#banged and yelled and called out her name knowing it was pointless

[cent-scratchnsniff]

almost forgot about this. made as soon as i finished reading day 48 and booted down my laptop . good god. not quite sure what happened with this. it was something to the effect of 'oh. god he really loved didn't he.' in full force AGAIN. the parts of banging on the door, doors in general, just carmen as a whole other thing, the yelling, the want to die to sink to be forgotten. yeah. that was a trip. carmen... i know you meant well with your words but he took it LITERALLY......

[ms-cartoon]

HB Western Energy, Rant Review

Okay, imma just go ahead and jump straight into it....

-- Stolas and Stella barking at each other like a couple of high schoolers. Calling each other names n stuff. Even Stella yelling “F*CKISH. IMP. SUCKER!!” Okay... is she mad about the affair or not? I mean, yeah... we kinda learn that she doesn’t care about that and had always hated Stolas (even then, it still doesn’t make sense given how this was written) But she yelled that with such anger in her voice and she keeps calling him things that go along the lines of either banging an imp or being a cheater. She even called a hitman on him while referring to him as a “cheating prick!” All I’m saying is, if she really hated Stolas from the get-go and if she actually doesn’t care about the affair, then make her act like it. I don’t even think she should even care about who he did it with. Even if she was embarrassed about it being with an imp, it’s not that serious. Especially when she already hates him. The writers are just making her unnecessarily petty.

-- Speaking of the bickering, I can’t even take these two seriously anymore with the way they’re fighting. Once again, I feel like I’m looking at immature high schoolers cussing and throwing childish insults at each other. This was not the kind of dynamic I was expecting at all. And this was supposed to be the abusive relationship we’re expected to cry for Stolas over??? The writers were making it seem like Stolas was the sensitive one in the relationship the entire time, afraid of standing up to her. He could’ve thrown her out a long time ago if it was that simple.

-- Man... the C word is being spat out more than the f-bombs in this episode!

-- We see from Stolas’s phone that he’s planning to have a meeting with Asmodeus soon. This is probably about the whole crystal thing to give to Blitzo in the future so he could FINALLY drop the deal about giving the grimoire back in exchange for sex. How much you wanna bet this meeting with Asmodeus is a pointless plot hole waiting to happen until the last minute? I can just tell by the way the scheduled meeting on Stolas’s phone was shown to us in a blink of an eye and it wasn’t even that important.

-- Stolas: Cheating implies there was a betrayal. This woman never gave two sh*ts about me or very much our arranged marriage.” 

Oh jeezus... less than 40 seconds in and this episode already pissed off with the bullsh*t. These writers are seriously telling us “It’s okay that Stolas cheated on his wife, cuz she never liked him anyway.” Well, OF COURSE NOW we know she never liked him! Of course, NOW it’s revealed she abused Stolas the whole time they were married! I mean after all, how else is Viv gonna let Stolas slip by and have him be in the right EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME!!! As if all of his flaws from season 1 to the last episode just never happened and now suddenly, he did nothing wrong and his affair is completely justified when it shouldn’t be. Y’all can see it how you wanna see it, but cheating is cheating and it’s wrong!! It doesn’t matter if Stella never loved him or he never loved her. If he really couldn’t stand her, he could’ve just divorced her when he had the chance too. It’s not like anything was stopping him from before. You could say Octavia was the main reason why he stayed, but he and Stella already fight in front of her!! She was already not happy with this family to begin with since the first season. And besides, how can we even say that cheating on Stella was excusable when Octavia was obviously affected by it?? He may not have cared about how Stella felt, but what about Octavia!!?? His DAUGHTER!??

-- Stella in the first episode of the second season made it seem like the whole divorce thing was gonna be a big deal like it was a whole violation to the Goetia demons and Stolas was breaking a rule, but so far... the divorce did nothing. All we see is her bickering with him more and demanding her belongings back from the mansion. She never even liked him from the beginning anyway, what would make her so upset about the divorce? What does she have to lose from it? The power? The money, the status?? I mean, she would lose her status as a queen... but that’s it. Aside from that, she’s still a noble and she’s rich. She shouldn’t have anything to worry about. And she mentioned her brother as if he wasn’t to be messed with. Like he was gonna be angry and come after Stolas for having the audacity to divorce his sister. But all I see is a pompous peacock who just wants money and doesn’t care at all about Stella’s divorce... Why would they even be asking for money or power????  They’re already rich as hell!!! What else could they possibly want to gain from Stolas?? Just more money???? Wha- do they want the kind of status that Stolas has; a demon prince? Cuz, I don’t think that’s how it works. Even if they did have motives for trying to get what they want, those motives don’t even make any sense. They’re trying to rid Stolas of possessions that they already own. So this whole motivation for keeping Stolas alive along with the conversation that they had is pointless. From where it stands even from the second season, Viv is just making Stella and Andre evil for no reason. She only wants them to be evil without thinking it through and to make Stolas look good.

-- We’re barely a minute in this episode and we jump straight to Striker breaking in, shooting, and kidnapping Stolas! That introduction had no build-up whatsoever. It happened so swiftly, I couldn’t even keep up!! This episode is already so rushed and fast-paced, and Andrealphus didn’t even get a proper first appearance. Like the show showed us Andre spoke for two seconds without a good first appearance. Almost as if he’s already made his appearance before, and this is our first time seeing him in the show and hearing his voice.

-- I find it funny how in the festival episode, Striker was being a little slick in his assassination attempt; hiding in his room before shooting at Stolas from a far distance, which seems like a more clever and cleaner way to go about it. But in THIS episode, he wastes no time just BARGING with his horse through the window, making a scene, and shooting bullets head-on right then and there??? And now he’s just straight-up being messy with it? Plus, now that Stolas can see he’s being shot at, he’s able to dodge every bullet coming his way, making it difficult for Striker to kill him. This wouldn’t have been so hard have Striker gone about it the way he did back at the festival; he could’ve hidden somewhere, shot Stolas, and BOOM mission complete. Why is he being so extra with it??? And he’s supposed to be an assassin??

-- Striker: *Somehow, shoots a bullet through Stolas’s hat.*

Well damn, no wonder this dude couldn’t shoot him. He got no aim.....

-- Why does Stolas keep dodging and flying from Striker anyway? All he has to do is look at him and turn him into stone. Frikin’ turn into a huge demon if you have to. Use your telekinesis to stop the bullets!! Now this so-called “prince” got tied into a knot by angelic ropes that restricts his powers when he should’ve been able to save his own ass. “Oh dear, the is worrisome.” Yeah, no sh*t buddy... 

-- Even though he’s tied up, Stolas managed to pick up his phone and contact Blitzo. His powers are secured, fine. But his hands, legs, and feet are still free. He could literally just jump off of Striker’s horse using his legs and feet while they’re still on the ground and try to free himself with his hands.

-- Stolas: “I seem to have been stolen by that little cowboy friend of yours.”

 Moxxie: “Can you describe him, your highness?” 

Stolas: *Looks at Striker* “Sexy?” 

 Just say his name!!! You already know who he is!! You announced him back at the harvest moon festival! And you’ve seen him there!!! How come you don’t remember who he is all of a sudden??? yeah, “Good memory” my a**! And why is “Sexy” the first thing that comes to mind when you’re describing him?? I guess he doesn��t completely mark Blitzo as a single-target sexuality. And how come Moxxie immediately knows who Stolas is talking about when he was describing him? Does Moxxie think Striker looks sexy??? Like bro, your wife is right beside you!! LOL!

-- Stolas to Blitzo: I think you should come save me.”

Dude... just try to break free from the ropes and jump off the horse!!! Your hands and legs are free!! Stop being such a damsel waiting for your knight in shining armor. This is just another excuse to have Blitzo come and save you when there are other options.

-- Loona doesn’t say a word in this, but I’m not gonna b*tch about it like I do with everything else. Her voice actress’s fiance passed away due to cancer recently I believe, and she’s been going through it. So sorry for your loss, Erica! I hope all is well and you’re doing okay!

-- This whole comedic side plot with Blitzo and Loona seemed a little boring and I barely cracked a laugh. Nowadays, the Brandon Rodgers comedy is much more funny in his youtube videos than him as a cartoon character. There are more f-bombs in his dialogue than there is any character in him. Literally, any time he’s provoked, he pulls out his guns and attempts to murder someone, and it’s usually not even that serious. Not gonna lie, it kinda annoys me at this point. It wasn’t funny to me when they were in Hollywood, especially when he was going through some serious trauma which caused his rampage in the first place and we were supposed to be sad for him, so it definitely doesn’t make me laugh now.  And they try to force a Karen character into this to make it more funny, but- I’m sorry. It doesn’t work for me. 

-- Blitzo keeps complaining that he and Loona have to wait every 5 years to get a shot in the hospital, which I’m assuming is supposed to be a joke saying that all hospitals are a drag and super slow. I’m sorry? 5 years??? That’s a bit of a stretch! As far as my knowledge goes, most hospitals do take the time to schedule appointments for their clients. Even when it does take long, well... fairly enough, they do have a lot of clients to get through in at least one year. You can’t fully blame them for taking their time. It’s not like they’re being lazy. So yeah, I wouldn’t really make fun of that.

-- This little b plot shouldn’t even be in this episode anyway! This whole side plot was supposed to be comedic, but it just doesn’t fit at all when we’re dealing with a serious situation of Stolas being kidnapped and about to get killed. And the fact that we keep cutting away from this plot back to back is even worse! I think it makes more since to give Millie and Moxxie more attention than to continuously show the shenanigans happening with Blitzo and Loona. Either that or save the whole “Loona’s shot” thing for another episode and instead have Blitzo join Moxxie and Millie in saving Stolas. Loona doesn’t have any lines in this anyway, so she doesn’t even have to be in this episode.

-- The lady at the counter says she couldn’t read but was able to find Blitzo’s name on her paper sheets just fine with no issue. Clearly they didn’t think this dialogue through. What, does she have short-term memory? How was she even hired??

-- This whole folk song about Striker is so stupid. It’s honestly pretty forgettable. For real though, how come this dude suddenly has a reputation for being the most badass assassin in the West??? This episode is pretty much showing us that he is very well-known amongst all the demons. But aren’t most assassins supposed to be... idk, secretive??? Plus, if everyone already knows about him, how come Millie’s parents didn’t know who he was before they hired him as a farm hand??? And why is he suddenly a famous assassin?? Wasn’t he supposed to be some random imp who was hired by Stella to kill someone? This is just a whole other retcon. Goddamn it, I am so sick of all these retcons!!

-- I’m so glad Striker shut them up. That was the only part in this whole episode to make me laugh.

-- I honestly forget that Millie and Moxxie are even in this episode. I’m sorry- are these two just meant to be the supporting cast now??? Are they only just there to show everybody how cute of a couple they are? Cuz we already know this!!! So M&M are the ones to go and save Stolas because they have to “settle a score” with Striker.... What exactly is it that you have to settle with Striker? The loss of your fight with him?? Okay, sure, but I still don’t know why they feel the need to “settle a score” with him. It’s not like he did anything that they held a grudge against. Millie’s leg almost got amputated cuz of him, but that’s it. She’s walking just fine, otherwise. And Moxxie did feel inferior to Striker, but it was nothing serious (plus he continues to feel inferior with no kind of build up. So that whole plot alone was pointless). I just feel like there’s not much bad blood between them to settle a score for. It makes more sense for Blitzo to go rescue Stolas while M&M assisted him. And besides, Moxxie and Millie trying to fight off Striker didn’t exactly end well the last time. Blitzo shouldn’t have any trust in them to take care of him themselves. The only reason why they succeeded in this episode is because.... plot.

-- Of course, we just have to have some other pointless conflict that happens and is concluded in a blink of an eye. So Millie puts a cowboy hat on Moxxie and they stop to get gas. While Millie walks around and asks questions, some random a**hole confronts Moxxie about the hat he’s wearing and assumed he stole one of his simply because it looks like the one he’s wearing. Did it ever occur to this moron that most hats just look similar to each other? Why is he getting his d*ck in a twist over some stupid headwear?

-- OH F*CK OFF WITH THIS!!! So now Moxxie is suddenly a strong badass and could brawl with more than two people twice his size!!??? Where the hell was THIS when he was fighting Striker the first time or in the last episode!!!?? Like, can he fight or not!!??? This just does not make sense to me, especially when his whole character is about him not being a very skilled fighter like his wife or Blitzo. Not only is Millie an on-and-off fighter when the plot wants her to be, but so is her husband? Gimme a break!!

-- Stolas: “Wouldn’t a holy bullet have sufficed? Or could you not afford those?”

Stolas is technically bringing up the fact the imps are the lowest ranking and hardly have any cash on them. The show keeps telling us that imps are the poorest of the poor, but they sure as hell aren’t poor enough to own a whole circus (*cough* Blitzo’s dad *cough*). Not to mention Blitzo had a pretty high-paying job and could rent a whole office. Seems like to me that the imps are living pretty average for a species being the lowest rank. 

Wait... Is Striker an Imp or a snake?

-- Striker: I was paid to give you the real royal treatment.

Mm, no... You were paid to just shoot him (yet another retcon). All you’re doing is pointlessly dragging this mission by torturing him when you could literally just pull the frikin trigger and put a bullet in his head. Shut up with the edgy monologue and kill him!! 

-- WTF!!!

-- Stolas decides NOW to try to turn Striker into stone... That should’ve been done already, buddy!

-- Does this kink really get turned on in bed by getting painfully tortured, having his limbs broken and impaled n sh*t?? WHY DOES BLITZO STAB STOLAS AND BREAK HIS BONES WHILE HAVING SEX IN BED????!!!! LIKE Y’ALL, I CANT-

-- Why they gotta make my girl Stella so dumb in this show? I’m not surprised in the least (though I was hoping it wasn’t the case), but it honestly just irritates me more with what they’re doing to her. So Andrealphus reminds her that if she get’s Stolas killed, she would get nothing. But why does Stella have to be told that?? She should already know this! And why is she being all “Tee hee hee” and childish about all this anyways?? Yeah, Stolas gets to die and that’s what she wanted, but she’s being all giggles about it and she turns into a little brat and whines when told she can’t kill him and I can’t even take her seriously. I was expecting her to act much more sinister and serious. What happened to her hot-temper that could easily get provoked?? Idk that just rubbed me the wrong way.

Andre: When Stolas dies, his duties, his possessions, his legions, it will all pass to... Via.”

-- Okay... so what? It’s not like Stella even cares about that, as far as we’ve seen. All she ever did was throw parties and talk sh*t about Stolas. She doesn’t care at all about fulfilling any duties Stolas had to take care of. She’s never even been interested in the book. What exactly has she done that was even remotely Goetia-like? Ma’am just hates her ex and wants him to die.

-- Okay, first off.... eww! What is this?? Like dude- back up! What is this incest sh*t I’m lookin’ at? I don’t like this. Viv, plz don’t!!

-- Andre: I say we bide our time, and wait for the chance to gain the upper-hand.”

B*tch, what are you talkin’ about! You already had the upper-hand. And you’re sister clearly doesn’t care about Stolas’s possessions or power. She doesn’t even care that her daughter gets to obtain that. She just wants him dead. If anything, it just seems like YOU want what Stolas has and is only controlling your sister.

-- Can we PLEASE stop going in and out of Loona and Blitzo and just focus on the fight scene with M&M vs Striker! The stupid side plot doesn’t even fit with this episode! This is supposed to be a serious moment with Striker kidnapping Stolas and keeping Moxxie and Millie out the way, yet at the same time were expected to laugh and giggle at Loona escaping the wrath of a frikin needle!!!??? And the stupid girly pop music doesn’t even help!

-- Why her butt?..... Out of all the places to give her a shot??? 

-- Striker: “Oh I remember how easy you are to choke the life out of, little one.”

Moxxie: *Getting choked by Striker* Harder!

Umm, excuse me, sir? WTF!!! Is Viv making these little jokes a trope now!!? Why does Moxxie have a kink!?? He’s not even a very sexual person!! I dunno if he was just doing that to throw Striker off or somethin, but WHAT IN THE HELL!!?? And why did Striker immediately let go, feeling disgusted!!??? Bro, you made a statue with a literal stick-shaped boner???!!! This should NOT have caught you off-guard so easily!!!

-- When something is falling and is about to come crashing onto you, you do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES walk forward! You could literally just jump to the side.

-- I don’t know if Striker is dead or not, but if he is, Then way to go, Viv! You may have just killed off a character that was even slightly interesting. If you're gonna make a character and have him get this popular only to kill him off, at least venture him a little bit first!! This was only his second debut in the show and we hardly gotten anything from his character! There wasn’t much backstory to him or anything. Just that he was a bigot who was hired to kill Stolas and HATES nobles!  And Striker even mentioned that there was someone he cared about taken away from him by the upper class. It raised wonders why he felt so much hatred for the rich folk and we won’t even get to explore that cuz he may have possibly died. I may not care much about him, but there were still some things I noticed about Striker that I found interesting and they needed to be explored. 

With him and Moxxie, I still feel like there wasn’t much score to settle between them. To me, they don’t have much of a dynamic at all, and they were supposed to be rivals. In fact, their second meeting felt rushed. The second Millie and Moxxie barged in, Moxxie just went ahead and pulled a trigger on him without saying a word. We don’t even get to hear any dialoge between them. It’s fighting, fighting, and more fighting. There wasn’t even much of an enemy relationship between them. Actually, Striker seems to have more of an adversary with Blitzo. And what about him and Blitzo??? The writers made it seem like Striker had a pretty big impact on him; from when he tried convincing him to join forces because they were so similar in certain ways to Blitzo hallucinating him in his trip dream. With the conversation they had at the festival, Striker was manipulating his insecurities. And that apparently affected Blitzo, because an episode later, he was dreaming about Striker tormenting him, along with Moxxie, Verosika, Fizz, and Stolas. So yeah, was kinda expecting to see some more interactions between those two. Neither of them didn’t even get to speak to each other this whole episode!! Its like I said, Blitzo should’ve joined Moxxie and Millie in Stolas’s rescue.

-- So Stolas is injured and is rushed to the hospital. Blitzo finds out about the and asks the most stupidest-a** question to have put have ever been put in this dialogue....

-- WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN!?!?!?! 

Of course he can get hurt!!! You already know that, you stupid d*ck!!! Why else did you point the gun at Striker before he killed Stolas back at the festival!! You obviously knew he would get hurt if he was shot!! What did you think that Angelic Weapon was made for??!!!! Whatever happened to that weapon anyway? We don’t ever get to see that again at all? Judging from Moxxie’s reaction, the gun seemed like a very rare weapon in hell and is impossible to get. How did Striker even get his hands on it? We don’t even get to explore that?

-- So, as it turns out, the aftermath between Stolas and Blitzo in the Ozzie’s episode actually did occur....

......through text messages *face-palm*

Jesus christ on a bicycle..... The way this was addressed was a literal blink and a miss!! I HATED IT!! I didn’t even realize this was the aftermath until I saw it on twitter!!! So you mean to tell me we don’t get to explore what happened with them after Ozzie’s ON SCREEN at all???? They never even directly talked about what happened??? Are you for real, Viv?? Like- i-is this your way of shutting us up? Like you knew we were curious about what happened between them and decided to half-ass your way out of this by showing a bunch of text messages and moving forward?? Are you THIS lazy!!!!??? They’re not even fully conversing through these messages. If anything, Stolas is the main one doing all the talking while is Blitzo barely responding to him.

-- Dear lordy.... and reading messages don’t even make it better. Stolas is dumbed down deeper than his ex, bro!!! Obviously, he didn’t learn a DAMN THING!!!

Stolas: “You seem very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sorry if anything I said or did may have offended you tonight.”

F*CKING WHA--!! He says it as if he has no clue why Blitzo was mad at him or if he was upset with him at all! Um, b*tch... HE TOLD YOU WHY!!! Like to your face, he said, “Don’t act like that what we have is anything but you wanting me to f*ck you. You make that pretty clear all the time.” And you invited him in your house to cuddle with him knowing damn well he wasn’t in the mood!! You should already know why he’s upset! 

Im sor- Is this another retcon or something?? Were we supposed to see it how Stolas saw it? That Blitzo was upset for some unknown reason and we just can’t figure it out? Are we just gonna act like Stolas had done absolutely NOTHING wrong and he’s just an oh-so-innocent uwu baby bird? Are we gonna act like Blitzo didn’t just call out Stolas, spelling out the exact justified reason why he was mad?? Cuz that’s exactly how this text message scene is acting like!! Like their dialogue only revolves around what during their date and not what happened after that. Why is Stolas even talking about what happened at just Ozzie’s?! There was much more to the situation that affected him after he was dropped off. He was crying on his porch when Blitzo pushed him away. But now the show is not even gonna have them explore that in their messages. And now Viv is not even gonna have Stolas be considerate of Blitzo feelings and know why he’s mad? As if all they did was go their separate ways without saying a word instead of Blitzo dropping Stolas off at his house!!

And he goes on to say this-

“I’m glad that Ozzie’s is not the case of you being upset. I wasn’t upset either. I actually thought it was funny. It didn’t embarrass me at all.”

Okay... first off, what happened at Ozzie’s DID make him upset. YOU were just another one of those reasons. And you ain’t find sh*t funny, you were embarrassed just by BEING THERE with him, hence another reason why he’s mad at you! Like- Seriously?? What is happening right now?? Are all of us watching the same episode!!!??? Why is Stolas acting like such an oblivious and clingy idiot with the long-ass at paragraphs??

-- Okay yall... I’m done.

*Sigh* Okay.

This episode was... well it was somethin'. I'm not gonna say whether I like it or not, though the latter might be obvious enough.

I say the only thing I liked a little about it was Stella. Which is why I'm SUPER disappointed with how her character was written so far. If she were to actually be a character, I would like her more without going, "Oh Jesus... how are they gonna butcher her this time?"



Stella is as one-noted as ever! And there were a couple of traits they added to her character that is just so irritating-- Like, I can't take her seriously anymore. Viv doesn't change a thing about Stella.  Her whole character is, "I hate my ex and I want him dead!" And that's all there is. That's all Stella was worried about this episode. Like- ma'am? Could you just get over it!!? We get it, you hate his guts. And we don't even know WHY she hates him so much! Why does she want him dead, so badly? What could possibly warrant her hatred?? This is like her 4th appearance in this show, yet we're still not given her backstory. Nothing is hinted on why she became such an evil Darla Dimple. At first, in the first season, it seemed like Stella was only angry that her husband had an affair and cheated on her. So angry, she even called a hitman on him. Though it was rather harsh to want someone dead for that, you'd understand why she would be angry. I mean, who wouldn't!!! My husband cheated on me and it greatly affected my family!! That's how we saw it (or at least that's how I saw it). You can't even tell me that Stella never loved Stolas, because it was hinted that she initially did care about him. At least, according to Octavia who said that things used to be decent between them.

But now, since season 2 began, Viv suddenly just slaps us with the fact that Stella had always hated Stolas for no reason?? She just likes to make fun of him and talk sh*t while laughing at him?? She didn't care at all about the affair, but she still insist on tormenting him.... cuz she's evil??? And that excuse is not even justified alone, cuz why is she so evil??.... Because... she was just born that way???

Tch, yeah, alright Vivzie... whatever.

It doesn't even make sense why she's married to him if she's always hated him. Why did she even stick with him if she was just going to keep talking bad about him and complain about being married to him??? Yeah, I know there were arranged to marry, but they're adults now. No one could tell them what to do! She could've just divorced him. And clearly, nothing came of it. She could've left him WAY before now. You could say she only stuck around for the riches and the power, but she obviously doesn't care about that! All she ever did was throw parties. She didn't show off any riches or power she had when she was with him. And again... why does she want him dead?? What was her final straw here?? It was already established she didn't care about the affair and she already hated Stolas. What, was it because he embarrassed her by doing what he did? Well, like I said, she doesn't care about the affair, so why would she care about the embarrassment!? I just don't understand---

And I've already mentioned this, but I also didn't like how childish and giddy they made her about the whole thing. I didn't like to see how excited she was about her ex finally dying. I mean, it's nice to see she has no regrets and is proud, but in cases like her behavior about it-- it just doesn't seem to work for me. I was expecting Stella to be... stone-cold. Like just a soft-spoken, strict, and sinister woman who is somewhat secretive of her wicked ways and is tricky, but doesn't hide it fully. And despite knowing what she's doing, she doesn't care at all about the effects of it as long as she gets what she wants. Almost like Lady Tremaine from Cinderella, Ursula from The Little Mermaid, or Mother Gothel from Tangled.

But instead, I experience this-

I don't even like the way she acted when she was told she can't continue going along with what she wanted. She started to whine like a baby, crying "Aww! But I want him dead so badly!!!" Like, miss-- how old are you?? I would expect for her to be all "harumph!!" and begrudgingly agree with her brother after arguing with him a little. Not this immature little princess who will cry if she doesn't get her dolly back!



Another thing that bugged me about this episode, of course, was more Stolitz. It's pretty clear up to this point that Viv so DESPERATELY wants to make these two endgame. She doesn't care at all about how fast, how rushed, or how unplanned she makes this show as long as Stolas and Blitzo become a couple in the end. But just by rushing the show and not planning it, she doesn't really do a great job of showing us these two are good for each other. It just gets more toxic, especially with Stolas acting like he always cared about Blitzo when he obviously didn't and just becomes more selfish and oblivious to his feelings. Hell, he continues to be a flirt after Blitzo pretty much calls him out on it! And Viv tries to show us that Blitzo had always cared about Stolas and secretly wants a relationship with him, but considering the blank responses and the passive-aggressive behavior from those text messages, it's clear Blitzo does NOT like Stolas and doesn't care at all about him! Even when he reacted with disbelief over him getting hurt, he still gave him a short-worded text!! Like-- Blitzo just doesn't like Stolas, okay Viv. 



Ugh!! This show has officially broken me with the stupid sh*t, y’all. I still have some things I wanna say about it that I may have left off, but I’m to tired for now. They can be saved for another day. I-I cant anymore-  The only reason why I’m even going along with this is because I’m curious to see how these eps will turn out. Like, I’m still curious about Fizz, Verosika, and Barbie. And you best believe I’m waiting for the last episode where we get to hear Octavia finally go off on her dad. It’s a literal challenge at this point, but bring it on. And It’s ironic, cuz I love critiquing shows, whether I like them or not.

[decayingliminality]

The basement floods.

The memories and momentos, the collected trinkets. Gone in an evening. Gone in a few hours, just gone. Damaged, destroyed, however you want to put it. However you want to label it to make it easier to comprehend.

The basement floods.

Everything I called mine— my twin-sized bed, my empty dresser, the pile of clothes on the floor. The water does not halt to consider my feelings.

The basement floods.

I trudge through the water, forcing myself to step on the stairs to the rest of the house (?). I do not look back. I can't bear to, I can't say goodbye. I won't say goodbye (I know better). I climb the stairs, the old railing creaking under my hand. As I get to the top of the stairs, I grab the knob. Ready to leave but not ready to say goodbye.

The basement floods.

The knob doesn't turn. The first wave of panic hits my chest. The newfound fear hurts, banging to be released from the confines of my ribcage. Turning and turning, hand slipping, the knob still. The door to escape has been shut, it seems. Either locked or just jammed— it's pretty hard to tell sometimes. The knob was old and needed replacing.

The basement is flooding. The water rises. The past years rise and sink with it.

"mom?" I yell, one hand banging on the door, the other turning the knob.

Silence.

Mom wasn't very reliable in communication all the time. She was probably in her room, or. With my brother? The second wave of panic starts forcing its way into my soul.

Right. Mom told me we were leaving. I was going to check my room, my space in the basement truly, for something. I don't remember what it was anymore.

I guess I had taken too long. The fear is gnawing on me, chewing me and then spitting me back out. Only to be chewed on some more. Wouldn't Mom called my name again? Wouldn't she have looked for me, let me know "NOW."?? questions are filling my mind. My banging and turning has stopped.

Pointless.

The basement is flooding, still. The water, cold and dirty, rises the stairs. Taunting. Grinning, beckoning.

The basement is flooding and I am in the basement and the basement is flooding and there isn't another way out. I am in the basement, top stair step to escape, and the door is jammed (locked?).

The waves of panic hits again, except there isn't a break between the incoming waves. Like the flooding, rising, it is painfully consistent. "Let me free!" The beating of my heart, drums in my chest and ears.

Oh. So that's it.

The basement is flooding, I am in the basement. The basement is flooding, the doorknob out is jammed (locked?). The basement is flooding, I am in the basement and the doorknob is jammed (locked?).

The house creaks. It's a deep groan, continuous and painful. "I'm sorry." It whines at me. "You're too young." It seems to apologize. "I hope it's fast." It mutters. I know what the house is saying. I know what the water is taunting me with.

Maybe the two talked. Maybe they planned. Did I not appreciate the house I grew up in enough? Did I not thank it, verbally and actively, is this a form of revenge? Maybe, probably not. The memories are surfacing as the water rises. Maybe the "life flashing before your eyes" is a thing, but in slow-mo.

Bead bracelets, tea parties, and what was the other things?

I can't think. The memories seem fake now. The doorknob doesn't turn.

In my heart, I feel like the door wasn't jammed as I was told. Just locked. a form of punishment, even.

I always thought the good memories outweighed the bad. Maybe not. I guess not. The times I got myself in trouble, the phases I went through. The resentment I had. Maybe my ungratefulness is a source of resentment.

Maybe I'm making stuff up. Probably, even. "You have a storyteller's imagination." Mom would tell me. I thought that was a compliment.

Brain trying to cement my mother's memory as "good", heart knowing better. Maybe it's the other way around. I don't know.

The basement is flooding, I am trapped in the basement. The water is cold (freezing) and it is touching my feet. Reality sets in. The door was never jammed, I was just not a good kid.

Oh. The looks, the quick tone changes, the statements. The door is locked. It was a punishment ("extreme timeout" as my brother would put it).

Oh.

The basement is flooding and I am effectively trapped. Realization hits full force. Water rising, water taunting, water knowing.

Home (house?) groaning, home (house?) apologizing, home (house?) wishing.

The realization is accompanied by tears. I try to hide them. I don't want to cry. I never do.

The people I've met, touched by my quiet passion, or untouched by my people pleasing attitude? Known? Expected.

The tears are persistent and I have to allow them their space to be. No reason to suck them in, hide my eyes, anymore. Just me, home (house?), and the water. No people in sight.

The basement is flooding, the water is licking me. Rising to hold me in an unwanting, uncomfortable hug. Relatives. Dad? Friends?

Would they miss me. Would they shrug. Go on?

Good questions to ask, they'll find out, and I won't know the answers. I don't believe and I refuse to start now.

The truth lies in realization and realization is now.

Stuck staring downwards now, vision blurred, lights out. Right. The basement is flooding and I will never not-know that.

I hope there's no afterlife.

I hope it's quiet. Quick, as home (home.) hopes. It knows it's imminent. I trust home.

However, I know a death based on water is not quick. Deep breath, head and body submerged. No room to bring my head out of the water. Lungs burn, some scientific process will begin. I enjoyed swimming. I know the lungs-need-air feeling. No room to get more air. As there is no oxygen in my lungs, I wind up trying to breathe. Something like that, or nothing like that. After my lungs start burning, I don't remember the specific scientific process. Intriguing to learn about, horrifying to experience.

The basement is flooding, I am locked inside home (home.). I am gonna die. Oh. The process has started. Deep breath, no room to get more air, lungs burn. Slow, but firm.

Mandatory bedtime. Lights out, goodnight.

~~~~~

Water, gone. Too late. Door pried open, the first thing visible is debris scattered. Second thing noticed is a body. My body. Unmoving. The water is gone, the damage is done. There's at least one fatality. Me. I am watching them approach my body. Deceased. The water is mostly (completely) gone. I was the only person (ghost?) to keep my body company.

The responders, too late, sigh. Sadness radiates. I can feel it. Where's Mom? My brother? Strangers and strangers only. They step over me, check for any signs of fighting. No pulse, rather blue, cold. So cold.

"she's been dead for a while." One comments. The state of my body is better than I figured it would be. I drowned and a scientific process didn't occur. I don't remember the specifics, I just it's wrong. so wrong. Why am I watching them? They place a blanket over me. They leave.

They come back. The water is gone, but the damage remains. They pick me (me.) up, place me (me.) on a gurney, I'm not too sure. They take me from the basement, the basement has flooded and the basement is no longer flooded, but the damage remains the same.

Away from my final resting pace.

Still, I am watching them. Following them. Not alive, not serving. but present. Here.

Mom and brother are no where to be seen. Lots of damage. People looking at the damage. Responders. My body, no longer sporting life. Just a representation of life.

[fanmoose12]

Hi, I had this HC about Levihan after Shiganshina and about both of them being broken in a differen way but when I started writing it it because long as fuck, I’m so so so sorry... 🙈

When they get back, Hange is angry. She has this red rage boiling inside of her and she’s almost choking on it. Levi identifies this immifiatelly so the minute they get back he takes charge of her. He’s not rough but he is persistent. He forces her to get bath, helps her get out of her clothes and takes it away to clean it. She hisses at him and hurles all kinds of abuse but it’s her way of coping with the events and he silently accepts it. Later he helps her clean her woulds and forces her to get her wounds checked up by a doctor.

‘No, it’s not ok, it’s gonna get all shitty and infected. Go to a doctor now, you lost an eye! The report will wait.’

She gets frustrated and vents at his something along the lines: ‘Erwin would have never need to check up tiny scratches like these, Levi, I said it’s ok!’

And he goes silent for a minute. Nevertheless, he forces the medical check on her - he gets the doctor to see her in her office. She is angry but not stupid, of course she understands that this had to be done so she is silently grateful.

She doesn’t want to go to sleep and she knows Levi would go check on her so instead of staying in her room or lab, she sneaks off to Moblit’s room. There she curles herself on his bed and lets her muffled cries be silenced by the cushion. The empty room is a painful reminder of everyone she had lost and she contemplates the events of the past days as she cries. Levi does not find her there and she is grateful for that. She needs to mourn.

She watches Levi the next morning as he runs on the training ground and she grits her teeths. He’s the only one out there, only one doing everyday excercise on the verge on sunrise like nothing has happened and she hates him for it. She hates him, herself, everything and everyone, she wants to scream out her anger but it’s so much that she starts to cry instead. Of course, Levi finds her like that which makes her frustrated even more.

‘Have you slept at all?’ he asks her and she doesn’t answer which gives him all the clues he needs.

He tries to take care of her again and calm her down the best way he can but since he’s not really good with words his sentencs come out a bit too rough and she snaps at him: ‘I know I have to make their sacrifice worthy and after everything, after Erwin and all I really don’t need a reminder from you!’

Again, he goes silent for a minute, eventually turns on his heel and heads to the kitchen. He makes her a cup of tea and forces her to go to her room to take a nap. She argues but feels too weak and so she falls onto her sheets that somehow smell like a lavender soup and really falls asleep. Later she discoveres a bag with tea leaves on her desk - Levi got them from a doctor and according to his neetly written note, they should help her to get more relaxed so she could sleep.

She feels slightly better after that and burries herself in work. When Levi comes to check on her she ignores him. She doesn’t want to talk or be taken care of - she is still angry and wants to put that anger to good use.

Levi himself doesn’t seem to be different after the events at the first glance - as soon as they arrived, he starts with the routine. He takes care of the horses. Does the initial reports. Washes Hange, himself, their clothes, boots and weapons. He makes sure the brats got a proper medical care. Makes sure Hange does, she promises she will. Then he checks up on her and after a yellfest he leaves her office and convinces the doctor to go to her. In the meantime, he cleans up his room. He cleans up Hange’s room and lab as well. When he runs out on cleaning their rooms, he starts on cleaning up all the things that did belong to their dead commarades. Over the night he manages to sort a lot of things into boxes so he can take them to their families the next day. He does the usual excercise in the morning and after that he takes the things that were left after his commarades and goes to talk to their families. He tells them about their bravery and sacrifice and he silently listens to their cries. He silently accepts their rage as well. He doesn’t confess to Hange that the giant bruise on his jaw is actually from a brother of one of the fallen recruits - Levi could have ducked but he didn’t. He himself is not sure why and Hange doesn’t seem to care about his face anyways.

Everytime they speak, he feels Hange’s rage boiling inside of her threatening to flood everything and everyone within its reach and so he lets himself be available to that. He lets her vent. He knows that she needs that now and he’s prepared to take another punch in a jaw if necessary.

It’s been three days since they got back and Levi tries to get Hange to sleep once more when she snaps at him again. This time she is vicious, she wants to hurt someone, anyone within her reach, she want to make the whole world suffer with her. She clenches her fists, so close to punching him but eventually she doesn’t. She slams her hands on a desk instead and yells another remark about a burden of being a commander, about Erwin, about how pointless it all has been and about noone understanding it. Levi goes silent again, blank face and then leaves her office to make her tea.

After a few moments Hange hears a loud porcelain bang and weird noices in the kitchen. She goes to check it only to find Levi curled on the floor in the pool of broken cup, spilled tea and, as she realizes immidiatelly by the sharp smell, vommit. His hand is clutching his stomach and he’s shaking feverisly, forehead on the ground, cursing under his breath.

‘Levi?’ Fear suddenly cuts through her like a knife as the memories of all her lost commarades flood her mind.

‘It’s ok,’ he growls, but his shaky voice begs the differ.

She touches his shoulder and feels the tremor in his muscles. He pushes her hand away and his fingers are clammy and cold. ‘Levi, are you sick...?’ she starts when she suddenly realizes something - he did vommit yes, but there seems to be nothing but liquid on the floor.

‘When was the last time you ate?’ she asks sharply.

No answer. Levi tries to get up but aborts the mission as soon as darkness starts to cloud his vision. Instead, he just sits, his face mercifully hidden by his hair and the cover of the night. She starts to examine it anyways as he waits for the sudden wave of weakness to pass.

‘When was the last time you have slept?’ she probes again, starting to have an inkling based on the dark, almost bruise-like circles under his eyes - and wait, is that an actual bruise on his jaw?! For the first time after their return she actually looks at him and realizes his fasade has crumbled in front of her very eyes without her even noticing. How long has he looked like this?

‘Do you resent me, Hange?’ he whispers and she twitches at his soft broken tone.

‘What...?’

‘Do you resent me for the choice I made for all of us?’ He’s looking at her with empty dead eyes as if begging her to yell at him something about Erwin once more, to twist that knife deeper and to put him out of his misery.

And just like that, all of her anger is gone.

She is broken, yes. She misses Erwin and everyone terribly and she doesn’t know how to comprehend their loss. She is suffering by all that had happened. But she is far from being the only one.

‘I’m... I’m sorry,’ she chokes out quitely.

The room falls into silence.

Levi is still shaking but the weekness is slowly melting away. He sighs. ‘I’ll clean this mess...’ he starts but she scoffs.

‘Like hell you will. Come on. I’ll take care of the mess.’

‘I...’

‘I said I will take care of the mess, shorty. That starts with you. Let’s get you something to eat,’ she leans in to help him get up. ‘And then you’re going straight to bed. That’s an order.’

He doesn’t protest. When they get to his room she smells the familiar scent of lavender soup and Hange remembers that it lulled her to sleep for the past days. She feels embarassed when she remembers how many times she lashed out on him.

She gently pushes Levi into a chair. ‘There. Take care of your clothes, I’ll bring you some food.’

She lingers in the door long enough to hear his voice call out her name.

‘Hange...’ he says again and she knows what he wants to ask before he does.

‘No, Levi,’ she stops him softly. ‘I don’t resent you. I didn’t agree. But I understand. I’m sorry for the past few days. We will live through this and make it worthy their sacrifice. Together.’

He doesn’t answer but she can see the relief in his eyes.

She leaves for the kitchen. There she makes a new pot of tea for him and cleans the mess on the floor, well aware of the fact that once Levi gets there in the morning he will clean it again himself anyways. When she gets back to his room with a pot of tea and a plate with food, she finds him still sitting in that chair, still in that dirty clothes. His head has sunk on his shoulder and his chest is rising and falling in a steady pace. For the first time since their return from Shiganshina, he fell asleep.

Hange leaves the plate and the pot on the table, reaches for a blanket and gently covers him with it. As she looks at him, she feels at peace, like she is finally able to start processing what happened. She knows they will never speak of this incident again - Levi is not the one with words and she can’t afford to hesitate now as a commander. But as she leaves the room, she cannot but to linger in the moment just for a bit longer since it filled her with solace and calm for the first time in the past days. ‘Don’t worry, Levi,’ she whispers as the leaves the room and it sounds like a promise. ‘We will make it through together. For them.’

oh my god, anon, wtf, this was so good! like i was literally at the edge of my seat reading this and thinking - oh no, will hange lose it? will she lash out at levi? and then levi! when he collapsed in the kitchen - i kid you not - i actually gasped lmao

you wrote it so good, described what hange and levi are going through so well, i could practically feel the tension and their grief

thanks for sharing this with me! you're very talented✨💖

[just--another--daydreamer]

When did that happen?

Katsuki Bakugo x male reader

» Fandom: My hero academia » Genre: Angst & Fluff » Requested (by @phantomspryth​): I have an idea for a Bakugo x Male reader. The Mc had medium/long hair that Bakugo(or really anyone) likes to play with. Then the mc comes to school one day with a buzz cut. The rest is up to you » Warnings: spiralling thoughts, swearing » Words: 1.1k » Author's Note: I’m not sure about this one, I’m sorry... I tried to keep the description of the hair as neutral as possible to make this more inclusive, I hope it worked? Also I don’t know how to come up with titles, I apologize

Writing suggestions are open :)

You can find a link to my Masterlist in my bio

Bakugo was not one for much physical affection. When he felt like it, he held your hand, on extremely rare occasions he hugged you. Being on the receiving end of physical affection was a little easier for him, though he would never in a million years admit that. Whenever you kissed his cheek, he had a hard time to hide his blush and even when it was only the two of you in the room, he tried to hide it.

However, a while into your relationship, Bakugo discovered something new: he liked playing with your hair. He enjoyed watching a movie with you in his dorm, your head on his chest and him playing with your hair. Occasional pecks on your forehead. It was calming, he loved it. Thus, it did not take long until this became a regular thing. It only happened behind closed doors, when nobody was watching, but even then, Katsuki was still a little embarrassed, making sure you would not see his rosy cheeks. But you knew that he was blushing, you knew that he enjoyed it. When your head was resting on his chest, you could tell how happy he was by the way his heart jumped, you could tell how your time alone calmed him down.

Katsuki was not the only one who loved your hair, though. In a ranking similar to the dorm ranking your class did some time ago, everyone decided that you did, in fact, have the best hair. After the ranking, when some people wanted to touch your hair, they were blown away by your boyfriend’s explosions.

Everything was going well until one fateful Saturday, when you left the 1-A Alliance early and went to get a new haircut. Cutting your hair did not have any deep meaning besides wanting to try out something new. And if you ended up not liking it, it would grow back eventually. It was an idea you had had for a long time but kind of forgot to tell anyone.

So, when you came back during lunch time, your classmates were shocked to say the least.

“What the hell?” You could hear your boyfriend’s voice even before you had fully stepped through the 1-A Alliance’s front door. “I’m glad to see you too, Kacchan,” you greeted him. “Stop right there,” he continued yelling. “What the hell happened to your hair?! When did that happen?!” His yelling and raging attracted some other students who were bored and wanted to see the drama. “Welcome back, Y/N!” Yaoyorozu smiled and waved. “There’s still some lunch left if you’d like. Also, nice haircut!”

Bakugo looked at her and then at the other students. “What the hell are you staring at, mind your own business!” The other students complied, not wanting to mess with Bakugo right now, and moved on with what they were doing. Some rolled their eyes at his screaming but made sure he did not see it. It did not take long until only you and your boyfriend were standing in front of the entrance, with Katsuki still staring at you with his eyes wide.

“Do you-” you started as you avoided eye contact. “-do you not like it?” Bakugo did not give you an answer to that. “Your lunch is gonna get cold,” was all he said. And it was all you needed to guess his thoughts.

It hurt more than you expected. Being around Bakugo, being friends or, like you, boyfriends with him meant being told hurtful things by him. He threatened to kill the people around him, called them names, told them how superior he was to them. He also was not the best at expressing his emotions and talking about his feelings. But what he said – or did not say – hurt you. He hurt you for the first time in a while and it felt awful.

It was like a stinging right where your heart was. Your eyes burned and you lowered your gaze to not let anyone see your eyes watering, but nobody was around anymore. Even Bakugo had turned his back to you to return to the couches, where some of your classmates had gathered.

You ended up not eating lunch and instead went straight to you room to try and distract yourself with schoolwork. It was not the best distraction, though. You kept checking your watch to see if it were time for bed yet, so you could sleep and forget about the pain in your chest for a while.

Hoping for Bakugo to realize he hurt you felt a little pointless. The best way to get him to apologize or anything in that direction was to confront him about it, but you did not really feel like doing that even though that was probably the best way to handle things. Talking was the key in every relationship, after all. But the longer you thought about all this, the more pointless it felt. Your thoughts spiralled down and down and down, until eventually, all you wanted to do was bang your forehead against the table to get your mind to stop.

An aggressive knock on your dorm’s door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Come in,” you said meekly, already knowing who it was. Bakugo opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. You winced at the sound. Your boyfriend walked into your room without a word and sat down on your bed, arms crossed in front of his chest.

An uncomfortable silence formed, both of you seemingly at a loss of words, wanting the other one to start the conversation.

“And?” You finally asked. It was a surprise to you that he came to talk, even though it was clearly hard for him. Bakugo huffed. “You know,” he started in his usually grumpy tone. “I reconsidered my words.” Struggling for words, Bakugo gritted his teeth. “And I realized that I may have- argh, this is hard!” “Katsuki, I-” “Shut up and let me apologize, dammit!” He flinched a little at his own words, and his expression as well as his tone softened after this. “I’m sorry. And I do like your new haircut.” That was more than you had ever expected to hear from Bakugo in terms of apologies. “Apology accepted.” “Thank god!” He opened his arms as to tell you to come into a hug while he let himself fall onto your bed. “Now come here, dammit.”

It did not take long until you laid your head on his chest, listening to your boyfriend’s heartbeat as it calmed down. Bakugo’s fingers were once again busy with your hair, which came as a little surprise. “You know what,” he said after a moment as he planted a kiss on your forehead, “this is very nice, too.”

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

.

part 2

[snelbz]

broken.

{rowaelin angst}

A/N: So this has been sitting in my drafts for uh. 8 months, and I legit forgot it existed sooo. Enjoy!

The little black box that sat on his dresser haunted him.

Rowan had been staring at it for what seemed like hours without any hope of falling asleep. He glanced at the alarm clock on his dresser. 2:16. His eyes drifted back to the box. He wondered if the diamond inside would gleam in the moonlight streaming through his thin curtained window.

He wondered if she would have liked the ring.

He supposed he would never know.

He didn’t understand how they had gotten here. How he had ended up in bed - in their bed - alone. He reached out ran his hand down the unoccupied pillow next to him.

Just yesterday, she woken up beside him. Just yesterday, she’d slipped out of bed before he was awake to make him a cup of coffee. It was still steaming on his bedside table when he’d woken up, though she was long gone, hoping to beat the morning traffic heading into Orynth.

He’d gone back through their texts from the day over a hundred times already, looking for some clue or sign of what was to come. There was none. They’d talked about nothing out of the ordinary, but that had been his goal. For her to suspect nothing and assume that it was any normal day.

At lunch, he’d called her. He’d suggested they go somewhere nice for dinner, rather than the regular take out one of them picked up on the way home, the one element crucial to his plan. If there was no fancy dinner, there was no proposal.

But he didn’t expect her to say no.

“I’m swamped with work,” she’d said. “I really just need to go to my apartment tonight and focus on these files.”

He’d offered, “I’ll come over then. Pick up dinner on the way.”

“Not tonight, Rowan.”

The tones of her voice made him hesitate before he pushed her.

Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut.

He missed her.

It had only been a day and the absence of her in their bed was agonizing.

Rowan picked up his phone and went to her contact page. He pressed the call button. It went straight to voicemail.

Hey, it’s Aelin. I’m busy. Call later or leave a message. Actually, text me. Why are you calling me in the first place?

The recorded lady told him to leave a message after the beep.

The beep came.

Rowan said nothing. What was there to say?

I miss you. I love you. Come back to me. Please.

Rowan hung up and let his phone fall into her pillow.

He had thought about going to her apartment, but he knew it was pointless. He’d never get inside. Instead he’d paced around his house today. He’d smashed things and broken them. He’d screamed until he was sure his neighbors had heard and was surprised when no police had shown up. He’d punched the wall so hard there was a fist-sized hole in the drywall. As he looked up at it, he clenched his stiff fingers.

Useless.

It was useless.

Pointless.

They had been together since high school. Seven years. Everyone said high school sweethearts don’t end up together. But they were wrong. She was his forever.

Seven years.

And now there was nothing.

Nothing but pain and emptiness and an agonizing hole in his chest that could not be filled.

He called her number again, knowing that it would go straight to her voicemail as it did before.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until he finally got the nerve to leave a message after the beep.

“I love you,” he said, quietly, into the phone. “I miss you. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

He hung up and stared at the white ceiling.

He knew she wouldn’t be calling back, knew she wouldn’t answer the phone, no matter how many times he called.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life wasn’t supposed to laugh at you like this.

You weren’t supposed to get a taste of happiness, to see everything you’ve ever wanted in front of you, and all you had to do was reach out and take it.

Only to have it ripped from your grasp at the last second.

He picked up his phone, to do what, he didn’t know. Probably to call again, but he paused. His eyes landed on the blue app in the upper corner of his screen and he tapped on it.

Before his feed could even load, he’d clicked on the small magnifying glass in the corner and began to type. Her name appeared after only typing “A”.

He selected her profile, and a photo of her, beaming at the person behind the camera, was displayed front and center. He’d taken the photo, on the ride home from her recent college graduation. The pride displayed on her face was obvious. As was the love in her turquoise and gold eyes.

He quickly closed the app, not allowing himself to scroll through her feed. To see if anything had been posted.

His phone rang in his hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t going to be her despite the late hour, he still hoped. But when he focused on the name on the display, he saw that it was Lorcan, and he declined the call.

He wasn’t in the mood for one of his oldest friend’s particular brand of bad mood tonight.

He had his own to contend with.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

No one but her.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, Rowan crawled out of bed as the clock hit three.

He went into the kitchen and turned on the light above the stove.

He turned around.

Her gray cardigan was tossed over the back of one of the chairs pushed up to his crappy, yard sale kitchen table.

They had picked out that table together, after Aelin had convinced him that a kitchen table was necessary and made an offer to the seller. The offer included the kitchen table and the hideous floral chair Rowan had sitting in the corner of his living room.

He hated that chair, had only put it in his apartment because Aelin found it charming.

Rowan poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat in that ugly chair. He grabbed her sweater as he passed and clutched it in his bruised and sore hand. He closed his eyes and raised it to his face. He breathed in deeply, breathing her in, breathing in the firey, crisp scent of her.

The sob the burst out of him on his exhale surprised even him. He didn’t expect the full body tremors that shook he as the tears finally spilled.

Gods, he missed her. He wanted her. He wanted to talk to her. He needed her to tell him everything was going to be okay.

So he tried to call her again.

“Aes, baby, I love you. I need you.” His voice was a gravelly rasp, barely intelligible into the phone’s microphone. “Please, baby. Please.”

He wasn’t above begging. Hell, he’d done it before. Practically had to do it to get her to go out with him in the first place, the beautiful, sophomore cheerleader, being approached by the boy, covered in tattoos at only seventeen, that everyone said was bad news.

And maybe he was bad news.

Maybe it was karma that had led him to lose her.

Maybe it was all his fault.

She was too good for him. Even the gods knew it. But she had loved him, he knew she did. A deep, all consuming love. That is what they shared.

But Rowan didn’t deserve such a love.

So it had to be taken from him.

Rowan screamed, his glass of whiskey falling from his grasp onto the rug beneath.

He didn’t care.

Let it soak in, let it stain. Let it be a reminder of what he had lost.

His phone chimed on the counter, a signal of an incoming text message, and again, he sprang for it. He unlocked it and read the message, his heart falling when he read the words.

I’m outside of your place, Whitethorn. I can see that the light is on. Just give me some sort of sign that you’re alive in there and I’ll leave you be. Elide is worried about you and it’s cutting into my sleep schedule.

Elide, gods bless her. The sweetest soul that he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. How Lorcan had charmed her, he’d never know.

Instead of replying, he slowly turned around, shuffled to the corner by the window, where the lamp stood, illuminating his small apartment. With a quick twist of his wrist, he turned the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness.

He just stood there, letting the darkness in his heart match that of his home, and after a minute, his phone chimed again, another text from Lorcan.

Thank you, that’s all I needed.

Rowan closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the A/C unit, humming quietly. He could hear someone on the floor above’s washing machine as it spun. He could hear a tv on down the hall. But he couldn’t hear the quiet snore that left her when she was deeply and completely asleep. Because that snore was gone. His phone chimed one last time and his eyes snapped open and he looked at it.

And Rowan, I’m sorry about Aelin. I really am.

Rowan read the words over and over, letting them process, but never quite taking them in. His breathing quickened, his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

With a yell of rage, he launched his phone at the wall across the room. It was like a small explosion when it made impact, tiny pieces of glass and plastic and metal ricocheting across the room.

He dropped to his knees and wept.

He couldn’t get over this.

There was no getting over this, getting over her.

It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense.

Rowan sat on his knees until all of the tears left his body and he eventually fell into a steady numbness.

Was this how it would be?

Living, but wishing he weren’t?

Rowan laid down on the rug, next to the stain from his whiskey.

He had laid her down nights before on that rug and made love to her until late in the night that turned into early morning.

Everywhere he looked there was a memory.

She was everywhere.

So he closed his eyes and tried not to think.

The next thing Rowan knew, there was a banging on his front door and a pain in his neck and back.

The banging continued, but it was accompanied by a lilting voice. “Rowan Whitethorn, I swear to the gods, if you’re in there and don’t open this door right now, I will personally kick your ass.”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face the couple he knew was on the other side. Specifically, he couldn’t face him.

He couldn’t look at him and see her.

He couldn’t see the golden hair and the remarkable, identical eyes. Eyes no one but the two of them shared.

He couldn’t take the pity that would be in them.

“Go away,” he said. He wanted to yell it, but his voice came out broken and raspy.

The knock came once more.

“Please, Rowan,” she said.

If it was just Aedion, Rowan would’ve ignored it. But Lysandra’s plea broke him.

Rowan pushed himself off the floor and stumbled to the door. He knew he looked like shit, smelled like shit, but he didn’t care.

He cracked open the door and peeked through the slit. “What.”

He didn’t meet their gazes.

He knew they would be loaded with pity, and he couldn’t take it.

“May we come in?” Lysandra asked, gently.

That gentleness only made him more agitated.

“It’s not a good time.”

He knew he was being rude. He knew he was being an ass to the people who’d been his family for so many years.

“You think you’re the only one who’s hurting?”

“Aedion,” Lysandra said, a hand pressed to his chest. “We’re here to check on Rowan.”

It was then that Rowan glanced up at Aedion, at the eyes he’d loved so fiercely.

“You don’t need to check on me,” Rowan said, quietly. “I’m perfectly fine being alone right now.”

Aedion’s gaze did not falter from Rowan’s. Rowan wondered if Aedion knew the thoughts that were running through his mind. He wondered if Aedion knew that when Rowan looked at him, all he saw was Aelin.

Seeing Aedion did more hurt than good.

“If you need anything-.” Lysandra began, but was cut off.

“I’ll call,” Rowan interrupted, attempting to sound as if he meant it.

He shut the door without another word, leaning against it after it clicked shut. Rowan slid down the cold, wooden board as Aedion and Lysandra’s footsteps faded away into the distance.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, his back against the door, his feet planted on the floor. Long enough that his legs slid out from under him of their own accord. Long enough that somehow, he ended up laying on the cheap flooring meant to look like wood all day and then all night.

Around 6:30 the next morning, the sun reached the remnants of his phone, the shards of glass reflecting the light directly into his eyes.

He’d promised Lysandra he’d call if he needed something. His phone was in pieces and besides, there was only phone number he had memorized and he knew that one would go unanswered.

His stomach growled, but he never got up, even when the rumbles became empty aches. He just laid there, wondering if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he hadn’t needed to use the bathroom in days.

There was a knock on the door twice, but neither time did Rowan do more than blink at the startling noise.

He’d lost track of the days when footsteps approached his door, a key was fit into the door and the lock clicked as it was released. Rowan was up before the door could be swung open, his hopes high regardless of knowing there was no way she’d be on the other side of the door. Even though no one had a spare but her.

It wasn’t her.

Elide stepped through the door, and Rowan’s breathing quickened. It was as if every emotion he had ignored in the past twenty-four hours came flooding.

A quiet, broken sob fell out of him, and Elide was quickly moving toward him. She took Rowan, who was a foot taller than she, into her arms and held him tightly.

When Rowan’s breathing finally evened out, Elide whispered, “We hadn’t heard anything in a few days, so I got Aelin’s key. I just wanted to make sure that you… I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Rowan said nothing. He didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, letting Elide hold onto him. Minutes passed before Rowan even realized that he was clutching her sweater so hard that his fingers were turning white at the tips.

“Rowan, you-.” Elide began, but paused to clear her throat. “You know you need to go see her.”

The room was silent. The only sound in the entire house was the rain pattering against the windows.

Rowan wasn’t sure when it had started to rain.

“She would-.”

“I know, Elide,” he whispered, sharply, but not unkindly. It had the desired effect though, and the dark haired girl stayed quiet. He rested his cheek on Elide’s head.

There was nothing remotely romantic in the gesture. Elide had become almost a little sister of sorts in the past few years. At first, she was just Aelin’s younger friend, and he’d loved her then. But now that she’d also become his best friend’s wife, that sense of protection he felt over was even stronger. There were many nights he’d stayed over at the Salvaterre/Lochan household, drinking and talking too late into the night, but not just with Lorcan. There were things he couldn’t talk to his Captain and best friend about, things that needed the delicate nature of a female.

“I just can’t yet, El,” he whispered. “I can’t just go over there and-.”

“And what?” She asked, pulling back and gripping his forearms. “After everything you’ve been through, after how long you loved her, you aren’t even going to say goodbye?”

Rowan stayed quiet, a million thoughts running through his mind. He shook his head. “I don’t want it to be goodbye. Not yet.”

Elide’s gaze softened, her palm resting against Rowan’s stubbled cheek. “Then don’t say goodbye. Just...go talk to her.”

Rowan said nothing for a long while. Then, at last, he nodded.

Elide gave him one more quick hug and began to back away. “Don’t go today. It’s rainy and gross and you know how she feels about rain. Go tomorrow, it’s going to be sunny and pretty and-.”

“A new day,” Rowan completed for her. The closest thing to a smile he’d felt in days tugged on the corner of his lip. “Thank you for coming to check on me.”

She paused by the door. “We love you, Ro. We miss you. Things aren’t the same without you. We know that things will probably never be the same but…” She blinked a few times and closed her eyes. “We’re all going to the Stag after work on Friday, like we used to. Should I save your usual seat?”

A real smile, though still sad, spread across his face. “I’ll do my best.”

She smiled and said, “That’s all we’re asking for,” and slipped out the door.

That night, Rowan went upstairs and slept in their bed, clutching her pillow to his chest. Her scent felt like coming home.

Gods, how many days had it been since he’d seen her? How many nights had he slept without her by his side? How many mornings had he gone without feeling her curl into his side, just before his alarm would go off?

How many days had she been gone?

After a night of fitful, but actual sleep, Rowan got up early, earlier than should have been acceptable, once he discovered it was a Saturday, and showered and shaved. He had to look his best for her. He had to impress.

He shrugged on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt before grabbing his jacket off the bedpost and shrugging it on. He looked in the mirror and decided it was good enough.

She had bought him that jacket. She loved that jacket.

He slipped on his boots and headed out the door. The sun was rising, and Rowan almost got lightheaded from the fresh air. It had been a while since he had gone outside.

Rowan headed east once he reached the sidewalk outside of his apartment building. He reached the corner store about five minutes later. They had just opened as he went inside, the bell ringing above the door as he made his entrance. After paying for a small bouquet of red roses, Rowan continued his walk through town.

Not many people were out, just those heading to work or on the walk of shame back to their own homesteads.

Rowan didn’t pay attention to any of them. His mind was on her. He was almost there.

And when he finally arrived, he panicked.

He wasn’t ready.

But he had to be.

The iron gates were open.

He walked through them, the autumn leaves rustling and crunching beneath his boots as he walked the winding path.

Elide had told him where she’d be.

The closer he got, though, the slower he moved, the heavier he breathed, the blurrier his vision became.

He found her.

And when he reached her, he fell to the ground, his knees landing in the damp grass.

It was real.

He didn’t want it to be real.

Real. It was real.

“Fireheart,” he whispered, voice trembling.

Rowan laid the roses down in front of the stone that read Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Daughter and Friend, and wept.

[byorder-fanfic]

A Ghost Walked Through the Door

Summary: Anna Gray has been looking for her brother for a very long time.

Word count: 2637

Warnings: Mention of foster care and children taken from parents, swearing, implies abuse from Church (nothing explicit) and implies homelessness/ rough childhood.

Author’s Note: In the show, Anna’s age is all over the place so I’ve decided that she is a year older than Michael (born in 1902) because I really like the older sister dynamic. Hope you enjoy xx

Anna stood outside the wooden gate, staring into the typical country garden: green grass (that surely would've been vivid in any other season but the grey winter) that stretched as far as she could see, and slap bang in the middle of it all was the little brick cottage. The fire was lit. Perhaps he was there, the person she had been searching for as long as she escaped the boat. Perhaps this was it- the day she found herself. Her shaking hands did not reach to open up the gate. Not yet. The rusted old car of Jack Low's had clunked its way down the dirt road many minutes ago, leaving behind a trail of smoke and her. She was lucky she had found someone to drive all the way to the front gate, and Jack was quite kinder than she'd expected when she saw the white-haired bloke. It was because of the fur lining her throat and wrists, the newly gained winter's coat showing off a majesty of wealth she did not have. If Jack had noticed the thick chunk of mud clinging to the bottom of her leather boots, or had he clued on to her makeup less face behind her slick bob and fringe, or even saw the dimness of the plastic beads as she rolled them between her calloused fingers, he hadn't asked. Thankfully. Maybe Michael would- he'd probably be impressed with her finery, especially if the farm life was all he knew, and then he'd probably be a bit disappointed with how she acquired each luxurious item.  Finally, her hand (pale and shaking with more than nerves- why hadn't she taken Alberta's gloves that she'd had her eye on?) pried open the gate with a creak, as she walked into the garden. The sound of her quickening breath thrummed in her ears as she kept on going, heels clacking and tangling in the field. She made it to the door. Laughter boomed inside- could it be Michael's? Eagerness overcame her as she rapped on the door, politeness replaced with loud booming knocks that scraped her already bruised knuckles. The voices quieted, a quick "I'll get it!" from a woman. Michael's foster mother, perhaps, would she let Anna see him? The weight of a knife in her pocket proved that hypothetical pointless. Heels tapped closer. And closer. And- the door swung open, Anna's heart nearly burst. She was a portly woman, a warm smile on her face as she observed the girl with evident surprise. "Hello there, can I help you?" She asked kindly, hand still on the door frame. "Yes, please." Her eyes flickered behind her, where photos lined the walls, but she couldn't make out the one face she needed. "Are you Mrs James?" She nodded, yes she was. Another breath fell from her, a smile curling on her lips. The nun hadn't lied, then. "I'm looking for Mich- Henry, I mean. Henry Johnson. Your son, I believe." The other name still seemed so wrong on her tongue. Mrs Johnson's face fell, sadness and suspicion souring the woman's once kind expression. "It's Michael Gray now," she spat out. "Those Shelby bastards took him back to Birmingham with them." Anna breathed in deeply- her entire family was reconciled, all but her. Surely, if they found Michael, that meant they knew about the documents. Fuck. "When was this?" Her voice was meek. Maybe she could stop any real damage before it was done, stop Michael and her mother from mourning a girl still alive. "Two years ago," she said in a solemn voice, her eyes growing glassy. "Why?" "I'm Anna Gray," she stuck out her hand. Mrs Johnson hesitantly accepted it, eyes wide again in shock. "I'm looking for my brother." "Don't." She shook her head. "Those Shelbys are the devils, dragging my boy," she paused, "my Henry, into their Peaky Blinders nonsense. Your Michael...he isn't that boy any more." "He's my brother," she said, trying not to feel too offended at the disgust directed at her cousins. "He's all I have." "Very well," Mrs Johnson conceded, although obviously still disapproving from the look in her eyes. Motherly, Anna would call it, if she even remembered what having a mother was like. "They live in Watery Lane, Small Heath. Everyone there knows them, so just ask for directions." "Thank you!" Without entirely thinking it through, Anna pulled the older woman into a quick hug, pulling away when she felt her tense. "And thank you for looking after my brother all these years. It's good to know he had a good woman taking care of him." She couldn't call Mrs Johnson a mother, although she knew from the grief in her tone and photographs still hung up, that she was exactly that. But her mother was still alive- her loyalty was to Elizabeth Gray, first and foremost, even if she felt pity for this woman here. Just as Mrs Johnson had said, directions to the Shelby's betting shop (now Shelby Company Limited, she was impressed to hear) were easy to come by. Although she was getting odd looks from the men in uniform caps and coats, who were obviously comparing her clothes with that of most Small Heath citizens. Her years of searching were finally over and yet she couldn't find herself to knock on the bloody door. Or even walk down the bloody street. She loitered around the Church, not daring to go in, but not straying from its sight. The rosary in her pocket was wrapped loosely around her battered fist, as she uttered a silent prayer. The nuns and priests from the orphanage had jaded her to all things Christian, but this was a gift from Peggy. The good Catholic girl that took one look at the girl on the streets and decided to befriend her. Well, friend wasn't exactly the right word. She felt a burst of courage at the feeling of the wooden beads now, the crucifix hanging on the end of it no longer bringing vomit up her throat. "Oi, you there!" She jumped at the accent. It wasn't Brummie, sounding closer to Isabela's voice: another girl that friend wasn't the right word for. She looked at the boy, who was lighter skinned that Isabela, and wore the same cap and coat of many men in Small Heath. However, he himself couldn't have been older than Anna. "You coming in, or am I allowed to lock up?" "I'm just leaving," she said. Her voice wasn't from Burmingham either, immediately making the other boys eyebrow to shoot up in suspicion. She didn't really have an accent, just a blend of all the places she'd been and all the people she'd ran from. Despite her statement, her shoes stayed firmly on the path. Michael and mum were just a walk away, and she was stuck outside the Church as the boy faffed with the keys.  "So," he came up behind her, tilting his head. "Just leaving anytime soon, or...?" He had a smirk on his face and a teasing glint in his eyes, that immediately took in her appearance with curiosity, stopping at the rosary. "Just getting courage," she held up the beads before putting them back in her pocket, tapping over it to make sure it was safely in. "Whatdya need courage for?" He asked as he lit up a cigarette, standing stationary besides her. "Need to get to the Shelby betting shop," she shrugged her shoulders, hoping that'd get Church boy to stop asking. She hadn't missed the almost fearful nature her family was spoken in. But not Michael, of course- her Michael wasn't a Shelby. "Oh, really?" The boy put the smoking cigarette in the corner of his smirk. "Cause I'm just going there." She groaned internally, knowing this meant she actually had to go. "Alright," she snapped. "Could you show me the way?" "Course," he held out his elbow like he was a gentleman. Anna didn't stop her self from rolling her eyes as she took it, with only a little smile. "I'm Isaiah Jesus, by the way." "I'm Sally." Only the nuns ever called her that, in an attempt to pacify the girl screaming for her mother. Everyone else called her Anna, and Sallyanna if she was in trouble. "No last name?" "You'll find that out soon enough." For someone who seemed so talkative, Isaiah sure knew when to shut up. "Alright, Ms No Last Name," Isaiah teased as he held open the door, gesturing for her to go inside. "Here we are: Shelby Company Limited's very own betting shop." She was slow as she walked in, head turning to the pale pink wallpaper and the floral sofa. A cross hung up on the wall, alongside a number of Biblical quotes. There was a double set of doors, painted green, that were thrown open. Inside, a crowd of men and woman sat as numbers were called out, typewriters clicking and Peaky Blinders smoking. Isaiah walked past the frozen Anna, welcoming into the shop with cheers of greetings. "Hey there Isaiah!" One boy yelled. He was round faced and freckled, taller than everyone else and skinny as Anna was behind her thick coat. "Who's that you got with you?" "Sally here wanted to come to the betting shop." Isaiah gave a shrug, revealing that was all he knew, as he sat on his desk. Three men looked up from the table: one looked a lot like the skinny boy that had noticed her, but older. Not Michael. The other was broad shouldered and intimidating, with a moustache. Not Michael. The third man had hair as dark as Anna's, with the bluest eyes. But Michael had brown hair, and hazel eyes.  "And why do you want to be here?" The blue eyes man questioned, voice cold. She recognised the three vaguely, mind scanning for facts she once knew as well as the sky was blue. "Tommy?" She asked, eyes squinting, then she pointed to the other two. "And you must be Arthur and John, then." She didn't heed the curious glances as she stepped further in, head turning around to the people staring at her. "Finn, I'm gonna guess, although I never really knew you." The freckled boy had a shocked look on his face, as he turned to Isaiah in a "who the fuck is this" kind of look. "So, where's Michael?" Her voice was stern as she looked around again for the brown hair she only barely remembered.  "And why the fuck do ya wanna know that?" John, Anna thinks, stood up, arms folded as he watched her scan the room. "I've been looking for him for fourteen bloody years," she cocked her head, seeing a light flicker in the blue eyes of her cousin. "Now tell me where the fuck Michael is." Suddenly, a door opened, two sets of shoes walking through as they muttered to one another.  "Mum, there's abso-fucking-loutely no way I'm gonna do that," a voice said as he walked into the betting shop. The round face she remembered had sharpened out, his skin tanned (probably from the farm) in ways she knew her pale skin would've had she gotten onto that boat. His mousy brown hair was tidily gelled up, a smart suit on his broad build. He didn't walk in it like he stole it, she noticed proudly. His hazel eyes widened as he looked at her. The woman at his side was frozen too, watching the betting shop's sudden pause. "Who is this?" The woman snapped, dark eyes falling on Anna. She had the same dark hair, although hers was longer and in curls, and their eyes were just the same. No one could answer for her, and she seemed too absorbed in the two figures in front of her to bother with formalities.  "Anna," Michael's voice was barely a whisper, but is shattered everyone. Next to him, Polly trembled, pale skin suddenly whitening as she started to draw the same comparisons to the baby she had held what felt like a life time ago. "Hiya Mikey," Anna said in the same soft voice she'd use when they were little. She opened up her arms. "You too old to hug your big sister or what?" In a second, her brother fell into her, arms wrapped so tightly around her torso that she thought she was going to suffocate. If the fur on her coat was itching his face, he didn't seem to mind as he pressed his face against her neck, tears spilling from both of them. "I missed you so fucking much," she croaked into his ear, not daring to look up to her mother's broken face, or her cousin's undoubtedly confused faces. "I thought you were dead." Michael sobbed a little, pulling her closer as if to check she was real and not just the ghost Polly used to have nightmares about. "They said you were dead, gone to fucking Australia so I couldn't even see you." "I didn't even get on the boat, Mike. Couldn't leave. Not with you in England." They finally broke away, as Anna allowed her rough hands to wipe away the tears on her little brother's face (not so little anymore) and giving the biggest smile she'd ever worn for the longest time. "Been looking for you for years, been from orphanage to orphanage trying to find Michael Gray. Turns out that wasn't even your fucking name." "You were looking for me?" Michael's voice was an echo, sadder and on the verge of more tears spilling. "Course. Wanted to find you so we could come back home together." She took a dramatic turn of her head, grinning. "Although you didn't seem to share that sentiment, huh?" He tried to chuckle a little, shyly wiping off tears and snot with the sleeve of his probably expensive suit. "Went all the way to the fucking countryside only to be told that I had to go all the way back to Small Heath. Honestly, couldn't have waited a few years for me?" Her teasing tone was second nature, a whisper of the what was. "Bus fare wasn't cheap, you know?" Not that she used the bus. Or paid, with her own money at least. Still, it got another smile on his face as he hugged her again, letting her breathe this time. "Anna?"  The broken voice was enough to get Michael to back away, falling by his sister's side to allow Polly a proper view of the much longed for daughter. "No, it can't be, I thought- they said...but...you were alive this whole time?" She barely whispered, shaking the dark locks of curls with her head. She took a few strides forward, lifting her hand. Despite the great comfort she felt in the woman's presence, she flinched at the sight of the manicured nails being bared. Ever so gently, Polly placed her hand (too cold for comfort, but Anna had felt colder) against Anna's cheek. Bringing another hand slowly up to pull back the dark fringe that covered her forehead. Like this, she could see her wide eyes that had once looked so big on her bald head, the little pout that would tremble when John took her toys, the curves of her face that were so like Michael's, and her dark eyes that could only be Polly's. "My girl, my Sallyanna." "Mum," Anna smiled as she fell into her embrace, letting the woman hold her like she should've done for the last fifteen years. There was no tears this time, just soft smiles and tight arms clinging to each other like she had done when the coppers came knocking. Only she was grown now, and she wouldn't let them take her from her family ever again.

[katie-writes24]

Fell Into The Same Arms Pt.2

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, angst, a pinch of fluff, ANGST, suggestive material, mentions of drug use, sad sad sad

Part 1

I’m starting to believe I will never just get straight to the point? But it’s whatever. This wasn’t even suppose to have a part 2, but everyone hyped it up which was super shocking to me? And luckily for you I write a lot when I’m in need of a vent soooo yeah! Anyways, let me know if you want to be tagged! Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

It was cold, the wind a lot stronger this morning because of last nights storm. The window was open.

Thomas always left the window open, no matter how many times she complained.

"What if a bird flies in? What if someone climbs up and breaks in? And I don't like those bug noises!"

"What bug noises?"

"Like crickets and just little noises- I don't know but they creep me out!"

"I get too hot when I sleep, you know that," Thomas shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, climbing into bed and folding his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, well I get too cold now," Y/N gets in on her own side, proving her point and wrapping herself in the blanket, making Thomas chuckle.

"Come 'ere, I'll keep you warm!" He wrapped his arms around her torso, cradling the back of her neck and breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Y/N curled in and let out a blissful sigh, finally recovering some warmth.

"Don't let me go," She whispered before nodding off to sleep.

"I won't, I promise."

He was keeping his promise.

She should get up and go back to her own apartment, tell Hercules about everything and beg him not to tell anyone because she didn't want to hear the much deserved I told you so's. She should maybe stop at the drug store and pick up some pain meds and concealer, at least try and make the bruises fade. When Angelica calls her and asks where she is, she should tell her that she had a rough night and can't make it to work. She should leave this bed...

But she can't fight the warmth of Thomas's chest, can't seem to remove the covers and face the world just yet.

Lost in her own thoughts, she soon felt a hand run up and down her spine slowly. He was hesitant, and he had every right to be. They shouldn't indulge themselves in this, they both know that it will only hurt them later.

Last night, she let herself fall, both in her own beaten head and in Thomas's arms. She let him fix her up and tell her that it would be okay, and he let her rest in his bed because he knows that she always enjoyed the soft, fancy foam. Thomas didn't call anybody because he knew that Y/N didn't want that.

None of this would've happened if she just stayed home last night. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she opened her mouth and fought the fight that wasn't hers.

"You're thinking too loud."

He was one to talk, really.

His fingers found her scalp and started to massage it gently, and there was no resisting the feeling. It was a moment of peace, something she hadn't gotten in a while.

"When's the last time we were in bed together?"

Just like that, it's gone.

Y/N quickly removed herself out of his embrace and folded the covers back. Thomas only sighed dramatically, "Don't get so sensitive, Y/N."

"Yeah, that's rich. I think you should just be proud that you managed to bring me upstairs in the first place." She was being bitter, she knew it, but he sounded too smug about something that didn't even happen last night. Turning to face him, she could feel tension forming in the air.

"You're right, excuse me for trying to be a nice host!"

"Is that what you would call it? Because you had that dumb look on your face where you think you know exactly what you're doing, but you really don't. It's so...ugh, it's so practical of you to think last night was a whole thing!"

"May I remind you, that you're the one that broke this off." It was a stab, and again, she deserved it. But she didn't want to get into it right now, not when she was sore from a viscous beating from the previous night.

"I don't have time for this, Thomas-"

"When will you have time? We never even- we never sat down and talked about it!" Thomas was out of bed now, pacing the room and looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Will you ever make time for me? Do you even want to try and fix this?"

"If I wanted to fix it, then I would've when it happened!"

Thomas snapped his jaw shut, staring at her in disbelief. Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead and looking up to meet his eyes. "Look, I know that this is all my fault, everything is my fault! I shouldn't have came here last night, I shouldn't have moved in with you, I shouldn't have said yes, and I shouldn't-"

"You shouldn't have said yes? Really? So...so-what, you just never loved me at all?"

"Of course I love you Thomas! I should've never gotten involved with you in the first place, that's the problem! I shouldn't have brought you into this fucked up life I have. I don't even remember why you liked me in the first place. I was in AA, and I obviously wasn't getting any better! And look at me now, look at my arm-" She thrusted her arm in his line of sight, making him flinch backwards either at the motion or the scrapes and bruises that layered her skin. "There's no helping this, Thomas."

The silence that came afterwards was deafening, both of them standing still, looking at each other. There was nothing more she could do to patch up the hole, there was no saving them.

"I thought you were getting better," Thomas was barely above a whisper, and the quiver in his voice made her feel guilty.

"Yeah...well, so did I." She felt calmer now, there wasn't a reason to be, but she felt like it was pointless anyway. "It's been a rough week. Too many tasks, too many problems. This guy at work....he said that they would help me sleep. I don't know really...what they do, but it's definitely not sleep."

"So, you're taking without knowing what it is? That's just...that's great-"

"I'm not here for a lecture, Thomas."

"Then what are you here for?"

Shockingly, she wasn't expecting that one. There was more to it, a long story that revolved around Alexander and John, one about Eliza telling her to go back to group, one that ended all contact with Lafayette. There was even more to the story of last night, but she was afraid if she told Thomas all of this, he would never open that door again to her, not even if she banged on it crying for help.

She was here because when she fell hard on the cement last night, she thought that it was the end, that she finally lost the battle and it would all be over soon. The first person she thought of was Thomas; if he would come to her funeral, if he would keep in contact with her friends, if he would ever think positively about her again?

There was even a sliver of hope that maybe he would come rushing down the corner, see her and help her. Luckily, the worker taking out the trash across the street saw the scene, started yelling, making threats about calling the police. Even though the threats weren't at her, she couldn't risk it, and she fled.

Looking over at her ex, and seeing his eyes all watery, she then realized she said all of that out loud.

"I always regretted it," Y/N clears her throat, trying to fight her own tears. "Always wish that I could take it all back, never even step foot in that club and take what was offered. I really do, Thomas. If I had just done that, maybe we would still... be together."

And what could you say to that? Thomas was always one to make it known when someone was in the wrong, would always correct someone when they said some asinine shit that he knew wasn't true. She could name three times that he called her out, one time that he even called James out, and she couldn't even keep count on how many times he told Alexander off for being absolutely wrong.

Her last statement..there was nothing wrong about that, because even he knew it was the truth.

She let drugs and people and lies overcome her, and it took a toll in their relationship. They both knew the last time they were in this house together that years of built up trust, compassion and love was destroyed in one minute.

Just when she was about to grab her keys and walk out, out of his life for good, for the better, he scoffed.

"You said love," It was barely above a whisper, but she could hear him perfectly.

Still, she played dumb. "What?"

"When I asked if it was real? If you ever loved me? You said you love me...present tense."

Looking up at his wide eyes, she could remember the nights where she would stare into them like they never ended, like there was a tiny galaxy in his pupils. It made her warm, and he would never look away.

Right now they look hopeful, the stars shining a bit brighter than before.

Y/N gestured small, not really knowing what to say or do. She'd either lie to Thomas or lie to herself, and she had lied to him enough, hasn't she?

Thomas crossed the room, placing his big hands against her arms. Their foreheads touched, and he was too close, it was bound to get ugly. It was bound to fall back into the same cycle if Y/N let him stay this close.

"We shouldn't," Y/N whispered, voice cracking and not meeting his face until he tilted her chin up. There were his eyes again...

"You're probably right," Thomas huffed and licked his lips.

She didn't like the sound of that, she even shook her head to convince herself that this was all just bad bad bad.

"I need help, T."

His thumb swiped against the water on her cheek, shushing her. "We'll get you help. We can do this, you can do this, Y/N. Just let me be there when you do it."

It was tempting, so tempting.

“You know, maybe it’s not exactly fate...but Y/N I know that you were on my doorstep last night for a reason, let it be yours or not, who cares.”

There’s a thought. Maybe if she didn’t show up, she wouldn’t be in this situation, with Thomas so close that she could just selfishly take what she wants. The temptation was right in front of her and yet it wasn’t hers to have.

“Let this be our second chance...please.”

Thomas was begging, he never begged, not like this.

"I can be there, by your side. I will be...just let me in."

“Your relationship was doomed from the start.”

“Don't think about it too much. Things happen.”

“He doesn't need you, not when you're falling apart and breaking from the seams.”

Y/N leaned up and met his soft lips, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him as close as possible. Thomas wrapped his arms around her back, kissing back just as firm.

Call it cliche, but it felt like Y/N was back home, like this whole time she was on a ridiculously long getaway, except that she had never meant to getaway in the first place. This connection was what she needed all along. Or maybe Y/N just needed to be around Thomas, just talk to him. Maybe they were meant to fight and scream and argue and just be. Maybe she was meant to get hooked again only to show up and have Thomas take her into his arms willingly.

Their lips moved against each other with the same rhythm as before, with passion and skill. Thomas massaged her tongue with his own, only pulling back when he was out of breath.

They weren't sure what the future would look like, if Y/N ever would get better, would actually try to. Maybe she'd break Thomas's heart again, and it would be a lesson to him. Maybe they would both take it slow and learn how to build up from here without damaging one another unknowingly.

Good or bad, they were willing to give it a try, no matter how many of their loved ones told them how terrible it was to go back to the one that hurt you most.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

Jefferson tag list: @notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

[olivish]

Here it is! Part 3 of the "Who was Alex's father?" / "Melanie becomes friends with Ben" story. (I really should make a title at some point.)

Part 1 Part 2

Quick Recap: 8 years pre-Freeze, in the leadup to launching Snowpiercer's first commercial iteration, Wilford sent Melanie to oversee track completion between Jerusalem and Tehran. While she was overseas, she fell in love with a photojournalist who was covering the refugee crisis in Lebanon.

On the day Melanie was supposed to return to Chicago, there was a massive earthquake in which he was killed and she was badly hurt. We pickup the story from Ben’s point of view:

Part 3

1. When Ben found out that Melanie was alive and expected to make a full recovery, he stopped calling. He considered visiting in the hospital, but one of his coworkers tried that and ran into Wilford, who flew into a rage. He demanded to know if his engineers really had nothing better to do than deliver teddy bears.

“She’s doing more work than you are,” he said. “Now go away!”

Day and night, Wilford guarded Melanie like a gargoyle.

“That’s his guilt,” went the chatter in the breakroom. “Guilt? About what?” “He sent her over there.” “You’re nuts. Wilford doesn’t feel bad about anything.” “And yet, he won’t leave her room.” “Here’s a thought. Maybe Melanie’s really dead, but he doesn’t want us to catch on. Figures we might try and bail before the ship goes down.” “Weekend at Bernie’s?” “She’s fine! She’s fine! Melanie says get back to work!” [chuckles] “Seriously, though. Is she okay? Should we send a card?”

2. Nobody sent a card. In five years of development, Melanie had never given anyone a card, for anything. She once told Ben, cards are a pointless waste of paper. “And the glitter,” she went on, rubbing her fingers together with a grimace. “They all have glitter.”

“They make cards without glitter.”

“Doesn’t matter. They sit next to the cards that do have glitter, and it transfers. And card shops always smell like scented candles. Have you noticed that? The miasma of rose hips and vanilla?”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Also, he wasn’t sure what a miasma was. Ben watched as Melanie went back to work. She seemed to have forgotten why they were talking about greeting cards in the first place.

“So, I’ll just sign your name to this one?” he asked.

“Okay.”

“There’s a party. With cake. And booze.” When she didn’t say anything, he offered, “You should come.”

“Oh. Well. Sure. Maybe. If I finish this work in time.”

Ben knew what that meant. Melanie hated staff parties. If the idle conversation weren’t enough to keep her away, Wilford had started bringing Audrey along as entertainment.

And there was nothing more glittery than Audrey.

3. When Melanie came back to work, her coworkers didn’t find it strange that she kept to herself. She’d always been like that, after all. People welcomed her back and asked how she was, but with Wilford always looming, there wasn’t much opportunity for conversation.

“It’s just a few broken ribs,” she said. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, she wasn’t revealing the half of her injuries. Most glaring of all was a crushed right hand, which Ben knew must be killing her. Not just in terms of pain, but Melanie was a notoriously tactile person.

“You can’t understand something unless you put your hands on it,” she once said. They were testing a new diagnostics program he’d written, and she was sure the readings were off. She could feel it. He disagreed, and when it turned out Melanie was right, she gave him a little lecture.

“Fingertips over sensors,” she said. “Get your hands dirty once in awhile, you’ll have better instincts.”

Ben chaffed at the criticism, but there was no arguing with someone who was always right. When it came to machines, Melanie had the magic touch.

Now, maybe half the magic touch.

But Ben couldn’t bring himself to be cute or ironic about it. Melanie losing her dominant hand only a year from completing her magnum opus seemed like a kind of cruel, cosmic joke.

4. Wilford pulled out all the stops as he tried to help Melanie adjust.

“You haven’t got one hand,” he said, standing close behind her, bringing his arms forward, palms up, fingers wiggling. “You’ve got three.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But really, I can manage on my own.”

“And miss your chance to command two of the devil’s finest playthings? Nonsense! It’ll be just like old times. Perfect sympatico.”

Wilford gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and while he was still behind and unable to see her reaction, Melanie seemed to slip. She was... repelled. Then, her eyes snapped up, realizing for the first time that Ben was standing there.

“Oh, bother,” Wilford sighed, still not releasing her arm. “Can we help you?”

“I have upgrades for the harmonic module,” Ben replied, presenting a thumb drive. “It’s a secondary system, designed to kick in for high volume calculations. It’s stochastic, so it should give us faster results, without-"

"-without a statistically significant impact on accuracy," Wilford finished his sentence. He smiled, impressed for once. "Well, well, Bennett. At least someone was working while the bosses were away. How about it, my dear? Are you in the mood for some nondeterministic computational theory, or is that too dull for this, the week of your triumphant return?”

Again, Ben met Melanie’s eyes. And again, every neuron in his brain screamed, something was very wrong.

Down the assembly line, a forklift dropped a pallet of supplies and Melanie flinched, though her facial expression remained unchanged. Blank. Empty. Not like she was somewhere else, but like she existed nowhere at all.

5. That night, for the first time in fifteen years, Ben dreamed about the car crash that killed his youngest brother.

Everything came back, as vividly as the day it happened. The bang-and-ring. The sickening spin. Shattering glass. Inversion. Crunching. The smell of gasoline and the taste of blood. And little Ian, just 8 years old and perfect, lying in the back seat next to him, his eyes open but unseeing. There were no final moments. He was just gone.

Ben awoke gasping and sweating. He ran to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. “Fuck!” he yelled into the towel as he dried off. What the fuck was that!?

But it didn’t take a genius to figure this one out, did it?

“Christ,” he mumbled, pulling out the bourbon. He poured a double, but stopped with the glass an inch from his lips. With another curse, he pitched the amber liquid down the sink. He filled the kettle, boiled water, and made tea.

As it steeped, he closed his eyes in meditation, counting every breath until his timer went off. 4 minutes.

When he opened his eyes again, it was snowing. Thick flakes, landing softly on the balcony. The Chicago cityscape twinkled in the background.

He thought about Melanie.

He thought about the vacant expression on her face. He’d never seen her like that before. But he recognized the look, from his own reflection, many years ago. 

He remembered being numb, exhausted, white knuckling every moment, startling at the slightest sound. After the accident, his older sister, Cecelia, took care of him. She slept next to him at night. She taught him breathing exercises. She took him to a doctor when things got really bad. And then she took him to another doctor, when the first one turned out to be useless. 

Cee probably saved his life.

Ben wondered if Melanie had her own Cecelia, or if it really was just Wilford. To his credit, the master engineer seemed to be doing everything in his power to put his broken protégé back together. And yet.

Ben frowned as he watched the snow come down. He just knew, something was very wrong.

There is a Part 4, it's coming soon...

[gloriainalbis]

Strangers

Part 1 - Losers (S1E1)

Nathan Young x Reader  Words: 4.4k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, drugs  Songs:  Strangers - The Kinks  Bad Reputation - Joan Jett 

“So you've been where I've just come From the land that brings losers on”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

--

    As bad days go, you’re having a pretty horrible one when you arrive at the Wertham Community Center. It’s the first of many to come, part of the court-mandated service that goes along with your ASBO. Your dad keeps telling you that you’re lucky the judge had been so lenient and should be grateful that he’s allowing you to stay with him and your stepmum again– even though you have no one to stay with and nowhere else to go. And he’s your dad. “In the future,” you tell him while getting out of the car, “I think I’ll walk.” 

     Striding through the frosted glass of the front doors, you continue on to the locker rooms to change into the orange jumpsuits you find waiting for you. You choose a locker on the far wall and dump your stuff there. You decide to leave your t-shirt on underneath, zipping the suit up most, but not all, of the way. Finished, you lean back to take a look at your designated companions for the 200 hours to be dispersed across the next few months. One girl has chosen her locker to be in front of the mirror. Her hair is short, curly, and pinned back on the side to form some cute bangs-like fringe. You notice an ankle monitor adorning her lower leg as she strips down to a pink lace pushup bra and panties and steps into her jumpsuit, rolling up the sleeves and bottom cuffs and adding a gold belt around her waist to complete the ensemble. The color of her earrings and bangle bracelets– both large, round, pink, and plastic– match her underwear. She steps back to take a look at herself and smiles. Another girl brushes her hair back into a high and tight ponytail. She looks curvier than the first girl, but just as confident, pairing smoky black eye makeup with shiny, pale pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. The guy who’d taken a locker near yours fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips. He looks equal parts cute and odd, tall and lanky with a mop unruly, curly hair framing his face. He wears a red and black checkered shirt and an air of swaggering cockiness radiates from him with a pungency usually reserved for uncommonly offensive odors. He smirks at you slyly. The guy with the locker across from the two girls looks vaguely familiar to you. He has two gold chains, one with a cross, and a grey tank top. His jumpsuit is only zipped up halfway, with the arms tied around his waist. He looks remarkably fit, and, not having much of an affinity for sports, you wonder where you recognize him from. The last person you see in the locker room is shadowy and reserved. His hair is short and neatly combed and his jumpsuit is buttoned up all the way to the very last button. He holds a small, black camera phone in his hand and shifts his gaze between people nervously. As you start to file out, one last person stomps in front of you, looking you up and down as he nearly bowls you over. You grimace as he winks. The first thing you notice about him is the immaculate green flat-brimmed baseball cap. You suspect that this hat and others like it are a large part of his personality. Once you’re all together, a man introducing himself as your probation worker, Tony, leads you outside and has you line up against some railing as he gives what you believe is supposed to be a rousing speech. From left to right is Curtis, Gary, Nathan, you, Kelly, Alisha, and Simon. You would learn their names later, but for the purposes of clarity, we’ll start using them now. Tony paces before you, attempting to assume the macho, fear-inducing demeanor of a boot camp officer. “This is it,” he barks. “This is your chance to do something positive. Give something back. You can help people, you can really make a difference to people’s lives. That’s what community service is all about. There are people out there who think you’re scum. You have an opportunity to show them they’re wrong.” He has the tone of someone who has given this speech before and is just barely holding onto their faith in its underlying message. The girl to your left, Kelly, looks mildly offended at the word “scum,” as if Tony had been speaking directly to her. “Yeah, but what if they’re right?” Nathan interrupts on your right. He looks around at the rest of you, “No offense, but I’m thinking some people are just born criminals.” You smile to yourself and try to hold back a chuckle as a look of anger flashes over suspected-douchebag-Gary’s eyes and he bursts out with “Are you looking to get stabbed?” “You see my point there?” Nathan asks, turning back to Tony. A phone rings and Alisha answers with a casual “Hey,” while twirling a curl between her manicured fingers. Tony tries to continue, but he’s becoming increasingly exasperated. “Doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past-” “Doin’ my community service,” Alisha speaks to her phone. “Hey!” He tries and fails to catch her attention. “Boring as fuck,” she continues. It was getting harder not to laugh and you glance at Nathan out of the corner of your eye, amused at the part he had to play in the deterioration of Tony’s speech. “Excuse me!” He tries again. “Hello, I’m still talking here.” “What, I thought you’d finished?” She didn’t care, evidently. “You see my lips still moving, that means I’m still talking.” He tries to assert something akin to authority but clearly doesn’t realize how poorly that approach tends to work on rag-tag groups of rebellious young offenders. “Yeah, but you could have been yawning, or chewing,” Nathan points out facetiously in a drawling tone. Tony ignores him, but you are full-on laughing at this point. “End the call! Hang up!” He shouts at Alisha to no avail. “My probation worker,” she explains to the person on the other line. “You all right there, weird kid?” Nathan leans past you to point at Simon, who stood alone at the far end of your lineup. Tony fumed. “Don’t be disgusting. I’ll call you later.” She finally hangs up, looking over at Nathan, who was approaching Gary and making kissing noises at him. “I’ll rip out your throat and shit down your neck,” Gary snaps back. He looks amusingly short in comparison, you now realize. Curtis grimaces and leans away from the touchy ball of anger standing next to him. “I shouldn’t be here, man.” Kelly gapes at his arrogance as Gary starts to scuffle with Nathan, grabbing at his jumpsuit. “We need to work as a team here. Hey, that’s enough!” Tony takes a few steps forward. “Can I move to a different group? This isn’t going to work for me,” Curtis continues, even though Tony is clearly otherwise engaged. You lean back, nearly bumping into Kelly as she steps to Cutis’ indirect insults. “Um… What makes you think that you’re better than us?” “What is that accent?” Nathan comments, drawn out of his conflict by the way her “us” sounded a lot more like “oss” “Is that for real?” Curtis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What, are you tryna’ say something or yeah?” She speaks, the latter half her sentence mostly lost due to her lack of enunciation. “Its- you- that’s just a noise! Are we supposed to be able to understand her?” Nathan exclaims. You shake your head and raise your eyebrows at their audacity and Kelly’s incoherence. She sticks her hand out and flips him off, “Do you understand that?” Things escalate again when Nathan puts an arm around a violently unwilling Gary who responds by grabbing him and preparing to punch. “Hey, pack it in!” Tony lunges forward to separate them “It’s love, man!” Nathan yells. You double over, stepping back to get out of the way. Kelly meets your gaze and smirks at the growing scene before you. Alisha laughs, a high-pitched giggle. Tony stood between them now, pulling Gary further and further away from Nathan, who assumed a boxer’s stance and put up his fists comically. “Do it man! Do it! You’re a prick, man, look at you!” Gary calls, trying to push past Tony. “What the fuck are they doin’?” You say to everyone behind you as Kelly looks between you and Alisha. Simon looks like he’d rather be elsewhere, as does Curtis, but for different reasons. Nathan had taken to punch the air, which only served to further aggravate Gary. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, bruv! He’s takin’ the piss, come here!” Cue the intro music. --     Tony eventually diffuses the conflict between Nathan and Gary and finally leads everyone to some benches by the lake, which you are told to paint white. Paint drips everywhere, from your shoes to the concrete sidewalk, but you hardly care. How different is this from the reason you were here in the first place? You were reprimanded for painting on someone else’s property and were told to instead paint on someone else’s property to pay for it, how is that supposed to work? The only difference is that the first time had been art, and this was largely pointless. They wanted to cover up the graffiti on these benches, but the new paint job would only make future acts of vandalism easier to see. You did it anyway, though, happy to peel off with Nathan and Kelly as Curtis and Alisha and Simon and Gary pair off to the benches on either side of you. You watch as Gary leans down to pick up more paint on his brush, his hat brushing dangerously close to the fresh paint before it finally touches, leaving a stark white smear on the brim. You poke Nathan’s shoulder and point as Gary notices, ripping off his hat in horror and stomping off in a huff, kicking a bucket of paint into the lake and leaving behind a violent burst of white. “Oh, man! There’s paint on my cap, this is bullshit!” “Ooh!” Alisha whistles as he walks past. Everyone turns and stares as he struggles with a shopping cart that’s in his way, kicking it at first before trying and failing to shove it into the lake as well when it simply falls in front of him, still blocking the path. “I know you,” you hear Alisha say to Curtis, perking up due to your own curiosity. “No, you don’t,” he brushes her off. “Yes, I do,” She continues, unphased. “You’re that runner guy. You screwed up big time.” That’s it. You’d seen him years ago at your secondary school’s track meets and races, and later in the news for his accomplishments and subsequent arrest. “You noticed, yeah? Thanks for reminding me.” He grew increasingly annoyed, and it was abundantly clear. Overhearing, Nathan glances up at Kelly and tries to strike up a conversation, “So I’m guessing shoplifting?” She ignores him. “No?” He was about to speak again when she cuts him off, “Don’t act like you know me, ‘cuz you don’t.” “I’m just makin’ conversation!” He motions to you and Kelly, “This is a chance to network with other young offenders. We should be swapping tips. Brainstorming!” He looks at you to continue, but you stay silent, also curious about Kelly’s infraction. You shrug and he looks back at her. “Come on, what did you do?” “This girl called me a slag so I just got into a fight,” she admits, slapping her paintbrush to the bench in annoyance. “Was this on the Jeremy Kyle show?” He jokes. “No, it was at Argos.” “Argos?” you ask, finding the store an odd place to get into fights. “You know what you should’ve done? You should have got one of them little pens and jabbed it in her eye.” He was referring to the pens for filling out the catalog cards at Argos and you smirk at the image, but Kelly just stares at him incredulously. It’s an odd thing to say to someone you barely knew. He turns to look at you, “And you? I need to know what we’re workin’ with here.” “Ah…” You glance between Nathan and Kelly before continuing, “Graffiti, mostly, and throwing a party that bugged my neighbors, breaking the peace.” You had broken the law, technically, but it was nothing compared to punching someone and getting into a fight in the middle of Argos. He raises his eyebrows curiously, “Is there a story behind it or was it just mindless vandalism?” “It was on the wall of my apartment, my landlord saw it when he went to break up a party that my friends were throwing and he said he’d report me.” “Oh, what a wanker!” Nathan exclaims. “The worst part is I lost the apartment and now I’ve gotta live with my dad and stepmum again and it’s a living nightmare.” You don’t want to exaggerate or sound like too much of a cliche, but your stepmother is one of the meanest people you have ever encountered. You could understand it to some extent, as she has two young children and you aren’t the greatest of influences. You call these siblings stepfuck and stepcunt respectively, case in point. “Well, I can sympathize with that. But at least yours is a stepmum, they’re, like, inherently kinda hot, amirite?” You glare at him and begin to understand some of Kelly’s annoyance. He redirects, turning his attention to Simon, who is now painting his bench all alone after Gary’s outburst. “What about you, weird kid? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like a panty-sniffer.” He holds his hands up beside his face, mocking a disgusting sniff of some invisible panties. “I’m not a panty-sniffer,” he responds. “I’m not a pervert.” He tries to return to painting the bench, but Nathan begins walking towards him, pretending to jack off with his paintbrush still in his hand, grunting disgustingly. You sigh and roll your eyes, glancing at Kelly. He could be funny, sure, but you were quickly learning about his tendency to take things too far. Kelly shrugs at you. “I tried to burn someone’s house down,” Simon blurts out to get Nathan to stop. Everyone who’d heard snapped to attention, as arson seems considerably more serious than vandalism or a few punches. “Fire?” Nathan laughs and walks back. Kelly looks up at him, “What did you do?” You were still curious about the fire and arson, but you let the conversation move on regardless. “Me? I was done for eatin’ some pick ‘n’ mix.” “Yeah, right,” you scoff. “Bollocks,” Kelly agrees. “What is goin’ on with this weather,” Nathan muses, distracted, as thunder rolls down from overhead and you quickly noticed the growing dark storm clouds in the sky just across the lake. Huh, odd. That hadn’t been there just a few minutes ago. “How did that happen?” you hear behind you, looking around to see Tony returning, an angry look instantly plastered to his face. He points to the overturned paint can, part of Gary’s carnage, and holds his arms up in exasperation. “I mean, you’ve been here five minutes. It’s painting benches. How’d you screw that up? You tell me, because I’ve got no idea.” From out of nowhere, a giant white ball of something smashes down on the car behind Tony, completely caving in the roof and sending the car alarm blaring. Shocked, you jump back and duck amid the various screams and cries of “What the hell was that?” and “Oh, Jesus!” Nathan’s smug grin immediately falls and transforms into fear and wonderment. Alisha shrieks, crying out in a warbling tone, “What’s goin’ on?” Tony turns around slowly in disbelief and gasps, “That’s my car!” “Oh, fuck,” you mutter under your breath. But Nathan isn’t taking it as seriously. “Classic,” he chuckles, thinking it to be some sort of prank. But then another thing falls from the sky into the lake behind you, whizzing past your heads and spraying you, Nathan, and Kelly in an onslaught of lake-water. “Okay, so I’m a little bit freaked out!” he admits. “No fucking shit!” you agree. “What is that?” Alisha asks, turning your attention to the storm Nathan had pointed out just moments ago. It had grown, somehow, turning dark and dangerous as it travels at an unnervingly fast pace towards your group. Simon holds his phone up to film the storm and its effects just as another ball crashes into the dumpster beside him, knocking over the heavy, metal container and spewing ice at him as he ducks and runs from it. More and more ice falls from the sky, huge blocks larger than your head, and you don’t want to think of what could happen if one of them hit you. “Right, let’s get everyone inside,” Tony instructs as more and more of them fall all around you. “Move! Move! Run!” You sprint back to the community center at top speed, holding your head as ice shards rain down on you, pelting and stinging your face and arms. Your heart practically beats out of your chest. One ball of ice pummels into the sidewalk in front of you, breaking a concrete tile. Another falls into a phonebooth, and the glass shatters to the ground around your feet. The storm seems to get thicker as you near the center, and your hair is plastered to your face from the mixture of sweat and water that you were drenched in. You could barely hear Tony yell “Keep going!” over the crashes and booms that fill your ears as you run for your life. Curtis reaches the door first, pulling on the handles and banging on the glass before stepping back and yelling over the din to Tony, “It’s locked! Open it!” Tony groans, “Come on…” and fumbles with the keys. You throw yourself against the wall, as far away as possible from the mega hail storm, and scream, “Just fuckin’ unlock it!” “What is happening?” Kelly shrieks as another massive ball of ice falls onto the pavement beside her. “Open the door, come on!” Nathan yells as Tony grows increasingly frustrated. “I’m finding the right key!” he bellows back “Open the door!” Curtis yells again, and Alisha agreed. “Open the fucking door!” Tony whips around in a burst of anger, “Don’t speak to me like that!” You were about to berate him for his poor priorities when a bright white burst of cold lightning cracks in front of you and sends you flying backward in a chorus of screams. Time slows as you fly through the air and the electricity transforms from a chilling shock to a burning flare, searing and snaking through you as you soar and tumble backward onto the hard pavement. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, from which groans and cries of pain follow. A few remaining snowballs hit the ground around you, but the storm appears to have passed. “I feel really weird,” you hear Kelly say. Your vision is still black, which has you worried until you realize it’s only because your eyes are still closed. You open them and sit up, rubbing the back of your head, which is still screaming in pain. “That’ll be the lightning,” Curtis says to try and explain what just happened. “We should be dead,” Simon points out. “Well, that’s comforting,” you snap back. “A little reassurance might be nice, you know,” Nathan agrees, instead directing his comment to Tony, who is sprawled before the door of the center and has just started to sit up. “‘You’re fine!’ ‘Looking good!’” he elaborates. “Wanker…” Tony groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Did he just call me a wanker?” Nathan asks, indignantly glancing at you and everyone else. He snaps his fingers at Tony, “Hey? Hello?” You see a quick look of anger flash across Tony’s face before he grumbles, “Is everyone alright?” “We could have died, you dick,” Alisha adds. “Are you alright?” Kelly asks tentatively as Tony shakes his head and coughs out a growl. “You’re actin’ like a freak.” He ignores her, “Maybe we should call it a day.” --     Tony finally manages to unlock the door, and you return to the locker rooms to gather your things. You feel like you should be annoyed, leaving early only means you’ll have to spend another day here, but you are too exhausted to feel anything. That was probably the closest you’d ever been to death. You can still feel your heart beating, a deep, steady drumbeat, and your lungs ache from the running and adrenaline. Beside you, Nathan closes his locker and leans against it before turning to you, “Do you think we’ll stick together now, bonded by our shared experiences?” “Dunno. I’d rather spend as little time here as possible,” you explain, closing your locker and stepping away to put on your hoodie. “Oh, you’re one of those types, are you?” Nathan smiles. “What type?” You glare at him. “The I’m-too-cool-for-this type.” “No, that’s Curtis,” you quip, knowing that he’d already left the room. “I just happen to not like community service.” Or any of these morons, all the other girls are total slags. “Hey!” Kelly snaps, swinging around to glare at you suddenly. “Oookay?” You turn away awkwardly and leave, you can’t imagine anything you’d said having offended her. Maybe she just really loves community service or something, but that is decidedly not the impression you’ve gotten from her so far. You walk out to the waiting area by the vending machines, where you find Curtis and Simon standing around in heavy silence. Nathan follows after you moments later. “Do we just go, then?” Curtis asks, clearly annoyed. “Where’s the probation worker?” “I think there’s something wrong with him,” Simon speaks up. “It’s like he was having a spasm.” “He was probably just faking it, trying to get some compensation. Cheap bastard,” Nathan scoffs. “I don’t think he was faking it,” Simon insists, looking back down at his phone. “And you know all about being… mental.” Nathan takes a few steps forward as he talks, leering at Simon and lowering his voice. Then he pretends to convulse and yells “Wanker!” You punch him in the shoulder. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He sticks his head out at you almost comically. You stick your head out back at him. “Stop being such a prick, he might have a point.” Alisha walks in, already looking bored. “Are we waiting for something?” “Probation worker,” Curtis explains. She scrunches up her face in disgust. “I’m not hanging around for that dickhead.” She turns on her heel and leaves, which everyone else seems to take as their cue to leave as well. You can’t be bothered to be the only one waiting around, so you follow suit. Once outside, everyone pretty much goes their separate ways. Nathan, however, trots after you. “What’re you doin’?” You ask. “Thought you looked a little lonely, and, well, I’d like to recommend my own company as recompense.” He motions to himself like he’s all that, which honestly has you snorting to hold back your laughter. “You can’t be serious.” You raise your eyebrows. “Fine, I happen to live along this way, alright? I’m Nathan, by the way.” “Y/n.” You smile at him. “And I’ll have you know that to date, I haven’t had a single complaint.” He says it like you should be impressed or something. “Can’t have complaints if you haven’t been with anybody,” you joke, smirking. His jaw drops in mock surprise, “Oy! I have, too!” He keeps trying to impress upon you the depth of his sexual prowess, offering many stories as proof, all of which have you in stitches. He peels off when you were about halfway home. You say your goodbyes and wave as he walks away, grateful for the company. A few houses down from your own, though, you stop walking, contemplating what to do next. Home doesn’t seem like a particularly fun place to be right now, but it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. It’s still the early afternoon, so it would probably be only your stepmum at home, with your dad at work and your step siblings at school. It’s practically a worst-case scenario, as you doubt she would believe that they let you go early. You wish this day had gone differently. As you’re musing and trying to work up the courage to walk the thirty or so meters left to your front door, the skies begin to darken. You look up to see if a cloud had rolled in overhead, not exactly trusting the weather as of late, but as soon as you do so, it disappears and the sky goes back to normal. You think nothing of it, which is probably a poor choice on your part, but you are too burned out to care. You finally reach the front door, closing it gingerly behind you, but to no avail. “Y/n? Is that you?” You hear from the other room. “Yup.” You stand in the doorway to the kitchen, knowing you need to address this, but desperately wanting to leave. “They let us go early today.” She eyes you quizzically, “Really?” Now here’s the thing, the truth isn’t even remotely believable– There was a freak hail storm and everyone in our group got hit by lightning or something but now we’re all okay and our probation officer did too, he let us go early and then disappeared– so you have to lie. “Yeah, ‘cuz it’s the first day. They mostly showed us the ropes, got us started on something, and then let us go.” You wait, holding your breath. “Oh.” She looks disappointed. “I thought you’d be out today.” “Yeah, well I did, too,” you mumble as you walk away, not really caring whether or not she heard. “What’d you say?!” she calls after you. “Nothing!” you yell back as you walk as quickly as possible to your room. Once inside, you sigh and collapse onto your bed. You feel like a teenager again and it’s horrible, being forced to be somewhere where you’re treated like immature crap every day, living at home again, constantly having a row with your stepmum. You hope, but doubt, that the next day will be better.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know you guys hate it but I love making Mel and Harry fight, huge ‘I’m-yelling-bc-I-love-you’ energy -Danny

Words: 4,093 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Worst In Me’ -by Julia Michaels.

Chapter Ten: Growing.

Turns out Umbridge was inspecting Trelawney's class, and if Mel could've graded the experience, she would've used a massive 'D'.

The girl paired up with Neville because she would often find herself chatting over Trelawney's orders whenever she and Ron shared a table. She didn't want that this time, and so she tried her best to focus on what she was doing with Neville. She was fearing that being in a different table, she wasn't going to be able to stop Harry if he tried to do something silly, the class went by with no accidents besides the fact that Trelawney could not do a prediction for Umbridge, which clearly made her fall a few points down.

Mel walked to her D.A.D.A. class with Neville, they talked about his new discoveries in herbology, she desperately needed to speak about some common silly nothings to remain sane, so when they entered the classroom, she hesitated a moment before finally deciding to sit next to the boy. They were a few tables behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mel felt a bit guilty about not making any real efforts to stay close to Harry, but she was feeling in a better mood now that she was having a normal day with a normal classmate.

"Wands away," Umbridge instructed. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione raised her hand a few seats ahead, Umbridge got up from her place and walked up to hers, her usual terrifying smile plastered on her face.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two."

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well," Umbridge giggled. "Then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —"

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" Harry asked angrily. Mel could see Hermione whisper something to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Why aren't we allowed to give our opinion? The teachers always encourage us to ask questions and be curious!" Mel blurted out, emboldened by the memory of her jobless uncle. "Was it really their way of working, or just your racist rubbish?"

"And Quirrell was a great teacher all right," said Harry right after her, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

There was a thick silence afterwards, Umbridge smiled a both, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Miss Dumbledore, you may only speak when spoken to, or when you're granted the word. Otherwise, I'd recommend you to remain quiet. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

Mel entered the Great Hall fuming, she walked up to her table and saw Angelina, Professor McGonagall and Harry all arguing about something.

"I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?" Harry asked in outrage. "Mel already lost sixty!"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" Professor McGonagall looked at her in the same way. "Dumbledore told you to stay out of it, Miss Dumbledore, I see myself in the obligation to talk with the Headmaster about this! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

Angelina stormed out of the Hall, not without giving Harry one last nasty look.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"

"I know, mate, she's bang out of order," Ron put extra bacon on Harry's plate.

"You disloyal twat!" Mel aggressively put down a jar of murtlap essence in front of Harry. "Now Dumbledore will lecture me again because you decided to rat me out!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" He pointed to the jar. "What's that rubbish?"

"That rubbish is for your hand," She retorted in an awful mood, "put it on your bloody hand and it should heal right away."

The girl left without waiting for a reply, wanting to hex everyone. The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes of her breakfast hour doing the stupid essence now felt like a really dumb thing to do. She wondered why was she still trying to be nice when Harry didn't care, he knew that she could feel his pain and still decided to get another detention. Maybe they were better on their own, trying to remain as a team was starting to break them further apart.

Mel clenched her fists and continued until her feet took her to the only safe haven they could remember. The library was empty, no one had urgent schoolwork to finish being the second week of the trimester. She sat down at the very end, rubbing her temples and pondering on whether she should cry a bit to release some tension or go back to the Hall and have breakfast with Ginny when she heard the soft sound of footsteps.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" asked a voice in amusement.

Erick stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You stood me up last Saturday. What now, you get a boyfriend and suddenly decide you no longer need friends? That's a bit–"

Mel didn't let him finish, she stood up and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Erick froze, his arms hovering above her awkwardly. "I... I missed you too?"

Mel stepped back, quickly cleaning her face.

"Merlin's sake, you don't have to say it if you don't want to..."

"Sorry– it's just... That's the first time someone says that to me..." The last part came out barely above a whisper, Erick avoided her eyes.

"Well, it's true. This summer was a nightmare..."

"I know what you mean... at least a little. My grandad's been... not great," Erick glanced at the table and then her. "Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you're always grumpy..."

"It's the O.W.L.S, you know?"

"Sure, not like I've seen you argue with Potter," Erick smirked. "Want advice? Kiss him whenever he acts up, that'll shut him."

"That's out of the question," She sat down again. "We're not dating."

"What?"  He exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mel looked around and then glared at him. "Sit down."

"I don't understand," Erick's frown deepened. "You two were so sickeningly happy and–"

"It was a mistake."

"What?" He asked again, this time laughing a little. "I'm sorry, but since when is dating your crush a mistake?"

"We didn't date," She retorted. "We... it blew up in our faces– Sit down, will you?"

"But what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Okay!" He huffed. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Why don't you tell me how's your Grandad?"

Erick's face did not tense at the mention, but it certainly grew worried.

"He's well enough... stayed with him the whole summer so I didn't write to Anne, in case you were wondering."

"Don't ask about Harry and I won't ask about Anne," Mel shrugged. "Seems fair."

Erick only looked more alarmed. "Seriously, what happened?"

"Erick," She said, "leave it."

"Are you at least going to tell me why'd you stood me up the other day?"

"I invited Hermione by mistake. I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

"Because Harry– well now I don't want to," She added when she saw the way he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to go to my next class..."

"Let me guess, because you'll have to see him and talk to him," He finally sat down, pondering for a moment. "All right, then get rid of him. Stop being his friend."

"I can't do that. Dumbledore's orders."

"He asked you to babysit?"

Mel nodded gloomily.

"Do you really have to be near him?"

"Well," She tilted her head. "I guess not... just when Umbridge's around."

"So just during her class?"

"Probably..."

"Okay, make sure he keeps his mouth shut for an hour or two and then you have the rest of the day free."

Mel thought about it for a second, then groaned in frustration.

"Knowing Harry, he'll find a way to run into her more times a day..."

"Potter's old enough to know better, don't you think?" Erick raised a brow. "Especially after what he went through..."

Annoyance flooded over her at the way Erick so casually mentioned Harry's close call. She clenched her jaw and shrugged. She didn't want to keep talking to him, being honest, she simply didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

"I'm tired," She muttered.

"I can't help with that, go take a nap," He sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't get the prefect badge, by the way..."

Mel laughed humorlessly.

"I don't care. Guess a part of me always knew Hermione would beat me."

"I really thought you'd be it," He replied. "Not that I don't think 'Mione's not smart or anything,  it made sense, you and Harry..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thinks we have too much in our hands," She started to peel the corner of the table. "Or that we're out of control..."

"He certainly has reasons to believe it..."

"Did Parkinson and Malfoy report me?" She blurted out.

Erick frowned.

"What did you do now?"

Mel quickly told him about the incident, Erick found it extremely amusing.

"Had it coming, those idiots..." He admitted. "But you really shouldn't do that. Umbridge will take any opportunity to take you to her office and see if she can force you into confessing about the Order."

"Talking about that..." She moved so she was now facing him. "Are you part of it, then?"

"Not until I'm seventeen and out of school... I'm a very active intern for now."

"But do you want to be part of it?"

Erick didn't hesitate this time.

"I do. I won't be hiding behind my mother's skirt, once I'm out, I'll be out forever. My plan hasn't changed, I'll live with my Grandad and I'll help as much as I can."

"I'm proud of you, you know?" Mel smiled, her mood lifting with the passion he was letting out in every word.

"Shut up," He muttered.

"I mean it! You've come a long way. Remember my first year? You found me crying and told me to just give up on Hermione. Look at you now..."

"I'm still trying to convince you to give up on people," He moved on his chair awkwardly. "I told you this was my plan since the beginning, I'm just finally doing something about it."

"Yeah," Mel agreed, thinking that her own plan had been obliterated and now she was stuck in place. "I'm happy for you..."

"You know what? Take my advice. Keep Potter's mouth shut during class and we'll trust that he can find his way without you for the rest of the day. You need a break," Erick stood up, grabbing her bag and picking it up for her.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know."

Mel stayed away from her friends for the rest of the day, and Harry found a way to get an extra day of detention during their Care of Magical creatures class -Umbridge had been there– but the girl persisted, she had lunch and dinner with Ginny and her friends, and she spent her free period with the twins and their friends.

When she entered the common room, she discovered that Harry wasn't there with Ron and Hermione, which explained why her right hand was starting to feel sore. She sat with a small smile playing on her lips, her day had improved after a whole afternoon without useless bickering.

"Is there any point on asking?" Hermione sighed.

"No," Mel said calmly, tunning out the pain on her hand.

Harry arrived close to midnight with his hand bleeding profusely, Mel made sure to write in a way that the darkness could hide her own bruised hand. Hermione handed him the murtlap jar Mel had left for him during breakfast.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron.

"No," said Harry.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison."

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well... You know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry.

Mel's hand stopped writing but she didn't look up.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week? And Mel's all right but I'm sure not even her can get past the stress!"

"But this is much more important than homework!"

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron teased.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves, I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —"

"If you're planning on reading just like you read in Umbridge class, then it won't change much," Mel said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's to busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you and Mel, Harry."

"About me what?"

"What?" Mel laughed.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's an idea," Ron said calmly. "Mel could teach us, with her extra lessons and everything..."

"But... But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

"You and Mel are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, this time grinning. "No, I'm not, you and Mel have beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done! Look at what Mel can do!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione with a smirk, then pretended to concentrate fully. "Let's think, uh... first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who–"

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill —"

"Yeah, and Quirrell smashed my skull afterwards!"

"Second year," Ron insisted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle, Harry."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I —"

"Third year," Ron raised his voice, "Mel starts her private lessons with Dumbledore and she learns to do non-verbal spells as if they were as simple as a nap. Then you two fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling now. "Mel learned to fight off the Imperio curse in her first try and saw right through Moody before anyone else. You fought off You-Know-Who again—"

"Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

"I had tons of help!" Mel exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open– most of the things I know are all theory and no practice– don't smile at us like that! You know we're as close to being teachers as a bowtruckle!"

"Don't sit there like you know better than we do," Harry said heatedly. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— or Mel lost control and it just happened to work out in our favour, but we just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing and Mel— STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood up menacingly, the jar falling off his hand and breaking into a bunch of sharp pieces. Hermione and Ron quickly lost their smiles.

"You don't know what it's like! You— neither of you— you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that, having to suck the life out of a someone in order to survive!" Mel's breath hitched, none of them had told the others what had happened last June. "And you two sit there acting like we're two clever little kids standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me if it weren't for Mel– it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me and I hadn't used Mel's—"

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling him back because he'd gotten too close to their friends.

"We weren't saying anything like that," Ron said fearfully. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He stammered the rest under his breath, unable to end his sentence out of shock.

"You didn't sound understanding," Mel stated, dropping Harry's arm when he snatched it away. "It's never over, not like we lived through it and then just continued with our day... there's... we would always have..."

"Nightmares," Harry ended weakly.

"Guys," Hermione said quietly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

Mel would've been proud of Hermione, but she was still too agitated. However, Harry did react, he sat down again, though still breathing as he'd run for hours. A cramp ran down her hand in full force and she hissed. Harry frowned, noticing right away.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm not going to argue you that," Mel scowled, holding her hand tightly. "I thought you'd be smarter, knowing what it does to me..."

"I don't mind being punished for telling the truth... but I don't want to drag you with me– I never wanted that," Harry sentenced.

Ron and Hermione stared at the both of them without really understanding what they meant.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione, glancing between the two. "Please?"

Harry nodded quietly, Mel hid her hand in her pocket and shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Their friend continued, still shaking. "Erm... 'night."

Ron got up too, he turned to look at Harry. "Coming?"

"Yeah," He said, looking down at the shattered glass. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

"I'll help..." Mel murmured.

When it was just the two of them, Mel crossed her arms and stared pointedly at him.

"Well?" She raised a brow. "I'm tired of being the one cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked–" He looked up at her and sighed, tired of fighting. "Doesn't matter... Reparo!"

The essence was gone, and she groaned thinking of how it was up to her to get more. She also knew that Harry needed to tend his hand now if she wanted to have a good sleep, so before he could leave she added:

"Sit," Mel grabbed her wand. "I'm going to mend you."

"I don't need–"

"I'm doing this for me," She showed him the purple bruise of thin letters that were forming on her skin. "You're still trying to cut out the lifeline? It's not working."

"Like you're doing any better," He hissed when she 'accidentally' pressed his wound.

"I'm not the problematic one, am I?"

Harry remained silent.

"That's what I thought," She healed the open cuts gradually. "Unlike you, I know how to stay out of trouble and I don't get as injured..."

"Well, it's not you the one people's been attacking–"

"It's not you either," She replied sharply. "People talk about you, but you're the one picking fights. The only person being attacked here is Dumbledore and I don't see him yelling at the rest of the staff."

"I don't see him talking to anyone but you, so that must be why," He said hastily.

"That's not my fault," Mel let go of his hand, it wasn't bleeding or inflamed, which was impressive considering it was her first time healing someone.

There was something bitter about the fact that holding his hand wasn't bringing her any kind of sweet emotion like it used to. She would still feel waves of affection, but those were dying quicker as time went by, something inside her was successfully pushing him out of her system, and she was starting to get used to it.

"If you're so desperate to talk to him then why don't you visit his office?"

Harry gave her a sour look, and she let out a dry laugh.

"You do want him to ask, don't you? See if he cares?"

"I think I'll go to bed now," He stood up.

"Suit yourself," Mel shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I thought you had done it for yourself," He replied sarcastically.

"I still made you a favour by doing so," She said. "You know, if you'd show a bit of gratitude instead of ignoring everyone that offers you help, people would–"

"THANK YOU!" He said rudely, his back turned to her as he left the common room.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @sarcasticallywitty15

[a-forgotten-spirit]

Dabi x (Ex)Hero Reader (8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem Hero in training, Shinso x Reader (Platonic), Bakugou x Reader (Platonic), Bakugou x Todoroki

Summary: Why would I want to be hero when I can be happy. 

Words: +-3200

Warnings: Dating Dabi, anxiety, crying, depression, villain reader, mind control, Reader’s quirk is used for ‘evil’, feelings, slight gore, blood, swearing, violence, on the news, presenting, sneaking into UA, soft Bakugou, Slight TodoBaku, sad Bakugou, Sad Shinso, calling the boys by their first name. ANGST

Tags: @wnygirl2012​ @chaotic-neutral-logic-sass​ @immortalwolf18 @shigadabi-for-the-win​ @x-a-delama-x​ @star-witchs-blog​ @skeletonbun​ @axerrri​

A/N: First off I’m sorry. There is nothing wrong with being deaf or heard of hearing, it’s also ok to be a backstage coffee maker, it’s ok, I only put it in for the story. This is the final chapter, thank you for reading. If you want a feel for the first part of the chapter listen to “Blood Water” by Grandson.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 8 

The night had passed as I expected it too when I decided to unenroll from UA, my mood was done and after my crying and telling Dabi what I had done he had held me and then given a bath as I sat staring at a wall in sorrow. All I wanted was to be a hero, I spent so much of my life on a pointless dream. My phone had been thrown across the room later that night in an angered rage at all the phone calls, messages and emails I was receiving from teachers, peers and my parents. I didn’t care, once thrown Dabi had decided for me to turn the phone off and place it on the bench then said not to enter the kitchen and to ask him if I needed anything. I had started crying again later on into the night, I was brought into his arms. 

“You’ll always be a hero to me” he had whispered, why did his words make my mood lift? A villain of all people, no, he was my boyfriend. My loving and caring boyfriend, the one who had held me when the world turned its back, the one who believed in me. 

I didn’t sleep that night, wrapped in one of Dabi’s jumpers, I had moved to the balcony somewhere in the early rising of the sun. I felt numb, I felt empty. I tried so hard yet nothing I did was good enough. Since the second I got my license my career had gone down steadily. I walked back inside, rummaging through the bag I had brought with me. 

I pulled off the jumper being left in a lace bra, I pushed my arms into the mesh shirt, I looked deeper into the bag and the ripped jeans I loved so dear were then pulled up my legs. Socks and boots, a nice look I had to admit. I pulled the makeup from my bag and walked to the bathroom, I did the most amazing makeup I had ever done. Winged eyeliner to put professionals to shame. Putting the rest of my makeup on I looked at myself in the mirror seeing colours and beauty, strength. I smiled. Fingers gliding through my hair I walked out of the bathroom and saw Dabi still asleep on the bed. 

When making it to the door I saw his coat he wore whenever he went out with the league. Smirking I took it from the hoot and let it sit comfortably on my arms and shoulder, he wouldn’t mind. The door closed behind me as I walked down the hall and then out of the building door. I would show everyone who I was, who they so desperately wanted me to be. I moved to the middle of the street and began my walk, people looked at me and then looked at the cloak and phone were being taken out. Good, video me. You all wanted something to gossip about. 

Under fifteen minutes I was at my first destination, a beat began as I walked into the building “Miss, you are not allowed in here” a receptionist smiled and when I turned to look at the female her eyes widened “The siren girl” her eyes then slowly tracked down and went wide. I saw her hand move and then a glint of a phone. 

“We’ll never get free” I sang slowly and her phone was thrown across the room with a loud bang I walked forward going to the elevator “Lamb to the slaughter” I pressed the button and slowly rose to the top floor, the caster's room. The slight ding of the elevator rang and then guards were running “What you gon’ do” they fell clutching themselves in pain. I walked into the caster's room seeing the female shaking behind her desk “When there’s blood in the water” she slowly stood and walked forward as I smiled. I looked around and within a few beats, she had a camera in her hand. “The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter” I walked through the building and the camera was rolling live. “What you gon’ do” I smiled into the camera and left the building “When there’s blood in the water” 

Walking into the next building was a little harder with all the entrances blocked. “Look me in my eyes” they opened, I made my way to the top of the building once more but the castor was gone “Tell me everything’s not fine” Within a few clicks he was found in an abandoned room. “Or the people ain’t happy” a camera rolling in his hands. “And the river had run dry” someone tried running at me with a kitchen knife, “You thought you could go free” he pulled the knife up as everyone turned to watch and the camera continued to roll “But the system is done for” the knife now lay in the screaming man's hand dug into the wall “if you listen closely” I smiled walked past and out of the station, I could now see pro heroes outside “There’s a knock at your front” they had no idea how powerful I am, I would rule this stupid little city. They wanted me to be a villain so bad why not give them what they want. 

“We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter” I walked down and they all stilled, these weren’t heroes I knew well. Did they think I wasn’t worth the real heroes? “What you gon’ do, when there’s blood in the water” as I walked through the heroes they began to attack each other, I couldn’t be blamed, I was just singing, I was worthless, I was never going to become a hero. “The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter” I could see people pointed phones at me and within seconds those phones were thrown to the ground, doing anything they could to destroy their devices. “What you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water” one more stop, just one. 

Rounding the corner I could see heroes at the end of the street, in front of the final station. They thought they could beat me, of course, they did. I wasn’t strong, I was nothing. “Beg me for mercy” I watched as Aizawa walked forward and then his eyes were covered. He tried to pry off the unwanted hands. His quirk could ruin my plans. “Admit you were toxic” I looked up at the top floor seeing pros and police alike. The camera was still rolling. “You poisoned me just for another dollar in your pocket” I walked down the street head high and shoulders back. All the pros stopped some even falling to the floor. “Now I am the violence” I yelled out and with a wide smile and one camera facing me and the other the building I shouted, “I am the sickness, Won’t accept your silence” this caster wanted to talk so much why was he hiding. “Beg me for forgiveness” the windows of the building shattered, small pieces dancing from the sky onto the street below. Now he could hear me. 

I could feel his coat flapping in the wind, I felt empowered, I felt strong. This is who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be a hero, I wanted people to know my name. “We’ll never get the free lamb to the slaughter” I screamed loud and proud “What you gon’ do” doors were being unlocked “When there’s blood in the water” Pros were moving out of the way “The price of your greed” phones were being taken out of pockets “Is your son and your daughter” live streams opened camera facing the door “What you gon’ do” the door opened showing the man I wanted “When there’s blood in the water” he stepped out and the camera followed him, walking through the pros “When there’s blood in the water” the music continued as I smiled and his scarred face, I wanted him to remember this.

The Pros and police alike moved to form a ring around us I smiled and tilted my head letting his compulsion fade as he stood there shaking. “I am the people” the song started again and I walked forward “I am the storm” with a wide smile as he tried to scramble away “I am the riot” everything was rolling, the whole world would see me today, I would prove who I am “I am the swarm” my arms rose and he stood my head tilting. “When the last tree’s fallen” a nail ran down his cheek a tear following suit, the cameras zoomed in “The animal can’t hide” they treated me like this, this is what they wanted. “Money won’t solve it” nothing could help them now, I was in charge “What’s your alibi” I yelled, phones turned to the electronic news boards. I controlled this city.

‘I wanted to be a hero’ the words slid across the screen. ‘I am pathetic in the eyes of the news’ it continued. His eyes widened “I am a disgrace to the hero name” I watched another tear run down his face in fear. ‘I will never be a hero’ 

“What’s your alibi?” I screamed again, I still had a camera on me as more of his words and posts, videos were shown about me. The video of Shinso and I ‘he was my best friend, he laughed as well’ “What’s your alibi” I screamed for the final time.

‘I did just as you asked’ the printed words came up quickly and then slid off the screen ‘You didn’t want a hero, I became what you all wanted’ eyes went wide, people were starting to get it. More videos and posts, comments and theories. ‘Remember, this is what you wanted’ the cameras came back to me and the male. 

“I’m sorry” he stuttered out in fear, tears rolling down his face, he dropped to his knees kneeling on the ground “I didn’t mean it, you are so strong” he nodded frantically. People really would do anything to save their ass. “I was wrong, so wrong” he was. He was dead wrong. I looked down at him as he shook and stuttered over his words. 

“I wanted to be a hero” everything went silent though no one moved. “I worked my ass off to get where I was and you took that away from me” I laughed and shook my head shrugging “What can you do” I smiled again and sighed out, “You said you were going to ruin my career” I walked forward crouching down and moving the hair from his face before tightly gripping his chin “You just started a new one for me” his eyes widened “I’m going to be the most dangerous and well-known villain” my hand moved to dust off his shoulder “for you and the entire fucking world” I poked his chest. “And to start my new career, I’m going to ruin yours. Karmas’ a bitch” my hands rose next to his ears as he shook his head but couldn’t move. “I want a full coverage for this, wouldn’t you” I started twisting my hands slowly and a scream left his lips “You know nothing about sound waves” blood began to trickle from his ears slowly down his head “I don’t want to kill you, that’s too easy” I dropped my hands and he was looking around frantically. A noise left his mouth and with that, I slowly balled my hand into a fist and the noise stopped. “With no hearing and no voice, you can enjoy your new life as a backstage coffee maker” I stood up. 

Walking forward to the camera I smiled into the screen “Welcome back to channel whatever I hope you enjoyed this brand new top exciting story of the ex hero in training. I have a few questions to answer before this wraps up” I smiled and then began “Yes this is Dabi’s coat, I know it's shocking. She’s dating him, wow didn’t see that coming. No, she was not a spy for the League, she genuinely wanted to become a hero but as you can see that didn’t go to plan now did it ladies, gentleman, everything inside and out” I laughed lightly nodding “I hope to see 1-A become heroes, be the best you can be. Do it for me, the one who wasn’t allowed” my voice went dark but I let out a sigh “Anyway, this ends the show, hope you enjoyed this special of Radio Silence, the new top villain. Good afternoon” my hand went over the screen and all the cameras stopped rolling. 

~

Since that day my power and coverage have only grown. Dabi and I were the most wanted villains in the city. He did the dirty work and followed after my lead, he left the league and joined me in my new journey. We went after heroes abusing their power, strong civilians wreaking havoc just because they could. I was no longer seen as a disgrace, people followed me, people believed in me. New criminals would arise and seemingly die within a few days. I had destroyed my phone after my debut and left letters with two certain students in secret. I smiled at him as Bakugou and Todoroki caught me leaving his room through the window. 

“Y/N” Bakugou whispered, I didn’t even want to look at him, how could I. He had been taken by these people, they had taken him. What right did I have to even so much as look at him “Please” I swallowed thickly and turned looking at both of them? He looked at the letter. 

“You weren’t meant to be back for another twenty minutes. Your runs always last ninety-three minutes. You go and get a drink after” I whispered and Todoroki looked down and closed his mouth “I’m sorry” I whispered and as I was about to jump down I heard a sniffle. 

“We were meant to become heroes” Bakugou was crying, Todorokis’ eyes were wide and I was on the verge of letting all my regrets come flooding back “We were meant to start an agency and work together” I looked down and licked my dry lips. “I believe in you” I blinked trying to hold myself together. “Please don’t get caught” my eyes flashed to his, tears falling down his face and cheeks pink “Don’t get caught. Hurry up, go” I looked down and bit my lip and brought up my boot. I frantically pulled the laces off, had little music notes on them.

“Come here” I whispered and he walked forward. “Hand” his hand rose “To remind you of me I guess” I whispered and began to tie it around his arm “As soon as I leave feel free to destroy it, burn it, explode it. I don’t care but this is for you” I looked up and he was still crying “Become a hero Katsuki, become number 1” I finished trying the lace around his wrist and then hugged him tight and rough. “Todoroki, look after him for me. I’m counting on you” he bowed and I looked back to Bakugou “Goodbye” I fell from the window and I was gone. 

Bakugou was hard and now it was Shinso, how could I even look at him. I knocked on the window and his face rose with vigour, he was running over. The window flung open and then I was brought into his arms. I couldn’t stop the tears as I hugged him back. 

“I got into 1-A” I smiled and laughed at his revelation, he got my spot just as I asked. “It’s different without you. People turned on Bakugou and me” I looked down “Reporters begged for anything about you” he shook his head “If this is even half of what you had to deal with, I had no idea what you were going through” I sighed out and smiled. 

“I’m so happy Shinso” I shook my head and smiled “I am so happy with my life” he bit his lip and nodded as tears pricked his eyes. His arms were still on my waist. I wanted to stay here, like old times. Have a sleepover and watch bad movies and impersonate them. 

“I just want you to be happy” he whispered and I smiled. I moved and pressed the letter to his hand. “What’s this” how could I ever face him after all I’ve done. He had tried so hard to be in the hero course and one of his best friends is now the strongest villain. 

“It took me a long time to realise I wasn’t happy and what I wanted to say to you” I brought his wrist up and took out the shoelace smiling as I began to tie it “Sleepless nights and bursts of anger. I never wanted to hurt people Hitoshi, especially you and Katsuki” I shook my head and pursed my lips crying to hold back more tears. “I’m taking bad people off the streets. The streets are littered with hate and lies. Authorities don’t care unless a hero is involved” I swallowed “I’m trying to help, not in the best way but I am trying” I smiled and looked up to him finally finishing tying the shoelace. “I'm happy Hitoshi” I grabbed his face and smiled “I’ve never felt more free” 

He nodded and smiled “I know” I smiled and brought him into another hug. This was the last time I was going to talk to my best friends. This was the last time I would ever talk to them. The last time I would be in their presence without them coming after me. The last time we wouldn’t be hurt if they were seen with me. This was the end of our time, now it was their time. 

“Be a hero Hitoshi, for you” I smiled and moved back turning and moving to the window placing a foot out “Be the hero you want to be” I jumped from the window and I was off running through the school and climbing over the walls and making my way back to Dabi who had waited. 

“Are you ok?” he asked and brought me into his arms as I sighed and smiled with a nod. They were going to be the best heroes in the business. No one would cross them, they would make the world proud. 

“I’ve never been better” then we were off running through the city and screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs letting the whole city know who was awake and here to stay. Heroes chasing after me. Boots with no laces and a smile on my face as I ran from them. 

The next time I saw them, I saw their shoes. One with simple black laces and the other, the other had small music notes littering them as they fought the villains in the city. Together. 

“Dabi, I don’t think I want to be a hero anymore” I smiled placing my hands on my hips looking down at them, they were going to be heroes and I would be able to watch them. “I am happy” I turned to see my partner, smiled and moved to brush our lips together as the wind flowed around us.  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fin~

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Not for the ship but for the hilarious scenario: Mina takes Todorki out for ballroom dancing lessons. Todoroki is really good as it turns out, and Mina comments “Todoroki you’re on fire”, to which she means that he accidentally activated his left side

This idea was absolutely adorable and I honestly could’t resist!!! I took a few liberties regarding the circumstances for the class but I hope you still enjoy this!

As far as Todoroki Shoto was concerned, he was only there out of necessity. 

Part of being a Pro Hero was the occasional glitzy, black tie events that involved the paparazzi, ridiculously exotic dishes and - worst of all - dancing. Shoto didn’t necessarily hate dancing. Fuyumi had taken some dance classes when they were younger and he’d enjoyed the few moments of reprieve where he was allowed to watch her work through complicated steps. It was something be found admirable, but not exactly something he’d want to participate in himself. When the cultural festival rolled around, he’d been more than content with his position on the effects team as opposed to the dance team. That wasn’t to say he thought that dancing was pointless or anything of the sort. He had watched how hard the dance team had worked in their rehearsals and knew how taxing the craft could be. He had the utmost respect for people that enjoyed doing dance as either a hobby or a profession. It just wasn’t something he was particularly interested in learning for himself.

But then his father insisted he look into taking some classes for the sake of appearances.

Fuyumi had been quick to suggest a dance studio he could take the classes at. The only stipulation had been that he would need to find a partner of his own. When he had thought about it, asking one of his classmates made the most sense. They’d be about his age, his height, and could probably benefit from the classes as well.

And once he determined that, figuring out who to ask became a rather simple task.

“Huh, not nearly as ritzy as I thought this place would be,” Ashido commented as they approached the dance studio. Her arms were folded behind her back as she took a step closer to the door, tilting her head this way and that to get a better look at it. Ashido, as the cultural festival revealed, was the best dancer among them. It only made sense that she’d make for a good partner in a class like this. “Since your family is rolling in the big bucks, I figured it’d be one of those hoity-toity kind of places. Like, the kind where they’d yell about ‘the culture’ of dance if you missed a step.”

He shrugged. “A friend of my older sister teaches the class we’re here for,” he said before moving past her to open the door. He held it so Ashido could slip in first before following her.

The young woman at the front desk perked up and smiled brightly at them. “Hello there! How can I help you kids?”

“We’re here for the ballroom class led by Hitsugaya-San,” he said.

She blinked and tilted her head. “Ah, excellent! What are your names?” she hummed, grabbing a clipboard from the small wall behind her. After verifying they were on the roster, she pushed up from her seat. “I’ll lead you up. You’re going to be on the second floor, in studio room C. I believe Hitsugaya-San’s already in there doing warm-ups with the other early arrivals.”

As they followed her up, Ashido leaned over to Todoroki. “Hey, Todoroki-Kun, this instructor isn’t gonna be, like, super strict, is she?” she asked quietly, seeming a bit uneasy. That seemed rather out of character for her.

“I’m not sure,”

“But you said she’s a friend of your sister!”

He blinked slowly and stared at her. “Yes, she is,”

“So you’ve met her, right?”

“Once or twice. Again, she is my sister’s friend; not mine,” he said patiently. He tilted his head at how Ashido ran a hand through her pale pink curls and groaned quietly. “If you’re worried, you shouldn’t be. This is a beginner’s class. I doubt it will be too difficult. Besides, you’re a talented dancer.”

“I’m good when I’m doing my own thing!” she lamented, peeking at him.

Their guide stopped in front of a door. “Here you are, you two. Have fun!” she said before scampering off.

Shoto, however, turned his attention back to his classmate and frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re so worried. You have a great sense of rhythm, excellent timing, you choreographed the entire cultural festival routine… Why would a dance class be so intimidating? Because it’s a more classical style of dance?”

“I just told you… I do better when I can just do what feels right, you know? I’m terrible at following directions! I hate being restricted in how I can handle something!” she confessed, fidgeting her fingers.

“But you aren't,” he said, tilting his head slightly. Sometimes he didn’t really understand his classmates but this seemed like a strange one. “We’ve been in countless situations where your ability to take charge and know when to stand down have proven helpful. Not only to you, but to our class as a whole. It’s not that you can’t follow directions, it’s just that you know when you should and shouldn’t. I think that’s an admirable skill to have.”

The other stared at him for a moment before she let out a small chuckle and shook her head. “Geez, do you really have to be the package deal, Todoroki? Handsome and encouraging is such a lethal combination,” she said.

He wanted to argue with her that he wasn’t really all that attractive, but she opened the door and headed inside, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along with her. When they entered, a woman about Fuyumi’s age with maroon hair and bright purple bangs glanced over at them. She smiled as she walked over. “Ah, hello again, Shoto-Kun. I take it this is one of your school friends?” she asked, settling one hand on her hip.

“Hello, Hitsugaya-San,” he answered with a small nod. He then indicated the horned girl beside him with one hand. “This is Ashido Mina.”

“Um, hi. Thanks for letting us join your class, Hitsugaya-Sensei,” Ashido said with a nervous waggle of her fingers.

The other laughed at that. “Oh, goodness, hun! Don’t call me Sensei! That sounds way too stuffy!” She flicked the end of her ponytail over her shoulder casually as she spoke. “You guys can just call me Akiko-San, okay? I’m not gonna sweat about formalities like my mom and the other instructors do. Besides, you two know Fuyumi, so I can let it slide. For now, just line up along the mirror and do some stretches. Let me know if you need help figuring out how to stretch, but I think you know what to do.”

“Thank you,” Shoto said as they headed to join the others. After a few minutes of warm-ups and a few more students showing up, Akiko finally called them all together to get started. Another instructor had come in to join her, the pair of them giving the beginners a rundown of the basic steps they’d need to know for that lesson.

As they took the floor together, adapting to the steps they were shown, it became clear that Ashido was a natural at it. Shoto was grateful as she kept up with him, their steps perfectly timed and in sync. The longer they worked through their movements, though, the more she relaxed and started to have fun. Akiko took the time to even praise them for how they were doing when they broke away to do a small habit of ad-libbing in their motions, Mina taking the lead.

“You two are catching on quick! Might need to bump the pair of you up to the intermediate class!” Akiko giggled, clapping her hands as they pulled off a quick side step leading to Shoto dipping her.

Shoto had to be honest with himself; he enjoyed this one-on-one session with Ashido. He’d always known her from their class work, sure, but she was much more a member of Bakugo’s begrudging circle of friends while Shoto himself tended to spend his free time with Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida and Yaoyorozu. From the few interactions they had, he knew she clearly cared about the people around them and wanted to be a Pro Hero from a place of passion. He found that admirable. Outside of the cultural festival, however, he hadn’t really taken the time to get to know her better. And, to put it bluntly, he realized that she was just fun to be around. Her energy was just one of enjoying whatever she was doing and it was infectious, leaving him to have a blast himself.

It was nice and reminded him of a time long ago when he was always as carefree as he was dancing at that moment with Ashido leading him along the floor.

Mina herself giggled and Shoto felt a small smile turn up on his own lips. “Your feet are on fire, Todoroki!” she said.

“Thank you, Ashido. Your own movements are rather incredible as well,” he said, pivoting his body to allow them both to stand upright again.

She opened her mouth to say something else but gasped. “T-Todoroki! You’re really on fire!”

He blinked before glancing at his shoulder in surprise, a small flame blazing up and starting to make quick work of his shirt. “Shoto-Kun! Put it out!” Akiko yelped, scrambling back to flail a clipboard she’d had for checking who was in attendance at a nearby smoke detector.

He covered his other hand in a thick veil of ice and clapped it down on his shoulder a few times, dozing the flames before the smoke alarms could go off. His shirt, however, was now missing the entire sleeve. “Ah… Sorry, Akiko-San,” he muttered quietly.

She let out a small sigh and shook her head at him. “I swear, you teens these days are something else. Let me see if we have a spare shirt you can change into real fast, okay?” she chided lightly before turning to speak to the other instructor. Presumably about finding a replacement shirt for him.

He glanced over to see Ashido covering her mouth with one hand while the other wrapped around her middle, muffled giggles and snorts escaping her. “You give the phrase ‘burning down the dance floor’ a whole new meaning, Todoroki!” she laughed, throwing her head back to release a few louder peals of laughter.

And Shoto chuckled himself. If this was what having friends was like, he was glad his walls had dropped.

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Prologue: A mistake or accidental prophet?)

my entry for the 2020 @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series

pairings: hankcon, minor male ryder/reyes vidal

major warning: canon-typical violence

additional warnings will be provided before individual chapters.

summary:

In 2028, rumours emerged that Sara Ryder, inventor of androids and co-founder of Cyberlife, disagreed with her father Alec Ryder, another co-founder of the company, over the direction the company was heading. Speculations were rendered pointless as the younger Ryder disappeared off the grid after thousands were killed in an explosion outside Detroit, the site which later became a dumping ground for abandoned or damaged androids. A few days after Alec took over CyberLife, reports of androids breaking away from their programming started to emerge, and for a decade, it was CyberLife's best-kept secret.

In 2038, Connor, an RK-series prototype, began development under Ryder's supervision and was released in August in the same year as Cyberlife's last resort towards the deviancy crisis. Rumours among CyberLife employees put someone else as the lead of the RK800/900 project, and although the company goes through extensive measures to dispel the rumour, it somehow manages to reach the Detroit Police Department. It is with this rumour in mind that Lieutenant Hank Anderson is partnered with the same android in question.

Little do they know that the revolution brewing on the horizon is just the beginning.

also on ao3

---

Before

A gloomy figure left shadows in their wake as they swept through the brightly-lit corridor of a hospital, the click of combat boots against smooth floor clearly audible as the voices in the hall died down. Most only noted the person’s threatening posture and boiling expression and bolted out of their way fearing consequences; little did they know that had they paused to take a better look, they would have noticed how young they were - too young to be wearing such hatred on their face. 

They stopped abruptly in front of a door with a sharp snap of their feet, and their hand shot out of their pocket towards the knob but froze with the sharp yell of a nurse. A roll of their eyes. Turned to face the nurse.

‘Visitors are limited to family members only,’ the nurse explained as she closed the last bit of distance between them. Then it clicked. ‘You didn’t register at the front desk?’

‘My brother has been asking for me for days. Ask the front desk. I gave them my name.’

A slight flinch from the harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry, but I still need to confirm your identity. It’s for the patient’s protection.’

The figure huffed. From the smirk on their face, it might have been a silent laugh. They reached into their coat with their teeth grinding. ‘Your ID?’

The nurse looked taken aback. ‘I believe you should be the one presenting identification.’

‘Like you said, “it’s for the patient’s protection”,’ they parroted. ‘How can I be certain that you are an actual nurse but not another spy sent by someone who will bring him harm?’

A pause. The nurse looked away for a second as if to think of the best course of action, but this split second is enough for the person to twist the knob and slide into the ward, the slam of something against the wall indicated that they somehow managed to also barricade it from the inside. The nurse banged her fist on the door in a futile effort of protest before dashing away to get backup.

Inside the room was another atmosphere in its entirety, however, and would have been peaceful if not for the muffled hustle and bustle from the hallway. The blinds were pulled down, the lights were dimmed, the monitor was muted; everything to guarantee that the boy lying on the bed slept undisturbed. He was wearing a green beanie even in his sleep, and next to his head was a small stuffed toy which was rubbed against and clutched when he opened his eyes.

‘Sister?’ he asked the person who had broken into his room. 

The sister sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her brother’s cheek. All the anger on her face was gone. ‘I’m here, brother,’ she said. Her thumb swiped against the bottom of his eye and came back wet. ‘I bought us a few minutes to talk.’

Her brother’s face scrunched up. ‘I’m sorry,’ tears started flowing freely down his face and into the pillow and the stuffed toy. ‘I didn’t mean to -’

‘The fault does not lie on you,’ she took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. ‘It was a reckless move, but I doubt you have another choice.’

‘I -’ a hitch in his breath. ‘I don’t want to go.’

‘I know. I am here to take you away.’

‘You can’t. Baba is -’

‘If you think I care about what he thinks, you are sorely mistaken,’ she stood. ‘Is there anything you want to bring with you from the apartment?’

The brother hesitated. ‘Can I show you later?’

His sister’s face turned blank. ‘Of course,’ she said in a lacklustre tone. It was obvious that she did not want to do so. ‘I need to take care of something. Will be right back.’

‘Okay.’

She turned around and closed her eyes. A deep breath. Glowing wisps of blue emerges from her spine, then from her head, then finally from all over her body, and her eyes were swathed in the same blue glow when she reopened them. She raised her hand. 

A blue sphere appeared in front of the desk barricading the door and knocked it away.

The same nurse from before entered. ‘You could’ve told me that you’re here to discharge your brother!’ she said accusingly. ‘There was no need for that hostility. And you shouldn’t even be -’

She was interrupted by the sister shoving a stack of paper towards her chest.

‘Then shut the fuck up and do your damned job.’

oOoOo

Now

Androids have always unnerved Captain Louis ‘Lou’ Allen, but for a very different reason people normally expect. For years after their mass production, he could feel an unexplained buzzing in his nerves, one that, throughout his limited childhood, he had learnt to associate with ‘shit randomly exploding around him’. Now that Anna’s… gone to space, there was no one else in the world to vouch for him, telling him that yes, his feelings are valid, and that he isn’t imagining the hum coursing through his body whenever an android comes close.

Not anymore, though. Ever since he became half-bot and perhaps half-immortal, not once has the buzz returned, which was more of an inconvenience than anything; before, he could predict whether shit was about to go downhill and be responsible and warn people, but now, there was never enough time to vacate a room before, say, the screen of a monitor cracks on its own and shatters into thousands of pieces.

The negotiator CyberLife sends almost brings back the unpleasant buzz. This android - RK800, if its - his? - jacket is to be believed - is too harmless-looking for a model designed to hunt and kill other androids who break away from their programming and the most advanced prototype CyberLife has to offer. His voice is pleasant enough, but that only makes Lou’s spine tingle and threaten to charge the air with static; a sign he has learnt to watch for before an outburst. He hides a deep inhale, listens to the android’s - Connor’s - question, and faces him when he realises that Connor won’t go away anytime soon unless he actively does something.

‘Listen, saving that girl is all that matters,’ he tells the android. The twitch of his face only slips the situation into a whole new level of uncanny valley. Since when did CyberLife allow so much life on their androids? ‘So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.’

And it’s so typical CyberLife, isn’t it? Lou thinks as he grabs his rifle and kneels behind a toppled, bullet-ridden table his team has been using for cover. There’s a girl’s life at stake, and there they are, thinking that this is a prime time to test their newest prototype as if actual human lives are merely tools they can use whenever, whatever, however. Just like my own, he thinks bitterly as the place where human flesh meets pure cybernetics aches from hunching over the desk for too long. Scrap that, cybernetics were weaved into his very muscles and nerves and changed him fundamentally, and CyberLife didn’t let him know until years after the operation. It wasn’t even someone within the company -

So anyways. Fuck CyberLife. Fuck their monopoly on the android market. Fuck them for playing god.

But orders are orders and Allen received explicit ones telling him to not interfere unless the android looks like he’s gonna fuck up, so he doesn’t have much choice but to piece everything together through comm chatter and the images from the drones flying over the patio. Whoever is in charge of creating this android, he sure as fuck hopes that they made him knowing what he’s doing.

o0o0o     

A few hours later in the relative safety of his office, Lou reads over the report compiled by his people. One of the men shot down by the deviant is, thankfully, alive and recovering, but the other had drowned in the swimming pool long before they were able to do anything. He told the others to go home first, giving them enough time to digest what the fuck just happened in the penthouse, but stayed in the precinct himself just to - just to go home with everything settled. Leaving a job unfinished always makes him anxious and unable to relax at home, especially when people die under his watch, and the numb calmness of the recipient of the call - the man’s fiancé, if Lou remembers correctly - chased away what remaining sleep he is going to have for the night. 

And the face. The person who came to collect Connor’s bullet-riddled body. The flickering skin above black metallic plates brushing against his armoured thigh where his cybernetics acted up from his little magic stunt. He never thought he would see them again, but well - he’s not a prophet, no fucking he is not. No more sleep for him tonight.

That is when he notices a line near the end of the report. Android took Officer Antony Deckart’s service weapon and violated P.L. 544-7 American Androids Act. Request to tighten programming to prevent further incidents, it writes, and it makes him think of the other house he has that he’s been letting… people use as a safehouse. Switching tabs, he examines the footage from the hostage situation once more. Connor had, indeed, taken the gun and even admitted to it when questioned by the deviant, but it only served to gain its trust when he threw it away. He broke protocol only to accomplish his mission, and in the end no one was harmed except for the deviant who had killed two officers. And Connor himself.

It is a tricky scenario, yes, but Lou can do tricky. Connor was just doing what he was supposed to, right?

He highlights the segment and deletes it. He deletes the previous versions of the file as well just in case CyberLife are thorough bastards, and whoever made him, Connor seemed… like an asset. Lou would hate to see all the effort go to waste.

I better not regret this.

o0o0o

As much as Lou wants to stay in bed and sleep with a cat on his chest, debriefing is still something he must do, so the next morning he finds himself facing a bunch of rebellious SWAT members who are too curious about the negotiator they didn’t manage to properly meet yesterday night. 

‘That was his trial. Nothing more, nothing less. The android proved himself to be useful under situations like this. That’s all I need to say,’ he repeats for the umpteenth time. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any more missions with him, so stop asking questions. You won’t need them anyway.’

‘It was plastered all over the news, Captain,’ the newest addition to the team - Shum - says. ‘It’s CyberLife’s newest prototype created by Ryder himself. You can’t fault us for wanting to know more.’

Jim smacks her on the back of her head. ‘Led by Ryder, yes, but you can’t build an android like that alone, Shum.’

Not with the current staff CyberLife has, Lou says to himself. But he saw her. He knows. ‘Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit.’

‘Who else can it be, then?’ someone else - Nelson, if he remembers correctly - asks. 

‘I don’t know.’ How can they have such short-term memories? ‘There’s one other Ryder on the table and she’s supposed to be dead.’

‘Wait, you mean Sara Ryder? As in the guy who got kicked out ten years ago?’

Lou gives them his best ‘who else can it be?’ look, and it is what successfully shuts everyone up. 

What game are you playing this time, Ryder?

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 508

I mean, shame on me for allowing myself to get my hopes up that the show might have turned a corner last week. I should know better by now.

At least Young Ian’s back. And Marsali had a nice moment. And that’s about all I have to say about this episode that’s positive. I swear to fuck, this show hates Claire as much as the author of the books does. Where the fuck is the lead protagonist, show? Can she come back? Can she get a story line of her own that’s more than just a random scene every few episodes, please? And can Bree please be given something to fucking do that doesn’t involve Roger, Jemmy or rape? Does Fergus still even live on the Ridge?

But yeah, I guess let’s just all watch the episode twice so our dumb lady!brains can understand that Matt’s stupid silent movie gimmick was actually ~ArT~ and not, you know, a stupidly bad creative choice. Seriously, fuck that guy.

I can’t tell you how much idgaf about watching Roger teach. Also, Bree’s like his students’ age since she was in college too. So really all this bit is doing is to make me skeeved out about their age difference.

“Can you tell me why anyone would go to the trouble of burying one?” he said, condescendingly, like the doucherocket he is. Do not disrespect Young Ian like that, asshat.

“People live and die by their words.” *gestures to the beautiful shitposts on this hellsite* sure jan dot gif.

I already want to fastforward.

Would 100% rather sit through a lecture on suspension bridges than watch silent movies, tbh.

Hate the title card. Hate this whole gimmick.

Hate.

HAAAAATE.

Roger got hanged. Roger was dumb, Buck was an abusive and toxic fuckwad. But still, Roger got hanged and this is how we find out he’s alive and how he was saved?

It should be this big emotional moment. It should make me feel a thing in spite of myself. But nope! Gotta do this fucking silent movie thing. Which is hilariously terrible. And I laughed at it the whole time. In a mean and judgey fashion. What a craptastic creative choice. Whoever’s idea that was is a fucking idiot. *stares at a certain pompous af showrunner*

Ok but for real though, does LJG just like live in North Carolina now? Why is he always around, besides, you know, so we don’t forget he’s a character who exists.

For real though, he lives in Virginia and gets more screen time than fucking Fergus and Marsali who live fucking next door.

At least writing this recap is gonnna be quick and easy since they waste so much time re-showing the stupid silent movie footage.

Yes, I know, they’re trying to show Roger’s PTSD. Which involves flashbacks. And gradually turn it to color once he’s like come to terms with what happened and starts to move forward. But the execution is so bad that the whole arc is wasted because it’s just so poorly done.

Oh hey! A Claire and Bree scene! I love those. Except oh wait, it aggressively fails the Bechdel Test.

I JUST WANT THE FUCKING WOMEN ON THIS SHOW TO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO THAT’S COMPLETELY FUCKING SEPARATE FROM THE MEN. ARGH.

Jocasta singing at Murtz’s cairn is a reminder that everyone should check out MDK’s music.

And her wearing the necklace Murtz gave her makes the existence of show!Duncan even dumber. Like oh hey, new husband, don’t mind me, just mourning my dead boyfriend and wearing his jewelry. But it’s totally normal since my niece-in-law still wears her abusive ex-husband’s ring.

Sorry, show!Duncan, but a more pointless character was never included. Show!Duncan wins the prize for most BeCaUsE tHe BoOk dumbassery.

Repeatedly showing what’s basically a snuff film is...a choice.

LJG has no sense of personal space when it comes to the Frasers. And it’s fucking creepy.

Oh look, another scene where all Claire gets to do is comfort someone about a man.

*BANGS FIST ON TABLE* GIVE CLAIRE BEAUCHAMP THE STORY LINES SHE DESERVES.

Jemmy aged like 3 years in the 3 month time jump.

Ok, I totally get why Roger hadn’t spoken yet. But once he did, the seal was broken. Not talking after he yelled to stop Jemmy, even a little bit, is just a dick move. Not that he’d be magically better. But he like refuses to even take baby steps.

CAN WE PLEASE GET THROUGH AN EPISODE WITHOUT A MUSICAL INTERLUDE. I FUCKING HATE THE CLEMENTINE SONG.

GRANNIE CLAIRE AND GRANDA JAMIE ARE MY FAVE.

OMFG AN ARROW. THAT CLEARLY MEANS...YOUNG IANNNNN!!!!!

So glad he’s back. So fucking glad. Yes, it means one more character to dilute how much time we can spend with any given person, but it’s a character that I like so hopefully he takes away from some of the time given to ones I don’t like?

Aaand Roger can’t even bring himself to try to talk to the guy who gave himself up in his place. Fuck Roger.

Claire does a better job at first than Jamie at picking up the vibes Young Ian is putting off, but like, for two people who are supposed to be emotionally intelligence, neither of them do a good job at first of really *seeing* Ian.

John Bell is really good in this episode.

Omfg Marsali has tarot cards. She’s like leaning full on into being the white witch’s apprentice and I fucking love her so much.

Also, the Hanged Man card is representative of self-sacrifice and martyrdom rather than like being actually hanged as a punishment. But whatevs.

Ok I think the reason Jenny yelling at Jamie to snap out of it in S3 bugged me where this scene with Bree yelling at Roger doesn’t is because sibling dynamic is completely different than spouses where both of them have gone through something unimaginable.

That he can’t even say anything here. Or give her any kind of sign that he’s still in there is a dick move. He *can* speak. He knows that now. So does everyone else. He’s actively choosing not to. Even to say that he just needs more time to work through his shit. No one’s asking him to be a chatterbox and totally back to normal.

Young Ian just sitting there while everyone else does grace is literally me at every family holiday.

Oh look, a wild Fergus appeared!

Ok, I never got the surveying thing. Wouldn’t the land already be registered? Since they were given the paperwork and shit for it from the governor? I know there was some bit about it in the book about keeping it after the Revolution but like, who the fuck else are they registering it with that would make a difference? The gov’t is still the English gov’t?

“But there are things you keep hidden from others. You and Claire both.” Ok, can he please be talking about time travel? I mean, I know he’s talking about his wife and their miscarriages, but I just want someone else to know about time travel already please and thank you.

HOW THE FUCK IS MARSALI STILL PREGNANT?! SHE’S BEEN PREGNANT FOR LIKE A FUCKTON OF TIME.

Fuck yeah not-Catholic-anymore-Ian. No grace, talking about the creator in a way that isn’t explicitly the christian god. Good job, kid.

My parents called me to say happy easter and I had to be like, uh, you remember that I don’t celebrate that, right?

Happy Zombie!Jeebus Appreciation Day to all the still christian people. And happy chance to have fun with burner zoom accounts named Elijiah to the jewish folks.

Jokes aside, the scene with Young Ian and Marsali was really nice and Marsali remains a fucking saint. It’s nice that Young Ian has someone who like actually gets what it’s like to find a home in a group of strangers.

Oh Claire, think more highly of your assistant. Also, what a clunky fucking way to be like oh hey, one of the emo!bros is gonna try to off themselves.

Ok but with the paper airplane now too, can we please show Young Ian finding out about time travel? Please?

Ok, but Claire automatically jumping to Roger wanting to off himself with her herbs... It’s making me judge both of them a little that neither picked up on just how clearly Young Ian was suffering. Like come the fuck on, y’all. It wasn’t subtle.

Also, can we please have more Adso?

SOMEONE GIVE YOUNG IAN A HUG! NO, NOT YOU, ROGER! SOMEONE GOOD!

Yada yada yes they both have been through something shitty and call me a biased asshole, but I can’t bring myself to feel anything about Roger and I feel all the things about Young Ian.

So Roger won’t talk when his wife begs, but he’ll talk when someone calls him on his bullshit. Cool. Cool cool cool. Nice dude.

NO ONE WAS ASKING FOR THE OLD ROGER, YOU TWATWAFFLE. THEY WERE ASKING FOR *A* ROGER. INSTEAD OF A ZOMBIE.

Again, there’s more to that tarot card than a literal hanged man, but whatever, show.

Oh thank fuck the episode is finally over. Expectations are back down in the gutter for the rest of the season. Please pleasantly surprise me, show, but I will not make the mistake again of thinking you’re actually gonna be consistently good again.