and i love this group' my stomach drops, because i know it's only a matter of time before things go sour or the group dissolves. rp groups, skype chats/discord servers, fandoms, you name it, i am always bracing myself or staying away entirely to avoid the inevitable and it hurts. and it hurts to see people taking part in a community i don't dare be part of, which makes lurking in fandoms... really rough. frankly, it takes me a lot of courage every time i express my appreciation for the shc community because i've been burned so many times.

-on that note: i went through some really traumatic stuff at the end of 2020 that completely turned my life upside down, and i was doing bad until i stumbled across the shc community. the moment i started engaging, it was a huge boost to my mental health, and my ability to cope with circumstances under which i was about to break down spectacularly. and it has been ever since! contributing to The Group Project and seeing other folks being friendly with each other gives me the happy feelings.

-i used to go out of my way to build and run spaces, mainly fandom and rp spaces, and took a lot of pride in engineering them so that they Functioned Well. unfortunately it wore me the hell down over the years for Burnt Badger Reasons, and now i'm too jaded, bitter, and exhausted to give a shit about being a mod/community leader anymore because of it lmao

-among those burnt badger things i relate HARD to the Red Ledger narrative. hoo boy.

-i wish i could find it again, but there was an mlp comic i saw once which went into luna's observations of what each element of harmony Means. with the element of friendship, she says that twilight has a massive amount of love to give; right now it's all focused on celestia, but when she learns to expand it outward she'll have grown into her full potential as a person, and she'll change the world. that struck a chord with how i used to feel, hard, and it's really stuck with me ever since. (hello, unhealthy snake model)

-emphasis on 'used to feel,' lmao

-got super invested in a really toxic '''mental health''' community at a low point in my life; exploded HARD trying to help everyone i could; got into vicious, protracted fights with the shitty mods for years about the harmful way they ran their community until i finally managed to go 'fuck this it's not getting better' and leave.

-had to numb myself emotionally to the people around me for a long time once i really started learning about mental health and trauma stuff, because now i was seeing signs of their pain and baggage everywhere i looked, and i couldn't handle not being able to help.

-the imagery with which i think about my bird primary is overwhelmingly negative. whether it's my actual primary or a model, i uh. i feel like a healthy relationship to one's primary doesn't involve associating it with gore.

-i saw a conversation recently about how birds think of morality in terms of 'if you can, you should,' and how that's scary for badgers because their definition of 'can' involves destroying yourself for the sake of that 'should,' and... yeah, that's a mood. that's a BIG mood. thinking about bird primary stuff is hard--and i had to pick up my lion model to deal with it--because it's so easy for me to spiral into a self-shredding spiral of other people are counting on you to do the right thing, how dare you pull back for your own health and sanity. how dare you turn your back for even a minute. how dare you rest. the work is never done.

which is... a very exploded badger approach to exploded bird morality. whoops.

-fix-it and time travel fiction in which Everything Went Right This Time and It's Going to Be Okay are one of my very favorite self-indulgent fantasies. i will enjoy putting characters through the wringer in all kinds of creatively horrific ways which may or may not end on a downer note, certainly, i love that shit, but i will also 90% of the time have a backup version of the arc or dynamic that's softer and lighter and Actually Healthy This Time. it's the dichotomy there that really gets me tbh, a story where Everything Ends Happily by default will mmmaybe pull me in? but stories where there's the constant shadow of this could end horribly, it's supposed to end horribly, and we got a happy fucking ending anyway are just... that shit will make me cry, man.

it's also why i kind of really hate stable time loop stories where it initially looks like this is going to be The Good Timeline this time around, but OOPSIE everything went to shit anyway! we're right back where we started, just like it was meant to be all along! it's a tired cliche by this point and an unsatisfying one for me, and it makes me roll my eyes every time.

-this is relevant to the bird vs. badger because like... my gut instinct is to prioritize people over systems. when shit hits the fan, when someone's fallen into the machinery and is about to get hurt, i don't feel right about it if i just let it happen. i'll break the machinery if i have to to keep it away from them; i won't feel great about that, and it might cause problems, but fuck it, we'll figure it out later. throwing people into the gears of a system when i'm convinced it's the only option makes me feel Awful.

-related to the above, another trope that really speaks to me in fiction is when a character defies the rules of reality through sheer force of will. no, this is not happening, i don't give a shit what the limits are supposed to be. i refuse to let this be the way things are. (there's that lion model.)

-i've just kind of... always wanted to be an Everyone Badger. it makes me sad how much of that i've lost over the years as i've gotten more cynical, but it's what i wish i could be.

---

doubtless i'll think of more the moment i hit send, and there are just as many things about me that are Super Bird Primary, but like... mamma mia that's some spicy badger. the main thing stopping me is the Can't and Refuse to Dehumanize bit. i also... hm. i think i can function okay without a community? they just help a lot, and it sucks when i'm confronted with one i don't have a (stable) place in. any thoughts? is it possible for a bird system's foundation to run so deep that eventually it overrides the bird?

[tisthepoetl]

There are many stressors in a modern day lifestyle.

Usually these include the looming threat of death, the monotony of working for currency that stopped being useful years ago and deer.

There are so, so many stressed people. Made worse by the apocalypse that didn’t happen, the riots that most definitely happened, and the negotiations that have been “in progress” for the last few years.

The amount of rapid budget changes are stressing out some people. The amount of rapid cultural exchange is stressing people out. If you work in any field, any field at all, you are likely to be stressed as all hell.

Eventually, they have to pick someone on the ship to be shown as an expert negotiator. No one is prepared for this. Most of them are middle men, most of them don’t have a clue what they’re supposed to be doing, and all of them are panicking.

So they drew straws. The most important decision of all time is made by dumb luck, and honestly that’s a pretty good metaphor for everything happening right now.

Name someone on their haphazard crew and they will have a conflict of interest. Name one member and they will be grossly under qualified.

America has four ambassadors out of the eight chosen. Not because they’re the most presentable, or the most qualified, or the best possible choice, but because they overpaid for a privilege nobody wanted.

If all of this goes to hell they're getting the blame. And if they get the blame the only plan is to point at whoever was voluntold to be leader and pray for leniency.

Every part of this is a desperate attempt to stall before the actual powers back home have found a way to bullshit having any actual control of things.

It shows.

It really, really shows.

So, who was the unlucky scapegoat for the possible downfall of all of humanity?

If you guessed Samantha who wasn’t supposed to even be on this ship, you would be correct!!

Seriously, she was the back up for someone who was almost conceivably qualified. Sort of, if you squinted and ignored the fact they were only there via nepotism, only to be pulled out once everyone realized they were sacrificial lambs.

And then the replacement was also saved from this bullshit via bribery and blackmail and probably some other third sketchy thing she doesn’t know about.

So, here she is, Samantha who had planned on changing her name before realizing she wasn’t getting out of this. Samantha, the replacement for the replacement who was chosen by a lottery held only for the illusion of equal opportunity.

There are literally billions and billions of people whose lives will be affected by whatever she ends up doing. Countless children, parents, lovers and friends and siblings. All of whom would either die or live by whatever ends up happening.

Luckily, she has one coping mechanism which never fails: Repression!!

So she thinks about literally anything else. Thinks about her favorite song as the ship nears the giant towering shape of the Galactic Senate’s meeting place. Thinks about fluffy dogs as she is led by the hand through walls and portraits and treasures with descriptions she can’t read because there are no translators yet.

Thinks about her mother, thinks about her sibling, thinks about the fact everyone could literally die and it would be her fault, and wow she’s already here.

The meeting place has a mouthful name that she could only pronounce if she managed to dislocate her jaw, grow a new set of teeth, and get a proboscis. Everyone calls it the Meeting Place, because again, there are no working translators, they all have to rely on vague equivalents.

The Meeting Place is a moon sized ship, so incomprehensibly large that any species will be able to fit. It has a dock, and a large empty room with nothing in it except for alien leaders who could slaughter them all at a whim.

There are no chairs. The temperature is set to “Mildly unpleasant but liveable.” Unity and democracy means that everyone is equally uncomfortable, because this exact temperature is workable for most species.

Samantha feels a chill down her spine, both from the cold and the fact that so many of them are glaring at her. She is in the center, her crew is placed too far away to help her, and their borrowed ship is miles away from where they are now.

She prays to the gods she doesn’t believe in and hopes she can stall well enough for the clusterfuck back home to get their shit together.

“H…” she starts eloquently. She tries to refind where the rest of humanity’s first impression was stationed, but her view is blocked by the hundreds of giant aliens. “He..llo?” she finishes.

There’s a click, and she flinches back because what if that’s a weapon. A small cube clatters to the ground in front of her, before popping up and showing a hologram.

She would be visibly impressed, in awe, if it weren’t for the fact she’s half sure these diplomats could take any reaction as an insult.

She wouldn’t be able to explain herself either, it’s too early for any sort of translator to have been made, it’s too early for anything about human body language to be common knowledge.

The crowd surrounding her rustles, fins are raised and noises are made and colors are changed. It means something, probably, but she can’t tell what.

The hologram cube makes a loud, ear splitting sound, like a mix between a flatlining heart in a movie and a fire alarm going off. It snaps her out of her spiraling.

There are two large lines pointing at a screen that is pulsing with the most neon red she’s ever had the unfortunate luck of seeing. She stares at it, and realizes it’s a quiz.

Well, more like a shitty rushed powerpoint. Like something you would make in under an hour for the fun of it.

It says, “What Human Want [Ask],” and she has the sneaking suspicion that whoever made this wasn’t trying very hard. Underneath are barely recognizable butcherings of numbers, listing answers from one to three.

“1. Want hurt. Want no us. Lone want.”

“1nd. Want love. Want share. Want us help.”

“1rd. Want no meet us. Want late meet. Want lone.”

All of it is….confusing to say the least. At this point she doesn’t even know if this is a joke or not.

Then again this wasn’t supposed to be her job, she doesn’t understand them either, and maybe they were genuinely trying here. But then again there are so many of them, they probably have enough resources to make at least a dozen Earths and this meeting took multiple years to take place.

The red that flashed before flashes again, than flashes a disturbingly real fingerprint on top of the answers.

She presses the second one, and wills herself to not regret it immediately. Love, sharing, help, all of that sounds good.

Except what if the help is from humanity? What if their definition of help, share, love is killing everyone ever living and she just doomed it all?? What if it means—

“[Greeting] [Greeting Happy] [Greeting Love] [Greeting Happy Angry Bored] [Greeting (Deragotory)]” a voice drones through a translation of the crowd. Samantha wonders when this will be over, and if she’s going to die of anxiety before that happens.

“[Greeting Small Childish] [Greeting Sad Fear] [Greeting (Endeared)] [Greeting Pain Hurt] [Greeting Love Fear Pain]” it doesn’t stop, running through every risen scale and moving limb to translate some vague approximation.

The aliens have translators. The translators are awful. This is taking so much time, which is good for the mission of stalling and bad for Samantha’s sanity.

“[Species Name (Derogatory)] [Mother (Derogatory)] [Criminal (Deragot—]“ the whole crowd is making noise, some like barks and some like tweets and some like a monster out of hell.

And all of them seem to be arguing? Or insulting each other? Either way it continues on for a long stretch of time with nothing but noisy aliens and a robotic voice reciting nonsense that always ends in “(Derogatory.)”

“[Wrong: Too long.] [Wrong: Too fast.] [Wrong: No word Human.]” The sounds are longer, most of the crowd making them rising and puffing out to be bigger. “[Plea Slow.] [No Word for Our Word.] [New Local Child Pet Ally speak.] [No word for Our Word.]”

Samantha realizes once again, that she should’ve left when she had the chance. And never entered that stupid lottery.

“[I hate every single one of you.] [Stop! The Ally-New-Child-Local may hear.] [You are all stupid [Species Name]]” the noises transition into understandable sentences. “[The small Diplomat-Traveler will be confused. Stop.] [They are doing fine. They will not understand our words.] [When is that useless translator going to update, Myy-Rrr-Pl?]”

Humanity as a whole can only take so much. One human as a whole can only take so much. She is halfway to a mental breakdown, fully confused and honestly she just wants to go home. This is the kind of wonder she would love if she didn’t have to personally deal with the consequences.

So she goes the way of most unqualified, underpaid workers, and gives up. She isn’t going to scream or sabotage anything, but her ability to feel was already warring with the tempting concept of not giving a fuck.

She speaks, for the second time. “I can hear you. And I don’t much appreciate being called a child.”

“[.....]” the crowd is finally silent. She basks in the peace.

“[I told you to stop confusing the Ambassador.] [Shut up Myy-Rrr-Pl. You didn’t even get these made right, we had to make a presentation, that’s how awful you and your tech were.] [It's working now, okay?]” The peace was lovely while it lasted.

“Humanity wants, uh, to not be dead,” she says. “And to not be enslaved either. Or like used as food.”

“[Can you understand it?] [Of course I can, I’m the one who learned the language.] [You barely learned it. You put half that presentation into a free-use translator.]” they keep talking, keep barking, chirping, hissing over her. “[This is a disaster.] [It’s not that bad. My presentation went over well enough.] [Myy-Rrr-Pl shut your beak about that [intercourse (derogatory)] thing.]”

“CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR ONE SECOND??” Samantha shouts above the arguing ambassadors. There is only so much she can tolerate, the noise alone is irritating but the senseless, contextless bickering is unbearable

“This is ridiculous,” she continues. “I don’t even know what’s going on, none of you dropped us an explanation. Why can I suddenly understand you? Who the hell is Meer-er-pull? And what the fuck is going on?”

There is no more translation, and nothing to translate into constant robotic rambling. There is no peace in the silence, just an underlying tension as every alien in the room turns to stare her in the eyes.

She wonders if she’s fucked up, if she’s doomed literally all of humanity because she couldn’t tolerate it all and lashed out. There’s an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t manage to push it out through the indignation and fear.

No one breaks the silence. None of them speak. Samantha’s momentary confidence wavers and she considers making a run for it before realizing there are more of those giant aliens stationed at every exit.

“[....Aumko, I think we may have [intercourse (deragotory)] this beyond fixing.] [Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory) Feces (Derogatory)—]” Luckily, it doesn’t sound like she’s going to be executed for this. Unluckily, the aliens are just as unprepared as they were, and it wasn’t going to get any less confusing, was it?

“[I told you [Anatomical Feature (Exapserated)] that we should’ve started with a smaller group of diplomats. Instead of a “proper” meeting with everyone involved, we should’ve picked one from each of the 3 species, then gone from there. That would’ve been—]”

“I’m not getting any less confused here!!” Samantha cuts off the alien. “I’m not getting any younger either, I’m sick of your childish bickering, get over it and give me an explanation. Please, for the love of god.”

There’s a moment of pause as the translator spits out a bunch of meaningful white noise. It takes a couple moments before one of the birds speaks up.

“[We should cancel this until another time,] the bird chirps. Which isn’t satisfying, which isn’t an explanation, but hey it does technically fulfill the mission of stalling. And honestly she’s taking any win she can get from this. “[We’ll meet up with one of their diplomats, in a less noisy location. They’ll meet with one ambassador from each of our species.]

“[That doesn’t make sense though!!] [How will we even choose?] [A smaller meeting would be a sign of disrespect, we must show that we don’t view the New-Ally as lesser.]” the noise starts up again immediately.

“[SHUT UP!!]” roars one of the giant bears in a show of irritation that she can relate to on a spiritual level. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl will serve as the [Error: No suitable translation]’s ambassador. I’ll be the second ambassador. The third will be Kss’ta.]

There are ruffled feathers, low growls, no outward arguments but no agreements either.

“[I will quite literally fight anyone who decides to waste my time any further.] the bear is...puffing up? The mane of fur around its neck is puffed up like the pelt of an angry cat. “[Myy-Rrr-Pl is the only one who can even half speak the language, and who has the most context. Even if her presentation was awful.]”

“[I’m going to be there personally to ensure this doesn’t happen a second time. And Kss’Ta is the only one of you [Species Name] [Intercourse (Derogatory)] who doesn’t argue around in circles.”

The crowd is unhappier than ever. The bear speaking sounds done with it all. Samantha is too exhausted to give a shit at this point, and just decides to be glad it’s finally over, for now.

“[Is everyone here agreed with me?”] it flares about the room, ears pinned flat to its head and mane big enough to engulf the whole of its neck. All of the crowd flinches back, no one argues too vehemently, though complaints are muttered.

The bear turns to Samantha. “[You have my apologies for my own behavior, and the behavior of these [Species Name (Derogatory)]. We’ll escort your ship back to your station.]”

Relief hits her in a mix of “it’s finally over,” and “thank fuck no one died.”

Everyone leaves, with the mission sort of accomplished, with the peace talk sort of working, and a compromise no one is happy with. Except for Samantha.

But then she learns she’s the ambassador for humanity again, and a piece of her dies at the revelation.

Humanity’s welcome to the galaxy was chaotic, idiotic, ill prepared, and an overall clusterfuck of literally galactic proportions.

At least no one died.

[brave-clarice]

“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 2

Again, some extremely unfashionably late hot takes.

(Special thanks to @kathrynethegreat and @special-agent-pendragon​ for encouraging another liveblog!)

Clarice is working out! And eating junk food! I love it.

and cleaning her gun!

hey, Ardelia is drinking what I’m going to assume is her grandmother’s “smart people tea”.

Krendler disciplining Clarice already is infuriating but appropriate.

“I lost control.” Oh no, I don’t like that. Don’t make Clarice unstable. Her mental and emotional state never had anything to do with her failing career.

getting weird mixed signals from Ardelia. Last week, she obviously didn’t want Clarice to lie/stick to the script Krendler gave her, but now she’s telling Clarice she messed up by not doing so...?

“I better know you if you’re calling this early.” Amen, Ardelia.

I’m in love: this cinematography is straight out of the film (when she’s flying to WV with Crawford)!

“When’s the last time you went back to Appalachia?” “It’s been years.” What??? It has NOT been years--Clarice was JUST in West Virginia last week as well as in Silence, and she arguably attended college there as well. (UVA is at least nestled in the mountains, and you don’t have to drive far outside the Albemarle Valley to hit Appalachia proper.) After all the details about her character they’ve been nailing, they miss this glaring error? 

I like the tiny details she’s noticing (like the guy biting his nails). Not only because she’s an investigator, but because it’s reminiscent of Hannibal’s influence (imo).

Clarice Is Short: The Saga continues

still not getting any creepy vibes off Krendler. He’s going to be much less effective as an antagonist if he isn’t lewd as well as a dick.

I really don’t care for the way the opening “credits” fade out from the death’s-head moth to Clarice’s face. There are MANY animals that represent her, or parts of her, in the books--lions, lambs, horses, and of course birds--so this choice feels empty and lazy to me.

also lazy: having a fellow agent straight-up tell her in episode 2 “you shouldn’t be in the Bureau.” Maybe in two or three years, after some further “Death Angel”-type incidents, I could see this blatant rudeness, but not yet.

“Reesey”? Thanks, I hate it.

this flashback must be of Clarice’s little brother. That answers one question I had last week. That said...Clarice’s brother doesn’t play the same role in her story that Mischa does in Hannibal’s--but this sure feels like a Mischa-esque flashback.

good: they’re finally getting to the source of Clarice’s actual trauma!

bad: this is NOT how Clarice found out about her father. In fact, that whole incident is laid out in detail in the novels, and there’s nothing overly literary/un-cinematic about it, so this feels unnecessary. “The police are here! Something happened to Daddy!” No, bad! Show, don’t tell!

she would’ve known better than to introduce herself to that kid as “Clarice Starling, FBI,” come on now.

were they regularly able to wire tap hair clips in 1993? 

actually, nothing in this show looks very 90s to me so far. I’m sad about it.

so in eighteen months, Ruth Martin has gone from a junior Senator to the Attorney freakin’ General, and now she might run for governor?? At least let her get settled in one position of power first, why don’t you!

yet more Buffalo Bill flashbacks...alas.

are they trying to make this guy another surrogate Hannibal character? He’s commenting on Clarice’s accent and the dryness of her skin, asking about who she “left behind”...it all feels very Hannibal. (I know he’s a Charismatic Cult Leader trope, too--but when played off of Clarice...)

“Ew.” “I hate this guy.” I laughed.

I understand that Clarice probably feels conflicted re: her siblings in the book, but I’m really not digging the flashbacks of this Tim Burton character her brother.

@ the writers: Clarice already has the lamb backstory/symbolism, too. We don’t need this Little Brother stuff.

*shrieking* Mrs. Starling! At the sink washing the blood out of his hat!!! 

...aaand they had to ruin it with the brother’s painfully bad dialogue. Will still be good for gif-making, though.

are we supposed to interpret all these flashbacks as Clarice being incapable of controlling her emotions/state of mind? She keeps losing herself in memories and emerging all doe-eyed and panicky. I don’t like it.

not to be a broken record but...Clarice should be TOUGH. Again, Ardelia only saw her cry once in seven years. But she’s more worked up in this scene than Jodie was in Memphis!

when Mr. Cult Leader shouts “Agent Starling! Agent Starling!” he sounds exactly like Hannibal calling her back to his cell in the asylum. That has to be intentional. 

damn, wish that I could look as good five minutes after I’ve been crying as Clarice does.

I LOVE that Ardelia gets to be the crucial behind-the-scenes book-smart partner to Clarice’s action heroine.

AG Martin’s just playing politics by turning a blind eye to the crooked sheriff. But when her own daughter was just kidnapped and almost killed, she looks like a real hypocrite.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is great. I already hope she gets nominated for an Emmy.

so Krendler is...doing the right thing???

Clarice’s father was definitely not a sheriff. I hope she’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect. (Maybe this will be clarified later.)

she couldn’t just sit with a manipulative guy without getting emotional, but she’s cool as a cucumber while telling an extended story about her father? HmmMM.

sometimes her mannerisms and facial expressions are so much like Jodie’s that it’s uncanny, like here when she leans forward to confront the Cult Leader.

“She did it.” Damn straight!

another great callback to Silence. this show’s camera crew knows its stuff!

“He’s concerned I have some residual trauma from Bill.” I. Hate. This. Subplot--and all its OOC implications.

“Catherine was close to her father, too.” Ooh, a nice allusion to the novel! Clarice makes note of their “common wound,” the loss of a father, when she’s in Catherine’s apartment in Silence.

she is just SO pretty.

little Clarice looks a LOT like Rebecca Breeds. I hope we see some more of her. 

The Good:

the continuing visual nods to the Silence film via cinematography

Mama Starling!!!

Clarice’s “The World Will Not Be This Way Within the Reach of my Arm” attitude, refusing to leave without helping the victims.

Ardelia Mapp coming in clutch! 

Clarice being, generally, a badass

and using psychological tricks/mind games to pin the antagonist...that’s the woman who disarmed a monster with just a few words.

Rebecca Breed’s acting has been phenomenal so far.

I like Clarice’s haircut a lot better when worn down (though it’s not very practical for fieldwork, so we probably won’t see it much).

The Bad:

the continuing Buffalo Bill-related Trauma Subplot. Ugh.

all the flashbacks to Clarice’s brother (and the not-so-subtle suggestion that her brother is, symbolically, another lamb).

will the real Paul Krendler please come forward? this guy is so TAME.

the other agents’ hostility towards Clarice needs to be toned down slightly so that it can escalate. Otherwise, where’s the tension?

is this actually 1993? I’m not feeling it. Shouldn’t it have a little of that Season 1/2 X-Files aesthetic? Please give me more than once-an-episode references to pagers and fax machines!

that glaring Appalachia continuity error...it’s still bugging me.

I missed the overt Hannibal references, even though they’re not necessary to any part of this episode. A lady can dream!

Overall, I really liked this one despite my various issues with it. It started shakily but built to a great finish. The emphasis across both episodes on Clarice being in the FBI not just to “get out, get anywhere,” but out of a genuine desire to help victims has been wonderful. I just hope they don’t swerve too far into the “too traumatized and emotionally compromised to function” lane. It would be a disservice to Clarice’s character and to her journey (and would smack too much of “Hannibal really did prey on her weak mind/brainwash her”.

Things I’d still like to see: More of her personality. Her hobbies and interests. That she’s cleaning her gun is great! Now let’s see “Poison Oakley” practicing her sharpshooting skills. Or car shopping. Or clothes shopping to show off her “developing taste.” (Ardelia can come!) I’ll take literally anything. Give us more of Clarice’s sense of humor as well. She had some subtle funny moments in the pilot, and it’s nice to see Rebecca smile for a change.

And Krendler? Smear that man in grease! I appreciated a happy ending even though Clarice’s career is, as we know, already in a downward spiral--the last thing we want is for every episode to be a slog, especially when a good chunk of the audience hasn’t read the book and doesn’t know Clarice is doomed to fail in the Bureau.

However... Krendler’s not a “redemption arc” kind of character. Or even a “run-of-the-mill sexist asshole” character. This is a man who spent seven years systematically sabotaging a young woman’s career because a) he was jealous that she solved the Gumb case before him, and b) she wouldn’t fuck him. He was a Justice Department official working fist-in-glove with a serial child molester who was planning some of the heinous vigilante justice imaginable. THAT’S why his very gruesome end at Hannibal’s hands felt deserved--even Clarice thought so! In short, he needs to get nasty.

Anyway, thanks for coming to another long-overdue TedTalk. Fingers crossed that the next one will be more timely (aiming for Sunday night)! 

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 6: Heart Monitor

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Scott and Stiles are back to being terrible at keeping secrets, Jackson is en route to creepyville, and Derek is super duper probably dead.

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

“A spiral.” I said slowly, to make sure we were on the same page. 

Scott nodded frantically, his fists tightening around the straps of his bookbag. “I-I thought it was Derek, but it wasn’t.”

He’d practically bolted toward me the second I walked into the school this morning. After yanking me away from Allison, who was very confused might I add, he proceeded to tell me about the events of last night. 

“Then who was it?” I asked, even though I could've guessed the answer. 

He leaned toward me and looked around before whispering harshly. “The alpha. It had to be him. But why didn't he kill me?”

“Wait. He?” I stopped walking. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No. No, I’m just saying...” I quirked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes with a sigh. “He or she didn't kill me. Which is weird, right?”

“I guess.” I shrugged, continuing down the hall at his side. I honestly had no idea what the alpha’s deal was. It had killed before, almost randomly, and according to Derek it was after Scott. So maybe it was weird that he was still alive, or maybe it wasn't. “You’re apart of it’s pack, right? So maybe it wants to kidnap you, not kill you.”

“That’s reassuring.” He huffed and returned his attention to the hallway in front of us. 

Stiles turned a corner a few feet away, his gaze trained straight ahead. Scott’s face lit up in recognition, a relived smile pulling at his lips. “Stiles, dude. You didn’t answer any of my texts. You have to hear...”

His greeting trailed off when Stiles continued walking past us as if we didn't even exist. I winced, watching as Scott turned on his heel to follow him. I had no choice but to join in, because I’m nosy. 

“Stiles. Come on!” 

He kept his face blank, aside from his lips which twisted into an annoyed frown. 

“You can’t ignore me forever.” Scott tried again, his voice growing desperate. 

Stiles hadn't spoken to him since the parking lot incident two days ago. He was beyond angry with him for disappearing with Allison for a full day, plus having his phone off. I kind of understood both sides. Scott just wanted a normal day with his girlfriend, on her birthday no less. And Stiles is a spaz who freaks out if his friends can’t be reached in a timely fashion. 

Not to mention, his dad had somehow been hit by a car in the middle of the shitstorm at the school, and he was worried about him. There were a lot of dangerous things going on right now, so it honestly wasn't ideal for any of us to be M.I.A.

“Can you at least tell me if your dad’s okay? I mean, it’s just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big.” Scott prodded, only making the situation worse. 

Stiles’ nostrils flared as he dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek in frustration.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” His eyes twitched, but he otherwise showed no reaction. “Okay. What if I told you I was trying to figure this whole thing out? And...and that I went to Derek for help.”

My head whipped in his direction. That was news to me. Did he just conveniently leave that part of the story out? He avoided my gaze with a sigh. 

“If I was talking to you.” Stiles spoke up suddenly, surprising us both. “I would tell you that you’re an idiot for trusting him. But obviously, I’m not talking to you.”

“I second that.” I added with a raise of my hand. 

Derek was just straight up bad news. He may know more about being a werewolf than Scott, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. A few tense beats of silence passed between the three of us. I watched as Stiles had an internal battle with himself. His lips rolled inward and his head tilted to the side, his eyes pinching shut for a brief moment. I knew he was about to crack. He turned to Scott with a jerk, practically causing a traffic jam in the hallway. 

“What did he say?” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with himself for giving in. 

Scott smiled gratefully. “He said I could learn to shift by tapping into a primal animal rage.”

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but every time you do that you try to kill someone. And that someone’s usually me.” Stiles started talking with his hands like he usually does, a good sign that he was back to normal.

“Wait. What?” I looked at the two of them with wide eyes. How did I know nothing about this? They shared a secretive glance before Scott sighed, his shoulders hunching in defeat. 

“I kinda lose it when there’s a full moon. I’ve only been through one before and it wasn’t pretty. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Derek said he won’t help me unless I stay away from Allison.”

My brows furrowed in question. What does she have to do with any of this?

“Because of her family?” Stiles asked, coming to a more logical conclusion than me.

“No,” Scott shook his head, looking troubled. “He said that she's a distraction. She makes me weak.”

“You know, the whole women make you weak thing is a little too spartan warrior for me.” Stiles rolled his eyes with a huff. I couldn't agree more. That was one of the biggest copouts I’d ever heard. “It’s probably just part of the learning process.”

Just then, the warning bell rang through the halls. We all went our separate ways, and I made a mental note to confront them about their habit of keeping secrets the next time I saw them. 

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

I walked through the halls, glancing between my phone and the floor in front of me. I was supposed to meet up with Allison and Lydia in the library during our free period to study. I was waiting for them to tell me they were ready. I sent them another text in our group chat and decided to just head in that direction without them. They could catch up.  

I narrowly missed running into someone, but looked up just in time to stop before faceplanting into their broad chest. It was Jackson, looking sick as ever. His green eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept in days, and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. I took a tentative step back to put some distance between us.

After a few long moments of him awkwardly staring at me, I cleared my throat. “Hey Jackson. You have a free period?”

“No,” He chuckled, although it didn't reach his eyes. “I just don't like sitting through chem.”

“Understandable.” I sent him a small smile and, when he didn't respond, sidestepped him to continue on my way. 

The few other people in the hall had wandered off by now, leaving us alone. He moved in front of me, blocking my way, and once again only stared. There was something weird swirling in his eyes. I couldn't quite place it. It was like he wasn't completely himself. Maybe he had a fever, sometimes that can cause mood changes. 

“Did you...need something?” I asked slowly, beginning to get a little creeped out. 

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to talk.” I glanced away from him, the intensity of his gaze making me uncomfortable. “I realized that I've been a jerk to you. And Scott, especially. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise, and he huffed out a laugh. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay...” I really didn't know what to say. He had been a huge jerk since the day I met him. But that was just Jackson. That’s how he was. Why he had the sudden urge to apologize to me, I had no idea. 

“Do you know what it’s like to be the best player on the team? To be the star, to have every single person at the game chanting your name? And then some kid just comes along, and everyone starts looking at him instead of you. Do you know what that feels like?”

I just blinked for a long moment, surprised by his sudden outburst. It was obvious that he was talking about Scott. He’d recently been named co-captain along with Jackson, effectively knocking him down a peg. The distaste he had for Scott wasn't subtle, but he’d never seemed remorseful about it until now. 

“No, I don't.” I admitted, not sure what else to say. 

“Well, it feels like something's been stolen from you. And then you start to feel like you’d do anything, anything in the world...” His eyes slowly trailed over my face as he spoke, and I shifted away a few inches. He was seriously being weird. “To get it back.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying there’s no I in team?” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood. I took a miniscule step away from him, hoping he wouldn't notice. He’d gotten way too close to me during that monologue. 

“But there is a me.” He barked, and my shoulders immediately stiffened. Then, he laughed. But it didn't exactly sound genuine. “That was a joke.”

I forced a chuckle, just wanting this weird conversation to be over. 

“Gosh,” One of his hands came up to rub at the back of his neck. “You must really hate me.”

“I don’t.” I reassured slowly. It was the truth. I may not particularly like the guy, but he was dating one of my best friends. He was mostly harmless and I could put up with him when I had to. 

“You sure? Because I’m not a bad guy.” His eyes danced around my face as he spoke, and he’d somehow gotten way too close again. “I mean, yeah. I make stupid mistakes. A lot. But I’m not bad.”

My lips twitched into what I hoped looked more like a smile than a grimace. I glanced down at my phone, praying that one of the girls would text me so I had an excuse to walk away.

“I really like you.” He said suddenly, and my eyes snapped back up to his. My breath caught in my throat. He likes me? He cannot like me. He’s dating Lydia. And I have...okay, no. I don't have anyone. But he still can’t like me. That is so many types of wrong. “And Scott. I really like you both. And I want you guys to like me.”

I relaxed slightly, but still felt majorly weirded out by this whole thing. I also noticed that he hadn't mentioned Stiles at all and wondered if he had ever even acknowledged his existence. I guess he was more aware of Scott because he saw him as competition, and he was dating his girlfriend’s best friend...but still. 

“I want to get to know you guys better.” I just nodded, hoping he was done talking. I’d never wanted to crawl out of my skin more than I did right now.  

I felt my phone vibrate with a notification and silently thanked the heavens. I lifted it up and tried to smile regretfully as I stepped around him. “This has been...nice. But I gotta go. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

I walked away briskly, feeling his eyes watch me the whole way. Once I turned the corner, I felt a shudder move through me. I was so put off by that whole conversation. Had he always been that weird? I remembered him being a charismatic asshole, not whatever that was. I tried my best to forget about it as I walked into the library and immediately found Allison and Lydia at a table. 

I sat down quickly, running a hand through my hair to collect myself. 

“Where have you been?” Lydia asked, and I paled. She had this glint in her eyes that said she somehow knew I had just been talking to her boyfriend.

“Uh...” I wracked my brain for a believable lie. “Just had to stop at my locker.”

“Whatever. Guys, listen.” Allison’s full attention was on a small book in her hands. “The Beast of Gévaudan was a quadruped wolf-like monster prowling the south of France in the years 1764 to 1767. La Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the King, Louis XV, sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.”

“Boring.” Lydia sang, but Allison continued unfazed. 

“Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.” Her eyes lit up in excitement as she read.  

“Hmm,” Lydia hummed, pretending to think. “Still boring.”

“Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a predator—”

“Slipping into a coma bored.”

“While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man and a monster.” I stiffened at that, my breath catching in my throat. That sounded familiar. What were they even talking about?

“Does any of this have anything to do with your family?” Lydia pressed impatiently.

Her family?

Oh. 

Oh no.

“This. It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renowned hunter, who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature. His name was Argent.” She looked up with a triumphant smile, and I cleared my throat while trying not to give anything away. 

Did she already know, and this was her way of telling us? Or was she just now starting to put the pieces together?

“So your family killed a big wolf...” Lydia drawled, clearly not understanding what she was trying to say. 

“Not just a big wolf.” Allison shook her head and turned the book around so that we could see inside. “Take a look at this picture. What does it look like to you?”

My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest. It was a werewolf, clear as day. And it looked just like the alpha. Same glowing red eyes. Same terrifying teeth and claws. Same black fur atop bulging muscles. Lydia’s face dropped at the sight, her lips parting and eyes going wide. I knew she was remembering what she saw outside the video store. But how much had Allison seen?

“Guys.” She huffed, her brows furrowing in concern. “Guys?”

“It looks...” Lydia trailed off before seeming to collect herself. “Like a big wolf. I’ll see you guys later.”

She stood abruptly, and we both watched her until she turned out of sight. My eyes found Allison again and she opened her mouth to say something right when the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. She began collecting her things with a frown, and I shook my head. 

I had more questions now than ever, but I couldn't just outright ask her. If she didn't already know, I’d be exposing not only her family’s secret, but Scott’s. She mumbled a quick goodbye and went on her way. I sighed and rubbed a hand down my face in frustration. I hate secrets. So much.

On my way out of the library, I stopped at a nearby table where Scott and Stiles had been eavesdropping the entire time, using books as covers. 

“You two aren't subtle.” I stuck around long enough to see their sheepish expressions before walking out the doors. 

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

I pressed my head into my pillow with a sigh, trying to get comfortable. My luck hadn't changed when it came to sleeping. Aside from the one night that Stiles stayed over—which I have decided to never speak of—I’ve been plagued by bad dreams and visions. I’d been laying here for what must’ve been hours now, and I was no closer to sleep. 

There were so many things weighing on me, and I had a feeling they’d all be coming to a head soon. Like the alpha. What did it even want and why was it killing people? And Allison. I was feeling more and more guilty everyday for not telling her everything I know. Then there was Scott and Stiles, who were still keeping things from me, apparently. And Jackson. He was just...off. 

With a frustrated huff I turned over onto my other side, but froze when I felt hard ground beneath me. My bed wasn't hard. My eyes popped open and I bolted upright instantly. I wasn't in my bed anymore. My fingers flexed in the soft grass around me as I tried to get my bearings.

My heart pumped harshly in my chest while my eyes scanned my surroundings. I was sitting in front of the high school, in the grass. My brows furrowed and I shook my head. I had to be dreaming or something. I was literally just in my bed a few seconds ago.

I froze as the sound of growling echoed through the building behind me. It was so loud that the doors and windows were actually shaking. It went on for several seconds, then stopped. I huffed out a breath, more confused than ever. I squinted my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness of the night. I caught sight of Stiles’ jeep, along with another car, across the parking lot. 

Great. What had they gotten themselves into this time? What had I gotten myself into?

“I’m gonna kill both of you!” I nearly jumped out of my skin as a sudden voice boomed from the dark.

I turned to see Scott and Stiles walking casually out of the school, as if it were normal to be here after hours. Derek emerged from behind one of the cars, putting a face to the angry yelling. 

“What the hell was that? What, are you trying to attract the entire state to the school?” 

“Sorry.” Scott shrugged, not sounding the least bit genuine. “I didn't know it would be that loud.”

Okay, so the growl had come from him. That was honestly impressive. 

“Yeah, it was loud. And it was awesome!” Stiles sang, clearly excited by the whole thing. 

“Shut up.” Derek hissed before shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Don't be such a sour wolf.” Stiles chuckled and threw a hand up dismissively.

They were talking so casually, as if they were friends...

The last time I saw Stiles and Derek interact, he was terrified of him. What changed?

“Hey, what did you do with him?” Scott suddenly asked, his voice becoming serious. 

All three of them looked at Derek’s car, inspecting the back door which was sitting wide open. What, did they kidnap someone or something? He whirled back around to face the guys quickly. “I didn't do anything.”

Then, without warning, a spine-chilling growl sounded from behind Derek. I just barely had enough time to see a pair of glowing red eyes before he was lifted into the air. A fountain of blood spilled from his mouth and I covered my own with a harsh gasp. It was hard to see in the low lighting, but I’d bet all my allowance money that the alpha was the cause. 

Scott and Stiles instantly bolted from the scene, running at full speed toward the school. I was still frozen in place, fear paralyzing me. Just before ripping the doors open, Stiles’ head jerked in my direction as he noticed me sitting there. 

“Y/N?” He was beside me in the blink of an eye, wrapping a hand around my bicep. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I...I don't...” I stammered, watching as the alpha threw Derek against a wall and stalked toward us slowly. 

Stiles dragged me to my feet painfully fast, and I had no choice but to run with him as he sprinted to the school. We ran through the door that Scott was holding open for us, Stiles releasing me so he could help hold one of them closed. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He yelled at me, his chest rising and falling with each quick pant he let out.

Both his and Scott’s backs were pressed against the metal doors, keeping them closed with their weight. It was a good idea in theory, although it would never hold up if the alpha decided it wanted to come in. They looked at me expectantly and I realized I hadn't responded yet. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold now that some of the adrenaline was wearing off. I really needed to start sleeping in more than a t-shirt and shorts, seeing as this was becoming a habit of mine. 

“No, not gonna work this time.” Stiles shook his head angrily. “This is so not okay. You can’t be here.”

“Seriously, Y/N. What, did you follow us?” Scott added, his tone sharp. 

Okay, they needed to chill the fuck out. It wasn't like I meant to crash their weird after hours meeting with Derek. 

“By the looks of it, you shouldn't be either.” I huffed, my annoyance at an all time high at continuously being kept in the dark. “Since when are you guys talking to Derek? And coming here at night? What are you even doing?”

“Not important.” Stiles glared at me before turning to peer out one of the windows in the door. 

“Very important!” I raised my voice as anger shot through me at his dismissal. “You two better start telling me everything you’ve been hiding. Right now. Or, I swear, I’ll—”

“This is not the time!” Scott interrupted, suddenly panicking. I’d nearly forgotten that we were hiding from the alpha. “We need to lock the doors.”

“Do I look like I have a key?” Stiles barked, voice rising with his own anxiety. 

All I could do was watch as they started bickering. 

“Grab something!” 

“What?”

“Anything!” 

Stiles suddenly stopped fidgeting and lifted his head to look out the window again. Scott stood from his hunched position and did the same, before whipping his attention back toward our spaz of a friend. 

“No.” He breathed, seemingly understanding what Stiles wanted to do.

“Yes.” He shoved a flashlight that I hadn't even realized he was holding into Scott’s chest and popped open one of the doors. My eyes widened as I realized what he was going to do. 

“No! Stiles, don't!” Scott whisper-shouted, but Stiles didn't even hesitate as he squeezed out the door. 

I instantly ran to the place he had just been standing in so I could look out the window. My gaze landed on a pair of plyers laying on the ground. 

“Is he crazy?” I whispered, my heart hammering painfully in my chest. Those were so not worth his life.

Scott and I watched with baited breath as he jogged down the concrete steps. He had barely touched the plyers when the alpha suddenly emerged from behind the Jeep. Scott instantly started pounding on the doors and calling Stiles’ name to get his attention. He looked at us, kneeling on one knee, and swallowed slowly. 

He turned back around, and must’ve seen the alpha barreling toward him, because a second later he was back inside. We slammed the doors shut, and Stiles jammed the plyers between the handles. A moment of tense silence passed, the only sound our ragged breathing. 

We all shared a wide-eyed look, knowing we were in for a long night.

Episode 5, Part Two              Episode 7, Part One

[south-park-meta]

wow thank you so much for the great Randy Stan analysis!

how do you see the end of the Pandemic special with Stan breaking down following the vaccination special?

Aw I'm glad you liked it!

With Stan I think it could go a few ways. He's gotten roped into addictive behaviors in the past, and I think a while back now Trey said that Stan was still drinking and just hiding it from everyone. And two of the people he still likes hanging out with are Kenny, who has his own trouble with drugs, and Jimmy, who's acted as a pusher. That's not GREAT to rely on after cutting off his usual 'stay on the right path' support of Kyle. He could start drinking very heavily.

I don't love this from a narrative perspective of the show (though when I write my own stuff I lean more that way). He wasn't wrong about cutting off friends if he doesn't like or trust them, and making him spiral hard after that is a pretty bitter pill. I'd personally rather he be fine. Cutting off Cartman is undoubtedly good for him. Cutting off Kyle when they're having trouble talking to the degree that they are, isn't bad for him.

So this thought isn't really just a special, but over the course the rest of a season:

From a show narrative perspective if he does anything in an unhealthy way, I'd rather it be that he does well purely out of spite. He makes new friends, he gets new hobbies, he's not only back in school but doing any extracurriculars he can to stay out of his house more. He makes a new 'gang'. He seems to be doing well, and he even is doing well, but there's this sour undercurrent of his wellness coming because he's pissed off about Kyle. Because he got to a point of not liking Kyle but he does LOVE Kyle. Truly, if it came down to where he had to make a choice, he loves Kyle with his whole heart and would still do whatever he could for him. They often fall into dating tropes on the show, and this one would be 'Stan works to get a better body better mental health to piss his ex off'.

Kyle meanwhile doesn't have that. He's not going to get revenge friends because he's not pissed at Stan that way. He's hurt and he's confused. Despite him and Stan both taking a pot shot or two at each other, he was blindsided in the Vaccination Special. He knew there were things he was still hurt about, but he's largely in the dark about the things that were hurting Stan. He honestly did not expect that Stan would stop being his friend.

I don't think Kyle is going to bottom out about it the same way Stan does when he's hurt. I don't think he's going to be less empathetic, meaner to other kids. But a few people have said that Kyle's still been making worse decisions without Stan to rein him in on them. I think that kind of thing will hold. And if anyone crosses the breakup, I think it will be in the form of Cartman having a bad influence on Kyle, making him feel guilty for things he has no need to feel guilty over. And Kyle will ALSO feel guilty about whatever went on with his and Stan's friendship that he missed, so making him worry about things like his connection to other people will be a lot easier.

In Kyle worrying about people unnecessarily, some big thing gets messed up. This is how he and Stan start being friends again. When things go sideways and Kyle's looking to Cartman for support, he realizes that the person he really wants in his corner is Stan. And seeing things go wrong, after trying hard to stay out of 'causes' and other bullshit, Stan has the urge to help; the corner he wants to be in is Kyle's.

They fix the problem together with wordless cooperation, seeming like they're going to just do this thing and then get back to their own separate lives.

But at the end, when the world is fixed again, they look at each other...and they talk.

They talk about the way they've hurt each other. About hurting, and about being hurt. They talk about love and friendship and how much they really do mean to each other. They talk about what they need to do to become friends again. They talk about all the things they couldn't talk about when they were scared to lose each other, because they've already lost each other.

And they find each other again, in bits and pieces, in having repeated conversations, in listening in ways that habit and ease had kept them from doing before. They come back together not in the way that Sharon and Randy come back together, and not in the way they have themselves come back together from little spats before; they don't ignore the problem. They work through it that day and the next, and the next, and they keep working through it.