#anyway mad men is about substance abuse i think

[suguwife]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮. (eight)

tags: Gojo Satoru x f!reader, kpop idol x influencer, fake dating, 18+ mdni, mentions of drugs/substance abuse/addiction, anxiety, profanity, sexual suggestiveness, slight angst, fluff, smau series

a/n: sorry I KNOWW I said I was going to have the smut scene in this chapter, but I didn’t want to make the wc too long so it’ll be in the next one ;) - not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

-7k wc

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - Gojo Satoru, a top idol, finds himself at the centre of a public scandal after being photographed in a club appearing intoxicated. Rumors of substance abuse quickly circulate, causing fans and the public to question his reliability and professionalism. Due to severe backlash, his PR team proposes a fake relationship with Y/N, a social media influencer renowned for her healthy lifestyle, to salvage his tarnished image, reduce suspicions and trick the public. However, trouble intensifies when he’s unable to let go of his addiction. - 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

(previous)

After exiting your apartment, you walk down the street to the areas cars usually park, turning your head around till you hear a loud honk startling you.

You turn your head to see him through his rolled down window, black suit, white button up shirt, the first couple undone. Fuck he looked so good. Men in suits always turned you on. 

Remain professional y/n..

“Hey.” You say as you walk towards his car, but he’s opening his door and getting out, a wide grin on his face. “Why are you getting out-“

He closes his car door behind him and places his large hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the passenger side of the car, “I just wanted to be polite and open the door for you.”

Oh, cute, you chuckle at that. “No need..” You say quietly, but allow him to proceed anyway. You did always like being pampered and treated. Though you haven’t really received such treatment for years since Naoya’s toxic ass.

He smiles at you as he holds the door open for you, watching you slide into the passenger seat before closing the door. He’s trying not to steal too many glances and stares, trying his best not to focus on the exposed skin of your legs in that dress as he walks around the car to the driver’s side, but fuck, he can feel a boner coming. 

After rounding the car he gets back into his drivers seat and starts the engine, turning the radio on again. Glancing at your figure for a moment out the corner of his eye after putting on his seat belt, his nose inhales the vanilla aroma flowing off your body.

“Strong perfume.” He says as he looks at the road ahead. 

“I can smell yours too.” Oh that manly cologne smell. He really was turning you on, but you can’t show that.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” His cocky smirk flashing you as he drives, glancing at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. 

You turn your head to him, brows furrowed, “Are you getting an attitude with me? After I gave you cookies twice?” 

His smirk is still on his face as he speaks back, “Me? Attitude? Never..” He says, feigning innocence. “What would I have an attitude about?”

“Wait, are you for real?” Because you’re wondering now, your tone more serious. Is he mad about the fact you reminded him of the contract rules? It’s not like it’s your fault. 

He senses the change in your tone and drops his act, “Nah, I’m just messing with you sweetheart.” 

You stare ahead at the road, the sunset melting into the ground and trees creating a pink and purple wonderland. “Are you annoyed at something?” And you see his fingers tightening on his wheel slightly, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing really does.

“What? No. Why would you think I’m annoyed?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and you can tell he’s trying to play it off. Why do men do that? Always brushing off their feelings.

“Because you sound cheeky.” Your arms crossing over your chest as you lean back in your seat, speaking as you stare at the road ahead. “You’re not annoyed or anything because I told you the rules about the contract are you? This has to be strictly friends or acquaintances or.. whatever we are.” Because you don’t know what you both are, really.

He flirts so much, but you just act friendly back. But you can’t deny how attractive he is, you can’t deny that you like him, just a little. Do you like him as a friend or more? No idea.

He goes silent for a moment after you call him out, his grip on the steering wheel tightening more as he processes your words. “No, I'm not annoyed. you were just reminding me, that’s fine. I don't mind.” 

You know he’s still bothered but trying to keep his voice casual, so you decide not to press the issue onto him anymore. “Oh right, okay.”

He nods slightly in response, keeping his gaze locked on the road. There's an awkward silence in the air for a moment as he tries to keep his composure while driving. He glances at you for a moment, stealing a quick glance at your figure, that stupid dress is just too distracting…He needs to take his mind off it.

“Oh yeah I got you a little gift, just a thank you for helping me out with this whole.. drug scandal.”

Turning your head to him, your face brightens with a smile under the sunset and illuminating street lamps, “A gift??”

The smile on his face returns as he speaks, “Yeah, it’s nothing big. But I still wanted to get you something as a thank you.”

“Ouu.. when do I get it?”

“I’ll give it to you when we arrive at the restaurant.”

You chuckle softly, “What is it?”

“Why do you want to know? You’ll see when we get there.” God he’s such a tease.

“Why would you tell me you have a gift for me then? Just to tease me? I need to know now.”

He laughs, enjoying the way you’re begging to find out. “I’m not going to tell you, you’ll just have to wait. I promise it’s nothing too big.”

“Fine.” You slouch back in your seat, turning your head back to the road. “How long till we get there?”

“Only fifteen minutes away, shouldn’t be too long.”

“Mhm, okay.”

You can see his eyes on you out of the corner of your own eyes, his gaze slowly trailing over your figure for a moment, releasing a quiet sigh, then forcing his eyes back to the road. 

The car goes over a bump and he looks back down at your legs, your dress riding up slightly exposing your thighs just a little more. Does he think you can’t see?

“You look good by the way.”

You want to giggle and blush but, no. You know how to keep yourself composed. “Thank you.”

And he’s looking you up and down shamelessly with a smirk, “You look really good, not just good, but really.. really good.”

Oh he’s such a dork, it makes him so cute and you can’t help but laugh a little as you say, “You too, Satoru..”

His eyes trail over your figure much longer than it should, not even trying to hide it. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I like suits.” You look back at the road, stopping yourself from flirting too much, remembering to follow the contract rules.

Strictly. Fake. Dating.

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Finally, he parks the car and turns to you as we arrive at the destination of the fancy restaurant you chose. “Do I get the gift now or inside?” You say, turning to him too as you smile widely.

He chuckles at the sight of your smile, “We’ll go inside first and then you’ll get it.”

And you giggle as you try to open the door, eager to get that gift, but he keeps the door locked. You turn your head back to him with wide and confused eyes, “Open it?”

“Stupid.. I’m going to open it for you. Also there’s paparazzi over there,” He nods his head to the side, keeping his gaze on me. You glance out the front window, and he’s right. They’re all standing there trying to look discreet but those huge cameras are embarrassingly obvious.

“They’re waiting to bombard us so hang tight yeah?”

He gets out of the car and quickly walks around to your side, opening the door for you. He holds his hand out, offering to help you out of the car as he notices the paparazzi waiting nearby, walking towards you both.

As soon as I take his hand and step out with just one foot, the paparazzi are already flashing their lights and throwing us question after question. How did they know we’d be here? Whatever, publicity I guess. Maybe our managers told them. Maybe someone was stalking us and revealed information.

Gently, he helps you out of the car, keeping his poker face on as the paparazzi start snapping a bunch of photos as he shuts the door behind you. He puts his hand around you, his hand wrapped onto the side of your shoulder as you huddle close to him, subtly guiding you away from the paparazzi and reporters

They call out questions as we walk towards the entrance, cameras and microphones being shoved into our faces, some reporters practically yelling so their voices can be heard over the other reporters. We really should’ve had security prepared for us before we came.

“How did you both meet?!”

“How long have you been together?”

“Gojo, look over here!”

“Are you really an addict or were they just lies?!!”

Invasive much. His grip on your body tightens, wrapping you closer to him as you both ignore them and walk towards the entrance, trying to protect you from the onslaught. He smells so good, so manly.

Your eyes glance down, his hands are.. shaking, yet when you glance up, he’s got a poker face on. It's as if he’s trained himself to learn how to hide his feelings. His knuckles are almost white from squeezing his hands into fists.

Thankfully and finally, two guards at the door push the paparazzi away and we enter the fancy restaurant, at peace.

You both let out a heavy breath as soon as you enter, the silence is relieving. the paparazzi can still be seen outside trying to get a look through the windows.

“Fuck, we shouldve had security prepared for us.” You say as you look out the windows of the building, their snapping pictures through the window. Weirdos.

He looks down at you and chuckles breathlessly, “Yeah, we probably should’ve. I didn’t think they’d find out we were here so quickly, it’s like they have spies everywhere or something.”

As we walk further in he books us a table, and we’re about to sit down in the waiting lounge but he freezes in his steps.

“Oh shit.. shit. I left your gift in the car boot.. fuck.” He groans and facepalms for a moment, “Damn it, I’ll be right back sweetheart, wait here.”

“But the paparazzi-“

He shakes his head quickly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. They won’t bother you, the security will keep them at bay. I promise I’ll be right back.”

“No I meant what about yo-“ He wouldn’t even let you finish a damn sentence.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me sweetheart.” He says through chuckles. He keeps calling you sweetheart. “Just sit down and wait for me, I’ll come back as soon as I get the gift, alright?”

“Okay..” and he smiles at you as your protest finally stops.

“Don’t worry. I swear I’ll be quick.” He pats your shoulder gently before heading back towards the entrance, bracing himself to deal with the paparazzi outside once more.

You were a little worried, they were asking about his drug scandal earlier, how rude can they get??

He exits the building, wanting to head over to his car, the paparazzi immediately surround him but he just ignores them and opens the car boot, grabbing the Cartier gift bag before quickly closing it. the flashing cameras are relentless, and the reporter’s questions are becoming worse.

“Gojo why haven’t you spoken about your drug scandal?”

“Was it real?”

“Were you set up?!”

“How’s your relationship with y/n like?!”

Gritting his teeth, the annoyance and frustration mounts inside him as he forces himself to remain calm and collected. He grips the gift bag tightly in his hand. “No, the drug scandal wasn’t real. That person wasn’t me. My relationship with y/n is perfect.” He states blankly as he gives a cold stare to the reporters.

He doesn’t give anymore answers, the paparazzi clearly trying to get more information out of him, but he’s done answering their stupid questions. He starts walking back to the entrance with the gift bag in his hand, making sure not to look at the paparazzi as he passes by, not wanting to give them the attention they crave.

Finally, he makes it back into the restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief once he’s free from the relentless paparazzi again, he looks around for you. His gaze quickly lands on your figure as he spots you sitting in the lobby.

You turn to him with a smile, standing up to walk to him. His hands are shaking again. You don’t know if it’s because he’s frustrated or if it’s from needing his drugs from the paparazzi. “Hey, you okay? You’re shaking..” and you take his large hand in yours gently, a little worried.

Does he have anxiety? Is that why he takes drugs? He did say it’s to help him relax. Oh god, how badly you wanted to help this poor boy, but you didn’t know where to start. Helping someone with addiction isn’t always going to work if they’re not willing to help themselves.

He swallows hard before he speaks, his Adam’s apple bopping up and back down again, “I’m fine. Just don’t like those damn reporters, they're so annoying.” He speaks fast, his voice strained. He’s trying to brush it off..

“Come on, let's go eat and forget.” You say with a smile as you chuckle softly, and he smiles back at you. You don’t want to keep him anxious, so making him forget about those idiots should help him, maybe. “Our tables are ready and-“ your eyes glance down to the gift bag in his hand, a dark red bag with the words “Cartier” written on, your eyes widening.

“Satoru.. you said the gift was nothing big?”

A sheepish smile finds his face, “This isn’t too big? Just a thank you. Come on, let's go.” And he’s leading you towards the tables.

He pulls out a chair for you at the table ready in the corner of the hall, waiting for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. Then he places the gift bag in front of you.

You don't say anything for a little while, just staring at the gift with a softened smiling gaze. This man really went ahead and spent thousands on you just for a “thank you.”

Well, to him, thousands is nothing when his net worth is ₩140,000,000, but he still spent money on you. That means something to you. A man willing to spend his own earnings and time, to buy you a gift. It's cute.

“Thank you..” you say as you look up at him, “I love gifts.”

He returns your smile with his own, “You’re welcome. Let’s order then you can open it, yeah?”

“Oh- hold on lemme take a quick.. quick picture.” You chuckle awkwardly, you didn’t want to be those type of people who ruin moments by taking pictures, but you needed to take this. One for publicity and to fix his image, and another because.. well it’s a nice memory. “Need to show fans that their idol isn’t an awful drug addict.”

Because he’s not, he’s so much more than that.

Honestly, you really did believe he was an addict when your manager first told you about the whole situation, so you didn’t really mind having the contract sealed without your consent. Although you could’ve taken him to court, you had some sort of butterfly in your mind, telling you that you should help him, somehow. Convincing you that you could. You don’t know anyone with addiction, have zero education on addiction, but you wanted to help him. Maybe it’s just that motherly nature within you. Although, something in your mind is still telling you that he is an addict. You don’t know, you’ll have to see

You thought he’d be a dickhead or annoyed by the situation, but he’s not. From the very first interaction, he’s always been sweet.

He chuckles softly at your comment, rolling his eyes slightly in mock annoyance but plays along, “Oh, of course. Gotta maintain the public image. Go ahead. take the picture then.”

You quickly snap a picture and post it on your instagram story, tagging his name with a heart emoji after.

“Okay let's take a look at the menu..” you say, looking down at the card sheet before you.

After deciding your meals and drinks, he calls over a waitress and places the order, all the while being a little fidgety with his hands and body, you didn’t want to comment on it though, not now.

“Can I just open the gift now?” You were feeling a little restless. I mean, a Cartier bag waiting in front of you, what a tease.

“Sure, go ahead,” he says after a chuckle, “Open it.”

You take out the box inside the bag and a slight gasp escapes you as you look at the Large Gold D’amour Cartier necklace before you.

He watches intently, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.. he waits anxiously for your reaction, his breath catching in his throat as he sees the look in your eyes. You’re staring at the gift in silence, and he wants you to say something, feeling a little anxious.

It's so beautiful, so beautiful yet so simply elegant. A small gold chain with a larger circle gem pendant in the middle. You always loved Cartier. When you were younger, more into love and men you always wanted a Cartier love bracelet. It just screamed romance. But you never had a man you wanted to share it with. Especially with Naoya being your only boyfriend in your entire life, that abusive, toxic fuck.

It's as if Satoru knew you’d like Cartier somehow. “I love it, it’s so cute. Thank you so much Satoru.”

He exhales heavily, a smile on his face, that beautiful smile. Sometimes, you wish you both would’ve met under different circumstances, rather than under a contract. You know he feels the same way too.

“You're welcome. I saw it online and thought it would suit you, so I had to buy it.”

“₩3,210,000 as a thank you for fake dating you?” And he laughs in response, always laughing.

“Well, I couldn’t just get you some cheap gift. After all.. the “fake” dating deal is pretty big you know? Plus I just wanted to spoil you a bit.”

Well you did like being spoiled too. Is this a love language or is he just being nice?

“You literally sent me ₩2.4million the other day.”

“Oh come on, don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“Yeah yeah okay.. I can’t say I want you to stop, so I won’t.” You roll your eyes as you smile and look back at him.

He stands up from his seat, coming behind you and taking the necklace out the box, your head turns as you look at him confused with wide eyes again.

“Turn your head and lift your hair for me.” Okay, bossy. But you do as he says anyways.

His fingers trace brush against your neck, shooting signals down to your core as he clasps the necklace on for you. You feel his hands at the back of your neck, tracing the clasp with his index finger, teasing, or maybe just appreciating his own gift.

He stands back and goes back to his seat in front of you, smiling at the necklace then glancing back up at you.

“Pretty, it does suit you.”

You look away, giggling softly, hand covering your mouth, and you can feel him smiling at you. God he’s making you blush like a high school girl, just like Utahime said.

“You're really cute when you laugh like that.” Fuck, that was so random? You’re sure you’re blushing right now. It’s supposed to be the other way round. When did he get such confidence to flirt with you like this?

“Don't flirt with me Satoru..” you can’t go against the contract rules.

He laughs softly at your response, a playful grin on his face,“Why not? It’s all part of the act, remember? Gotta maintain the fake relationship image.”

Oh he’s such a liar, he’s not acting at all.

You glance around the room, seeing people eye you both from afar, recognising you both.

“Gotta keep it convincing..” he says, looking at you. A slight smirk on his lips, his eyes softening but playful at the same time. Fuck. And that suit he’s in.. the first couple buttons of the shirt unbuttoned revealing more of his pale skin.. oh fuck.

“Then..” and you don’t know what comes over you, it’s like he’s poured alcohol into your system.

From across the table, your delicate fingers find his as you gently take hold of both his hands, smiling at him softly. And you can practically hear his breath catching in his throat at your sudden affection, but his long fingers intertwine with yours too.

Slowly, softly, carefully, his thumb caresses over your knuckles and you look down at our hands, partied lips.

You just let him, keeping your pupils locked on the intimacy of your hands, a sense of tenderness between you both. But it’s all fake, all an act. And you need to keep remembering that, remember the rules.

“You know, you have really large hands.” And he laughs in response, seems like you make him laugh a lot, huh?

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

His hand lifts yours up, gently tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb, his touch feather-light. He grins at you, his gaze shifting from your hand to your face, and you just stare at him wide eyed with parted lips. This is so intimate it’s scary.

“Your hands are so much smaller than mine.” The cage of butterflies within you, being unlocked after so many years. They’re fluttering everywhere.

He holds up his hand next to yours, the difference in size and length of your fingers and palms becoming even more obvious. He chuckles softly, feeling a sense of protectiveness as he looks down at your smaller hand.

“Jesus, your fingers are like two fingers joined together.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty long aren’t they?”

Yeah, they are. Oh the thoughts running in your mind need to shut up.

He spreads out his fingers, showing you just how much longer they are than yours. He grins and playfully wiggles them, “Would you be able to handle them?” A smirk playing on his lips

Your smile falters, you blink, your lips part. There is no way he just said that, so casually, so shamelessly. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a silly joke.” He keeps that grin on, but it’s more sheepish now, trying to play off his sexual innuendo.

“So, uh, how long are we supposed to keep up the whole “fake relationship” thing anyway?” He says looking down at our hands, his thumb once again rubbing gently over your knuckles.

Nice way to change the topic, Satoru. And his memory really is a little disorientated.. Drugs.

“I told you the other day.. nine months.”

“Right, nine months. Seems like a long time. Doesn’t it?”

“I know, when my manager told me I'd be dating you I thought it’d only be a couple months. Then I read the contract. I guess it’s to reduce suspicions from the public for when we “breakup”.”

Honestly, you didn’t want this to be over. Its barely been two weeks and he’s already felt so nice and comforting to be around. You just hope you’re allowed to stay friends with him once the contract is over.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze wandering up to your face as he thinks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes give away a hint of disappointment. He focuses down at our intertwined hands once more, his thumb absently tracing circles over your knuckles as he speaks, “But nine months…It’s gonna be pretty hard to keep up the facade for that long.”

“Why?”

“Well you know..” He speaks quietly now, “it’s going to be pretty hard to pretend we’re a couple for so long, especially since..”

You didn’t want to be mean, but you had to say it. “Satoru, don’t tell me you're already getting feelings.” You’re such a hypocrite, you’re sure you’re getting feelings too, you’re just caging them within you.

You see his body stiffen and he lets out a nervous laugh. “What? No, no. Of course not. We barely know each other.”

Right. Cartier gift, sending you money.. You wish you could get rid of the cage within you but you can’t. You need to keep any growing feelings locked within you.

“I’m just saying it’s gonna be a challenge, that’s all. Pretending to be in love with someone for nine months isn’t easy.”

“Sure it is, you’ve acted in a film before.”

He laughs softly, “Yeah, but acting in a film and pretending to be in a relationship for months are two different things.” He pauses. “It’s going to be hard to act all lovey-dovey in public, knowing it’s all just an act.”

“Hm.. well we’re doing it right now aren’t we?” You say, looking down at your hands with a neutral expression, your thumb running over his knuckles now. “Just take it as activities friends do.. that the public see as romantic. Simple. It’s to fix your image after all. ”

“Activities friends do..” he repeats after you, “..that the public see as romantic.”

He glances up at your face and you look back at him. “Gotta fake it till we make it.” He says with a wide grin and you nod and laugh in response.

“Don't you find it fun? It feels like I’m making new friends by doing this for you.”

“Yeah it is.. I guess. It feels like a game, pretending.”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have been caught in that drug scandal, silly.”

He sighs before he speaks, “Yeah, yeah I know. It was stupid of me and I wasn’t thinking straight. You don’t need to fucking remind me.”

Oh, okay. You just look at him sympathetically. Is he mad? He’s got a little sass to him.

One of his hands escapes your grasp on the table, his other hand still intertwined with yours. With his free hand, he runs his hand through his hair as he sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” He says, “It’s just.. this whole thing is a lot to deal with you know? All the shit online.. the media.. the paparazzi questioning me..”

“It’s fine.. you just.. it just worries me. You worry me.” And you’re right, he does. It’s the truth. Sometimes when you’re at home, you can’t help but think “Is he taking any drugs right now?” “Why won’t he tell me the truth? I know his addiction is bad.” “What if he actually isn’t addicted? What if I’m worried for nothing?”

You don’t know why it worries you so much, you barely know this guy. But some sort of connection has grown, something within you telling you that you have to have this sense of care towards him.

“Worry you? Why?”

“I told you this before.. Your thing with drugs, it worries me. You say you’re not addicted, but are you sure?” You pause, inhaling as you blink to look away, then back at him. “You don’t need to keep lying to me, we’ll be dating for nine whole months.”

His voice is firm and slow, “I’m not lying, I’m being serious. I’m not addicted. I can stop any time I want.”

Oh, here we go. You know he’s lying. You just have that gut feeling within you. And the way he’s speaking, it’s so defensive. So frustrated. You don’t want to pester him, but you signed up for this in the contract, to give him a sense of help for his addiction, that’s your job here. That’s what you influence, a healthy lifestyle.

“When was the last time you took something?”

“It was.. this morning.”

“Why?”

“We had dance practice and I needed it to relax. Just a small amount, nothing too serious like you’re thinking.”

“.. What did you take?”

He avoids your gaze, looking down at the one hand of yours that’s intertwined with his. “Xanax.. only a low dose though.”

“How much?”

“It was just 1mg.”

Okay, that's not too bad right? Honestly, you don’t really know much about doses, you should probably research when you get home.

All you know is he’s illegally occupying these drugs, his manager already told yours, who alerted you. So clearly, he’s doing more than usual, otherwise he could just ask his doctor for them if he has anxiety, which you can sort of tell he does.

You don’t respond straight away, simply looking down at his hands as you rub your thumb over his knuckles in a sense of .. care?

“When did you start?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Satoru..” You tilt your head with worried eyebrows, “I just want to help, that’s part of my job in this whole situation.”

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he reluctantly responds, “Fine, might as well tell you ‘cause you’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” His voice is low, irritated.

“No, I won’t.”

He sighs, preparing himself before actually revealing everything. “I started… about 3 years ago. Went to the doctor for my anxiety and they prescribed Xanax for a month. Then they just fucking stopped it.”

He pauses for a moment, opening his eyes but still avoiding eye contact as he looks down at your thumb, caressing his knuckles. “But I… couldn’t stop taking it, I needed it to relax, to quiet down the thoughts in my head. So I started buying it on the street, small amounts at first, but then…then I started finding out about different products that help, stronger ones. Like uh.. heroin.. coke..other tablets that help with anxiety too..” He pauses again, still looking down.

“Well yeah now I can’t stop,” He laughs looking back up at you. Why is he laughing? Like he’s genuinely laughing. Not even an awkward laugh. “I don’t overdose if you’re thinking that.”

“So that means you do overdose,” You say, staring at him as you speak in a serious tone, contrasting his humorous behaviour. “I never even said anything.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and shame at being called out so bluntly. His eyes meet our hands intertwined again. “I’m not stupid, I know my limits. I’ve never gone overboard, never ended up in the ER. I’m in control here.”

Oh god. It’s breaking your heart. Little by little.

How can you possibly help him if he keeps lying to himself?

“No.. you’re not stupid, not at all.. I never meant that.” You bite down on your lip for a little,then inhale as you look down, why is this seriously breaking your heart?

“You're not stupid. It’s not like you can just stop, can you..”

He lets out a soft, broken laugh at your words. “No, no I can’t stop. Once I started taking them, it was like I couldn’t go back. The more I took, the more I needed to keep taking. It’s just… I needed to keep going. Otherwise everything becomes too much.”

“What are the specific reaso-“ The corner of your eyes sees a waitress approaching, fuck. “Wait, change the subject. Someone’s coming over.”

He looks up and quickly composes himself, a smile on his face. God he must be so happy for the distraction.

You both watch as your food is placed on the table, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. The conversation from before still hangs heavily in the air.

“Oh.. they set out the food so beautifully.”

He hums in agreement, and you can see him still staring at your face rather than the food, he’s not even glanced at the food properly yet.

You look back at him but he quickly breaks out of his gaze and finally looks down at the food, his eyes widening at the presentation. You hold back your laugh. He’s still shy, not always so cocky and confident.

“Yeah, it does. they really went all out.” He says with a smile.

He takes a bite of his food, savouring the flavours and letting out an appreciative hum, looking back up at you with a smile.

“Damn, this is good. Eat yours.”

And you do, the tastes melting onto your tongue, rich, savoury and perfectly cooked.

“.. Do you want to carry on the conversation from before or..?”

He doesn't respond straight away, his expression unreadable as his gaze is locked onto the food whilst he chews.

He swallows, then speaks, “I guess. You’re going to pester me anyway. But let’s finish eating first, yeah?”

After around 10 minutes, you both finish your meals, putting your utensils down.

“Alright, you can bug me with your questions now.” He says with a playful smirk, as if this is all a joke. But you can’t help but laugh a little back, he’s so childish it’s cute. But also a little worrying. He’s always playing off his emotions. Why do men act like that?

“I’m not trying to bug you idiot. We should pay for the food first though, then talk about this in the car I think..”

You both feel the tension from earlier lift off you both as he laughs lightly at your response. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He calls over a waitress, he pays the bill keeping up a casual and easy demeanour. Then he stands up and offers you his hand, “Ready, baby?”

You roll your eyes as you scoff a laugh, taking his hand gently as you stand up, picking up the Cartier gift bag off the table.

His fingers intertwined with yours once more, his hands are still trembling, ever so slightly. It's almost unnoticeable. But you notice it, you’re feeling it.

Once outside, the paparazzi that were waiting there bombard you both again. Shielding you as best as he can, he pushes through the throng of media as you’re filled with discomfort.

You both finally manage to reach the car and he quickly opens the passenger door for you to get in. After you're inside, he gets into his driver's seat and closes the door, the both of you exhaling heavily in relief as some distance is put between you both and the cameras.

“You okay?” His voice is teasy and sarcastic, trying to light up the mood, “You're not completely traumatised by the experience of dealing with the media right?”

You chuckle again in response, the both of you seem to laugh a lot around each other. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad when I signed up for this.”

“Yeah, it can be pretty overwhelming dealing with the media. But I have experience dealing with these vultures, you get used to it after a while..” He pauses as you hum in agreement.

“Let me park in a different area, yeah? Then we can talk about.. you know.. what you want to know. There’s no point of me lying anymore. You won’t tell anyone though right?”

“No, of course not. I won’t do that. I promise.” And you won’t, anything too personal you won’t. You usually tell Utahime everything, but you won’t this time. You promised.

He smiles softly at your reassurance and nods, pulling out of the parking lot and driving the car to a quieter, more secluded area. The short drive is filled with silence until he parks his car in a secluded area under the night sky.

There's no other cars around in this parking lot, the only sound around being the hum of the engine and the distant sound of city noise. Someone could kill us here, he could kill me here. Fuck, what am I thinking?

You both allow the silence to fill the air for a moment, the tension slowly building once more.

He glances at you, his gaze fixed intently on your face as he finally speaks, his voice low and soft ,"Alright, you can ask me whatever you want to know. I’ll answer honestly.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Why did your doctor stop your prescription?”

He doesn't say anything for a moment then takes a deep breath before answering, "The doctor was worried about the long-term side effects and potential harm to my body. They had an idea that I was becoming addicted because I kept asking for more from the pharmacy and when I had any appointments. He told me I couldn’t take anymore and I.. got angry.. yelled and shit.. so they took me off it.”

Why would they do that? How dumb do they have to be to just.. stop it completely instead of gradually helping him to stop? You blame his doctor for his whole addiction, they were reckless.

“Why do you do it? Specifically.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at the question, shaking his head slightly. “Why do I do it? I don’t know. Being an idol I guess it just..” He pauses again, struggling to find the words to express himself. "Practising for hours on end.. hardly any rest.. the media.. fans.. everything it’s just..”

He grips the steering wheel tight as he slouches in his seat, his knuckles turning white. “Everything gets too much. My mind is always going a thousand miles a minute. There’s too much to deal with. Too much pressure when your #3. The label wants to get us to #1, and they’ll force anything onto us to achieve that.”

You don’t respond, simply listen, letting him really come to terms with his issues instead of playing them off as a joke.

“The drugs help quiet everything. They numb the thoughts and the feelings and make it all bearable for a short while.”

“And you take.. illegal drugs.. like heroin.. and..” You inhale a shuddered breath, biting your lip as you look away. Then look back at him with a pitiful look.

“I know it’s bad. Trust me, I know. I’m not stupid. But it’s my way of coping I guess. It just helps me get through the day.”

“You take some every day?” And he nods, shame written on his face.

“And I never said you were stupid. Stop thinking that okay? You’re not.. it’s not entirely your fault, your doctor is at fault mainly here.”

But again, he lets out a bitter laugh at your words, “No, stop saying that. It is my fault. I’m the one who keeps doing these things. There’s no one else to blame but me.” He hasn’t made eye contact with you once during this conversation.

“… Don’t think like that.”

“Why not?” And he’s finally turned his head to you, voice full of frustration and defensiveness as his eyes meet yours with furrowed brows.

“Self blaming will just make you feel more negative and anxious, making you need more drugs to calm you down. You can’t always control your brain if it’s been wired differently, the only thing that is your fault is your lack of truly trying to change.”

His one hand gripping on the steering wheel tightens even more, anger rising in his chest, “Lack of trying to change? You don’t think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried to stop so many times, and every time I fucking fail. Every time I keep coming back to the drugs. I’m hopeless. That's all there is to it. I don’t know why my manager contacted you for help, I’m just going to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Just worry. When was the last time you tried to stop?”

You see him hesitate, as if he wants to lie again, but his eyes meet yours once more. “Like.. seven months ago, relapsed after a week.” He scoffs a laugh at himself.

“That’s a long time ago though.”

“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t want to try again. Felt like I was losing my mind during that week. I just couldn’t handle it.”

“What support did you have at the time?”

He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh again, "Support? I don't need support. I'm supposed to be a successful, talented idol. I'm supposed to get women and be the man. I can't be seen as weak and vulnerable. I can't have people seeing the mess of a man I am, the weak, broken guy who can't get over his fucking anxiety or stop taking drugs."

…

Your lips are parted, brows furrowed and eyes wide as you freeze and just stare at him. Did he just say that? Why are you shaking? There’s no way he truly thinks like that. It’s breaking your heart.

“Jesus- are you crazy?!”

“I take drugs, what do you think, sweetheart?”

“No i mean-“ and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes shut to compose yourself and then open them again at his irritated expression. “Satoru.. that’s what you call stupid.” And he grits his teeth in anger, “What the actual fuck do you mean you don’t need support? You have Shoko and Geto. Did you ever seek support from them when you were having withdrawals?”

“No. But when they’d try to help I’d yell at them I guess. So now they make jokes with me about it instead to help me cope, but Shoko gets fucking mad when she sees me actually doing the drugs in front of her or if she sees me carrying it and Suguru just lectures me.”

“Do you push them away?”

“Yeah, so what? I never want them to see me all weak like that. I just want to deal with it on my own, prove that I’m strong and in control.”

“You don’t need to do that, you know it won’t help to just rely on yourself. If you feel like you’re about to relapse after trying to stop, you seek help and comfort to stop you from doing that.”

He lets out a huff of frustration, “I know I'm supposed to do that, but... but it just feels like I should be able to handle it on my own. It feels weak, to have to rely on other people to hold me up. I don't want to burden them with my problems.”

🏷️taglist - @poopooindamouf @catobsessedlady @xionri @spookysoowpprince @abiiebibie @svgvrvs @minzxec @chuyasthighs0 @k-kkiana @you-always-made-me-blush @bbysnw @luvvmae @juliiizh @fleurdelluna @meowforlove @tqd4455 @miliondollagirl @norvacaine @d0nk3y-k0ng @hyperfixationwhore @pinkkminn @gomorlo @lillizard21-blog @zoeyflower @prettynai

(names in white, you can’t be tagged - please fix this or I’m sorry I’ll have to remove you off the list <3!!)

[im-in-love-with-pizza-bites]

Ranch Hand: Chapter 7

Farmer!Veteran!Bucky Barnes X Teen!Reader (Small town and Farmer AU)

Series MasterList

Series summary: You ran away from your nightmare of a family, you found a small town, population 200. In this town you meet a retired army veteran turned farmer who hires you as farm hand. Only mystery will you two be able overcome your pasts together.

Chapter Summary:

Series Warnings: Mentions nightmares, Child abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, war, swearing, mentions death by cancer, mentions of alcohol and illegal substance abuse. please tell me if you see anymore!!! But do so politely please.

Chapter Warnings:

Divider: @skylightlantern

Sorry it's late!!!

The week went by fast it was already Friday. You were in the pasture with the cows while Bucky was bidding his sister and her kids goodbye. It was almost the fourth of July so they wanted to get home before then. And well Bucky wanted to bunker down here especially during the fireworks this weekend. He also invited Sam and Steve over for Steve's birthday and so they too can be out of town during the fire works. He assumes you'll be spending it in town at the Carnival, or with your parents. Who you have yet to let him meet.

"Bye Bec Drive safe." He hugs her. "Bye kiddos." He hugs Winnie before doing the same with his nephew.

Bye buck, call me everyday." Bec warns him.

"I will."

"Good, love you."

"Love you too. Bye." Once Becca and her kids left he sighs. He heads to the barn to see if you already let the horses out.

———

You pet Valley as you stood on the fence hoping you didn't fall off. You didn't notice two cars pulling up. You also didn't notice the two men who climbed from the cars.

"Hey y/n!" You spook and stumble forward but you used the horse to stabilize yourself. You carefully climb off the fence and turn around, you see Steve and some random guy.

"Hi."

"Where's bucky?" The random man asked as you walked over to them

"The pasture with the cows. I'm y/n, you are?"

"Sam. I didn't know Bucky hired anyone."

"He hired me a few weeks ago!" You tell him smiling.

"Okay we'lljust go inside and wait for Bucky then." Steve said patting your shoulder noticing how you tense up. "You good kid?"

"Yeah."

"Okay we'll text him that we're here." The men went inside and you went back to what you were doing.

"That's the girl I told you there's something odd about her!" Steve says once they got inside.

"She seems like a normal teen girl Steve you're just paranoid." Sam denies looking outside at you. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary other then you flinching when Steve patted your shoulder. But that could just be you not liking being touched.

"I don't know there's something up with her." Steve states.

"Uh-huh." Sam laughs, "then ask her what hurt will it do?"

"If something is up she isn't gonna tell me." Steve mentally face palms. "Shouldn't you know that you're a cop."

"You think I'm working calls like that? No just a whole lot of traffic stops." He shrugs.

"Oh."

"Hey guys." Bucky walks into the house. "What can I do for you?"

"Steve wanted to prove there was something strange about your ranch hand." Sam states. "It's also my day off and I had nothing better to do but drive an hour to see for myself "

"Mhm. Come make yourselves useful and help me fix a fence." Bucky smirks.

"Fine. But it's lunch time so how about we eat first?" Steve suggests.

"Alright I gotta feed Y/n anyway, I don't her parents getting mad if don't give her lunch." Bucky says going to the fridge.

"Have you met her parents yet? Cause I haven't heard jack about anyone new in town." Sam states leaning on the counter.

"No she also only talks about her dad."

"See strange. What parent wouldn't want to meet the random strange man their daughter is working for!" Steve says.

"That is weird." Sam agrees.

"You're both thinking too much into it. They could just be busy they did just move in like a month ago." Bucky tries to reason but neither man listens.

"Hey look I'm just saying I definitely think there is something off." Steve says. "She literally refuses rides anywhere but to town or here. Who wouldn't want a ride home especially since we have no clue how far her house is."

"Mhm. Look Steve I know you're bored but if it's such a big deal ask. It won't hurt."

"She'll probably lie."

"He does have a point."

"Shut it Sam. I don't need you both doing this I have other things to deal with."

"Yeah... So your sister left today?" Sam asks.

"Yep back to Brooklyn," Bucky says as he goes to the counter with his ingredients.

"How you feeling anyway? Anymore nightmares."

"Every night."

"Oh."

Taglist: @rachaelswrites @killerqueenfan @lukajim @lrosenblut26 @lonely-dead-poets @worldssidechick @littleolive24 @cute2043 @skycaliforniaart @idk-whats-happend @mischiefsemimanaged @retiredfromglad @katopotato06 @xennityxen @bucky-boo-bear @thekillingjoke-haha @sunny-the-kitsune @i-have-no-life-charlie @rexs-twin-dc-17-blasters @buckymydarlingangel @ducks118 @evans-stan-thirstthots @buckysbaaee @amorluzymelodia @buckysdollll @red-soul667 @hanainneverland @whore-4-thor @bxtchboy69 @sarahzuijd @devilslilbabysblog @marvelbabes24 @a_rand0m_gemini @its-sunflower-stardew @lil-mamas-stuff @f4iry444 @ogmisslove @austynparksandpizza @wickedravyn @maliagurl @yoruebeautiful @carmellasworld @masterof-agony @gamingdevil101

[girlgirlgirlnormal]

Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 3)

Sooo, I wrote a third part! Noone asked for it, but I think I´m going to write more parts, just because I enjoy writing these characters and am having a writers block on my other project :/ And maybe I should proofread and edit the other two parts, but here you go!

But hey! This part is not smut but an actual game! 

I hope you enjoy it! 

part one - part two

“What the fuck where you doing?”, Hina was ripped out of her thoughts as Kuina approached her, whisper-shouting, “What happened?”

“I got laid”, Hina informed her friend, she had woken up sandwiched between Samura and Niragi. At first, she thought that she should be waiting for them to wake up, but it was still dark and they looked both so peaceful. If Hina was being honest, her body was still hurting. A quick look in the mirror had confirmed all the bruises and hickeys she had been feeling, all over her throat, chest, and thighs. Her bikini top only covered the most of her breasts, everything else was exposed. She had stolen a pair of shorts from the drawer, that at least covert the bruises on her butt and the hickeys on her upper inner thigh. She hoped they weren’t going to be too mad about her sneaking away.

“What?”, Kuina exclaimed.

Her eyes widened, as she saw the bruises on Hinas body, “You call that getting laid? You look like you survived your own death.”

“I had worse nights and I´m not even lying about that”, Hina smiled at the pretty girl next to her, “My last boyfriend”, she formed quotation marks with her fingers, as she said boyfriend, “used to do way worse and I still had to dance every night.”

Kuina gave her a sympathetic smile, “Look, I´m sorry about that, but I don’t believe that putting yourself in a situation in which you could easily get killed is going to help with your trauma.”

Hina rolled her eyes, “I did cum twice”, she informed Kuina grinning.

Loudly exhaling through her nose, Kuina shook her head. She was about to say something, but she stopped, grabbing Hinas hand and staring at something behind her. Mustering up a smile Hina turned, finding Niragi and Last Boss approaching them with fast steps.

“Good morning”, she greeted, as soon as the men were in a hearing distance.

Niragi was the first to reach her, one of his hands forcefully grabbing her hair, while the other held his sniper rifle, “Why did you leave?”, he asked angered.

Hina took a deep breath. That was the kind of behavior her old boyfriend had portrayed daily. At least she knew how to handle it.

“I needed to get something to eat”, she gestured towards the bar, her plate was still sitting there, only half eaten, “I didn’t want to wake you. You were both seeping so peacefully.”

“You ran away from us”, Niragi said, Last Boss standing behind him, with his arms crossed.

“I just went to get breakfast”, she said, “Why would I leave you?”

“She deserves a bit of trust after she’s been such a good girl last night”, Samura commented, still not raising a finger to help her.  

“I hope its ok that I borrowed some shorts”, Hina said, still not acknowledging her hurting scalp, “You kinda destroyed my bikini panties.”

“They look great on you”, Samura informed her, finally putting a hand on Niragis shoulder, “Come on. She´s just eating.”

Niragi looked her up and down. His gaze lingering over all the bruises and hickeys they had caused. His fingers unwinded from her hair and glided over her throat, amazed by how pretty the purple spots looked on her.

“I’m yours, remember?”, Hina asked smiling, “I won’t just leave.”

“We were wondering when your visa is going to run out”, Last Boss asked, stepping beside Niragi, “We are going to the game tonight. We want you to come with us.”

“My visa ends in two days”, Hina answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to renew it a couple of days earlier.”

It would hurt. Walking hurt and she couldn’t even sit. Her ass and clit were still throbbing from being abused the night before.

“Good.”, Niragi said, “We’ll see you in the evening.”

With that they left as fast as they had approached.

“Why would you go to a game with them?”, Kuina asked, “What will you do if they sacrifice you?”

“Probably die”, Hina answered, sighing as she saw Kuinas frown, “If they can help me to survive here, I’ll take it. If I die, I die. There is really not much to do about it.”

“Why are you so indifferent about dying?”

“I don’t want to play games forever. I don’t really want to go back to the real world either. I have nothing there.”

She was lying. She had someone. Someone she would never see again. Someone she wasn’t able to have even back in the real world. She would not be able to have him once she got back. Her boyfriend would never allow it.

Hina spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to cool her core to ease the pain and waiting for the gong. The gong always announced that it was time to get ready for the next game. She hoped that it was not a physical game. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight or even run.

“Don’t be stupid”, she whispered to herself, “If you can dance on the pole after he had his way with you, you can run and you can fight.”

They had been nicer to her than he had been. Even the fact that Niragi choked until she had seen black spots dancing in her vision didn’t stop that from being true. He had been so much worse, and nobody had been able to protect her.

Sighing she made her way to the lobby. It was getting dark, it couldn’t take much longer for the gong to go off. Many people seemed to think the same way. The lobby was already fairly crowded as Hina approached. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering gaze of a couple of people, examining her bruises and hickeys. She held her head high. The sports shoes she was wearing were comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking her dancer shoes would be so much more appropriate right now. She was used to strutting with platform heels, not giving a fuck about what other people thought about her or her profession or all the bruises she had all over her body. She smiled as she saw Samura and Niragi standing in the back of the lobby, talking to some other militants and walked over to them. They stopped talking and watched her move towards them.

“Good evening”, she greeted them, still smiling.

“Hey”, Niragi greeted back.

Last Boss just smiled.

They didn’t start a conversation. Hina did not know what to talk about, with all the other militants around them and the men did not look like they were interested in talking to her anyway. Niragi was back to talking to the others while Samura was still watching her. She looked up at him, still smiling. His tattoos looked nice. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.

“You’re still wearing my shorts”, he said, “Why? You’ve been to your room.”

“I like them”, Hina informed Samura, “They´re comfortable and they are yours.”

“I thought the whole girl steals her boyfriend’s clothes was only a movie trope”, he deadpanned.

Boyfriend? Did he assume they were in a relationship? Did he want that?

Before she could say anything else Hatter was on the balcony, giving a speech about the games and how they all were comrades. Hina didn’t listen. Part of her wanted it to be true. She wanted to be able to go back to the real world. She didn’t want to play games to survive.

She was whisked away to a car with the militants and off to the game before she knew it.

They reached the venue, an old warehouse, in short time and went in. The phones were laid out in a small room in the entrance. Hina couldn’t help but notice how hot it was in there. For once she was happy that she was only wearing a bikini top.

She picked up a phone and let herself be squished between Niragi and Last Boss as the registration proceeded. There were 4 other people as the voice announced that registration was closed.

“Game code: 8 of spades. Game: The floor is lava. Game clear is achieved then players cross the warehouse and enter the safe zone. Time: 15 Minutes”

After the announcement the door behind them opened, unveiling a large warehouse. The floor was literally lava. Objects were floating in the lava, monkey bars and ropes were dangling from the ceiling. A big digital clock was counting back from 15 minutes. Hina sighed, stretching her legs.

So much for protecting me, she mumbled and watched as Niragi attached his sniper rifle to a harness and Last Boss examined the lava.

She watched as turned to one of the women that were not part of the militants and shoved her to the edge.

“What are you doing?”, the woman cried out, “Stop!”

“We need to find out if this is really lava”, Samura only explained, holding the poor women by her hair and shoving face to the edge.

“It cant be lava”, said Hina, all the attention was on her now, “I don’t think that the stuff could float in lava, it would be too hot. It still seems to be pretty hot and I would not recommend touching it.”

It was a thick blubbering substance and steam was rising. If everything she had seen on nationaly geographic was right lava looked different.

“Come on”, she said smiling, “we don’t have much time.”

With that she walked over to the far right of the room and jumped on the table that was floating there. This seemed like a decent starting point. Many other objects were floating nearby and some monkeybars were hanging nearby. Standing on the desk she assessed her next move. The chair, which was placed about a meter from the desk was the nearest object, but it didn’t had enough surface area to land safely. She chose to jump a little bit further and landed on a piece of driftwood. From where she was standing the best jump she could make was to a globe. She looked back. Samura had let go of the woman and was following her. Niragi was standing on something that looked like a sink. She was about to make the jump as a piercing scream echoed through the warehouse. She turned back, the militants all seemed fine, someone was struggling in the lava. The struggle didn’t last long. After mere seconds the person disappeared.

“Maybe acid?”, Hina asked, turning back to Samura.

“You didn’t let me check”, he just said, shrugging.

Hina leapt on the globe, landing on her stomach, barely able to lift her legs enough to not touch the lava. She could hear Samura jumping on the driftwood behind her as she started to lift herself of, trying to stand up, to be able to jump to the monkeybars. The monkeybars were leading straight to a spinning bed in the middle of the room.

“Time remaining: 10 Minutes”, the computer voice announced.

Hina had finally managed to stand up. The globe was slippery, but it wasn’t a far jump to the monkeybars. Once again she was happy about the muscles she had gained while dancing. She managed to grip the first bar. It was swinging back and forth violently, as she realized that the next bar was too far to just grab. She had to built momentum. She leapt, grabbing the second bars.

She heard a loud splash and someone else was screaming. A shudder ran over her back.

“Come on princess”, Niragi was already on the bed.

When did he get there? Taking a deep breath she leapt to the next bar. Only three more there left and she could jump to the bed.

Another scream. She couldn’t look back, but it sounded like a man. Fueled with adrenaline she made the last leaps. She was hanging on the last monkeybar as she felt it swing harder.

“Jump, Niragi will catch you”, Samura said, she could hear him leaping from one bar to the next, making it swing harder.

Hina nodded and using the swing she let go then she was nearest to the bed. Niragi did catch her.

“Nice”, he said, dragging her to the side so last boss had a place to land.

“Its easiest if we go that way”, he explained, after Samura joined them on the bed, pointing to his right, “the objects are smaller but the distance between them is shorter.”

Hina and Samura nodded. Niragi made the first jump. He made it look so easy as he made the second jump and landed effortlessly on his feed on a small barstool. After the bed had spun around two times Samura gave Hina a small nudge, “You first”, he said.

Hina nodded and made the jump, landing on her butt.

“Ouch”, she mumbled, standing up and making the next jump to the barstool that Niragi had already vacated.

Another scream echoed through the warehouse. Hina looked around. Only one of the other militants was left and the girl that Last Boss had threatened to push into the lava was a couple of meters behind them, sitting on top of a piece of driftwood.

She made the next jump. Only a couple more jumps were left.

“3 Minutes left”, the computer voice announced.

“Fuck”, mumbled Niragi, “Come on, princess.”

She jumped. Samura was close on her heels. She jumped again. And again. Niragi reached the other edge and started looking for the door to the safe room.

“2 Minutes left”

“Found it”, Niragi announced, opening a door. He left it wide open and went back to the edge, reaching for Hina, “Come on.”

Two jumps were left, but one of them was another globe, much smaller than the one she had jumped on before.

“You can do it”, Samura said behind her.

Mustering up her courage she made the jump, landing on her stomach. It took some effort to stand up, but the next platform, another sink, was close, so she made the jump. She turned back and watched Samura make the jump to the globe, somehow landing on his feed.

“30 seconds left”

“Come on!”, Niragi screamed, extending his hand to her.

She made the last jump and found herself in Niragis arms. Not even two seconds later they were joined by Samura on the edge.

“Go”, he said, shoving Hina to the open door.

Just as the voice started to count down from 10 Samura was the last of the trio entering the room. He wanted to close the door, but Hina stopped him. She wanted to help the others, but they were too far away.

“3”, counted the voice.

Sighing she stepped to the side, letting Samura close the door.

“Game cleared.”, the voice announced.

She felt herself being squished by two bodies, as Samura and Niragi hugged her while on the other side of the door pained screams erupted. They didn’t scream long.

Their phones beeped, showing that they had earned 8 additional days to their visa.

“Let’s go home”, Niragi said, opening the door on the other side of the room.

Sighing she followed the men out. The cool night air felt nice after the hellish heat inside.

“You were good”, Samura commented as they were seating in the car.

They had lost everyone else in the game. She was wondering why they were not upset over the deaths of their militant friends, but she guessed that it would make sense. She had known that they didn’t really have many friends in the beach.

“Theres an executive meeting”, Niragi informed her, as they reached the beach, “Go to Samuras room, we’ll come as soon as possible.”

Hina nodded and watched them walk away.

“How was the game?”, asked Kuina, who had approached her from behind.

“They did not sacrifice me to find out if the floor was really lava.”, Hina deadpanned, “What were you up to?”

“Just hanging out with Chishiya”, Kuina answered, “Did you just say the floor was lava?”

[meeeeyahhhhh]

Knock Knock. Who’s There? (Jasonette) (continuation of The Most Vibriant Color)

Orange. Orange was the color of pill bottles, the eyes of vampiric bats in the night, and the tint of the orange plastics that polluted the earth. Orange was the color of a shirt Jason Todd was trying to pack. The voices finally broke him into going to Paris and now he needed to pack. Jason had no idea how long he would be there, but he also had no plans of returning to Gotham anytime soon. Dick walked into the room, “Dickie boy, what’s up?”

The older adoptee stared at his brother, “Are you sure you want to leave? You just got back.”

Jason didn’t just want to go, he needed to leave. If the pit madness didn’t drive him insane, the constant way Bruce and Dick treated him like he was a bomb just waiting to explode would. They claimed they missed him, mourned him, wept oh so many tears, but in the end they had just replaced him. Jason would never be Dick; he knew it; Bruce knew it; hell, Dick himself said he would never be good enough.

The steel blue orbs bore into Jason’s making him shift uncomfortably, “Then it will feel like I never came back,” he laughed but Dick found no humor in his words, “Listen Dick, I’m not you. I’m going to be fine.”

Jason wasn’t fine, not right now, not in Gotham. He was suffocating. Loneliness was a silent killer, one worse then the Joker. Jason knew it would kill him all over again if he didn’t do anything to stop it. Dick didn’t understand, he was the golden child. Dick was the first, the better Robin, the most charming, respectful, and kind one of the Bat’s kids. He lived a good life in the circus with his family and then immediately be adopted by one of, if not, the richest men in the world. Dick didn’t grow up on the streets, he wasn’t treated like an outsider in his adopted family, he wasn’t toyed with, frayed, bruised, ripped, or mutilated like Jason. A stranger in his own body is what Jason was.

All of these feeling were internalized of course. What’s the point of talking about the emptiness that plagued him, when everyone was already moved on? Jason had no purpose anymore. Why would Bruce miss one of his thousand kids? Jason was just another passion project... right? Did he serve any real purpose to begin with? All of these thoughts stuck with Jason. No matter how much he wished they would just go away, they would stay ever fervently whirling like a tornado inside Jason’s psyche. The only way to escape them was to leave. They’d have to, if they didn’t Jason didn’t know what he’d do. This is his last hope to try and just be a kid again. A luxury Jason was never given, this is the time where Jason reclaims the innocence that was stolen from him.

He swore it. He meant it. He was going to live it.

After Dick had finally left the room, Jason finished packing. This was the final piece to the puzzle that was Jason’s future. Gotham would lose Jason Todd again, this time by choice. What good did his return do anyway. Gotham could live without Red Hood, she could live without another troubled kid, she could live with one of her kids living without her. Gotham couldn’t live with one of her babies dying again in front of her. Paris craved chaos and by Kawamii was Jason going to raise hell while he’s there. Gotham knew this, so she passed one of her favorite boys to Paris in hopes of his life being preserved. Paris welcomed him with open arms too. What about a baker’s daughter?



Orange. A color of insincerity, empty calories, a color without substance. Orange was a color that would haunt Marinette. Everywhere she turned an Ex-friend and a liar would be there trying to gain her attention. The liar spun beautiful tales of her exploits, but she also created terrors to ruin Marinette. The pathetic excuse of a reporter pestered her into helping her tabloid of a blog, “Come on! Get me an interview with Ladybug!” She would shout, “I have to know about what happened with Rena and Carapace!”

“For the last time, Alya, I’m not in anyway, shape, or form obligated to help you. I’ve made myself very clear in stating that we aren’t friends. You talk bad about me, try to ruin my commission website, and on top of all of that you expe- no, demand something of me?!?” Marinette was furious. The insolence Alya repeatedly shown to her angered her to new bounds, “You think you are in a position to be speaking to me at this moment? Alya, I’m tired of this routine you have taken accustomed to falling into. Just because you forgot your own actions, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten nor forgiven you for. If you come by the bakery again, I’ll put a restraining order on you in school and outside. You have become a stalker, I don’t want anything todo with you.” 

Marinette had to take deep breaths and close her eyes to calm herself down. 1... 2... 3... repeat. 1... 2... 3... repeat until calm. She could not risk akumitization, it was not an option. Ladybug couldn’t be compromised. Emotions are a luxury that Marinette cannot be awarded. Alya on the other hand, she had no control and abused that.

Once Marinette had opened her eyes, she saw a purple little butterfly touch and be absorbed by Alya’s frames. The exchange between the supervillain and Alya was brief, he didn’t have to say much before the glow of power overtook the glasses sporting journalist. Marinette thought to herself, ‘I can never catch a break, can I?’

Marinette ran, commanding the people to evacuate, to the nearest locker to hide and change in. Tikki has taken no time to change and showcase her new look. Ladybug had outgrown the red and black, polka dotted, skin tight, spandex. She was much too mature for that now. Ladybug was layered in body armor, away with the pigtails that feigned innocence. Her hair was now loosely pulled back by two braids with the rest of her hair down, now her suit was a majority of black. Marinette’s mask’s colors had been inverted. Ladybug was a guardian of the order, a leader, a symbol, she needed to update her look.

She existed the locker, yo-yo in hand. Ladybug swung to higher ground. She had no information on the powers of this akuma, it was time to play everyone’s favorite: the waiting game. This also allowed for Char Noir to get here in time. In the beginning Chat was a little pushy and childish, but after 5 years of fighting he became jaded and more serious in his role. He got himself a girlfriend that didn’t work out but she was there, became a better friend, and more importantly a friend. Chat was tired, the only reason he was still fighting is because of Ladybug. His lady needed someone to balance her out, so until they can find his replacement they’re stuck.

After 5 minutes of waiting and observing, Chat had arrived, “What’s the status? What happened Bugsboo?”

“The akuma’s in her glasses. Alya, was told off by Marinette apparently and couldn’t handle it. And before you say something about Marinette instigating, Alya was harassing her about an interview with me. I will not give her an interview either. She doesn’t want to fact check, fine. I don’t want to give her an interview.”

Chat sighed. This whole situation was getting out of hand. He lost Marinette. Alya is on a warpath. Lila keeps harassing him. Maybe it was time to build his ark while the flood rages. He’s exhausted of playing middleman, of losing important people, he’s tired of fighting. After this he would beg Marinette to accept his apology, but if she didn’t want to he’d understand. This was going on for long enough.

The fight itself only took around 30 minutes. Once the cure was done, Alya awoke to see Ladybug staring her down. Alya didn’t seem to get that Ladybug was infact angry at her, “Ladybug! Can I get an interview?”

“I believe Marinette had told you I wouldn’t be giving you anymore interviews,” she said with venom, she hadn’t meant to but it was seeping out. “I saw the messages you and the rest of you class sent her. All of the hate, I know you tried to ruin her website. And for the last time, I do not know a Lia Rogatonie or whatever her name is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave. Bug Out!”

Alya was left stunned. Tears stained the cheeks of the “reporter” and she realized that she had been live-streaming the exchange. All of Alya’s followers had seen her be chewed out by the savior of Paris and Chat had only nodded. It wasn’t long after Ladybug left that Chat went in the opposite direction.

Marinette landed in an ally by the airport. She had to run home now that school was cancelled. Not actively paying attention to her surroundings, she had run into a large man. He was about 6’0 (182.88 cm) and all muscle. His jet black hair had a white streak going through it, he was devilishly handsome, and his eyes. Oh god, his eyes. They were clear blue, however, there was green infringing on them. It was a sickly green too. Marinette almost drooled at the sight of the Grecian god standing before her.

He had stumbled a bit but she had fell completely on her bottom. Marinette’s face was the same shade of her old suit design. Eventually the man had helped her up with an extended hand, “Are you okay?” He asked in rapid English.

If it wasn’t for all of the lessons Jagged and Penny had given her, she wouldn’t have understood a lick of anything he said, “Umm, I’m fine. T-Thank you,” she responded in accented English.

“You wouldn’t have the directions for Le Grand Paris would you,” he switched the language on her. “That’s where I’m staying, I got lost.”

“Oh, yes of course! I could help you get there, Monsieur...” she waited for him to fill the blanks.

“Jason,” He supplied, “Jason Todd.”

She outstretched her hand again, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said with her blindingly bright smile.

The sun was setting. A gorgeous orange glow was cast over the two as they walked towards Le Grand Paris. Each thought the other as etherial being and fell into comfortable conversation. This would be the start of a beautiful friendship and possibly romance.

A/N: This was one of my favorite things to write. Thank you to everyone who likes, comments, reblogs, and thank you for sending in the asks. They make my day like you wouldn’t believe. I never expected this many people would actually like the word vomit that comes from my mind. Also, special thanks to @/abrx2002 for the idea to make this series dealing with the entire rainbow! I was just going to do red, but now I’m doing the whole rainbow. If the series isnt done by purple, I’ll do more colors. Also if I didn’t tag you, it’s because I can only tag 50 people at a time. However, I’ll tag you in the comments!

Tag list: @abrx2002 @amayakans @mystery-5-5 @normal-piece-of-shit @st0rmy-w1th1n @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @g-arya @smolplantmum @rayray384 @rosa97 @drarryismylife101 @kris-pines04 @black-streak @storyteller-d @weird-pale-blonde-person @maribat-shenanigans @vivilakitty @mycupisbroken @zalladane @gingerdaile @18-fandoms-unite-08 @seraphichana @zebrabaker @northernbluetongue @jardimazul @ranger-gothamite @grimmhallow31 @finallyaniguana @persephonebutkore @rarity36 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @hell-or-high-waters @moonlightstar64 @raisuke06 @evil-cricket @starwindmaden @kuroko26 @primeemeraldheiress @ladysblackcat @senpaiweird @loveswifi @2sunchild2 @timetomakeanewwish @theyellowfeverexperience @iloontjeboontje @vgirl-10123 @vixen-uchiha @winter-gardenflower @yokizu @risingmoonyue @semaalcocer-blog

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 9) - Jason Todd

Gif: Unknown on Tenor

Word Count: 3.7K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: While looking for Y/N, Harley feels responsible for The Joker kidnapping her beloved niece. As Joker and Y/N are face to face, The Joker wonders why he didn’t know about Y/N beforehand, especially considering he and Bruce are ‘connected’.

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse.

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterizations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget   @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36​ @loxbbg​

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird Part 8  | Masterlist |

________________________________________________________________

“Well, well, well.”

Y/N stirred with discomfort at the voice, low and gravely and gave the same effect of nails being dragged down a chalkboard with teeth on edge and bones wanting to escape the flesh prison as the noise drilled through them. It sounded as though they always had something in their throat they were trying to cough up, but could never rid themselves of. When she opened her eyes, Y/N looked around her and realised that she was tied up and being hung from the ceiling above her by chains. She was still dazed and so wasn’t fully aware, but when she looked below, she snapped out of it, for she was being hung carelessly above a vat of green, bubbling chemicals that glowed in the darkened room. The voice from before laughed manically, and Y/N looked around to see where the sound came from. As she looked, she gathered more about her surroundings, realising she was in Ace Chemicals. Footsteps echoed as the owner walked on the gantry above the chemicals, and Y/N saw her capture. The Joker.

Despite her Aunt Harley once being in a relationship (if you could even call it that) with the mad man, Y/N had never met him. He wasn’t even supposed to know she existed as Harley was frightened the man would harm her.

“You!” Y/N seethed.

“Ah! So you’ve heard of me,” Joker crouched down. There was still a distance between them, perhaps three or four metres. “That’s… interesting, for you see it wasn’t until earlier that I heard of you, Miss Wayne! You’re daddy and I… we’re connected so you would have thought I should know about you, but alas I did not.”

“You’re supposed to be in Arkham,” Y/N said, “how’d you get out? Why isn’t any news you’re out?”

“Smart little Bat Pup, aren’t you, Y/N,” Joker wagged his finger as he pulled a pocket watch out of his purple coat pocket and looked at it, “They should be finding out right about… now!” Just as the Joker said ‘Now,’ the siren from Arkham that signified a break out rang loudly through the air. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll catch me.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she shifted in the chains, trying to loosen herself.

“Because,” Joker just shrugged, “To get at Bruce, I need to get to the one thing he loves and cares about more than anything – family.”

________________________________________________________________

The group, upon realizing that Joker had kidnapped Y/N, all suited up and went to search Gotham to find where he was holding her, reluctantly revealing to Harley and Ivy who it was beneath the mask of Batman. Neither were totally surprised, to be honest, and there were bigger things to worry about than Bruce Wayne being Batman. After Harley and Ivy got their protective gear on, they stopped at Wayne Manor were Jason and Bruce suited up, and then they went to Selina’s who pulled her Catwoman suit on. Alfred monitored their search for Y/N from the Batcave while Ivy and Selina went one way, Harley and Bruce went another and Jason went separately.

As Harley and Bruce finished searching yet another warehouse in Joker’s name, Harley fell against the wall and slowly ended up on the ground, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest. Bruce turned around and saw the woman curled in upon herself and frowned, walking up to her.

“Harleen?” Bruce said gently, “What’s wrong?”

“I kinda feel like all ‘a this is my fault,” she muttered as she ran her fingers over her knee.

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked, sitting next to her to comfort her. Harley sniffed a little and turned her head to look at Bruce. She was holding back tears and her bottom lip, painted a brilliant shade of red that reflected the lights back from its gloss, quivered like a leaf.

“I had a chance to kill him,” Harley explained, “I coulda killed Joker, but I didn’t, and now he’s kidnapped a girl that I love and care for like me own.”

“What?”

“I left Joker when Y/N was ten,” She began, “Not many people know this, only Y/N, Selina and Ivy, but Joker… he used ta hurt me, hurt me bad, physically and mentally,” Harley confessed, “I know, I know, that’s what I get for dating a villain like Joker,” she sighed.

“God no,” Bruce said, “no, no, no, you never deserve anything that he did to you, ever, regardless of him being a villain, regardless of what you’ve done. You should never have been abused by him.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Harley smiled tightly, “The night I decided I was gonna leave, he hurt me worse than he ever had before and I ran to Selina’s. She patched me up, and Y/N came out her bedroom, all in her jammies and everything – they were Batman one – and she saw me bleeding on the sofa and asked what happened. Well, at this point, Y/N/N just found out her mama was a thief, and her aunties were a criminal lunatic and an eco-terrorist, so there wasn’t much we could hide from her. She pretty much put two and two together , and that’s when she started wanting to be a vigilante, to take people like Joker and Penguin down. I decided then I had ta leave” Harley sighed and pushed her hair back. “Selina and I went back to Jokers, Selina as Catwoman, obviously, and we got my things, and Joker tried and stopped me, said he could be without me, he threw Selina off the stairs and tried ta grab me, so I grabbed my mallet and I started hitting him again and again and again. Selina stopped me cause Joker had called his henchmen and we didn’t have a chance to finish the job cause we didn’t have a gun, so we had to go. I shoulda stayed, I shoulda finished the fucking job, but then Selina said how upset Y/N would be if I did go through with it, saying 'Babes will be heartbroken'. She said it like that so Joker wouldn't know. And she was right, just thinking about Y/N finding out about what I was bout to do – it killed me. Y/N/N… she knows we were villains, that we’ve done bad things, that we have killed before, but this was different, cause me killing him would mean Joker’s men would kill me. That would break her heart, so I didn’t, and we left, went back to Selina’s. But I shoulda done it, I shoulda killed the bastard, gone down in fucking flames with him, cause if I did then he wouldn’t have taken Y/N.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Harley’s shoulders, “you aren’t to blame here. The only one responsible for Joker’s actions is Joker. And Y/N had a much better and happier life with Selina, Ivy and you raising her.”

“Really?” Harley looked at Bruce and wiped her eyes.

“She’s incredible, and that’s partly because of you.”

“Thank you, Brucie,” Harley said kissing Bruce’s cheek, “you’re a doll, now, let’s go kick my ex’s ass!”

________________________________________________________________

Y/N watched from her spot above the chemical tank as Joker paced up and down the gantry. He seemed befuddled, gnawing on his thumb and occasionally huffing and pointing at Y/N before carrying on pacing.

“Explain to me, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker finally said, “why your father kept you from me, me, me of all people,” he gestured to himself and threw his arms in the air, seething and spitting as he worked himself up.

“I’m not the person to talk to about this, Joker,” Y/N huffed and turned her head away.

“Well, who else is there to ask?”

“My parents come to mind.”

“Do you know what it feels like?” Joker asked, “the chemicals?”

“No, and don’t really want to – let’s go back to bitching about my dad, can we?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Joker tutted, “let’s go and talk about the chemicals, cause if dear old daddy can’t rescue you, then you’ll be plopped into a nice green bath of acid, how’s that sound?”

“Like dinner with The Mad Hatter sounds a lot more pleasant.”

“Oh, he’s a nightmare to spend ten minutes with really, Ms Y/N Wayne.”

“Please stop calling me that,” she sighed.

“It is your name though, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker said, “Anyway, back to the chemicals. It crawls under your skin and makes it feel as though every vein is on fire, that your skin is pulling itself from your bone and even when cleaned, you feel as though you are still coated in the substance, it’s… horrendous, never-ending torture. How does that sound, Ms Y/N Wayne?”

“Like high school, really.”

“And what kinda high school did your mama send you to?”

________________________________________________________________

Jason adjusted his Robin mask as he landed on the car roof. This was the last place on his list, Ace Chemicals. Bruce wasn’t sure if Joker would ever return there after the previous two times he was there and how bad those turned out, but Joker was a creature of habit, so it made sense to check. If Y/N wasn’t there, he had no idea where else she could be. Slowly, Jason crept up the ladder outside the building to the top, peering through the window. There she was, Y/N, tied up in chains and dangling over the vat of chemicals like a fish on a hook while Joker paced up and down and ranted as he did. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jason called Bruce.

“Jason? You found her?”

“Yeah, Ace Chemicals, come quick,” Jason said.

“On my way, I’ll contact Selina. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not planning on doing anything that would put Y/N in danger, Bruce,” Jason said before hanging up. He climbed back down and walked around the perimeter of the building, finding a door and opening it quietly. There was no one down there. It appears that Joker got so caught up in his plan to kidnap Y/N that he didn’t contact any of his men to watch the surroundings. Jason quickly walked away from the door and back to the car, opening it and checking, seeing the keys were still in there. He took the bag he had on his shoulder off and put it in the car, on the passenger side, then he walked into the building and slowly walked up the stairs, listening as he did.

“And here is the thing that bothers me the most, Ms Y/N Wayne,” Joker ranted on and on, “that I didn’t sense you,” he said, “after all your father and I have gone through, I should have sensed you – the daughter of Bruce Wayne, of Batman – but I didn’t, why?”

“Cause you’re not a fucking psychic,” Y/N groaned, “cause you’re a delusional lunatic.”

Jason bit back a chuckle. Only Y/N would be tied up over chemicals, her life in danger, kidnapped by The Joker, and still remain level headed and calm if a little irritated and bored. Jason tried to step forward, but something creaked beneath him.

“Wait,” Joker lifted a finger, “we aren’t alone here. Come out then, our unknown audience.” Jason gulped and walked out from his hiding place. His eyes moved from Joker to Y/N. Y/N was biting back her smile of relief of seeing Jason as Robin. Thank god someone was there to rescue her. “And Bruce didn’t even come himself to rescue his beloved offspring?” Joker tutted as he wagged his finger in disappointment. “But his pet bird instead? What does that say about the man?”

“We’ve all been out searching for her,” Jason said, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“We?” Joker frowned, “Not just The Bat?”

“No,” Jason shook his head, “me, her father, her mother, and her aunts.”

“Mother? Aunts?”

“Oh, please tell me you aren’t that stupid,” Y/N said, moving her eyes to Joker. “You know it takes two people to make a child?”

“Of course I do,” Joker snapped, “her mother?”

“Oh my god,” Jason said, “you idiot. You don’t know who her mother is, do you?”

“Who is her mother?” The Joker asked, “and aunts? She has aunts?”

“Wow,” Y/N started laughing from her trapped place, “this is brilliant, oh my god, you have no idea what’s going to happen next. Fucking hell. Talk about karma being a bitch.”

“Someone explain to me what is going on!”

“Not only is Batman her father,” Jason said, almost laughing, while Y/N was howling with glee as she realised Joker had just trapped himself in his own trap. How brilliant. “Her mother is Catwoman, and her aunts are Catwoman’s friends – The Gotham City Sirens.”

Y/N and Jason didn’t let their faces reveal that behind the Joker the window had opened, and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had both snuck and were quietly behind the Joker, waiting for the right moment.

“What?” The smile on Joker’s face dropped for a second, “The Sirens?”

“Which means, dumbass, that your ex-girlfriend, and her new beau, both helped in raise Y/N,” Jason said, “meaning not only Batman is on the way, but Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn are also coming here.”

“Seriously, mate,” Y/N laughed, “if there was an Olympics for bad luck, you’ve got Gold, not only that, but you fucking smashed the world record.”

“Uh oh,” Joker said.

“Uh oh is right there, puddin’,” Harley said from behind Joker, baseball bat in hand. She swung it hard and hit Joker in the side of the head. Joker yelped loudly and stumbled back. Bruce and Selina, still in costume, appeared from where Jason walked out of. Ivy then punched Joker in the gut while Bruce went for his face. Selina kicked the Joker in the chest. All the adults started beating the Joker as Brue turned to Jason and yelled.

“Robin, get Y/N and get out of here.”

“On it,” Jason yelled back with a nod as he climbed onto the railing and carefully, quickly, moved past the fight and to the other side where the chain holding Y/N was linked up. Jason grabbed it and looked at Y/N, “Ready?”

“Fuck yes,” she nodded as Jason unhooked the chain and started pulling, lifting Y/N higher and higher. As she started moving, she shifted to loosen herself, and once her hands were free from the chain, she grabbed it and shifted her, so her body was then free, still keeping a firm grip. When Jason pulled Y/N high enough, she started swinging, throwing herself forward and flying into Jason’s arms. They crashed onto the floor. Y/N pulled back and looked into Jason’s eyes.

“Didn’t know felines could fly, Kitty Cat,” Jason chuckled.

“Learnt from the best, Tweety Bird.”

They got to their feet, and Jason grabbed her hand, throwing a look at the group before running. He dragged her down the stairs and out of the building. They both ran so fast that they were nearly tripping over their feet, looking over their shoulders constantly as they did. When they had finally reached the car, they stopped, but Y/N pulled away from Jason for a moment, gasping for air and looking behind her as she did.

“What is it?” Jason asked as he opened the door.

“We can’t just leave,” Y/N said, “we can’t leave them, we have to go back, we have to help. Did you bring my suit?”

“Bruce told me to get you out of here,” Jason said, “I’m doing what he told me to.”

“Jason, I know you,” Y/N folded her arms, “where’s my Lynx suit?”

“No, we’re going back to Wayne Manor, and they’ll meet us back there.”

“Jason, where is my suit?”

“No.”

Y/N sighed and walked forward, arms still folded. She leant against the car, next to Jason, and lifted her eyebrows.

“Where is my suit, Jason?”

Jason sighed and groaned, rolling his head back before ducking into the car and grabbing the bag he put on the passenger seat, pulling it out and handing it into Y/N.

“You’re explaining this to your father.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes as she climbed into the backseat and started changing, “now, no looking.”

“Now all I wanna do is look,” Jason huffed.

“Tell you what,” Y/N teased, “you can watch me get undressed after all, this is over.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

________________________________________________________________

It was as though the adults were all taking turns in beating the Joker, but he was fighting back, not going down easy. If Batman wasn’t there, then the Sirens would have easily killed him by then, but Bruce was adamant to return the lunatic to Arkham.

“My daughter is not a pawn for your fucking games,” Selina hissed as she scratched his cheek, nearly reaching his eye but just missing, “come after her again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

“I shoulda killed ya way back when, ya cunt,” Harley kicked him in the back, causing him to fall to the floor.

“You’re lucky I let you breath clean air,” Ivy yelled as she slapped him.

“My child,” Bruce picked Joker up by the collar of his jacket and leaned into his face, “has nothing to do with me and you. Leave her be.”

“Or what? MMM? Throw me into the acid? We both know you won’t. We’re connected, you and I, you know it too.”

“You delusional fuck,” Selina pulled Joker from Bruce and kneed him in the stomach.

“What did I ever see in ya?” Harley threw her arms up, “seriously? How’d I ever think you were a good match for me?”

Joker took this moment and grabbed Selina and dangled her over the edge near the acid where the broken railing was.

“Come any closer, and the cat gets it.”

“Like hell she does,” said a voice. Y/N ran in as Lynx with Robin close behind her. She launched herself at Joker, who pulled Selina from the edge and fell backwards. Y/N punched him in the face. Joker got to his feet and started trying to fight Y/N. Y/N was quick, dodging his slower movements. Jason quickly came to Y/N’s side, and they started to fight against the Joker in sync, when Y/N kicked him towards Jason, Jason would punch him in the face back towards Y/N, falling to the ground, and Y/N would lift her knee, clocking him in the chin, pushing him towards Jason, who would shove him to knock him off balance. The adults all watched them in awe as Jason and Y/N moved in sync with each other, beating the Joker relentlessly. They didn’t even need to intervene, Jason and Y/N had it all under control. Eventually, Y/N grabbed the chains previously used to hold her over the acid and wrap them around Joker’s wrists, letting him balance on the edge over the acid, holding him carelessly by the chain.

“Y/N!” Bruce said out of instinct.

“No one goes after my family,” Y/N growled, “no one.”

“Well, talk about a punch line,” Joker whistled with a laugh, throwing his head back. He recognised the Lynx costume. They still got newspapers in Arkham. “That Bat’s Pup is a Cat after all!”

Y/N looked The Joker dead in the eye. She looked at him coldly as he laughed on a loop. Jason stood behind Y/N, ready to support Y/N in whatever she did, and the adults just watched.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you into the acid and let it finish the job.”

“It didn’t work the first time,” Joker said, “what makes you think it’ll work the second?”

“Cause half the job is already done.”

“Ooo, low blow, Pup-Cat.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Bruce said, “You’re better than this.”

“Am I really, though?” She asked, “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it yourself, of letting the bastard die. The world will be a far better place without him.” The Joker pulled a hurt facial expression before laughing again.

“I mean,” Jason coughed, “she’s not wrong. The world would be better without him.”

“Think of how many people he’s killed. This is his retribution.”

“He ain’t got any humanity in him,” Harley said quietly, “it’s something I shoulda done a long time ago, but,” Harley sighed, “Y/N, I don’t want ya to become a killer. Ya Daddy’s right, you’re better than this, than me.”

“And me,” said Selina.

“And I,” Ivy nodded.

“Don’t become a killer like us,” Harley said, “cause it’s a line you can never go back from.”

“Trust me, if I could,” Selina sighed, “I would never have pushed that guy from the window,” she whispered, “even though I had a good reason and was protecting someone else,” her eyes flickered to Bruce, who lowered his eyes as the image of Young Selina shoving Alfred’s army buddy out the window came into his mind.

“Y/N,” Jason put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “let’s take him to Arkham.”

Y/N looked Joker in the eye. Everything he did to Harley, nearly killing Selina, dangling herself over the chemicals, the torture he inflicted on her father over the years (it wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about The Joker Versus Batman), and he was going to live. It wasn’t fair, but they were all right, Y/N didn’t want to be a killer, didn’t want to cross that line.

“Fine,” she sighed, but instead of being gentle, Y/N yanked the chain quickly, pulling Joker forward and kneed him in the head with such force it knocked him unconscious.

As The Joker laid unconscious on the floor, Y/N took her mask off and looked at her family.

“You did the right thing,” her mother told her softly.

“I hope so,” Y/N sighed.

“Hey,” Bruce said, brushing the hair from Y/N’s eyes, “I’m proud of you,” he told her with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Dad.”

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze.

Hi there! First things first, I want to apologize for the long time that has gone by since an update, I am truly sorry. I would explain, I am a doctor and I work in a rural area, we had a nasty Dengue virus outbreak and we had a lot of patients, so I was buried in job, we had no mortal victims thankfully, but it was insane. Also I get the Dengue myself and it was awful, but I feel better now and everything is going back to normal, here is a new chapter to this story I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 7: Like a sleepover.

Alec parked his car near the church and cursed himself when he realized his mistake since his presence confirmed to the reporters that something or someone interesting was inside, when he approach the benches he could se Paul who was lecturing a woman with an angry tone that he had never listened before, neither have the old lady in front of him since she looked terrified at him.

"Don't come here acting innocent, the lord knows when your motives are driven by greed and I truly hope whatever you use the money they gave you is worth it, and don't you dare to blame it on your grandchildren since they don't need to have this terrible example from their grandmother" He was obviously restraining from using more harsh language but the anger on his face was enough to make his point clear, and Alec even stop himself from storming in. "Now go away Mrs Campbell, and I hope you would think about your actions when you go out and talk with that people" The woman went out walking rapidly and visibly shaken.

"I was under the deception that priests never get mad" the detective enter the room and Paul gesture relaxed immediately. "Although is rewarding seeing you act out like that"

"Well they do when their congregation sell out each other for money" He said fixing up his clerical collar and regaining composure. "I'm glad you are here, it's madness out there, this town I thought they were better than this"

"Well you choose a profession full of disappointments" Y/N voice came from the altar and she approached now wearing what Hardy asume were donated clothes to big for her making her look like a child, and he brushed away the endearing feeling bursting in him for a second "For what is worth you should be more like that, maybe seeing the personification of the wrath of God in your face would make them listen" She said touching his arm making him smile, a stupid smile in Hardy's opinion. "D. I. Hardy, I was not expecting to see you so soon, but I assume you are not here to tell me I can go home already" She said with a pinch of hope in her voice that was killed the instant Alec look at her.

"No, I'm afraid not, and since you staying here has already been released to the media within four hours you can't longer stay here." He said trying to think what to do next.

"Yeah, and Ellie's ... I mean D.S. Miller's nephew certainly did a number on me didn't he?" She said bitterly, she appear more calmed, and he could see a glimpse of the woman who's thoughts he had spend the morning reading.

"That bloody idiot, he would sell out his own mother for a "good story" and he always think he is doing the police a favor, only making our job more difficult" Alec was angry and his mind was still trying to figure out his next move.

"Well now I'm glad I never dated him." Y/N said trying to lighten up the mood. "I can stay at the Trader's I can pay for that for a couple weeks, I would hate to cause more trouble"

"I don't think you should stay that close to Jonathan's house" Pauld said getting ahead of Hardy "Maybe Beth can take you, just for the night at least" He said and then look at Hardy.

"Sure, I mean if she agrees" He said knowing she will since they had been in a similar situation before.

"Great! If you think you can trust Lizzie's family to murderous psychopath, it'll be just like a sleepover" Y/N said sarcastically making both men feel uncomfortable. "I'm kidding? You guys really need to relax" She said looking at them "Now how am I supposed to get out of here?"

"I may have an idea" Hardy said finally with his expression still as stoic as ever.

Ellie stormed in her sister's house and the young man working o his laptop stood up immediately trying seeking cover behind the kitchen table.

"You bloody bastard!" She screamed at him and she grabbed the closest thing to her

"He hey hey... relax" He said putting his hands in front of him, she throw the ceramic fruit to his head. "Hey you almost hit me!" He screamed when she missed and the pear shattered in pieces.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Ellie scream again "Don't you have any decency left since you came back? That poor woman you have signaled as a suspect is not even at the police station anymore you moron."

"What? But you take her in for questioning, and she was covered in blood... and..." Olly realized his mistake and start looking at his aunt with sorrow, he was not about to betray his source but he understood that he had done something wrong "Damn it Ellie I'm sorry, I thought it was legitimate information"

"Well it doesn't matter anymore, once again I'm going to clean up your mess, come by the station we are going to release an official statement about Norbury's death and maybe it will help to clear out this mess" She was being reasonable, more than he can hope for since he was sure she was still pissed.

"And the woman? If she is not at the station where is she?" He jump straight back at the subject annoying Miller.

"Too late for you, didn't you hear? There is a horde of reporters raiding the church to talk to her" She smile at him, happy to see he didn't know, and hoping that Hardy had taken care of that end.

Paul came out of the church and a small figure covered jump in the car with him and he drove past the reporters who immediately try to follow him and some even did on their own vehicles, maybe when they figured he was just going out to get the paper and some groceries with the help of a boy that was being punished for misbehaving at school, would they realized their mistake, and how they didn't pay attention to the pair of people that walked from the back of the church to the Latimer's house.

"So, did you talk to Dr. Florence?" Y/N asked when the garden of the Latimer's was in sight "Oh come on, they can't no longer see us" She urged him when he gave her another of his angry looks.

"I did, but I am not supposed to discuss any of the investigation with you" He said finally.

"Fine, I'm sure she was pleased to see you again" She said and smiled at his puzzled face "I have seen you in her office before, and I overhear the last time you were there, you made a big deal about not wanting to come back"He looked ashamed and open the fence of the backyard to avoid her look "Relax I won't tell anybody, no one will listen anyway, I'm crazy remember? We can still be therapy buddies" She wink at him and enter followed by the baffled detective.

"Oi! I thought she was supposed to escape the press, come inside before any of those idiots will see you" Mark Latimer called them and they hurry inside.

"Mrs. Latimer, I don't know how to thank you"Y/N said once they were inside.

"It's nothing, Chloe's room is clean and free since she is at Uni, you can take it, can you show it to her dear?" Mark nodded and they walk out of the kitchen and Hardy could see her holding on to Lizzie a little more than usual.

"I wouldn't bring her here if I felt she was in any way guilty you know" He said to her and her arms relaxed a little.

"Well you can never be completely sure. But if you trust her we would help you for as long as we can."

"Don't worry, I just need her to have a place for the night we will figure something else tomorrow" He said and a couple minutes later he walked out of the house to get back his car. Ellie had the press release almost done by the time he arrived at the station and the sun was setting on Broadchurch.

"Busy day huh?" She said offering a cup of coffee "Brian is finishing with the house but he said he found something interesting about the cottage, he will tell us later, are you ready for the press."

"I'm fine, I swear Miller this bloody town is fill with idiots, this woman just lost her fiance and they are making all this circus about it" he sit on his chair and let go and exasperated sigh. "Let's get this over with".

It was as simple message, a man have been found dead and the police was investigating several lines of information, they had no idea who had done such monstrosity, and they urged the public to speak up, and no they were not considering the partner of the victim as a suspect, yet the mind of one of the many souls watching said, and turn off the telly, before exiting the room carrying a purple suitcase with the name Jonathan Norbury on it.

Tag list:

@laciesaito

@allonsymexgirl

[frostedravens]

More Than Some Thumbscrews

@badthingshappenbingo​

Also on AO3

Prompt: Thumbscrew Fandom: Original Content Warnings: Torture, non-consensual drug use, syringe, attempted forced addiction, blood

“You’re going to tell me where your friends ran off and how you managed to maintain that illusion for so long.”

“Mm, I think I’ll pass, actually.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

The Tenzu grinned at the Duke, blood on his lips, staining his teeth a wicked crimson, “There’s always a choice.”

“I suppose you are correct- but is that a choice you want to be making?” Duke Myron held up a clunky device made of iron and idly tapped at the screw in the top.

The Tenzu laughed, “If you think a set of thumbscrews is enough to make me break my contract then you’ve earned your epithet, Mad Duke.”

“If it’s about a contract, I can give you a better one. Name your price.”

“Sorry, Your Madness, I don’t break contracts,” the Tenzu shrugged in his chains bruises dark against russet skin. “Not even upon threats of pain, dismemberment, or death.”

“Is that so.”

It wasn’t a question and the Tenzu didn’t answer, just met the Duke’s displeased gaze with another grin, the same grin that had never failed to provoke the guards he’d been assigned since Apollos’ escape. The Duke’s reaction wasn’t as dramatic- there was no swearing, just a tightening of his lips and a narrowing of already narrowed eyes- but the Tenzu picked up on it anyway and grinned all the wider.

“Grab his hands.”

The Tenzu contemplated kicking the man that came over and grabbed him but it’d be too much strain on his wings to go any further, pinned as they were to the wall. If he hadn’t been able to shut off the nerve endings in his extremities and his back, he was pretty sure he would’ve gone unresponsive days ago.

As it was, he was pretty sure his continued consciousness was disconcerting to his captors, used as they were to human prisoners and human limits. They knew how to press and break those, but the Tenzu was a creature all to his own and he’d known from the moment they’d gotten captured that he’d have to buy time for the others, time for Apollos to recover and to figure out a way to fix everything that had gone wrong here.

He wasn’t entirely pleased about spending the weeks being tortured in a dungeon, but at least he was getting paid for this. That, and destroying the Duke later would be so much more satisfying now.

“Tell me where your friends have gone.”

“Can’t do that, I don’t have friends.”

The Duke scowled at him, “Nuances. Where did they go?”

The Tenzu shrugged again, “Even if I could tell you, which I can’t, I wouldn’t. They’re long gone and I can’t wait for this to finally sink into your thick skull, dear Duke.”

Metal creaked as the Duke twisted the screw, pressing the spiked bar down. The Tenzu watched dispassionately as blood welled up, wondering if he should scream like before to lull them into thinking they were doing anything. It seemed like such work for nothing- keeping silent would infuriate the Duke far faster and be more entertaining.

Thank the Ancestors for their shapeshifting abilities and intricate studies.

Something cracked in his thumb and oh, yes, he definitely should have felt that. Too bad for the Duke he’d been prepared this time around.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Told you, Your Madness, it’ll take a hell of a lot more than some thumbscrews, chains, and some whips to make me break my contract,” he gave the man a lazy grin, letting his eyes swirl in a kaleidoscope of colours that most people couldn’t stare at for long.

The Duke made a disgusted noise and gestured for the guard to let go. He grabbed the chain that ran between the Tenzu’s wrists and yanked him forward, drawing fresh blood from the abused wings behind him. The Tenzu’s lazy grin didn’t falter, even though he knew that the more damage his wings took, the worse it’d be when he finally rebuilt his nerves to allow them to heal properly. In fact, all of this was continuously making things worse for himself, but it was worth it.

Hopefully.

“I will bend you to my will.”

The Tenzu snickered, “Sure you will.”

“What exactly is so funny?”

“Nothing you’d find funny. A bit of a pedantic mishap on your part.”

The Duke’s pale face coloured and he dropped the chain, “You piece of-”

“Now, now, dearest Duke, you wouldn’t be losing your temper, would you? Of course not, not in front of your men and all,” the Tenzu took the chance to lean back and smirked at the rage turning the Duke’s pale skin a rather ugly shade of purple.

“One of you! Go fetch Albert and tell him to bring the Devil’s Tongue.”

The guards shared a look and the Tenzu raised an eyebrow, “Now there’s a properly scary name. Are you going to keep me in suspense? How terribly rude of you.”

The Duke ignored him and gestured to another guard, “When Albert gets here, you are going to hold this fiend’s arms out straight and you are not to let go until I say so. Do you understand?”

The guard nodded fearfully and crouched next to the Tenzu, reeking of sweat and fear. It was an unpleasant tang and the Tenzu wondered how the man bore the stench of himself, willfully following the nonsensical trail of thoughts to keep himself from wondering what the ‘Devil’s Tongue’ was. Some sort of whip, like as not, but why the arms?

The Tenzu caught himself and focused on the guard’s patchy beard, coated in what was probably an unhealthy layer of oil that did nothing for the shape or the smell of it. He wondered just how flammable it was, if it was flammable at all.

His musings were interrupted by a scrawny man scurrying into the cell, a much put-upon guard following, carrying a leather satchel. A pungent scent followed the man in, almost medicinal, were it not for the sharpness of it.

The Duke smiled and clapped the man on the back, nearly sending him straight into the Tenzu’s lap, “Albert, glad to have you.”

“It is an honour to be here, Your Grace,” Albert dipped his head formally, but his eyes were fixed on the Tenzu.

The Tenzu smirked back at him.

Duke Myron scowled, “As I am sure you can tell, I am having a bit of a problem with our newest acquisition. Is the Devil’s Tongue prepared?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Will you be doing the honours?”

The Duke released Albert and shook his head, “No, I shall be leaving that to your expertise. He will not struggle.”

“Are you sure about that, oh mighty Duke?” The Tenzu gave him an insouciant grin.

Duke Myron’s scowl returned and deepened, “Guards, hold him.”

Once the Tenzu was successfully held down- one guard on each leg, one on each shoulder, and one holding his arms even though his hands were still trapped in the thumbscrews- Duke Myron gestured to Albert, who’d been busily digging in the satchel.

The Tenzu’s grin slipped just a fraction as Albert withdrew a vial of cardinal red liquid, all but glowing when it caught the torchlight, “What’s that, then?”

“A wonderful little thing that Albert created, a medicine that makes even the strongest will bend in submission,” Duke Myron grinned at the way the Tenzu’s eyes narrowed. “It curls through your veins and brings the most potent pleasure you can imagine. One dose is never enough. You will be begging me for more by tomorrow.”

The Tenzu considered his options and limitations- fighting and getting out was, in theory, possible, but he’d have to do it entirely on foot with the whole city swarming after him and who knew if Apollos and the others were safe enough yet to risk it. He’d told them that they’d have six weeks.

They were halfway through week two.

So he’d stay, then. Perhaps this drug would have no effect on him- it wasn’t like Albert could’ve built it for something like him anyway. The Tenzu wasn’t even sure if his people could get addicted to the same substances that humans could.

He couldn’t keep himself from tensing up as Albert came over with a strange little device in his hand, a little metal tube with what looked like a very long needle coming out of one end and a loop on the other end.

“It’ll only hurt worse if you tense up.”

The Tenzu raised an eyebrow, “Shouldn’t that make your job easier?”

Albert tapped along his arms and the Tenzu resisted the urge to kick out, “Not always, but this will have to do.”

The Tenzu inhaled sharply as Albert drove the needle into his skin, pushing the loop down on the other end of the tube. Something crawled from the tiny injury and the Tenzu immediately hated the sensation, shuddering.

Duke Myron gave a slow smile, “Now, we wait. Release him, but leave the chains.”

“What about the thumbscrews, sir?”

“Leave it, we’ll be using it in a few minutes to measure the effects,” he stepped forward to take Albert’s place and leaned over the Tenzu. “Where is your bravado now?”

The Tenzu inhaled, shoving the sensation of something foreign sliding into his veins and offered a fanged grin, “Still here, Your Madness.”

The Duke’s smile slipped and he stepped back, turning to Albert. He started talking, but his voice faded from the Tenzu’s interest as his arm started burning. Fire licked beneath his skin, tracing a burning path from the tiny puncture wound all the way up to his shoulder.

It hurt. How in all the hells the Duke thought this was meant to be addicting was beyond him.

He struggled to regain some semblance of focus as the Duke stepped back over, lips curled into a sinister smile that brought forth a sudden and deep longing in the Tenzu to smash that pasty face into a wall.

“I see it’s working.”

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

The Duke tossed his head back and laughed, “So it does work on you!”

The Tenzu hissed at him, slit pupils narrowing.

Albert hummed anxiously off to the side, “Your Grace, it doesn’t appear…”

Duke Myron waved him off, “He’s just struggling. Let’s see if we can’t give him a reason to stop.”

He leaned down and grabbed the thumbscrews, twisting violently.

Agony lanced through the Tenzu’s hands, mixing with the fire blistering through his veins until it was hard to tell what was the source of the pain. Even his wings had begun throbbing, tender skin torn and tattered by the spikes driven through it.

It hurt.

The Duke grinned.

The Tenzu closed his eyes shut and sank willfully into the dark.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Seven

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

June 16th, 2017

“Mom, I’m not trying to start anything, I swear, I just want my hair short for the summer!” Logan pleaded.

But his mom just shook her head. “You look lovely with long hair, Jessica. If it gets too hot you can just put your hair up in a ponytail.”

“What about a bob?” Logan bargained. “I could put that in a ponytail by the end of summer, and it would stay off my neck most of the time! I just...I want it short.”

“You’d regret cutting your hair in an instant, young lady,” his mom said. “If you wanted your hair up again, or wanted to braid it, you wouldn’t be able to. We’re not cutting your hair.”

Logan did his best to not storm off in a huff after that declaration. Sure, he was still in the closet, but a bob would be better than this horrible ponytail he always had to wear.

January 20th, 2019

Logan was singing the song as he worked on his homework, his voice light and lilting in the afternoon sun. He heard a small gasp come from the doorway, and turned to see Roman standing there, jaw agape. “I didn’t know you could sing,” Roman said, voice raspy.

Reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear that he realized was still in his ponytail, Logan tugged on his ear instead. “I don’t, usually. I don’t like how high my voice is. I guess I was just in a good mood.”

“What was the song?” Roman asked, his voice continuing to rasp a little.

“It’s called Welcome to the Black Parade,” Logan said. “Some of the students I know from school listen to a band called My Chemical Romance. I checked out some of their songs, and not all of them are kid friendly, but I do like that one.”

Roman cleared his throat and walked over slowly. “Do you think...do you think you could teach me the song?”

Logan nodded slowly. “Do you mind my asking...why?” Roman glanced toward the doorway, and Logan was quick to reassure him. “I won’t tell Mister Picani. Either of them.”

Roman swallowed. “I...my mom. It reminded me of my mom.”

Logan nodded in understanding. “Oh. Yeah, when you lose someone important, sometimes music is a good release. I can let you listen to the song on my phone while I work?”

Roman nodded with a grateful smile. Logan passed him the phone, earbuds plugged in, and Roman set himself up on Logan’s bed, listening to the song with rapt attention. Logan pretended not to notice the tears that leaked through Roman’s façade as he continued to listen to the song.

They sat in silence a while, Logan working on his homework, and Roman listening to the song, mouthing the words to the lyrics. When Logan’s homework was done, he stood, and Roman pulled the earbuds out of his ears. “You can keep listening, if you want. I’m not going anywhere,” Logan said.

“It’s okay, I think I have most of it memorized anyway,” Roman said.

“You sure?” Logan asked.

Roman nodded. “I pick up songs pretty quick. And I don’t want to leave you without your phone. Worst comes to worst, I look it up on my own phone.”

Logan shrugged. “All right.” Roman headed towards the door, but Logan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Hey, Roman...”

Roman looked at him expectantly, eyes red and just a little puffy.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he finished. That was neutral enough. Hopefully Roman wouldn’t get suspicious or try to shut Logan out after this.

Roman gave him a flicker of a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

The boys stood there in silence a moment before Roman mumbled a, “I’ll be downstairs,” and the spell was broken. Logan picked up one of his for-pleasure books from the nightstand in the room and settled down to relax and let his mind wander for a half hour, before they left for the barber’s.

When he heard the muffled voice of Mister Remy calling, “Logan, it’s time to go!” he replaced his book mark and left the book itself on the bed, heading downstairs and out the door with a grin. This would be the first time he had his hair short in literal years.

When the three of them were in the car, Mister Emile waving them off from the doorway, Mister Remy drove off. Logan resisted the urge to excitedly squirm...for the most part. He couldn’t help the grin nearly splitting his face in two at the prospect of once again having short hair. It was such a small thing to be excited about, but he couldn’t help himself.

Roman was sending him odd looks from the back. “Hey, Logan, when’s the last time you had short hair?” he asked.

Logan thought back on it and shrugged. “I’m not sure, honestly. I think it might have been when I was in second grade.”

“And you’re in tenth now?” Roman confirmed.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “So this is a big moment.”

“Do you know what style you want to get?” Mister Remy asked. “Since you finally got a phone plan that allows you to use the Internet again?”

Logan shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know exactly what I want, and I might hate what I do with my hair for this, but...” he ducked his head, ears tinged pink. “I kinda want to try a pompadour.”

“Hey, I think it’d look good on you,” Mister Remy said with a smile. “Give it a go if you want. And if you wind up not liking it, you never have to get it again once it grows out.”

Logan nodded, ears still pink. “It just...feels really weird thinking about having short hair again. I keep on second-guessing myself...but I always hated having long hair. And even if I don’t like this style, there has to be another men’s style that could work.”

Roman shot him a grin. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d look like a complete dork no matter what.”

“You’re just mad that I’m older than you,” Logan shot back with a smirk.

“As if! I’ll always be the more creative one, so I don’t need to be older than you!” Roman challenged.

“Yeah? Well, I’m planning on being an astronomer, maybe an astrophysicist. So I think I’ll always be the smarter one in terms of schooling. I don’t need to prove myself to you,” Logan replied easily.

“Boys, be careful that this doesn’t get out of hand,” Mister Remy warned. “We don’t want any hurt feelings.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan said. “You cool, Roman?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about book smarts all that much,” Roman said. “I’ve seen some of the people at my school rehearse lines for the school play and I want to try out for it next year. It could be fun.”

“It’s hard to make a career out of acting,” Logan warned.

“Maybe, but right now, it’s not a career, it’s just a little fun,” Roman brushed off.

Logan made a noise in the back of his throat. “What’s the point in fun if you can’t get good at it and make something of yourself for it?”

Roman shrugged. “I dunno. I just want to have a good time, meet some new people, have a few friends. Fun doesn’t have to have a point. And you don’t have to be wildly successful to be happy.”

Logan frowned and chewed that thought. His parents had been wrong about a lot of things before. Could this have been another thing they had lied about?

“We’re here,” Mister Remy said, pulling into the parking lot of a small shopping outlet.

Logan was nervous as they walked into the barbershop. Everyone there was presenting as male or gender non-conforming, and it felt odd to be sporting a ponytail in here. A man walked over and said, “Remy!” in a booming voice, crushing the man in a hug. “When I heard your call, I could barely believe it. You wound up with kids?!”

Remy shrugged. “Domestic life has its perks, apparently, Dominic,” he said easily. “This is Roman, and that’s Logan. Roman said he just wants a trim, but Logan...he’s gonna need some serious cuts. His old family was rather strict about his hair.”

Dominic scoffed. “Ridiculous! Hair is an expression of yourself! To restrict that is just cruel! Come on, young man, we’ll get you whatever cut you like.”

Logan was led to a chair in front of a mirror and he took his glasses off as Dominic draped a plastic covering over his shoulders. “Now then, Logan, what would you like today?”

“I’d like a pompadour, if that’s all right,” Logan said, voice trembling only slightly. “Preferably only a few inches long, at most.”

“Logan, in this shop the customer is always allowed to choose their own hair style,” Dominic said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you want that, I can do it. First, we should chop off that ponytail, don’t you think?”

“Please,” Logan all but begged. “I’ve had it for seven years at least and I’ve hated every second it’s been there. Chop it off.”

Dominic nodded and grabbed a pair of scissors. Logan took out his ponytail and let his hair fall over the chair, down to his shoulder blades. Dominic used his scissors with exact precision, and soon Logan’s hair was falling to the ground, a broken halo he no longer needed. Once the hair was at about a short bob, Dominic brought out an electric razor, and started shearing off the hair on the sides and very back of Logan’s head. “Is that short enough?” he asked Logan.

Logan brought out his glasses and looked at the shaved hair in the mirror, feeling it. It couldn’t be more than a quarter of an inch long. “That’s perfect,” Logan said. “Can you show me how to style the top?”

“Certainly,” Dominic said, grabbing scissors as Logan took off his glasses again. “I’ll cut the last of it and then I’ll show you how to gel it and comb it back.”

And true to his word, when Logan was pleased with the length of his hair Dominic explained how much hair gel to use, and how to comb it into his hair, and consequently wash it out at the end of the day.

At the end of the haircut, Logan put on his glasses and grinned genuinely at what he saw. “I don’t believe it,” he said, reaching to look closer into the mirror and feel his hair. “I look like myself. For once in my life, I actually look like myself. Thank you so much!”

“Logan, it was my pleasure,” Dominic said. “Come back when you need a trim, all right?”

“Definitely,” Logan said, grinning and shaking Dominic’s hand.

He walked over to where Roman and Mister Remy were waiting. Roman only had a few inches taken off his already-long spikes, and he looked about how Logan expected he would. Mister Remy looked up and whistled. “Looking sharp, Logan!”

Unable to help himself, Logan laughed and brought a hand up to his mouth, covering his grin. “I look like myself, finally!” he exclaimed.

“You look like a dork,” Roman said. “So I agree.”

Logan simply laughed in response. “You wish you could look this good!” he said, striking a pose.

Mister Remy led them out after thanking Dominic, and they headed back to the car. “Are we gonna need to invest in hair gel, Logan?” Mister Remy asked.

“Maybe a little,” Logan said. “If you want me to keep this look.”

“If you want to keep it, we’ll grab some,” Mister Remy promised. “For now, let’s go home.”

Logan and Roman agreed and no sooner did they get back than Emile walked out of the house and nearly squealed in delight. “Love the hair, Logan!”

“Thanks,” Logan said, beaming with pride. “I really like it. I actually look like myself for once!”

“That’s amazing!” Emile said. “Should we watch some celebratory cartoons?”

“Maybe some Steven Universe is in order,” Logan said with a grin.

Emile cheered and Remy leaned over to Logan, stage-whispering, “You’re enabling him. Never a good idea.”

Logan just laughed as they all headed inside. He sat down next to Emile on the couch and they watched some Steven Universe, belting out the lyrics to the theme song because why not, nobody was going to judge them!

His conversation earlier with Roman floated to the forefront of his mind, and his expression turned thoughtful. Sometime, he’d have to ask Roman more about that. He didn’t want to pry too much so soon, but one day he’d have to figure out what was wrong. He could help, but he needed to know what was up first.

As one episode turned into the next, Logan put those thoughts out of his mind. Right now, he wanted to ride the high of his gender euphoria for as long as possible. If he could milk more seconds of joy out of this experience, he definitely wanted them.

[thelazyeye]

Sorry for my last ask being weird btw (re: feminized or weak Richie posts), I swear I'm not trying to stir up discourse. It's just the fandom has been up in arms about Eddie's portrayal in fic, hc's, and art due to him being heavily lgbt coded so now I wonder how the paradigm will shift if it's Richie who's actually full on gay. I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts 🤔

Hey I’m not sure what you mean by your last ask? This is the first time someone is coming into my ask box about Feminized Eddie or Richie. Not sure if it got eaten or if you’ve got the wrong blog. Either way, I’m going to answer this because I have thoughts lol. 

Interesting! I wonder how would everyone react to that. From what I understand, people seem to have a really rigid idea of gender when it comes to cis LGBT characters (I.e. oh he’s gay therefore it’s wrong to feminize him) whereas I’ve seen a lot of feminized Richie with little to no scrutiny. I’m gonna chalk that up to him being striaght/bi HC’d. I’ve seen Richie with painted nails, pastel colors, dresses, the whole nine yards both in fic and in art. And I know that I for sure HC Richie as someone who likes to play with gender because even for cis identifying people, gender is only a social construct. But Eddie? He can’t play with gender because once he does were infantilizing him and playing into stereotypes, right?

Wrong.

I, personally, have no issues with feminized Eddie. Wanna make him wear pastels and make him sassy? Sure. Wanna have him mess around with skirts and hate dirt and care about his appearance? Sure. Why not? Men (yes, even gay men) are allowed to play with gender. It isn’t adhering to stereotypes or uwu woobifying him. Not in my mind, anyway. 

The only issues I ever have with “feminized Eddie” are when he has no character substance and he exists only for the purpose of fulfilling Richie’s desires or only to be part of the ship. And I have issues with that whether he’s feminized or not.

Feminizing Eddie is simply just playing with gender because gender literally doesn’t exist. Its a man made construct, people. Clothes and accessories and makeup are all created and dictated by culture and let me tell you, gender in countries across the world looks way fucking different than gender in the West (Europe/America). There are no universal laws for gender. Let men wear dresses. Let women be rough around the edges. Let gender expectations dissolve so we can have a more open minded society. 

People in this fandom... get seriously up in arms about really small things. There is a lot of black and white thinking that goes on in the IT fandom across the board regardless of ships. Everyone is a racist, homophobic, sexist, abusive pedophile for something or another, I swear to god. I’ve been called literally all of these things. I could see people getting seriously riled up about feminized Richie in any way if he becomes confirmed gay in IT 2019 because everyone in this fandom is angry about everything all the time. If there isn’t discourse, boy howdy do we find a way to make some and it is incredibly easy to get sucked into it. 

Anyway, TLDR; I think that both feminized Eddie and Richie are alright. There’s nothing wrong with either of them. I also think people will get mad about feminized Richie one day. It’s bound to happen. 

And no, hun. I don’t think you’re stirring up discourse. You asked me a perfectly respectable question and were genuinely interested in my thoughts. I’m not going to keep my thoughts sheltered for fear that someone won’t agree with me and will send me mean anon messages on the internet. That shit doesn’t phase me. I am always more than happy to chat about this kind of stuff. It’s so interesting and LGBT studies are kind of my thing. I have a lot of background knowledge on it. Fiction is crazy and I love character interpretations. Feel free to always come to me to chat. Even if we end up not agreeing, as long as were both respectful we’re cool.

[relbyshock]

Amy Winehouse, Princess Diana, Britney Spears, Marilyn Monroe, Aileen Wuornos, Angelina Jolie, Adolf Hitler, Darrell Hammond, Pete Davidson, Winona Ryder, Vincent Van Gogh, Tommy Tiernan….

What do they all have in common? Apart from being famous figures, they all suffer(ed) or were rumored to have suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder.

Hey, me too.

I’m over the moon to have something in common with Princess Di (apart from our shared plight with bulimia), but I have to say, I’d rather not have anything in common with Aileen or Adolf…..

Borderline Personality Disorder is a confusing term to say the least. On the borderline of what and what? Well, in the ‘30s, it meant you fell somewhere between psychosis (untreatable) and neurosis (treatable).

Great, that’s reassuring.

Come the ‘70s, BPD sufferers were described as being very emotional, needy, difficult, at risk for suicide, and to have an “overall unstable level of functioning”.

Check. *sings “Welcome to My Life” by Simple Plan*

We also have rapidly fluctuating mood swings, unstable self-image, and a fear of abandonment. This disorder wasn’t even recognized by the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) until 1980.

Today, we know far more about BPD – “neurosis” is no longer used in the diagnosis, and BPD is no longer considered a psychotic disorder.

 So what are we then?

Crazy?

Hormonal?

According to my family, yes. But in reality, the problem lies within our brains. Let me nerd out here for a minute:

The Amygdala (Ah-mig-dah-lah) is composed of two almond-shaped parts of the brain, deep in the medial temporal lobe, that regulate fear and aggression. People with BPD have amygdala’s that are noticeably smaller than that of a healthy person. The smaller the amygdala, the more overactive it is.

Like short guys with bad attitudes, or what I like to refer to as “little man syndrome”.

And then we have the Hippocampus – no, not pachyderm college. The hippocampus is responsible for spatial orientation (not falling over), long and short-term memory, and emotional regulation. Put simply, the hippocampus chooses the correct response to environmental events: Fight or flight.

You may be wondering if I was dropped on my head as a child. The answer is yes – frequently – but the chances of minor brain trauma causing BPD are slim.

The causes of Borderline Personality Disorder are unclear. It seems to involve genetic, brain, environmental and social factors. There are rumours that people with BPD have issues with serotonin production, which has been linked to depression, aggression and having a hard time controlling “destructive urges”.

As for environmental factors, those who have been a victim of emotional/physical/sexual abuse, as well as being exposed to chronic fear or distress as a child have a high likelihood of developing BPD. This is because our relationship with our parents and family has a HUGE influence on how we see the world, and how we feel about other people.

Gals are also diagnosed 3 times as often as guys. You’ve gotta wonder if that’s due to the fact that men tend to be more weary of the doctor, therefore avoiding a diagnosis altogether. This is pure speculation.

Shall we take a dive into the “Signs and Symptoms” as listed by Wikipedia?

-Markedly disturbed sense of identity

-Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment and extreme reactions

-Splitting (black and white thinking)

-Impulsivity

-Intense and uncontrollable emotional reactions that often seem disproportionate to the event or situation

-Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships

-Self-damaging behavior (ie, substance abuse)

-Distorted self-image

-Dissociation

-Frequently accompanied by depression, anxiety, anger, substance abuse or rage

We are also aware of the intensity of our negative emotional reactions, and since we can’t regulate them, we shut them down completely. What my doctor and I refer to as feeling “flat”.

BPD sufferers are also extremely sensitive to real or perceived rejection. Let’s explain with a meme, shall we:

*looking at an unanswered text from 12 minutes ago*

You: They must be in the shower or just busy, they’ll respond when they have a chance.

Me: Ok well they were active on Instagram 6 minutes ago and they just posted a snap story….they’re ignoring me, why do they hate me? What did I do? Are they mad at me? Should I send another text to get their attention or is that too needy?

If you’re annoyed just reading that, TRY LIVING IN MY BRAIN.

I annoy myself.

I feel grief, overwhelming shame and humiliation where others would feel mildly embarrassed. A minor inconvenience such as cancelled plans takes me from excited to absolutely miserable.

In the past, an unflattering photo on Facebook has caused me to reevaluate my self-worth, and even my life.

The Sickboy podcast explained it beautifully: Borderline Personality Disorder is like having a third degree burn on your emotions. I feel that. Everything hurts me just a little bit more than the average bear (or human).

Why am I telling you this? Because boys and girls, today is Bell Let’s Talk Day here in Canada. I’ll include the link at the bottom. Basically, in 2010, Bell began a new conversation about Canada’s mental health. They’ve enlisted such figures as Howie Mandel, Michael Landsberg, and Clara Hughes to share their stories of struggle and strength in the face of mental health.

I thought today was as good as any other to address the stigma surrounding mental health, but more specifically, the stigma around BPD.

I can’t pretend to know all the answers – I’m not and won’t pretend to be a psychiatrist. But this is what the world looks like through my lens.

If someone honks at me while I’m driving to work, I’m upset ALL DAY. I never want to drive again, I want to pull over and cry, or turn around and go home.

If I get a moderately rude email, my brain fills with cutting, angry, and just plain mean remarks to respond with. “I’m sorry your father never hugged you as a child” is not a suitable response to a professional email, but that’s where my brain goes.

When I make plans with friends weeks in advance and they bail 10 minutes before, I am a heap of inconsolable sobs for the rest of the evening, and even into the next day. This plays into the fear of “real or imagined abandonment”. My BPD brain does not care that something came up or you’re feeling under the weather. BPD tells me that you hate me and you never want to see me again and you were just pretending to like me this whole time and you’ve finally made your escape. My logical brain tries to tell me that it’s ok, and we’ll plan something for another time, but usually, my BPD brain wins the fight.

When I get nervous and start to ramble trying to tell a story and my mom cuts me off with “Anyways.” I want to crawl in a hole and die, but I also sort of want to throw a plate at her face. My mother is a saint, so why do I feel this way about her sometimes?

Let’s get back to the causes of Borderline Personality Disorder. Dad, Mom, maybe stop reading here…or don’t…but here’s your warning. You aren’t going to like this next part.

I was severely neglected as a child. Not physically – I had food to eat, clothes to wear, a roof over my head – but emotionally and mentally. The minor relationship I did have with my father was marked by him coming home from a long shift (as a firefighter) and starting a fight with me about my weight, my shoes at the front door, my marks in school, and more often than not, “why are you always crying?!”. My mom also worked full time at a stressful sales job. So by the time she got home, she didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s issues.

So when I would have issues with anything from being bullied at school to just having a ‘bad mental health day’, I had nowhere to turn.

See, my brother and I were latch-key kids. We got home from school at least an hour before my parents got home from work. He and I never got along, so some sort of fight would ensue, and by the time our parents got home, he had made me cry. I was deemed dramatic and sent away to my bedroom, while the 3 of them would eat dinner together (usually something I refused to eat – like meat – which would be another reason to fight).

I’ve voiced this to my mom before, and she remembers my childhood very differently than I do.

As long as I have been alive, I have come second to my brother.

No, honey, we can’t go to (insert activity I wanted to do) because Maxx has hockey/a book report due/needs a ride to the bike track, etc.

Every dinner or event we went to was with HIS friends and THEIR parents, who ended up becoming my parents’ best friends (still to this day). I was always the only girl; so naturally, I stayed with the adults, because the boys wouldn’t have me.

But the adults didn’t want me there either. I felt like a constant annoyance.

Thinking back on it, I realize that I may not have been as unwanted as I perceived myself to be. Remember, BPD brains are sensitive to even slight facial expressions and tones of voice. But, when I voiced this to my parents, that I felt unwanted, and why couldn’t we do things with my friends and their parents, etc. I was told that I was being ridiculous.

Enter: Invalidation

Invalidation is the number one cause of BPD, according to my psychiatrist. Growing up in an environment where nothing you do is good enough will cause you to internalize everything.

I have no memories or examples of healthy emotional behaviour or relationships. In our house, we got the point across by screaming at or just plain ignoring each other. So when I get hurt, or I feel let down, I have absolutely no idea how to deal with my feelings. Further reinforcing my belief that the world is full of bad people who are out to ruin your day and be unkind, because that’s all I’ve ever known.

Research shows that if you already experience these difficulties as a child, experiencing trauma as an adult could make things worse.

Dad - now is really the time to stop reading.

(Sometimes I feel like I live inside the DSM definition of BPD)

At the age of 21 – fresh out of college and trying to start my career in the fashion world – I was sexually assaulted. Cue the downward spiral.

I didn’t report. I didn’t seek help. I confided in a close friend, and was called a liar. But that’s a story for another time.

So I buried that part of me so deep, that sometimes I could convince myself that it never happened. Sometimes.

I reached the end of my rope in 2016. I knew that if I didn’t seek help, I would not survive. I finally went to my doctor and spent hours with her, just sobbing and telling her everything.

She hooked me up with a psychiatrist, and put me in Dialectical Behavioural Therapy, and started me on an SSRI (anti-depressant) immediately.

As of today, it has been 1172 days since the assault. I only told my mother this past summer.

Since reaching out for help, I have begun to repair the relationship with my parents. My mom and I are closer than ever, and my dad and I are working on it.

As I write this, I feel the judgements pouring in. But I have decided that this year, I don’t care. I am not ashamed of my story. I will no longer hide the things I have been through in order to make others more comfortable. I will not keep my pain to myself because it’s easier for others if I stay silent. If bearing my soul can help even one person seek the help they need, then I have succeeded, and all this pain has been worth it.

The long and short of it is SPEAK UP! There is nothing embarrassing about mental illness. If you aren’t feeling right, there are people who care and are here to help you, including me. The first step is to tell someone.

The best advice I can give is to find your people. People who trust you, who lift you up, who validate your feelings, who listen and take you seriously when you say you’re having a bad day. I have spent the past year painstakingly building my support system, because the truth of the matter is, I can’t do this alone. And that’s ok.

Today and every single day, be kind to each other – it’s the only thing that matters.

https://letstalk.bell.ca/en/bell-lets-talk-day

[theeurekaproject]

Sub Noctem

Lyra woke up to laser lights.

She rubbed her head and looked at the blood trickling down onto her hands. She didn't entirely remember how she'd gotten here or what happened to her, but she didn't really need to. She didn't exactly have a home to go back to, anyway.

She stood up and reached in her pocket for a mirror. Her wallet was missing, not that there was anything in it to begin with. Small as they were, she knew better than to leave her night's earnings anywhere as obvious as a wallet.

The mirror on her compact had long since broken, but she couldn't afford a new one. It was the first thing she'd ever bought with her own money, a whopping five credits and fifty three cents earned over the course of four days of double shifts. In hindsight, spending that much money on something as stupid as a compact seemed thoughtless, but she'd been young then. It was probably about a decade ago, so Lyra was five, maybe six?

Through the cracks in the mirror, she could see that her bright pink, bubblegum-colored hair was somehow even messier than it usually was, and one side of her face was covered in deep violet bruises she didn't remember getting. Somebody probably beat her up and took her wallet, she reasoned. Part of her wondered why they didn't just kill her if they were going to mug her and dump her in an alley, but maybe the robber didn't want to get their hands dirty unnecessarily. Besides, they probably knew they'd never get prosecuted. Even if Lyra somehow worked up the courage to waltz into a police station, they'd never believe a Cantator, anyway.

She tried in vain to smooth the tangles on her head. The blood from the laceration she'd somehow sustained had dried in her hair, making it even worse. She remembered buying a comb at some point, but some other girl had immediately stolen it, and she never bothered trying to recover it. It was best not to pick a fight if one could help it down here.

Abandoning the hope of making herself look decent, she tucked the compact mirror back into her purse. Pretty girls got the best tips, but with the bruises and the cuts and the acne she already had, fixing her hair probably wouldn't help much anyway. If she had makeup, she might have been able to make herself look better, but she couldn't afford that, either.

She set off to work, not entirely knowing what time it was. Judging by the amount of teenage girls on street corners, it was probably late at night. Keeping track of time was difficult when the sunlight couldn't shine through the buildings to reach here, and she had no idea how long she'd slept for.

She entered through the back door of the building, not wanting to deal with the crowd outside. "You're late," one of the dancers snarled, leaning against the wall by the door.

"You think I don't know that?" Lyra asked.

"Well, if you knew that, why didn't you get here faster? It's been like an hour since you were supposed to be here. Viola's going to be pissed."

"Viola's probably too drunk to notice."

The dancer sighed. "I'd like to argue with you, but you're probably right. At least, I hope you are, for your sake."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine."

It was true that Viola could be nasty when she wanted to be. Still, Lyra had dealt with far worse before—Viola wasn't anywhere near as formidable as a threat as she thought she was. She was one of those people who went mad with power when given the slightest hint of authority, and who exercised her drug-fueled stim rage on her underlings just for the hell of it. But when it came down to it, Viola was nothing more than a 30-year-old woman who looked and acted like a 60-year-old because of her history of violence and substance abuse, and there was nothing she could really do but yell at Lyra and steal her tips, which happened on a daily basis anyway.

Lyra washed her hands quickly—not like it would help; it was filthy everywhere, and she was sure the water had just as many germs as the surroundings—and put on an apron. It was probably supposed to look sexier than it did, but because Lyra was so short, it hung around her knees instead of high up on her thighs. Then she put on the rest of the overly cutesy, cheaply made, poorly designed ensemble—uncomfortable heels with no arch support, a choker with the same lacy details as the apron, thin satiny gloves that wouldn't protect against anything, and bows for her scraggly hair. Because even the cleaning staff had to be eye candy.

"You look ridiculous," said Alicaria. Alicaria wasn't the name on her birth certificate—like many others here, she probably didn't even have a birth certificate—but she was an alicaria, so that's what they called her. It worked well that way; Sufflava for the girl with platinum blonde hair, Saltatrix for the prima ballerina, Sambuca for the harp player. Lyra had gotten her name from when Cithara was ill for two months and she'd made extra tips by playing the abandoned lyre. Cantatores didn't get names. They were defined by their caste and their job, because that's the only thing they were good for, and Lyra was no exception.

"I look better than you," she retorted. Alicaria was dressed in a ridiculous ensemble designed to show off her curves, but she didn't really have anything to show other than protruding ribs and a hunger-swollen stomach.

"Give it two more years and you'll be in my position," Alicaria said. "Hell, maybe even less than that. Just wait until Aria kicks the bucket."

"What happened to Aria?" Lyra asked.

"Pregnant. The last kid nearly killed her—she woulda died if it weren't for that charity doctor woman who cut open her organs to get the baby out. And God knows we aren't going to get charity doctors down here anymore, not since Alestra passed all those regulations on which castes can go where."

Lyra laughed. "Let's hope Acidalia's better." "Acidalia? Please," Alicaria scoffed. "I doubt she'll make it a month before she's dead."

Lyra knitted her eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"Did you hear the news? Last night, some aristocrat got fed up and tried to kill her in the middle of some party. Cassiopeia was her name, I think? The girl from the Generalis family. It was a whole big thing."

"An assassination attempt?" Lyra's eyes widened. "Wow. I would not want to be in that Generalis girl's position right now."

"More like you don't want to be in Acidalia's position. Half the court wants her dead, apparently."

"Why?" Lyra asked. She was well aware that any sort of criticism of the Imperial family was liable to lead to death for treason. Even though the laws were always different for the upper class, she felt like trying to murder the Imperatrix Ceasarina was one of those things that was always frowned upon, regardless of social status.

"Beats the hell out of me. Apparently she's a Martian bastard child, but that's just a rumor. And you know, she supposedly has a rocky relationship with Alestra. Anyway," Alicaria said, "I'm just a Cantator. What do I know?"

"More than me," Lyra replied. "I don't even watch the news. They never play it in here."

"Yeah, guys like to watch sports mostly." Alicaria rolled her eyes. "Drives me mad. I'll be sitting there flirting with some guy and all he cares about is which idiot, doped-up transhuminist cyborg beats the other idiot, doped-up transhumanist cyborg… oh, shit."

"What? Oh, Viola." Lyra sighed. "I should go."

"No, not Viola. Look." Alicaria pointed at a pair of young men who had mistakenly waltzed right into the back entrance. "Who the hell are they?" "I don't know, some soldiers on shore leave?" Alicaria shook her head. "Nah, they're immunes. Look at them. They ain't the type of draft dodgers who show up in here on the regular. They've got money."

"What's an immune?" Lyra asked, but Aricaria was already hanging off one of the soldier's arms, looking at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"So," she asked, her voice a husky vibrato, "come here often?" The soldier boy laughed and puffed out his chest to show his shiny pins and badges. Lyra had no idea what they were for, but they sure looked important.

"Not really," he said. "What's a pretty girl like you doing down here?"

"Mmmm, wouldn't you like to know." She twirled a piece of bleach-blonde hair around her finger and giggled as if she'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. "What's your name, handsome?" "Well, officially AX-C240, but my friends call me Ace," he said cockily.

AX unit? Lyra thought. They were specialists, the type of people who got invited to classy parties and hung out with aristocrats—the sons of the rich and famous. Alicaria was right—these people had money, and they looked like the exact type of dumb upper-crusts who paid more than was necessary because they didn't know what was the normal rate. And there were two of them. She'd never so much as touched a boy before, but she desperately needed cash, and—

"Stop it, Ace," the other boy said, interrupting Lyra's train of thought. For some strange reason, she felt almost relieved. "She's a meretrix, she's just trying to get your money."

Alicaria pouted. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" the boy asked. "Neither of us have credits to spare right now, anyway."

"Like hell you don't," Alicaria snapped. "You're part of one of the highest ranked sectors in the entire army and you're wearing ceremonial gear to boot. You look like the goddam Imperatrix herself."

Suddenly the boy's face went white. "What? Who told you that?"

"Jeez, nobody. Relax," Alicaria said huffily. "You people are always so paranoid. Either spend some money or get out."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay. We won't be using your services, you can leave now."

"Whatever." Alicaria stomped away, her mismatched stilettos clacking against the grimy hardwood floor.

Lyra turned back to the two men. "Who are you looking for?" "Are you trying to sell us something?" Ace asked suspiciously.

"No, I'm the maid slash underage eye candy for creepy dudes." Lyra gestured to her apron. "Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, you don't look very much like 'eye candy,' no offense," he said. "Did you know your nose has been bleeding for this entire conversation?"

Lyra lifted a hand to her nose. It was bloody. "Huh."

"What happened to you?" the other soldier asked. "You look like you got jumped."

Lyra shrugged. "I probably did get jumped." The soldiers looked at each other, surprised. They definitely seemed like the type of exploitable young idiots who didn't know how things worked down here—anyone who came to the Undergound without knowing the incredibly high crime rate was setting themselves up for failure.

"You look awful," the soldier said. "Do you want a bandage or something? The name's T, by the way." "Lyra," Lyra said, "but that's not my real name. I don't really have one." T shrugged. "Neither do I." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny medkit, which expanded open into a full kit like a pop-up book when he touched the red cross on the front.

"Latex or non-latex?"

"Don't care," Lyra replied indifferently, but inside she was pleasantly surprised. She'd never had somebody pause to help her before, let alone ask her preferred type of bandage. T handed her a pink one in the same color as her hair, which she plastered on her bleeding cheek.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him—a genuine smile, not a please-give-me-your-money smile. "Who are you looking for anyway?"

"Her name's Cassandra," Ace said. A lightbulb went off in Lyra's head.

"What's her caste?"

Ace paused momentarily, racking his brain for something. "A Scientia, I think? Her daughter used to be an astrophysicist student, I know that much. But then Cass got caught committing some type of crime and they went on the run, and now they're down here someplace."

"I think I know her!" Lyra exclaimed.

T snorted. "Trust me, you'd know if you knew Cassandra." "I think I do. She's kind of popular around these parts," Lyra explained. "I've never met her personally, but I know a little about her. She's supposedly nicer than most lenae and has a terrifying cat."

"A well known lena cat lady," T chuckled. "She was always bad at keeping a low profile, wasn't she?"

Ace nodded. "She's so attention-seeking. Do you know where she is?"

Lyra thought for a moment. "I think she might live near the lustris across the street? I always assumed she was the procuress, but apparently that's not true." "Nah," Ace said. "She just likes to make up stories. You want to come with us?" T sighed. "Ace, we can't just—"

"She's bleeding, T," Ace argued, his voice sounding more whiny than Lyra expected from such a pompous-looking soldier.

T frowned. "Fine. But only because you're hurt and Cass has a bigger medkit than I do. And we're in such deep shit that I doubt Cassandra would object to us bringing along a random praeministra."

Lyra sighed. "I mean, I do have work. But I'm also late, and the more I can avoid Viola—my supervisor—the better." "Who's Viola?" Ace asked.

"She works for my Magister," Lyra said. "She's not dangerous or anything, but she's kind of a jerk."

"And who's your Magister?" "The guy who owns me," Lyra said.

The soldiers looked at each other, alarmed.

"Not owns me like a slave," she added quickly. "I mean, he didn't buy me—well I guess he did, kinda. I'm just in a lot of debt to him—well, actually, my mother is in a lot of debt to him, but she's probably either dead or worse, so it's my problem now."

"That doesn't seem fair," Ace said.

Lyra smiled sadly. "Life isn't fair. You just have to make do with the cards you're dealt."

"Maybe we can deal you another, better card," Ace offered, holding out a hand. "Actually, that's probably a bad analogy. I don't know how card games work."

"It works well enough for me," Lyra laughed, taking his hand. "You know, I want to go with you, but I don't think I can. I have a job… and as shitty as it is, it's a job. Those are hard to come by, especially for Cantatores. And I need money, badly. I can't just walk away from this to follow two guys I just met." T and Ace looked at each other. They shared a moment of understanding that Lyra was not privy to, then turned to face her again.

"I can offer you a lot more money than you're making now," T said, his voice quieter. "And a comfortable place to sleep, and three hot meals a day."

Lyra suddenly had a realization. "You're trying to rope me into some human trafficking ring, or a cult, or an organ harvesting operation, aren't you? Because that's exactly what this sounds like."

T rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess it kind of looks like that. It's not, though."

"And I should believe you why?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

"I mean, there really isn't a reason. You don't have to come with us," Ace said. "I just… feel bad. No offense, but you look like garbage."

Lyra didn't think she looked that bad, all things considered… but then again, these two were clearly wealthy—not even middle-class, could-afford-their-own-apartment wealthy, but really wealthy—and they probably had different standards for how people were supposed to look. And they were being nice to her. That was new.

"Your nose is still bleeding," T added, offering her thick bundle of gauze.

Lyra looked at him, then looked at the doorway to the inside of the bar. Truthfully, she wanted to take this chance, but there was just such a high risk of it being something deadly. If she followed these soldiers, as nice as they were, there was a high chance she'd never return.

But what did she have to come back to, anyway?

She had no future down here. In all honesty, she would never work off that debt—she'd be in her sixties before it was gone, and that's assuming she made it past twenty, which most girls didn't. Aria probably wouldn't make it past 18 if Alicaria was right, and she usually was. And what would Lyra do then? She wouldn't be indebted, but she'd still have no money to speak of and no job lined up, so she'd just keep working here… and nothing would change, debt or no debt. She'd be broke forever, reliant on people born into money to give her scraps of charity off their great table. This might be the one opportunity she had to break that cycle.

"Okay," she decided. "Let's go, but quickly."

"You sure changed your tune," T said, surprised.

"Ever come to the realization that the whole system is a kind of screwed up cycle and you're stuck in it?" Lyra asked.

"Funnily enough," he said, "I have."

Lyra assumed he was talking about the military complex—she didn't entirely know what that was, but it seemed like a newsworthy buzzword that soldiers would talk about—but there was something in his tone that suggested otherwise. She looked more closely at him, trying to understand what he meant. Then she noticed that his almost-orange skin and brown, Martian eyes were incredibly familiar. He reminded her of somebody she'd seen before.

There were plenty of half-Martians in the army, and most Eleutherian soldiers were supposed to look alike. She was probably just thinking of some other man. Still, for some reason the resemblance was almost reassuring.

Lyra took the apron off and hung it back up on the nail that served as a hook. She wanted to say something cool about leaving the system or breaking out of their programming, then she realized that it would make her sound like a protagonist from a crappy cyberpunk movie, and she probably wasn't cool enough to pull it off.

Instead, she held the gauze tighter to her nose and left the bloodstains sitting there on the floor, reveling in the fact that for once she didn't have to clean it up. Maybe she was going straight into an organ harvesting ring or a murderous cult, but maybe this small victory, this ability to just walk away from this place, was worth it.

[sweetstrawberrycandy]

Winter Bloom - Episode One: Shorty | Nyx Ulric x Fem!Reader

RATING: Teen | GENRE: TW Angst/Drama WORD COUNT: 2910 AUTHOR’S COMMENT: First of all like always I wanna thx to everyone who help me on this~ especially @ladyscientia who has become on my Beta Reader, thx you like always without you this won’t be possible once more. To everyone who help me with my writing block thank you!!! you know who you are *huggies* thx you! DISCLAIMER: kk so the idea is make this my first multi chapter, lets see how it goes! For now all I have to say everything happens two years before the events of Kingsglaive.

TAGGING: @chocobropuffs @bleucommelhiver @warnjai-17 @thebulletsofmusicblues If anyone wanna get tag in the future just let me know :3 

The alarm clock starts screaming like the world is going to end, ringing relentlessly and forcing you awake. You take the clock in your hands and look skeptically at the time it shows.

“Fuck.. Is it really that late?”

You look for your phone hysterically. You know it’s probably hidden somewhere between the sheets. After a while of frantic searching, you hear the THUD of it falling from the bed to the floor.

“YESH! There you are! Now please show me the REAL time!”

“10:30 am” Same as your moogle alarm clock.

“FUCK! Fuck!!!!! I’m late for work! No more late night horror movies for me!” You jump out of the bed as fast as your body will allow and run to the shower. There’s no time for a hot relaxing bath; just a cold, fast shower and of course no breakfast.

As you run to catch the bus, for the first time since you arrived in Insomnia, you feel excited, like something big is going to happen.

Once you get off the bus, you run like a mad woman to get to work on time. You enter to the shop exhausted. Your face looks like a daemon was chasing you and you just reached a safe place.

“I’m here! I’m definitely NOT late!!!! PEASE! Bossssss don’t fire meeeeeee… please! I swear for the bloody Astrals I won’t be late ever again!”

The scene was quite hilarious. Your boss chuckles and gives you a wink.

“It’s fine y/n. You are actually fifteen minutes early for your shift. Now go and fix that face! You are going to scare the clients!” she laughs.

“That… that… means I could have breakfast!!! DAMN!” your stomach makes a soft grunt. “I guess we are skipping food till lunch…. Whaaa….”

You have been working at the same place for almost a year now. The store has all sorts of things for people who love cooking; from newbies to expert chefs. They can find anything there they might need for ANY KIND of preparation. And if that wasn’t enough, if they can’t make it, YOU are able to teach them.

The morning is extremely quiet. Around five people have come in asking for classes and another three or four for some cooking gadgets. It’s not until around noon, close to your lunch time, when the starvation starts consuming you. Your stomach begins complaining more than usual. Just as you begin wishing to yourself for an enormous plate of food, things in the shop become interesting.

“Please mighty six, don’t let anyone enter through that door so I can FINALLY can go eat something! Please! I BEG YOU….”

Like most of the time your prayers aren’t heard and two men enter to the shop.

“WHY?? You hate me so much?” is the only thought in your head. You look at your boss to see if she can save you from this one, but it’s not possible this time, she was busy with other costumers. You give a fast look to the clock and decide to wait for a few minutes before approaching the clients. Maybe if you’re lucky they will go and you will be free to get your lunch.

Three minutes later and they’re still there. With a little disappointed sigh, you decide to get up from your comfortable place at the counter. As you step towards the beloved costumers, you believe you hear a familiar voice. Your legs shake. Your heartbeat rises. The same feeling of excitement from this morning rushes into you.

Once you’re close enough, you recognize both of them. Libertus is standing in front of a stand mixer, talking to his friend a few steps away.

“Oi! Nyx what are we going to do at the end?”

The blue eye glaive looks back at him shrugging.

“I don’t know big guy, but ain’t leaving this place without something or someone who can help us.”

At this precise moment you feel the adrenalin taking control of your body. Without hesitation you rush into Libertus’s arms, giving him the biggest hug you’ve ever give to anyone in a long long time, trying not to cry.

The Glaive looks at you with confusion.

“Hey! Girl! Are you ok? Is something wrong?!? Did anyone hurt you?!?”

You slowly raise your head and greet your old friend.

“Hi… It’s been a while isn’t??” you smile letting go a little giggle.

Libertus is in shock.

“OMG!!!! y/n! it’s really you!!!! You are…!

You interrupted him with a chuckle “Alive?”

“I was going to say grown-up, but alive works too,” he laughs. You can see the happiness in his eyes. He hugs you once more and this time you feel the warmth in his squeeze.

“Oi! Nyx! LOOK! Is our Shorty!! Is here!!!! In one piece!!”

Nyx turns around, puts aside the pair of poultry shears he had in his hands, grabs you be the arm and hugs you in silence. Once he’s done, he kisses your forehead and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

you smile gently, hugging him once more. This time with more strength.

Your boss approaches you and your friends.

“Is everything alright here y/n?”

With a huge dorky smile on your face, your stomach complains loudly for the lack of substance inside it.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to eat anything this morning” Your face of embarrassment is rather cute. Your boss laughs, giving you an small slap on your back.

“Just go lunch, take your time but don’t ABUSE!”

“It’s settled then. You are coming to lunch with us, Shorty!” decides Libertus with excitement.

“Weeeeee!! Kk! Let me grab my stuff. One second. Brb.”

While you walk to the back of the store to get your things, your boss stays with your friends.

“OK! So let’s be clear! You two are going to deliver this kiddo back in one piece. She already suffered enough. Not saying you two haven’t. But for your bad luck she is the one I care about. She is like the daughter I never had. So I’m warning you! If she comes back sad or crying you will have to deal with me! I ain’t a Glaive but trust me I know how to use a knife pretty well and I have lots of them.”

The two men are surprised by your boss’ declaration. Their reaction is to nod and nothing else. Seconds after you return, you notice the peculiar silence between the three of them.

“I’m back and ready to eat! Leggo!” you look at everyone and wonder. “Is… everything alright… here? You two look like someone try to cut your balls…”

Nyx gulps, “Yeaa… Everything’s fine. Let’s go. I need to eat something soon before I start roaring like you.”

“HA HA HA… so funny! Nyx! You haven’t change a bit! Asshole!” You look at him with a funny pouty face.

“C’mon Shorty, I know you miss me!” the blue eye Glaive gives you his well known cocky smirk “AND I miss those cute li’l faces you always do.” Nyx grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with affection.

The three of you leave the cooking shop with the destination unknown to you. You decide to keep the chit-chat going while you follow your friends. The reunion with them was unexpected but you cherish every second of it. In some way you manage to feel like you’re back on Galahd one more time.

“Those were GOOD times!” Libertus’ words are full of nostalgia. “You, me, Nyx and Selena … we had so much fun back on Galahd…”

The words of remembrance are like thunder, interrupting the calm between your small crew. Silence becomes awkward as you walk forward with your arms swinging at your side.

You roll up your eyes and try to change the topic; “Anyways! Where are you two taking me? I’m starving! Hehehe. Last night I just had a bowl of popcorn for dinner.”

Libertus snorts, “Why? Too ‘busy’ to make dinner? Boyfriend perhaps?”

You chuckle, “Boyfriend? What’s that?? Can you eat it???”

The teasing between you and Libertus goes on during the stroll to your destination. Once there, you look at the place and feel back at home somehow. Yama’s reminds you of the bar your friend used to have.

“What an amusing place… Kinda reminds me of the bar. But this place is a little less dusty!”

“Well nothing like home! You two stay here. I will go for the food.” Libertus winks at you; “I think I know what you’ll like to eat.”

He steps away, leaving you alone with Nyx who was surprisingly quiet. You can tell something is going on inside his head. Your first impulse is to tease him. After a moment of consideration you decide to stay in silence and wait for Libertus return.

Approximately fifteen minutes later your big friend comes back with food and drinks.

“WHOAAA! Is this what I think it is?!?” the excitement in your words is boisterous but the most important matter is your feeling of starvation consuming you. Quickly you grab a bite and then the worse happen. The incredulity in your eyes is not a surprise for your friend who’s watching you closely to enjoy the moment.

Libertus ask you between laughs, “Did you like it?”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaa! WTF is this?!? What the Shenanigans!?”

 The husky one laughs even louder, “Our heritage!”

“Yeah! Right! Like our food taste like chocobo butt! No offence to the chocobos!”

“See! She is with me! I’m not the only one who says that!! That’s why I love you so much. You were always my favorite, Shorty!” Libertus chuckles, taking a sip to his glass.

You cough. “So, changing the topic, can any of you explain to me why two tough guys like you were in a specialty cooking store? Don’t get me wrong, but you two never were the cooking type.”

“Welll… the thing is… we lost a bet and we need to pay back now.”

You raise your eyebrow and let go a loud laugh. “Are you serious!?! Who is this amazing person? I need to know him/her but but what was the bet about? YOU NEED TO TELL ME!”

After a while without saying a word, Nyx opens his mouth for a short moment; “It was a friend, Luche, and no you don’t really wanna know how we lost. It’s not something pleasant.”

Libertus lets out a whoop; “Don’t be so serious Nyx! It’s not like we don’t know her!”

You look at Nyx. His face shows an emotion similar to indifference, but you can sense something else is going on behind those blue eyes.

He stands from the table looking a little odd. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I remembered I have to do something, I… I… have to help the Cap with something. ‘Was nice to see you y/n.”  

“What the heck…?” Libertus doesn’t have a chance to finish the sentence. His friend is already gone.

You feel a little annoyed and sigh. “… I’m sorry if it was something I said.”

Libertus puts his glass aside. “It wasn’t you… Don’t worry about it. I will deal with him later.”

The two of you keep talking for a while, catching up as best you can before you need to go back to work.

“Whoaaaa I’ve to go back, sad face… About your bet, Mama Bear… I can help you, both… or at least I think I can. There’s not a thing I can’t cook. So call me if you want my help. I will do it happily. Here is my number. Call me when you decide what to do and thank you for the chocobo poop – sorry! I meant food.” You kiss Libertus on the cheek and leave.

Once you’re back at work, you keep thinking about Nyx and his strange way to leave.

“What’s wrong with him…. Ahhh!! Men! Who understands them!?”

Your boss looks at you with a curious glance. “Everything ok Kiddo?”

You sigh “Ahhh…? Yeah… just talking to myself like always. Nothing new.”

“If you say soo… By the way, I’ve got to go early tonight. Can you close the shop for me please?”

“Sure! Why not? What’s two extra hours of boredom more in my life?…”

“Geez… if you don’t like it, you should look for another job then…” she says with some exasperation.

“I’m just kidding!! What’s wrong with people today!? So friking serious. Anyway! I like this place AND you need meeeeeeee! I’m your best employee AND you love me!… hehehe.”

Your boss rolls her eyes and laughs. “OK! I’m leaving now. You are in charge. Please… don’t do anything dumb…”

A few hours later you look at the clock, “9:30 pm” A smile pops on your face; “Weeeeeeee time to close and go home! Yay!”

Once you’ve got everything closed and locked up, you feel the overwhelming sigh of relief. The day is over. Time to go home and do whatever you want.

As you leave the store, you begin debating whether or not pajamas are an acceptable thing to wear as soon you get home, forgetting that maybe you might need to stop into a shop for something to eat. Popcorn two nights in a row isn’t acceptable.  As you turn from locking the doors shut, you feel a glancing touch across your arms.

“HAA! Nyx WTH! You scared me!!!what are you doing here? Is everything ok?” Your voice is agitated.

“I’m sorry y/n I was waiting for you…”

“Wait what me?” You look at him with some misbelief.

“Yes. Why so surprised?”

“Welll… you weren’t really… uhmmm… how I can say it… available? During lunch, you just leave…”

When you look at him, you can see the regret in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry y/n… Is there anything I can do to fix it?” he says with a cocky smile.

You smile back. “Ok… well let me see… maybe a humongous ice-cream will help clear my head. - With chocolate chips and lots lots of chocolate! And everything I can imagine putting on that ice-cream!”

The hero smiles again but this time with his eyes. “A humongous ice-cream it is then.”

You grab Nyx’s arm and guide him to your favorite ice-cream shop. “I have the feeling you are going to regret this somehow…” a giggle escapes from your lips.

You both walk in mutual silence enjoying the ice-cream until the quiet walk pulls some memories back of when Nyx used to walk you home.

“You know… you don’t have to do this…”

“Do what?” he sounds confused. “Get the ice-cream?? But… you ask for it….”

“Nooo you dummy! Walk me home….”

“I do… look I’m just trying to show you I’m sorry y/n…”

You stop walking for a moment and pull Nyx by the arm. “I’m not a kid anymore, I… learn how to take care of myself a while ago… I didn’t have another option.”

The Glaive sighs. “But you are here now…. You found me and Libertus… I… I… can protect you now…” his voice is trembling. You look at him and realize clearly that the past is haunting him. Seeing him like this hurts you more than anything. You want to help him to move on. After all, no one better than you knows what a hard task that can be. But you also know full well that both of you will probably get hurt in the process. You brush the thought aside and plant a gentle kiss on his rugged cheek.

“Nyx, you know… if I’m completely honest with you… what you did at lunch hurt just a little… you leave like I was nothing. Like we actually haven’t seen each other in years. You leaving makes me feel like I did something wrong.”

He remains in silence, holding your hand.

“After all these years… I swear to you, you are not the only one who feels guilty for what happened. When… when you act like that, you make me feel even more guilty….” You stop for a second to take a breath, the anxiety starts flooding your veins. “When you aren’t capable to look at me, to look at my eyes… you make me wish I could take her place. I feel bad because I survived.”

Nyx squeezes your hand. “C’mon, it’s not like that! y/n! and you know it.”

The frustration you’ve been holding for all those years finally shows up. Hearing Nyx say the exact same thing he said right before abandoning you on Galahd was exactly what you needed to let the emotions go.

“Really?!?! The same shit you told me ten years ago? After all this time, you couldn’t make anything better? Nyx! For the love of the six! You weren’t the only one who lost someone! I… I… lost my family too! I lost my friends! Selena was like a sister to me!!! I… I… lost you! When you and Libertus decided to join The Kingsglaive I was left behind! I was alone! Because you couldn’t and still can’t look at me! Without reminding yourself that she is gone… I’m sorry. I really am… but It’s time for you to move on… get your shit together once and for all!”

When you finish talking, your face is slick with tears. You take a another breath and finish; “I’m sorry… but please… until you are able to do that don’t look for me…” You let go of his hand and walk away.

[autistickitten]

(added a readmore)

This is going to be long and ranty, and my Asks tend to get eaten by the piece, so I thought maybe a Submission would be better…

Anyway, I’m kind of…distraught? I’ll try to make this as brief as I can… I’ve been trapped in an abusive household my whole life. I’ve come to this blog several times for advice and venting, but now I’m at a point where I realize I don’t have to deal with it anymore. And because of that, I’m also thinking about how I can't do it anymore.

I’m the anon who has come here to ask if I was sexually abused by my older brother because I didn’t want him to run his hands down my thighs when I was eleven. I am the anon who has come here to ask about helping my younger brother after he hung himself to “prove to me that suicide isn’t pretty” (5150 anon; I did save him). My older brother continues to violate my boundaries, and gets upset when my mother tells him to not, and my father gets mad at me for denying my brother’s hugs. My younger brother is the very one who will say that he’s probably autistic while spewing the most ableist language and ideals at me (again, not saying he’s not autistic, but if he is, he’s a pretty ableist disabled person, which makes things ten times worse). I cannot repeat anything he says with mixed company because of how horrible it is (he might as well be Right Wing, ironic enough for a Latino mentally ill, possibly autistic, man). I am the anon who has come to vent about my anti-vaxxer father who shut me down when I tried to tell him that vaccines don’t cause autism, claiming that he “knew more about autism” than an autistic person, his autistic daughter.

I have put up with being told I couldn’t understand how people could be mean bigots because I was “young, naive,” God Forbid, “r*tarded.” I have been put down all my life by these men, and then berated for wanting to leave this family, this existence, because it “wasn’t the right thing to do” or “selfish.” Like, how dare I be affected by things that hurt. Why can’t I just put up with it for the good of the family?

I am also the anon who just recently came to share the love story about me and my partner, the one who loves me for me without the “despite the autism” rhetoric. We have been making plans that will be a little slow, but because we are being as practical as we can and we trust each other, I am certain that we’ll be able to pull through.

So… Just recently, something came up. There was a family gathering at my place, so pool and water guns and all that fun. Except, I started the day with a haze when I thought about how much I hate this town I have been trapped in all my life; I hate it because of all the abuse I’ve gone through here. I didn’t want to engage in the pool and water gun fun, but I joined everyone because they were expecting me. My older brother shot me with a water gun, and I just left. I was already not in the mood, so I needed to remove myself to decompress. I could hear my mother explain to him that I did not want to be shot with a water gun. The next thing I know, everyone is asking me, “Awww, what happened to him, is he okay? :(” or “Did you say something to him? Cause he’s in his room, crying.”

I will admit, I am bitter as all hell. I have cried my eyes out because of something hurtful that was said to me, by my father or one of my brothers. I have had tears fill my eyes, with no one noticing. Not even if they were right in front of me. Someone tells my brother that I don’t want to be shot with a water gun, and he goes to his room and cries. Now everyone is so concerned for him that the party fun is interrupted.

I lost it. That was the first time in a very long time I had the gall to remove myself from my own house. But as I was leaving, my cousin and father were trying to talk me out of it. My father kept saying it “wouldn’t be right.” I almost snapped at him. “You know what’s not right, is all the bullshit you’ve subjected your children to.” But I kept it to myself. My cousin asked me if I needed a moment. I told her I needed to go, lest I explode and fuck everything up. Like I always do. Because I’m so selfish.

For once in a very long time… I had a place to go. I went to my partner’s and decompressed. We watched Breaking Bad. He made sure I was okay.

When I went home like five hours later, I unloaded in my room. I saw that my older brother had left his prized novel on my computer chair and…my heart sank. I’m 24 years old, and at a point now where I’m finally saying, “I can’t do this anymore.” And he’s finally trying to say, “I’m sorry.” It hurts because I know he has nothing else he could possibly give me to tell me how sorry he is, though I’m not sure he knows exactly what he’s apologizing for. All his life, he was never told that there were consequences for violating my boundaries. It was always my fault for getting mad.

I am going to work on getting some form of employment (it’s been a while) before I go anywhere. But I may have to stay with my partner for a while.

I guess the one concern I have is… I don’t know if this is ironic or not, but what will become of my family once I’ve left. I don’t just mean to stay with my boyfriend for a while to get away from it all, but once I’ve made my own life. I’ve always thought about it growing up, but now that I actually have that option available to me–the option of finally breaking free and leaving–it’s…strange. Like it’s almost not happening, it’s just a weird dream, no this shouldn’t be happening, what happened to me caring for my family…

I’m also wondering what I could possibly say to them by the time I am ready to leave. Is there anything to say? And I tend to get a little nervous about the idea of…cutting them out of my life. While I’m kind of hoping that some distance between us will loosen the tension, I’m almost not expecting them to change for the better… I don’t know. Guess we’ll see when the time comes.

Most people reach an age when they will leave the familial home. Some people even break ties with their families, for their own good. I don’t think there’s much of substance to say besides “I’m ready to move into my own place now. I’ll see you (or I won’t.)”

It’s okay to wonder about what will become of your family after you leave ! It’s even okay to care for them. But it was never your responsability to hold the family together. You’re the child. You get to leave the nest and build your own life, on your own terms.

Hang in there and I wish you all the luck !

- Sister Cat

[wizardysseus]

strong agree with your tags

my circe complaints fall into two broad categories, the first being “god i hate feminist retellings that have no interest in examining the lives of ancient women with any substance” and the second being “madeline miller and i have very different ideas of odysseus and obviously i think i’m right”

rape tw, also.

not like other girls crimes:

feminism is when other women are so pretty and circe is ugly and they hate her so much.

it is not circe’s story. she spends most of the book reacting to other people, mostly men, and telling the audience myths we already know.

despite being marketed as a feminist retelling, it just doesn’t center women in any meaningful way. throughout the book, circe meets three women she actually likes: ariadne, who appears only briefly before being unceremoniously killed offscreen; medea, who doesn’t like her; and penelope, which had the most potential and ended up shoehorned in at the last minute.

miller even engineers a whole situation where the gods start sending circe their unwanted daughters, but instead of using this to develop relationships or character growth… circe just hates them all, and they all hate circe. anyone she deems worthy of her attention is a man.

the book is so, so close to getting to why this is a problem when pasiphaë gives birth to the minotaur, but then just… Does Not.

and circe is made an instrument to men’s stories again and again. when left to herself, circe does not. do. anything.

also. the reason circe turns men into pigs, in this book, is that she is somewhat graphically raped. i was already mad at miller for taking rape out of the iliad, but stuffing it into circe’s story to “explain” something that didn’t need explaining is possibly the most tired and insulting cliché you could evoke.

odysseus crimes:

i mean, the latter half of the book follows the telegony, which is not my cup of tea. so there’s that.

i just think odysseus loves his family, actually. i don’t think he wants to make penelope miserable. i don’t think he resents telemachus. i don’t think he gets bored of ithaka and being a husband and father. he’s awful, but that’s not why.

anyway, even when miller does deconstruct her odysseus — which, of course, is yet another story told to circe, who never does anything herself — she can’t really commit to it being the result of his ptsd and/or general character flaws. instead, it becomes this whole thing about how athena ~corrupted~ him, because in millerverse becoming a hero ruins you as a human being.

except when the hero is circe’s most special boy telegonus, who can go off with athena at the end and face no consequences, because ??? fuck odysseus, i guess.

i think there’s also a large problem in that circe/miller refuse to consider that odysseus is not actually the person in the position of power in either of his sexual encounters with goddesses. but that’s another post.

additionally, in her interviews madeline miller promised me a meaningful take on the twelve slave women odysseus and telemachus murder. and instead, she gave me a couple of throwaway paragraphs where telemachus angsts about how his mean, terrible, abusive father FORCED him to kill those women, so circe can feel sorry for and eventually fuck POOR, DECENT, HONEST telemachus who has so much MORAL INTEGRITY give me a goddamn break

that one got heated, but it makes me the most angry.

it’s a shallow reading of the odyssey, it’s shallow feminism, it’s just shallow.

the odyssey tag has a lot of stuff about the actual odyssey! some stuff about Madeleine Miller's books, but mostly the actual thing. (idk if they're GOOD posts, but they're there)

ahh good to know ty

[garyclone]

Vault Boy (AU?) Headcanons!!!

(Vault Boy actually appears as a IRL character in Tatics, and here’s just a couple of stuff I came up with of how he even exists!)

* He was ‘born’ underneath Nuka-Cola world in a colabration with Vault-Tec, to essentially make a living IRL version of the company’s mascot for its many goods. The main goal was to start off with a ‘human-like’ character and expand to Nuka-Cola’s own mascots which are based on inanimate objects. Plans to make the irl Vault Boy started around the opening of the park and it’s hidden lab underneath the Welcome Center around 2050~

* VB is actually considered to be a amalgam clone, since most of his DNA is a mishmash of various donors who shared characteristics of the mascot. Blonde hair, black eyebrows, round and soft face, plump hands, etc. He isn’t the direct clone of any human being and only represents the traits of them. He has his own conscious and has no recollection of any past memories of any of the men who gave DNA to help create him.

* In a dire attempt to make VB look MORE like his illustrated counter part, the scientists working on his unconscious and developing body decided to fuse his index and middle finger to have a total of eight fingers, just like the illustration. They also tried to dye his pupil and iris solid black, but during the process the needle spilled permanent black dye into his sclera as well, making his entire eye a eerie pitch black. If you think the scientists stopped there, you’re wrong. They also ripped out his ‘normal’ teeth and implanted wider and more softer-looking teeth to make him practically akin to his illustrated being in the most they could.

* They also tried to make VB a ‘short and approachable’ height of just 5'0 FT, but unknown to them, that in the future VB will be exposed to so much radiation that his altered stunted height (and his numerous other alterations) would backfire and he’ll grow tremendously, upwards to 6'5~7'0 FT. Also in order to make him more ‘soft-looking’ they made VB a little bit pudgy, permanently.

* He was meant to be a living mascot originally, but some Vault-Tec executives planned on using this experimental ‘mascot’ as a super soldier after his public release at Nuka-World before the Great War. They gave him such perks such as Finesse, Awareness, Presence, Friendly Foe, Contract Killer, Wired Reflexes, Ghost, Flexible, and even some perks such for the 'potential’ impending nuclear war, such as Lead Belly, Warmonger, Mad Bomber, Crazy Bomber, Basher, Intimidation, Commando, Lead Foot, and Weapon Handing. He even has some unorthodox and odd perks implanted into his conscious like Drunken Master, Pack Rat, Rabid, Twitch Gamer, and even Psychotic! Most of these unorthodox perks was to make sure he was a fail-safe soldier and could adapt to any situation, either being radiation exposure, psychological torture, interrogations, isolation, drug overdose, etc.

* At the same time however, he was still meant to be a kind and hospitable being who would either welcome people into the park or at Vault-Tec’s headquarters or events. So he also had some 'kinder’ perks implanted into him such as Speaker, Voracious Reader, Animal Friend, Cult of Personality, Cautious Nature, and of course he has Empathy!!!

* However in order to actually GAIN all of these perks, the scientists had to max out every S.P.E.C.I.A.L trait in VB, pretty much making a abnormal being that would surpass most of mankind.

* However the Vault-Tec scientists who was altering his subconscious with 'negative’ and 'cruel’ perks were caught and forced to remove those perks from VB’s mind. However there was no such way, so they decided to have a break-even agreement. They would inject into VB a addictive substance that is actually the core ingredients of Nuka-Cola, thus making him easily incapacitated and being unhealthily addicted to the drink, and the plan was that if he drinks enough of the product everyday, it’ll null the memories of his 'unsavory’ ideas such as killing people. Plus it would be a perfect cross-advertisement for both companies, as Vault-Tec’s living mascot would 'enjoy’ Nuka-Cola’s various drinks. This in the long run would give VB a pseudo-permanent Nuka-Cola addiction, and he will suffer from withdrawal after just drinking one bottle.

* Along with all of the various disturbing alterations to his body, the Nuka-Cola company wanted to avoid VB from getting hurt and spilling blood in front of 'potential’ customers, so they forced to scientists working on him to change his blood color to become clear. This was pretty much impossible, but fearing they’ll lose their jobs, the scientists tried anyways, but of course it backfired horribly and made VB’s blood a sickly solid black color. The scientists gave up and lied to the higher-ups, and said that VB has 'clear and clean’ blood, but it’s far from the truth.

* Apparently this wasn’t enough to sate the concerns of the Nuka-Cola corp., and they also wanted the scientists to alter VB’s subconscious (which is already overloaded with perks) with the feeling of constantly being happy, kind, and perky. This led to the byproduct of VB having a constant but eerie smile, and it only falters when he’s enraged, severely injured, confused, gravely scared, or embarrassed.

* VB was planned to be released to the public on the same day Nuka-Quantum was going to be released, but of course that was the day of the Great War, and the park was left in ruin and he was left still sleeping in his cryogenic pod/cloning chamber. For a few hundred years, his body was pretty much left to die and decay in his chamber, but the computer in charge of the unit he was left in didn’t get damaged, since it is a underground lab anyways. He still kept alive all of these years, until the machine finally gave out and crashed around the end events of Fallout~Fallout: Tactics.

* When VB first first awoke, he was screaming. After all, he has been unconscious since the scientists pretty much grew him from a Petri dish, and experimented on his growing body until they left him in a cryogenic pod/cloning chamber. Plus he was also choking on the fluid that was stuck in his throat, since he’s been floating in old and recycled nutrient-rich liquid to keep his body intact and to keep him alive without actually eating. He also got instantly a headache, and couldn’t see well, since his eyes were closed for so long. He barely managed to push himself outta the pod’s door as the old gross liquid spilled out and he pathetically crawled out sobbing and trembling.

* Honestly VB didn’t know who he is, what is he doing, where he is, and why he is crawling out of a pod completely nude , but one thing for sure is that he’s cold and hungry, and he feels VERY alone and scared. After gaining his bearings and standing up for himself for the first time, he looked around the decrepit lab he awoken in. Most of the things are rusted and worn, and there’s shattered glass everywhere. However, as the started to wander, he found a blue jumpsuit with a yellow outline and a pair of oversized reading glasses. He put the suit on and it was a snug fit but at least he wasn’t naked anymore. Oddly tho the suit seem to have a faded number on the back, and he assumed it said 13. Next up, he was going to put the glasses on but something in his subconscious was screaming at him to DON’T put it on, and he did that, and just tucked it into his jumpsuit.

* At this point, VB doesn’t know he’s supposed to be 'human’. He’s got no recollection of what should people look like, and assumes having four fingers, solid black eyes, and a constant smile is 'normal’. As he wandered the halls up from the hidden labs to the Welcome Center, he began to notice ads and flyers with 'other people?’ on them, and VB pretty much instantly had a essential crisis. Why doesn’t he look like them??? They’re so thin and why are their eyes mostly white?!? THEY HAVE FIVE FINGERS!!! He couldn’t dwell on this longer however, as apparently a Gatorclaw was stalking him and he didn’t know about it. He just heard a horrifying roar come near by him and he ran out of the Welcome Center screaming, as he left Nuka-World unknowingly.

* In the Wastelands he suffered greatly immediately. It was so much cooler in the underground lab and in the Welcome Center and he got overheated quickly. It wasn’t soon until he was spotted by some trigger happy raiders and they surrounded him as he was starting to falter in the heat. Jokes on them however, since they (and sadly also VB) don’t know what they’re messing with. VB tried to show he wasn’t hostile to the raiders when they asked him for caps and goods, but they were already mad to see he was empty handed. The moment one of the grabbed him however, was when most of VB’s 'unsavory’ perks started to kick in. VB can’t remember much from that incident, but it was pretty much how he got his first few kills and some weapons, as he automatically subdued the raiders and shot them all with a gun he snagged off of the one that touched him. However at the time he had no idea HOW he did this and 'why’, so he panicked again and ran back to the hidden lab.

* Traumatized from that incident, he hid in the lab for almost weeks, trying to keep his bearings. He however began to read the strewn papers and books around the lab, and he easily understood all of the complex words to his surprise. He still doesn’t know he’s inhumanly smart thanks to his implanted Intelligence perks, he just thought the words were 'normal’. Eventually everything became clear as day to him. Granted, he was left with the horrible realization that he isn’t truly 'human’, that humanity was on the brink of nuclear war (and he could tell it already happened), and that he was simply just a heavily altered and abused experiment that should’ve failed.

* VB managed to come to terms of his cruel existence, and began the plans of how his life is going to be. He scrounged around the lab and the Welcome Center, looking for anything edible and just found Mentats and Nuka-Cola, and of course got addicted instantly. He eventually found the Gatorclaw and disposed of it quickly with the gun he stole, since at this point he’s high on Mentats and his 'cruder’ perks are starting to kick in, and he can only focus on keeping himself alive and killing others that would harm him. The Gatorclaw’s meat was pretty decent though, and gave VB a good meal for a week or so, until he pretty much got cabin fever and wanted to go out and explore outside of Nuka-World. (And get more caps and cola to drink, and he soon developed the Fortune Finder perk, something he wasn’t 'born’ with.)

* After leaving his 'home’, VB is extremely shy when he is encountered by anyone, fearing they’ll be violent and would try to kill him. So he strayed away from traders and travelers, and ran from anyone if they spotted him.

* Ironically, most people he accidentally met while wandering in the wastes were pretty kind. Some however made the occasional remark of him 'looking like that annoying mascot’ or 'gosh he’s so fat and tall’, thus hurting VB’s already fragile ego. After some time, he’s become a common face in trade meets and some small establishments. Nobody really knows where he came from and why he 'looks like that’, and VB WANTS to keep it that way.

* VB is selectively mute. Mainly because he hates his voice so much, since it sounds high pitched, just like a old pre-war cartoon character. He prefers to be a man of action than a man of words, but he can’t help trying to pick up a chat or stopping a situation from escalating, but people love to mock his odd voice.

* Finding pre-war era books and magazine are hard to find, but VB is OBSESSED with them, along with other old world goods. His favorites are most of the comicbooks, but he also likes reading pre-war fashion magazines. He tends to annoy traders who actually have any of these, and he’s even killed and looted from some 'rude and evil’ sellers, based on their reputation. If people say they’re bad, VB would believe them and execute his own crude justice to just get some goods he’ll die for.

* As you can tell, VB has a VERY BROKEN moral compass. He doesn’t really see the 'grey’ in people, and only sees black and white in terms of morals. The moment he sees someone getting robbed or beaten up, he’ll stalk the culprit and kill them in cold blood, just for the sake of being a 'good guy’.

* After a few months of living in the underground lab and traveling in the wastes, his image was spread around and his actions too, and soon many raiders got sick of him killing their associates, so they finally struck back. It was a normal day and VB was just going to buy some food (and of corse he was mainly looking for Nuka-Cola) until the last thing he felt was something hard hitting him. It was a grenade. He simply blew up and the raiders were victorious. Or so they thought. As VB’s corpse laid there to rot, his body was actually regenerating, rather quickly. After an hour, he was conscious and only had to regrow his right hand, but his suit was charred and his caps melted in the heat. VB already knew he had abnormal regenerative abilities, as he read all of the notes the scientists took on him. There’s been plenty of times he sawed off his own limbs and times how long they would grow back! He went on as normal to the trade meet like casual, and the raiders who spotted him were horrified to see he is STILL alive.

* Life is decent for awhile for VB, if it wasn’t for the fact he became a cannibal and developed Dark Cravings. It all started when the raiders tried another attack to finally kill him, this time with a RPG. It worked, and all that was left of VB was his charred face, a cracked open torso, and half of his left arm. By the time he regenerated, he lost all the goods he had on him and was starving and lost track of where he was. Later on he spotted a raider who was in the plot to kill him, and he strangled the raider to death. However VB wasn’t thinking straight, probably because he had to regrew so much of his body, and he didn’t know WHY he did this, but he began to eat the corpse of the person he killed. He liked the taste of it……a lot. After time he began to kill raiders and other 'unsavory’ folks and sometimes ate them just for 'the flavor’, and developed dark cravings. After getting that addiction, he started to kill much more (practically daily) but he’ll never have the guts to kill a innocent person.

* Eventually VB tried on those 'odd’ glasses that were placed on top of the jumpsuit from all of those months ago. The moment he put it on tho, he got a migraine and his entire body was in pain. He slapped them off and he was crying and trembling, since it felt much worse than getting shot or even blown up. However a part of him WANTED to put the glasses on, and he caved in. What he didn’t expect to happen was his body to suddenly get muscles, up to the point his jumpsuit ripped and he was almost twice his height. His thoughts rushed but oddly he could think clearly, and felt 'smarter’. This is how his Nerd Rage perk was activated! (Even though he was never meant to get it…..) In this form he is much more physically powerful, but he gets irritated and aggravated VERY EASILY and will rampage at the drop of a hat. However in this form he is extremely smart and calculative, and is not as brutish as he seems. He’s also a giant cry baby as he’s more emotional and can be defeated if you insult his certain flaws quickly…..

[fallen029]

Get-Together

“Do you think you could kill someone?"

Lisanna hardly glanced at Bickslow, continuing to flip through a magazine carelessly. "What's the situation?"

"That's not the question."

"Is my life in danger?"

"Not the question."

"Hmmm." Page flip. "Maybe."

The seith, who was at the moment enjoying a cigarette, blew it through his nostrils. Then, "I could. In a heart beat."

"If these are the sorts of conversations you have in mixed company," Freed complained as he came into the room, carrying a plate of appetizers, consisting of crackers and dips, as well as an assortment of cut up meats and cheeses, "then I would hate to hear what you speak about when you're al- Get your disgusting feet off the table, Bickslow!"

The man, who was slumped over on the couch, smoking, only grunted though, slowly, he did drop both of his feet down.

Freed was so temperamental.

"What's the most gruesome way you could...you know?" Bickslow glanced at his seemingly disinterested girlfriend, who was next to him on the couch. "Lissy?"

"Mmmm…. I think I could, maybe, shoot someone in the head. If I had to."

"I could totally scalp a person."

"Could not."

"Bet me."

"Fine. Bet."

"Please," Freed complained as he headed back out of the room to retrieve the drinks, "do not plan murders in my apartment."

"Whatever you say, man," his teammate agreed though, once he was gone, he said to Lisanna, "I could probably watch someone drown too and do nothing."

"That's mentally messed up," she sighed, turning a page. "Not gruesome."

"Feels like it would be a bit gruesome."

"But it's not, so-"

"And shooting someone in the head is?"

"I feel like it is. If someone shot me in the temple," she argued, "I'd feel that was a bit hardcore. Wouldn't you?"

"Meh."

"Meh?"

He nodded. "Typically instant death. Not gruesome. Now drowning someone-"

"I thought," Freed complained as he came back with an arm full of beer cans, which he went to set on the coffee table, "I said to stop talking about murdering people?"

Bickslow blew some smoke his way. "We were just- Hey! Boss!"

He was distracted then, of course, by the front door opening and Laxus Dreyar walking in, coat flowing off his shoulders, headphones strapped on.

"Boss," the seith's babies enthusiastically sang as they came to circle around the man. He was busy batting at them when Lisanna spoke.

"Laxus," she began, not glancing up from her magazine. "Could you kill someone?"

"Absolutely."

"L-Laxus," Freed complained. "Do not encourage-"

"Oy, boss," the seith challenged then. "What's the more gruesome? Shooting someone in the noggin or drownin' them?"

"Shooting."

"But you don't get the drownin' angle! I ain't just gonna be holdin' their head under the water," the seith complained. "I'd have them in a big container filled with water and have them locked in there and just stare at 'em, right? From the other side of the container? It'll be glass and they'll be drownin' and I'll be-"

"That's mentally fucked up. Not gruesome."

Lisanna, still into her magazine, held up a hand as the slayer passed, him high-fiving it without a second thought.

"My demon here?" Laxus complained, snagging a beer as well before going to peak into the kitchen. "Freed?"

"No," the man sighed as he jut as quickly was rushing back in there to get a bottle of wine and a few glasses ready. "Mirajane has not arrived as of yet."

Grunt. Then, popping the tab on his beer, he said, "Then I got here too early."

Bickslow went back to smoking then, defeated and, feeling some of his pain, Lisanna glanced over at him finally.

"What are you smoking?" she asked with a slight frown. "Bicks? It smells funny."

"Tryin' somethin' new," he mumbled around the cigarette.

"It stinks," Laxus argued as he turned then, bypassing the couch to head over to the big, overstuffed chair in the corner. "Only chicks smoke that shit."

"I'm tryin' to turn my life around," Bickslow complained. "Cut down on my illegal substance abuse. And what do I get to fill it? You guys verbal abuse. It ain't right!"

"You do smoke those cigars, Laxus," Lisanna commented, going back to her magazine. "So can you really talk about what stinks and what doesn't?"

"Uh, yes, little girl, I can. So shut up."

"I'mma tell Mira you said that to me," she tsked. "You jerk."

Heh.

The slayer only settled into the chair before going back to his music. Until Mirajane showed up, the little get-together was a waste. And, even after she did, it really just depended on if they meshed well or not. Which mostly was reliant on if he got laid at the end of the evening. So, really, it would be a long time before he determined the night a success or not.

Lisanna sat up some then, reaching over to grab her and Bickslow both beers from the coffee table before taking to leaning up against the seith's arm while continuing to look over her magazine. Downing his own beer in one chug (he was planning on having quite a few that night), the seith tossed it towards the kitchen, where Freed was, calling out that he should probably pick that up, less he trip.

Then stupid boss had to go and yell at him about being disrespectful to Freed and his apartment and sorts of stuff that he didn't care about. Bleh! And Lissy said that he had to go pick up the beer can and damn, they were not only the source of his verbal abuse, but also the cause of his drug intake. Completely.

There was a knock at the door not a few minutes later, though Evergreen opened it before it was answered.

"Elfman isn't here, is he?" she asked with evident disdain. Where as Laxus clearly wished for his Strauss, she was dreading her own. "Because-"

"Ever, could you kill someone?" Bickslow asked, not really caring to answer her question.

"Yes. Of course. Now where is Elf-"

"What is wrong with you? All of you?" Freed complained from the kitchen. "Honestly."

"What's more gruesome?" Lisanna kept up. "Watching someone drown? Or shooting them in the head?"

"Drowning," she said to which Bickslow cheered. And, when she passed to go get a glass of wine, he held out a fist for her to bump it. The woman only frowned before going back to ignoring him.

"Your loser boyfriend," Laxus started up as Ever poured herself a glass of wine, "had better not be holdin' my demon up. I only came to be with her, after all."

"Oy, boss," Bickslow complained, purposely trying to annoy Ever by blowing smoke her way. "Words hurt."

"Good."

Evergreen only frowned at her teammate once more. "Are those clove or something?"

"Maybe."

"They smell horrible. And only women smoke those."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"You're just bothering me. Stop bothering me, Ever. Gah! This is why I stay home to get drunk. You heathens. You're all-"

"Calm down a bit, Bicks." Lisanna patted his leg. "You have all night to complain."

She had a point.

"Did you want a beer, Laxus?" Ever asked, only going to claim her spot on the loveseat when he shook his head slightly. He reserved beer serving for the demon. It was their thing.

"What are you doing in there, Feed?" Lisanna called eventually. "Come out here. We're having stimulating conversation."

"I can hear the conversations going on, actually, and I think I'm fine in here, preparing dinner." Then, after a pause, he said, "Someone could come in here and help or-"

"Meh." Bickslow blew smoke at Lisanna then, getting him batted at. "Stimulation going on, buddy."

"Hardly," was his response though, when he really thought about it, their help was probably not something he wanted.

Laxus only blocked them all out as Lisanna and Bickslow went back to their mindless conversations and Ever took to pulling a nail file out and tidying up her fingernails a bit. Freed frequented in and out, but it was of little mind to the slayer. He only watched the door anxiously.

At the sound of a loud pounding against it, he sat to attention a bit, watching as Freed rushed to go open it and reveal…

Elfman.

Ugh.

Laxus shut his eyes and zoned back into his music.

"I knew it," Elfman complained as he came in, bypassing Freed as he glared over at his girlfriend. She only took a gulp from her wineglass with a frown. "You said that they canceled the party, but I knew-"

"I did not say that." Ever gave him a look. "I just said you weren't invited. Difference."

"You-"

"Could you kill someone?" Bickslow asked him.

"Elf?" Lisanna echoed.

"Real men can do anything!"

"Including murder?" his baby sister prompted.

"Of course!"

"I have to find more friends," Freed complained, shutting the door behind the muscular man. "Immediately."

"Riddle me this then," Bickslow continued on, ignoring his teammate. "What's more gruesome? Huh? Shooting someone in the face like a punk? Or watching them slowly drown?"

Elfman didn't even think about it as he passed, headed down the hall to the bathroom, apparently. "Shooting."

"Ha!" Lisanna held up her hand for a high-five which her brother obliged. "Two to one, Bickslow."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, going right back to smoking.

Elfman and Ever got in a few more jabs when he returned from the bathroom, over her apparent attempt to foil him coming as well as the fact that he (in her opinion) was eating far too many of the appetizers and wasn't sharing well and why did she always have to be on his ass anyways, which led to an unwell received joke from Bickslow as well as giggle from Lisanna, only to be broken up, once more, by a knock at the door. Elfman was already heading back to the bathroom though, as, honestly, it was his only safe haven from the madness that was his, apparent, group of friends. Heh.

Finally. Laxus tried hard not to show how relieved he was as Freed, once more, came to open the door for his woman.

"You brought something," Freed remarked in shock at the covered dish in the eldest Strauss' arms. "What is it?"

"Just a casserole," she giggled as she handed it off to him. "I thought that-"

"Demon," Laxus announced loudly, making her glance his way. "What took you?"

"I had to finish work, silly," she giggled as she slipped off her coat. "That's all."

"Sis," Lisanna prompted, glancing her way. "Could you kill someone?"

"Oh, dear," she began as Freed headed out of the room, feeling relieved by the start of her sentence. Then she had to finish it. "Yes. Of course."

"What?" He almost dropped the casserole. "Mirajane-"

"Hmmm?"

"You too?" The letter mage shook his head. "Honestly. This is just-"

"If someone I loved was in danger," she said as she went over to the table to pick at the crackers and cheese that Elfman had somehow managed to not gobble down, "and the situation couldn't be resolved with a good finger wagging-"

"That's why you're my demon," Laxus remarked.

"-and," Mirajane went on, "deadly force had to be used, then I would use it. What other choice would I have?"

"No one said anything about a loved one being in danger," Freed argued. "At all."

"But no one said anything about it not being involved either," the barmaid told him simply before popping a cracker in her mouth.

While Freed was considering this, Bickslow and Lisanna got right back to business.

Blowing smoke at the woman, which about got him strangled by his idol, the seith asked, "What's more gruesome? Watching someone lose their life by drowning slowly as you watch over them or-"

"Or," his girlfriend took over, staring at her sister with their matching deep blues. "Is it more gruesome to hold a gun to someone's head and shoot it, right between the eyes, and the last thing they see before the bullet, like, pierces the brain your face?"

Mira popped in another cracker before saying, "Drowning. Totally."

"What?" Lisanna exclaimed. "Sis-"

"Ha!" He held out a fist and, that time, it was honored as Mirajane bumped her fist against it with a giggle. "We are now completely...tied." Then he sat back in defeat, blowing smoke once more. "Damn it."

Mirajane, not completely sure what they were talking about, just as quickly was turning to head over to Laxus. The man held up a hand though.

"You're forgetting something," he said as she crossed the room, forcing her to stop.

"What?" The barmaid frowned, if only for a moment, before glancing at where he was nodding. The table. "You want… Oh. A beer."

"Mmmhmm." He even grinned, just a bit. "It's our thing."

Yeah. Their 'thing'. Ugh. As if Mirajane didn't get tired of bringing people beers. Still, she did it with a smile before there was no point in doing it any other way. Going to perch herself on his lap, Mirajane gave him a kiss as well as the beer, the dragon responding well to both. He'd been training for the past two days and she'd had work. To finally have some time together was nice.

Even if it was in front of all the others…

"How was work?" Laxus asked as she settled into his hold.

"Mmmm," Mira hummed, "not bad. I guess."

"That's good."

"Not bad," Lisanna corrected from the couch. "She didn't say good. Dummy."

Glaring over at where the youngest Strauss was seated, Laxus said simply, "Just for that, I retract my statement. I think that drowning is way-"

"You can't do that!"

"Yes, he can!" Bickslow fist pumped. "Ha! Boss! You're the best!"

"It is one of the titles I go by, sure," he agreed as Mirajane only frowned at him. "What? I do."

"For what it's worth," Ever spoke up, still messing with her nails. "If we get to change answers, I'm on Lisanna's side."

"Really?" the young woman asked. "You mean-"

"Don't get too excited." She did glance up then, just to glare over at the youngest Strauss. "It's just because it's the opposite of Bickslow. So-"

"Arg! You can't do that!" The seith took to rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands, visor setting down on the table next to the appetizers. "You monster!"

"Laxus just did the exact same-"

"Yeah, Ever, but he's boss and he can do whatever the hell he wants!"

Laxus sat up taller. "Again, he is correct, so-"

That time, Mirajane spoke as well. "Within reason."

"Well, that was implied," Bickslow assured her. "Boss can do whatever Mrs. Boss says, sure but-"

That got a growl from the dragon and a giggle from the demon, but it was Elfman that spoke up, as he came from the bathroom finally.

"It's a stupid question anyways," the man said as, cautiously, he came to take his place next to Evergreen on the loveseat, both scooting away from the center, as to be as far away from one another as possible. "With stupid answers. A real man would strangle another man with his bare hands!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, dude." Bickslow was glancing around then. "Where did Freed get off to?"

"Kitchen, I think," Lisanna told him. "To put Mira's casserole-"

"Freed!" the seith called out, his babies taking suit. "Dude, which is more gruesome? To watch someone-"

"I am not playing."

"Come on."

"No."

"If you play we'll find a different topic," Lisanna sang. "Just be a tie-breaker."

"Freed, are you in there cooking?" Mira was far more concerned with that. "Alone? Why are you guys- Laxus."

"Nope," he said as she tried to escape his grasp. "You're staying put."

"You-"

"I mean it."

"Please, Freed?" Lisanna continued, though by that point she was busy fllipping through that magazine once more. "It would mean a lot to us. You want this to be a good party, right?"

"Some party," Elfman complained.

"It was before you showed up," Ever volleyed.

"You-"

"If it will stop the two of them from starting up again," the letter mage sighed as, once more, he stepped out of the kitchen, "I suppose I can offer my opinion."

"Oh, great." Bickslow snickered. "Go ahead, buddy. Crush Lissy's dreams. Bros before...other...bros...hoes...err-"

"Quite honestly," the green haired man went on, glaring at the couch Lisanna and Bickslow were seated on. They were the only two paying him any attention as Ever and Elfman were trying very hard not to look at one another while making it very clear to the other that they purposely weren't looking at them and Mirajane and Laxus were doing that weird thing where she nuzzle up to him and he'd just let her, as he sipped on his beer, content in one another and it was just so disgusting that, ugh, no one wanted to see that.

At all.

Except them.

And even then, not if it was another couple.

"I don't think that either are quite that gruesome," Freed finished.

"But that's not-" Lisanna tried, though he only spoke right over her.

"Gruesome," he told them, "would be something far more sadistic than something simple like those two things. Such as dismemberment or cannibalism or dismemberment and cannibalism, with a live victim-"

"Okay, Freed," Laxus finally complained as Mirajane shifted uncomfortably in his lap, glancing the letter mage's way. "We get it. They're idiots. Don't be gross."

"How is that gross? I am merely participating in the conversation-"

"You're such a freak, Freed," Ever sighed. "Honestly."

"How am I-"

"Yeah, dude, too far." Bickslow blew some smoke his way. "Creep."

"You were all just talking about how you could kill someone!"

"But not eat them," Lisanna said, shifting closer to Bickslow. "What exactly did you make us for dinner? Huh? Another human body?"

"No! Of course not. I never said I was the anthropophagite!"

"Maybe not," Elfman agreed. "But I'm nearly certain I heard you say you were a cannibal."

"They're the same thing!"

"Ha!" Bickslow held up a finger. "You admit it."

"This...this is what I get then? For planning this party for you all?"

"No," Lisanna said slowly. "This is what you get for eating human flesh and trying to feed it to us."

"You are being- Mirajane. You have to tell them how foolish they're all being."

She only gave him a slight shrug. "You did kinda grin when you talked about dismemberment and cannibal-"

"I did not even want to talk about any of this! You all-"

"Of course not," Lisanna agreed. "What cannibal wants to talk about being a cannibal? And hey, you know, Lucy and Natsu sure have been gone on their job for a long time."

"Did you eat 'em, Freed? Hmmm?" Bickslow tsked. "Happy too? They were Lissy's best friends! Now I'm gonna have to spend even more time with her and that's just going to be...well… No, yeah, they were probably the best people in the hall to eat. Good going, man."

"I didn't eat them! I-"

"Alright, alright," Laxus complained as Mirajane, slowly, snuggled back into him. "You guys had your fun. Let Freed go back to cooking. And quickly."

"Awe." Mirajane patted his tummy. "Are you hungry, dragon?"

"Famished."

"Do we have to?" Lisanna complained. "We were just working up to a joke about Ever being a man-eater too."

"Were we?" Bickslow asked.

"Well, I was. I figured you'd jump in."

"Oh, no, I'dda called her a manwhore. But any who-"

"Look, you little punk," his female teammate started as Laxus only growled and turned his headset up, as to block out the rest. Mirajane though just stared in shock, finished with the teasing of Freed as another crisis took precedence; namely, how to get Bickslow out of that one alive. "You had better-"

"Real men would speak to a woman's boyfriend!" Elfman challeneged, getting to his feet. Lisanna blinked at this, surprised, but Bickslow only snickered.

"Is he your man now, Ever?" he taunted. "Huh? Elfman is Ever's man?"

"Shut up! And Elfman, you shut up too!"

"Me?" He growled then, but it had nothing on Laxus. Absolutely nothing. "I'm defending your honor!"

"I have none for you to defend!"

"Hear that, Bicks?" Lisanna snickered. "Ever has no honor."

"And no taste in men," he agreed which, of course, got Elfman and Ever to yell at him some more, which, really, was well enough for Freed. As always, it seemed that they were all better arguing.

Or picking on him. He was, after all, the odd man out.

He'd probably been in the kitchen for a good, on, minute and a half when Laxus had enough and unleashed on them all. Except the demon. About how stupid and childish and annoying they were. And if they didn't shut the hell up, right then, he was ending the party and making them all go home without dinner.

Which was very odd, considering there was no way that the man could possibly impose a food ban on them, but then again, why push it? Huh?

"And damn it, Bickslow, if you don't put that damn cigarette or whatever the hell it is out, I'll shove it up your- No, Mira. I will. I'm serious."

"Just shhh," the woman said, gently rubbing his arm. "And relax a bit. Everyone. Please."

Which, of course, put a big damper on dinner. Freed didn't have a formal dining area, leaving them all to eat in the living room, plates in their laps. Well, Mirajane and Laxus actually shared a plate, but that wasn't very special. They did that in most situations. It gave Mirajane a chance to eat more than she would admit to, after all.

For a long time, they ate in silence. Even Bickslow's babies found it best to just float around quietly, not even making their nonsensical noises. Freed had joined their master on the couch, the seith sitting between his best friend and girlfriend, mostly, honestly, craving a smoke.

It was while Ever and Elfman were purposely not trying to touch as they ate that Lisanna, who was picking at her food for the most part, tentatively spoke.

"I," she said slowly, "for one love your dinner, Freed."

Softly, he said, "Thank you."

"It has just a hint of...Dragon Slayer with, what is that? An Exceed?"

Bickslow didn't even have to glance at her to take her lead. "I taste a blonde chick, but that's just me."

"Well, I definitely detect a bit of wings in here-"

"Nope. That's some celestial wizardry right here."

For a good twenty seconds it was silent, Mirajane glancing up at Laxus who was staring as blankly at them as ever while Freed held his breath and Elfman braced for whatever came next.

Only no one could prepare for it.

Ever, in her attempt to stifle what they assumed would have been a laugh, tried to take a sip from her wineglass, though that didn't work as she ended up snorting it up and through her nose and there it was. Everyone was laughing then, except her, but that wasn't too unusual, and Laxus was more of just staring, but not with as aggressive of a glare.

"It's not funny," Ever hissed, getting up to storm off to the bathroom. "You jerks."

And just like that, Elfman stopped laughing, realizing just what the indiscretion would mean for him. Sure, it'd broke the ice for everyone else, but him? Oh, he'd be hearing about how it was somehow his fault for, at least, the rest of the night. If not the next day as well.

Lisanna and Bickslow though couldn't stop laughing. Mira had, but was grinning and Freed was just watching them at that point, but it was all good.

"I bet Natsu would taste like fire," Lisanna remarked then to which Bickslow nodded.

"Just like boss would taste like electricity."

"What does electricity taste like?" Mira asked slowly.

"I don't know," he said before, with a devilish grin, asking, "Why don't you tell us?"

"Why would I-"

"Never mind, Mira," Laxus groaned. "Just let it go."

"But- Oh. Ew. Bickslow!" Mira complained when she, finally, understand

Lisanna almost dropped her plate from laughter. Freed, who'd just gotten his carpets cleaned, was rather glad she didn't.

"I would question why now cannibalism is funny," the letter mage complained, going back to his dinner. "But I'm sure I won't like the response."

"It was always funny," Bickslow told him.

"Yeah," Lisanna agreed, nodding her head. "Always."

"Of course it is," the other man sighed, with a shake of his head. "Of course."

"I have never...tasted Laxus," Mirajane complained, apparently still hung up on that. "Like bitten a piece of his flesh or-"

"You've gotten as close to it as you possibly can, I'm sure," they heard then from the hall as Ever returned, apparently pissed at all of them.

"What was that?" Laxus growled as she headed back over to the loveseat. "Ever?"

Not all of them, apparently. "I was just…well..."

"Apologizing to my demon?" he prompted to which she only bowed her head and mumbled something of the likes out.

And Lisanna, thoroughly proud of herself for saving the party, as always, sat back with a grin while Bickslow, who was equally convinced that he'd done the same thing, pulled a cigarette to light up as celebration. Elfman was softly comforting Ever about then, about how it was totally everyone's fault, but her own, that she'd snorted wine out of her nose, which pretty much meant he was the savior of them all.

All being turned to stone, that is.

Then there was Mirajane, who had managed before to keep Laxus from slaughtering them all and, well, was there more a savior of a party than the person that kept the other party-goers from being murdered?

Was there?

Laxus was sitting there too, ever the leader of them all, even the Strausses, whether they chose to subscribe to this philosophy or not, knowing that it was truly him that brought them all together and, therefore, was the only one that mattered, much less had the ability to make things better.

It wasn't until the end of the night though, as they all sat around, drinking themselves into losing their inhibitions that would probably lead to Laxus trying to hookup with Mirajane in all of the following places, yet not limited to, the bathroom, the guest bedroom, Freed's bedroom, and the kitchen and Mirajane chewing him out about it every single time (before just settling for the guest bedroom, probably, where they'd more than likely make out heavily for a bit before blacking out) and Bickslow and Lisanna to falling asleep in the most random of places (after one party, Bickslow woke up in the shower stall, fully clothed, with no recollection of why he'd gone in there to begin with), while Ever would demand to leave, oh, once an hour on the hour and Elfman, far drunker than them all (being with Ever, he deserved it), to yelling about men and being loud and just, ugh.

Why did Freed keep agreeing to babysit- err, hosting their get-togethers? Why?

It was then though, with them all relaxed and drinking, that Freed remembered that it was him who was truly the one that kept the party together. Or all of them together. As a group, at least, as they seemed to work in their couples pretty well, but not all as one. He might not be integral to everything they did and, at times even, felt rather left out, but he was a good middleman for them.

"If one of us was a canna...cann… If one of us ate people," Lisanna announced to them all at one point, mostly Bickslow, as no one else was listening, just more of drinking and ignoring. "It'd totally be Freed. Right? Guys?"

Mirajane was in that funny phase of drunk that she only got at parties like that and was so giggly and all over Laxus that no one, but him seemed to understand what she said. But Bickslow nodded his head.

"Totally," he agreed. "Freed the Dark. What's darker than that?"

"Actually," Freed began, about to list off just what was darker than that, but stopped, suddenly, realizing it would only be used against him. For the night he was having, being accused of eating another human was, actually, probably the best he was going to get. "Yes. Completely. It would be me."

Evergreen, who was stretched out on the loveseat, head in Elfman's lap and legs hanging over the edge, hardly peeked open her eyes. "Called it."

Laxus' voice was muffled as it was pressed against Mirajane's neck, from what the others could make out, he only said, "Knock it off," or something of the sort. But then Mirajane was giggling again and wow; it was about time for him to proposition her to sneak off and screwing.

Elfman just growled though. "Real men don't eat other men!"

"But if you ate another man," Bickslow offered up, more sober than the others, only through the sheer fact that he typically drank far more often, "then wouldn't you assume his powers? Or something?"

"In what world?" Lisanna asked.

"I don't know. Maybe this one. But no one ever knows because we refuse to eat one another."

"He says things like that," Freed griped, if only halfway, "yet I am the one that's called a cannibal."

"That's such a cannibal thing to say, Freed," Lisanna complained. Her boyfriend just nodded.

"Completely."

And oh, one day, they wouldn't have those free nights, where they just sat around and did nothing together. One day, even, Freed would find other friends. Ones that didn't vomit all over his bathroom from drinking too much in the middle of the night, or attempt to hookup in random parts of his house, and definitely ones that didn't spill wine on his nicely cleaned carpet.

But...just not that day.

Or one any time soon.